Sunday, September 30, 2012

prosthetic family

How is it possible to so fiercely miss something you've never had?  Is it possible to ever fill this endless aching void with something less painful?  Perhaps at least a dull pain instead of the constant sharp sting?  I'm working so hard on thought stopping lately.  It's hard not to ruminate on something that hurts so much.  It's like trying to ignore the fact that you are missing your feet.  Except if I were missing my feet I could always get prosthesis.  I can't get a prosthetic family.  It feels like I'm missing a vital part of myself.  I know there are people out there who don't have good relationships with their families or don't have a family anymore, but those people at least got to grow up with that sort of connection--a grandparent, aunt uncle, parent, brother, sister, SOMEONE.  They belong/ed somewhere, even if that somewhere was really shitty.  I've spent my entire life feeling alone and unwanted.  Many foster children jump from home to home feeling so unlovable and that feeling NEVER goes away.  Perhaps it HAS become a self fulfilled prophesy.  I cannot manage to keep people in my life, not even therapists.  CT leaving has been so hard.  It still hurts--knock the wind out of me hurts.  I've been working very hard to work passed it.  I push it away, put it in a box like everyone says I should, but it keeps spilling out.  Then the spiral begins.  Why can't I even keep a therapist round.  Why doesn't anyone want me?  Blah blah blah.  It's the same painful spiral I get trapped in.  It's so frustrating.  It is really hard to keep it out of my mind.  Once something escapes the box it's hard to shut the lid again and everything else spills out.


I actually had a really good day today...er...Saturday.  No flashbacks, no tears.  Minimal rumination and manageable anxiety with the help of some skills.  No gallbladder pain even if I ate.  I've been in and out of the ER a couple times with severe pain these past two weeks.  I need surgery but I don't really want to remove my organs unless I have to.  I think surgery should be the last resort, but it seems to be the only thing doctors will consider when it comes to the gallbladder.  Anyway, I've had a really good day today.  A friend and I were texting for a while tonight.  We're both insomniacs and often text late at night.  She, in a very caring way, asked me about little "C" and if I've seen any pictures lately.  She's actually met him so of course she's curious and concerned.  God, I miss him and HIS family so much.  His family was supposed to be OUR family, but I guess things don't change just because I become an adult or because I helped someone I love in such a big way.  One innocent comment from a very loving friend is all it took to knock me off my feet.  My heart literally jumped.  I had the same reaction you get when you nearly miss a car accident or when someone sneaks up behind you and yells at you.  I had this reaction to an innocent question.  Is that normal?  It doesn't seem normal.  My good day ended with sobbing.  No amount of "skills" have calmed me down.  I get so frustrated when I fail at the things that are supposed to help and make my insanely intense emotions more manageable.  I've been working so freaking hard and sometimes it feels like it's all for nothing.  I took a klonopin and a sleeping pill, so hopefully that will kick in soon.

When will it stop hurting?  Ever?  When will I stop wanting to belong to someone.  When will I stop missing the family I never had?  How do I stop feeling so alone in this world with everything on my plate all the time?  How do I stop feeling like such a freak all the time?  Even at Fancy Pants, I feel different and alone.  Many of our groups are spent talking about how frustrating it is to have parents that are too involved and want to talk to you everyday and all I can think about is how much I would love to have that problem.  When the other women/girls have what seems like big goals, mine are really stupidly simple things like knocking on the staff door and asking to check in with someone.  That was literally my goal for "goals group" last week-- to knock on the door and ask to check in or talk about what I'm feeling three times in one week.  Why is that so hard and terrifying for me?  It's so simple and yet, I can't do it.  There are so many things that are excruciating for me that are so simple and natural for everyone else.  Ugh.  I feel like such a freak sometimes. 

Thursday, September 20, 2012

Diary Cards and a Mustard Burger

I wish I had the time and energy to write more on my blog.  Fancy Pants is a lot of work.  I've been really taking it seriously, trying everything even when I find it ridiculous.  I've been practicing a lot of "opposite action" where you do the opposite of what you really want to do.  When I don't want to speak in group, I speak in group.  When I want to stay in bed, I take my dogs out, etc...  Basically I've been fighting really hard to combat my chronic case of the "fuck-its."

I really really like my therapist at Fancy Pants.  I'm already feeling sad that she won't be my therapist after I leave the program.  I called her last night for "coaching" when my sister kept calling me.  Talking to my sister is extremely upsetting for me because she's so lost in her schizophrenia right now.  She also wants to talk about our bio mother, which sends me spiraling and makes me vulnerable to flashbacks.  Nicole told me that talking to my sister is the equivalent to emotional cutting and told me that I needed to set more limits.  I tried to do what Nicole said and ignored my sisters calls and text messages, but she kept calling me and I was feeling extremely guilty and anxious about it.  So I called Nicole who helped me figure out how to let my sister know I care about her and still take care of myself.  She keeps telling me that I need to take care of myself first, but I don't know what to do because my sister is so lost right now.  She believes that her University hacked the "computer in her car" and is tracking her every move.  She thinks there are subliminal messages in absolutely everything.  I'm so sad and scared for her.  

