The Ten Things I Can’t Seem to Admit to in Therapy


This will end up being a list post, but I want to first interject that it is hard as hell living with mental illness and every good day should be celebrated.  Don’t get me wrong, there HAVE been good days, and there will be more.  Right now, what I am trying to purge from my system is all the negative stuff that I can’t seem to talk about in the place where I need to the most:

1) My nightmares have come to the point again where I am terrified of sleep, terrified of bed.

2) The stuff of nightmares keeps me from wanting to leave the house…like, ever

3)  I have not seen the inside of any type of store, including even a convenience store, in over two months.  I have not even tried.  There are people in there, you realize.

4)  I have been hiding my crying spells.  From my therapist, my med doc, my art therapist, LarBear, my mom, my dad.  I know what crying spells mean, and I don’t want anyone to know it is happening at an alarming rate at this point in time.

5)  I absolutely cannot manage without Klonopin at scheduled times throughout the day.  I keep trying to skip it, and I keep having breakdowns and am told to take my Klonopin.

6)  I am stuck with my jewelry.  It’s not fun to make, to plan, to do.  I feel absolutely defeated by the lack of activity on my Facebook page for it, and I end up giving it away because I don’t think it is good enough, anyway, to sell, and neither, apparently, does anyone else.

7)  I am very close to giving up on some various people in my life.  I decided a while back to no longer be in contact with my ex-step-father.  I am very close to that in a few other relationships.  I am tired of caring and not getting caring back.

8)  I don’t feel like there is a safe place for me to go whenever (if) home begins to feel unsafe.  They use the crisis house as an overflow for social detox — the award for fuckhead of the year goes to whoever made that decision, because if I am sick enough to be there, I am too sick to not be taken advantage by one of those addicts.

9)  My weight is at an all-time high, and I am not sure what else to do.  Sure, I need to move more, but I eat quite healthfully and smaller-size portions, and Seroquel (my psychiatrists guess) or the tides of the moon or terrible chemistry makes me gain ten pounds if I so much as look at a cheeseburger.  I have completely stopped bingeing, and I am gaining weight.  There seems little fairness in that.

10)  I get tired of feeling depressed constantly, so I often put on that mask that says everything is fine.   Dear Mental Health Gods:  I am really, really tired of having to do that.  Most things in my life are going swimmingly right now, can I please catch a break?

Two Inch Square Reminder

I would like to think that every day I am swimming a little bit closer to the surface of reality and contentment and “ok-ness.”

It seems today was very very dark and only on a few occasions could I see a greyish blue light around the exteriors of objects and words and people.  Otherwise it was pitch as night.  At this very moment, just the slightest grayish blue.  And then it all disappears and I am without any senses to guide me.

I am making such an effort to come up with things to please myself, to give myself a moment’s respite from hell, to wrack my brain for what might be the thing I have missed.  I ate a soft-serve vanilla cone today. It reminded me of my sister and McDonald’s and having fewer cares. It made me feel happy for a moment, as I was looking at a faraway memory.

Often the grey light will come from within a memory of my sister or Oscar.  I have the picture booklet she made of their first year as a family sitting on my table where I spend many hours.  I usually go so far as to only look at the cover, but lately I have allowed myself to look inside and it is almost amusing to laugh out loud at Oscar’s silly face and my sister’s beautiful and loving smile, all the while with snot and tears rolling down my face.  And I flip back and through it over and over, laughing, smiling, and feeling like there are things worth living for.

And I tell myself, well, Rosa, at least you can be grateful for one thing if none other.  In the here in now, you have remembered there are things worth living for.

This happens to be my very first indication that, while things could go bad again and likely will, for now I have a glimmer of hope that I find in a two square inch photo book.  Love you guys.

From “Hooray’s” to Having no Faith

For those of you who read yesterday’s post, I would like it to be known that I cleaned up and organized the most cluttered, chaotic, consistently out-of-control room in my house.  That’s right, I kicked my laundry room’s ass.  I put all of my winter clothes away, did about six loads of laundry that’s been sitting around I-don’t-know-how-long, hung up or folded DSB’s entire wardrobe and my entire summer wardrobe (and we are not people with small wardrobes).  That bitch is done, amen!

I also cooked a healthy, homemade meal and cleaned my kitchen.  Those aren’t things I really give myself a pat on the back for because I do them every day, but I have to admit…it DOES feel good to do those things and do them consistently and well.  Hooray for that!

On the flip side, I have been really hard on myself lately, and I although I think I deserve every bit about it, all of the guilt and angst and wasted emotion is really eating me up.  It’s affecting my sleep, and Lord knows that when my sleep gets affected, bad things happen.  And also let’s say that, when I’m in wise mind, I know that I don’t really deserve quite all of that nastiness.

And let’s also say that I have been having one hell of a time getting into wise mind.  I don’t think it’s from lack of trying, either.  I keep having these hugely reactive emotion mind episodes.  It seems like my first instinct is to scream, “NO!” at me, anytime the said person asks me to do something.

I feel like I am so negative toward everyone and everything in my life, and like I’m always saying no, no, no, no, no, when people ask me to do something.  I know in some ways, I am trying to protect myself because it just feels inside like I am very fragile right now and I can’t quite explain it.  I just feel really sensitive, like I’m going to crack open at any time and I won’t be able to put myself back together.

I’m at a point where I’m not sure what I should do to make myself feel better.  Of course, there are things I could do, but I have no faith that any of it would make me feel better.  No faith in DBT, no faith in myself, no faith in anyone, really.  Where does one go from here?

I Can’t Get Myself to Go Away

Today has been exceptionally difficult.  I was discharged from my partial hospital program today.  While I am relieved, I am now also at a loss because that created such structure, even if I hated every second of it.  It didn’t help that I am just now getting comfortable enough to start sharing some of my issues.

We talked today about how I have a hard time telling people “no” and about how I don’t ask for help.  I don’t really know what to say about those two things right now, so I’ll just say that I also shot around the basketball a bit and that was pleasant.

I was done by around noon today and was just exhausted.  I have not been sleeping well and I decided it was time to indulge in a nap.  I slept from almost 1:00pm – 5:00pm and I still think I could sleep some more.

I am terrified that I am not going back to work.  So much of my self-esteem (maybe all of it) came from there.  As was said in group today, I can’t hear a positive without turning it into a negative.  So, here I am, taking something that could be positive…not having the stress of work…and dwelling on the negative.

I think if it were just me, I would go lie in bed and never get up.  That’s what I feel like now.  Not tired, just not wanting to exist or think or have to deal with anything.  It is some very real determination that has me doing anything other than the minimum required, and quite frankly I am not in some areas doing the minimum required even.

I don’t want to talk with my friends or family, play with my dog, read, or do anything.  I want to not feel this hurting feeling so badly, that its like I think if I sit still and quiet enough, that it will leave my body.  I wish it worked that way.

The tape in my head is very negative and I am thinking of myself in the harshest of terms right now.  My thinking is becoming a bit disjointed now, too, and that doesn’t make it any better because I am constantly mis-perceiving what others are saying and doing.  Just expect the worst.  The worst.

Matchbox Twenty, Long Day