Dental Woes Continue and Last Meeting

I had my official official last session with my therapist the other day. It was interesting. We talked more about my writing, really, and how that has changed. See, when I first went, I was scared, really scared to write. I was scared that someone might find me, might challenge me, might try to pull me down.

I don't know how to say it really, but I think I have more confidence now. I'm still jumpy as hell, especially when stressed. Just the other day a co-worker bumped into me and man did I reach the roof, lol, they're learning though. It's a learning process for all of us. One guy has finally learned not to point around me, it really bugs me, just the whole unpredictable movement things. But when it comes to meeting people, I'm there. When it comes to trusting others, way better. And when it comes to my dreams -

Recently I've had a couple dreams about my mother. Both involve her coming into my apartment, moving in. One just had her renting the apartment above mine. In both I fought back. I was adamant to my landlord that she should not rent a place here, that I, a tenant in this complex for eight years who always paid would be out the door. In the other I kicked her out. I have control. Not that I want to run into her in real time.

Okay, I think I'm going to be all over the map today, I haven't written on here in a while and am not writing in word first. April 26th is the 'deathiversary' of my Penny, whom I wrote about before. My real mother. It's still hard that she's gone, I'm going up to her grave this weekend to leave pussywillows. I know it's a bit cliche, pussywillows for a cat, but I think it fits. If all goes well I'm going with a new friend I met, a non-online one. The online life is an easy escape, but I have to join the real world with the virtual.

Oh, and my dental woes continue, only now with my dental insurance used up, ugh. Now we're on to apico surgery, through the gum to get at a root. And this is all stemming from childhood dental work that was done wrong. Not even done wrong, they said it was partially completed and I was supposed to have it finished as a child. But through whatever happened I was always told it was a finished product, and it wasn't.

See, there is so much happening that can bring me to my past, but now I'm looking to a future. I have a future.

Cheers!

Long Time No See

Howdy!

Sorry I've been away for a while. I'm phazing out of therapy now, as I mentioned. I have another meeting in April, and am now doing an 8 week group thing which is interesting, but as it is a 'group,' we all had to sign confidentiality statements, which makes sense. I wouldn't want my real name blabbed and have no desire to talk about other peoples resolving issues.

Life has been interesting in that I forever have dental problems. I'm still, after over 12 hours in the dentists chair, not done with one root canal and then broke a tooth on the other side of my mouth leaving me on mush for a while. I noticed now that when I click peoples links, more blogs have gone private which is sad. I miss you guys!

I hope all is well/better/getting better with everyone.

It’s a Good Thing

When I started this blog way back when, I was in the deepest part of the dungeon of despair. But I saw the window. This let me know that there was life outside. I know I’m lucky, that some don’t even see that window and think that the damp and darkness and self hatred and confusion is all there is. But I saw the light and knew where I wanted to be which is why I called, in tears, at midnight, for a psychiatric referral. Then, I did nothing with the number and lost it because I was scared of what it said about me that I needed help. However, over a month later, I found myself after three days of crying and tortured thoughts and flashbacks realizing help isn’t something bad to ask for and called again, crying at midnight, and started regular therapy.

Goals were set. I wanted to recognize triggers, to get methods to deal with them, to discover what set me off. I wanted no more flashbacks, night terrors, to get the voice of my mother telling me how worthless I am out of my head. I wanted to stop her continued control over me. I wanted a feeling of self-worth.

Things weren’t easy. The first few sessions involved me reliving the worst moment, the one freshest in my mind, the one where a lot of guilt started – when my mother killed my cat but blamed me. I had to keep going into the memory, to stop looking in as an outsider, but begin to look out of my 12-year old eyes and remember how she was the one that performed the actions. And it's not like stuff didn't start way before then. Hell, I remember her ripping my clothes off my back and dragging me by my hair way before then. But that's the moment that stuck, especially with the whole Bobo situation.

I had to take control of my past to take control of my future.

The thing that is the worst for me is the feeling of being trapped, because I was trapped for so long. Crowds, elevators, etc., I don’t freak out but don’t like them. Then, with both feet broken, I was trapped.

I worked with my therapist for well over a year and have slept much better. In fact, the last bottle of Ambien I got, in January of 2007 was for 30 pills. I still have some left. That’s a good thing.

Anyway, during that time at home I was faced with a lot of triggers. I was mostly immobile, my mother e-mailed me, I needed to rely on other people. And I handled it. I lived through that time and saw that people can be trusted, dependable.

So now, I’m phasing out of therapy. I meet with her once in February, and then we discuss the final session. It’s a good feeling, to regain control. Just as good as when I first got the diagnosis and realized I’m not alone, and more importantly, am not crazy like my family. Sure, some things come up. Right now the news is all over the Nixmary trial. To those not informed, she’s a little girl that was killed by her parents. They abused her horribly, forcing her to use the cat litter box, constant beatings, among other things. These stories are truly upsetting, and do bring up old feelings and memories. It’s sad that such abuse continues all too often.

Another big help was this blog. I started it to help me face things, to help me face therapy. I never really thought it would get the positive reception it would, the wonderful people that would appear, converted from the binary of computer language to support and aid, both in support of my blogs and my own escape in theirs.

But for now, it’s Victorya phasing out of therapy and wondering where my life will lead. Where ever it does lead, I know I’m the one doing the leading. It’s a good thing.