For lunch at Fancy Pants today we had burgers (veggie and non-veggie) and Nicole got a veggie burger.  I told her that I love mustard but I really hate ketchup.  She said, "oh, me too!  I love mustard."  And she wasn't kidding.  She must have put like 1/4 cup of mustard on her burger.  I started giggling at the amount of mustard she put on the top of her bun, but then she lifted her veggie burger up and put some on the bottom too.  I laughed.  So did she, but she also said, "I'm feeling very judged.  Don't judge me.  I like mustard."  I just giggled and took a bite of my kale salad.  She left and came back a moment later.  She dropped my diary card on my bag.  "Here's your diary card.  I'm not talking to you."  She said in a teasing voice.  "What, I didn't say anything!"  As she walked away she said, "It's all in the body language."  I said, "Whatever, enjoy your mustard burger."

Here is my diary card.  Fancy Pants does this a little differently than other places.  The "targets" are my goals.  I have to have two pages of targets.  Extra crazy I guess.  :-)  I don't know if Fancy Pants is helping me or not, but I haven't had a flashback in two days!  I have been having flashbacks several times a day for a couple years.  I had a panic attack yesterday, but they are way down too.  Is it weird that feeling better makes me very anxious?





I've been having a lot of ups and downs, but I think I'm doing okay.  I have some gallstone issues right now and have been doing a lot of home remedies for that.  I've ingested more apple cider vinegar, probiotics, and peppermint tea than any one person should.  

Monday, September 17, 2012

got this in the mail today

Feeling pretty sad about it.  Why did she dump me after 2 and half years?  I still don't understand.

 I have to contact her about some other unrelated stuff but it was so hard for me that I had to ask Dr. K to do it for me.

I'm such a baby that when I opened my mailbox this morning and saw an envelope from her, the tears exploded from my ducts.   


Thursday, September 13, 2012

Disco Therapy

Last night I called Nicole for "coaching."  I've never done that before, not even with Dr. K.  It was strange and hard to call her and tell her how I was feeling and that I needed help.  The advice she gave me seemed stupid and silly, but I decided to actually try it.  And while I felt stupid the whole time, I did not cut or drink or take NyQuil.  It really sucked, but I don't hate myself for the choices I made. 

Today during "Mindfulness Group" we played the Bee Gees, "Staying Alive" with a disco ball and everything.  The therapist danced.  I twirled a mini disco ball dangling from my finger and watched the light dance.  I'm serious.  I don't know how that counts as therapy but I felt light and silly for an hour today.   

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

A Case of the F-its.

Nicole is my therapist at Fancy Pants.  She's super laid back and caring.  She wears these super long wispy skirts and sandals.  Very Los Angeles hippy-esk.  She makes me laugh and explains or changes things in DBT so that I can understand or accept them.  She told me to change "Everything happens for a reason" and "Everything is as it should be" to something more like "Everything is what it is."  Not everything happens for a reason but it has already happened and I can't change it.  I can only learn to accept it and stop trying to fight it. 

I've been having a very hard time with CT dumping me the way she did and just being at Fancy Pants is hard for me.  I'm the only one there that doesn't smoke.  I'm the only one there that doesn't live at Fancy Pants.  The only one that doesn't have parents spending tens of thousands of dollars for me to be there.  Everyone at Fancy Pants flew in from around the country, and a couple are even from Canada, to go to Fancy Pants.  So I guess Fancy Pants is Super-duper Fancy Pants.  I feel a little out of place and it's a full 8 hour day of groups.  Sometimes my anxiety becomes more than I have skills to cope with and I end up melting into a giant mess on the floor.

Last Friday, I was hiding and crying in an empty room during one of my group times.  I've done this a couple times since being at Fancy pants.  Nicole came in the room.  "Ah ha!  I'm going to put a sign on this door, 'Campbell's Hiding Spot!' if you keep hiding in here."  She sat on the floor while I pushed myself as far into the giant black leather sofa as possible and cried, upset about everything.  CT, flashbacks, not having a job...  I also did something I am ashamed of and do not even have memory doing right before I was taken to the hospital a few weeks ago and it has some consequences that I still have to deal with.  I've been feeling really anxious and upset about it and kind of hopeless.  I said something like, "What's the point anyway.  I'm too fucked up to be helped anyway."  I was sobbing pretty hard.  And Nicole's response was, "Uh oh, sounds like we've got a case of the Fuck-its."  I swear the tears stopped in the middle of my cheeks and I began to laugh.  "The what?"  Nicole laughed and said, "The fuck-its."  I couldn't stop giggling.  Laughing and crying at the same time.  She then started talking about mindfulness and going to my last group which was a "mindfulness outing."  I asked, "Can I mindfully go home and crawl in bed instead?"  She laughed at me and said, "No, now get your butt up and go to group."  I like her. 

