March 22nd, 2017

Decided that I really need to start journaling my psychiatrist visits.  I definitely type faster, so even though I will lose some of the expression from my handwriting, I'm doing it here.

We talked today about what seems to me to be the last layer of personalities that hold me back.  This really needy little girl. I mean she's starving for affection, that was really standing out last week.  Unfortunately she's learned that love looks like someone that gives her pills, or attention for being sick.

After spending the last week thinking about this aspect of myself and wondering what she needed, or how I could separate her from my true self, I hadn't come up with much.  It seems obvious now, but the problem with her, the little girl, is that she is linked with the malnourishing mother. My Mom really gave me all she had, I believe that.  Only, she wasn't shown hardly any love, and a hell of a lot of disapproval.  She had to comfort herself, and learn how to grow up and survive without anyone to show her how.  So she taught me that I should take pills to deal with my fears, and sedate myself if I got too upset.  Indirectly, she taught me that I shouldn't reach very high, or try too hard, because she was constantly needing to protect me from dying!!!

I actually had a conversation with her today about "the Power of Now".  I love that we can have these completely different conversations about trying to use healthy thoughts to defeat anxiety now.  That we don't just talk over each other, each of us wanting to be heard how hard our lives and health were.

So back to 6 year-old me.  The one who's always in my dreams with me when I'm stress dreaming.  That I have to take on a ferry, or pack up and leave a hotel to drive back home.  The one that I'm struggling to take care of.

This week has been really, really challenging.  I don't think that it is an accident that this week is so difficult after last week's discovery of the little girl. My son, through a variety of events, some of which weren't his fault, ending up being AWOL overnight.  The police were involved, very little sleep was had, and anxiety was being put off.

In the morning, my daughter got up feeling really unwell, at the same time that I was shaking and feeling nauseous.  The combination of my being unable to care for her, my son missing, very little sleep and what turned out to be rather vicious diarrhea, just about did me in.  I was sitting ( I won't mention where), and telling myself that this could be a turning point if I let it. I could let myself panic and beg someone to take care of my sick child, and medicate the hell out of myself, and possibly lead to a downward spiral.  Or I could choose to calm down and try to do the best I could.  My daughter is able to take care of herself well enough. I didn't need to take care of her right then.  I was getting rather sick to my stomach, but just to get through it instead of imagining all the horrible things that could happen.  Son was most likely asleep with his buddy and would call me soon.

I had been trying to decide whether or not to take some ativan.  I couldn't decide if that was just giving my inner child more of the nourishment that just makes her sicker or not.  As I was trying to take out just a half a pill, a full pill fell out and landed exactly on my foot.  I took that as a sign from the universe and took the pill.  When talking about it today, doctor told me that maybe it doesn't have to be only bad for me or good for me.  Once again I'm forgetting that there are nuances to everything.  Just as I phoned my friend and asked him to be a cheer leader for me, to which he responded (which we have previously set up), "what do you want me to say?"

I told him that I didn't think I could handle what was happening, and could he tell me that I could and that I was strong, etc.  Which he did, and wisely suggested that I try to get out of my head by literally getting out.  Doctor asked me why I wanted friend to say those things to me.  Why wasn't it enough for me to say it?  I just don't believe myself yet. There has been so many years of my filling myself with glue like poison that I don't trust what I say and need others to confirm that what I'm thinking is true.

Don't trust myself.  Don't trust my thoughts. Or instincts.