Sunday, September 9, 2012

on trust and CT

When CT decided to suddenly end therapy with me, she said she was doing it for my best interest.  I don't know if that's what she really felt or if there were other reasons she just didn't want to tell me, but how she ended it was not at all in my best interest.

As a little girl I always felt unsafe, that any minute my home and the people that I cared about would suddenly disappear.  And I felt this way because my home and the people I cared about DID suddenly disappear often.  42 times too often.  As a result, trust and feeling safe have become nearly impossible for me.  Any amount of trust feels like a huge scary leap for me.  And I do mean ANY amount.  Even the smallest things most people don't have to think about are hard for me.  Like making plans with someone.  That's hard for me because I distrust that they will actually follow through with those plans.  I distrust their motives behind these plans.  So the plan becomes a bigger event for me than the other person because of the level of difficulty it takes for me to trust in absolutely anything.  Does this friend really want to go to dinner or do they just feel sorry for me?  Is this friend going to flake on me?  What will happen at dinner?  What if they get tired of me at dinner?  A simple plan to get dinner with a friend provokes intense fear and anxiety in me.  I don't trust what people say.  I don't trust that people care about me.  I don't trust that people won't hurt me.  I have come to expect them to hurt me and am always worried about it.  THAT is how hard it is for me to trust anyone.  I can't even make plans with friends without intense anxiety that they will abandon me.  It's fucking obnoxious!

When I finally felt comfortable and safe in a home and with my new care takers as a little girl in foster care, I would be moved.  And it would devastate me.  So it was even harder in the next home, which made it harder in the next home, and so on.  I became a soldier, on constant watch for the impending attack.  I push people away because I'm scared they are going to leave me.  I push people away because my feelings scare me.  I don't want to care about people and I don't want to feel cared about by people.  Well, no, I do want those things, but the soldier in me is always on guard.

Every single caretaker I ever had abandoned me as a child.  Every single one.  Imagine your mother or father giving you away because they couldn't or didn't want to take care of you.  Now imagine the next mother or father doing the same thing, and the next, and then the next, and then the next, etc...  There must be something wrong with me.  Why else couldn't anyone care for me?  Why else would I have to move so often?  Well else would I be dumped by everyone I ever loved?  I am desperate for love, but I can't trust anyone and I hate myself for being such a fuck up.  I ruin absolutely everything in my life.  EVERYTHING.

Therapy isn't all that different for me.  A therapist is a caretaker in a way.  People go to a therapist for help.  People show their therapists things they don't show other people.  They are very vulnerable with a therapist.  They need to be able to trust their therapists.  Therapy was a very very difficult thing for me.  It still is.  I always felt like cancelling or just not showing up, but I didn't.  I don't think I ever once missed an appointment with CT in two and a half years.  I went even when it felt impossible to go.  CT and I didn't have the smoothest relationship, but that actually helped me trust her more.  When she didn't dump me after our first struggle, I felt a little bit safer.  Eventually I felt safe with CT.  I felt attached to CT.  I trusted CT.  So when CT suddenly decided that she couldn't or wouldn't see me anymore, it hurts just as much as when my foster parents sent me away.  I feel stupid for trusting her.  I feel stupid for caring about her.  I feel stupid for believing that she cared about me.  She gave my immense fear of abandonment a feast.  People have told me that she was "just" my therapist.  That's true, but the word "just" is really unfair.  She's the first person I let myself be vulnerable with, and on a regular basis.  She was the first person I could expect to see regularly.  The first person I could rely on to always be there.  She was the first person I told my secrets to.  She was the only person I trusted with the must vulnerable and scary parts of me.  The parts I don't let people see because I'm afraid they will run away.  And after years of work just to feel safe, she ran away.  She said she couldn't take care of me anymore.  She abandoned that little girl inside me at a treatment center, just like so many before her.  

Not even a therapist will stick around in my life.  What's wrong with me???

Sunday, September 2, 2012

Cant get out of bed

I've been in bed since Friday afternoon.  I've only been able to get up to use the bathroom. 

Tomorrow I'm supposed to have a phone session with CT but I don't really want to anymore.  She doesn't want me.  No one wants me for very long.  I guess not even therapists are immune to whatever is wrong with me.


I wish I was dead.