Stuff about eating and weight below
healandsurvive on … Bipolar Cat on … healandsurvive on … Scarlet on … healandsurvive on …
Stuff about eating and weight below
Today I have a scheduled session with the therapist. It will be my first time officially meeting her. We scheduled a session specifically with me arriving so that time will not be wasted with Megan resisting a switch or even co-consciousness. We do not have the kind of time for that and then to only be able to force our way to the front with approximately 10 minutes remaining in the session. It is unreasonable to expect any headway to be made in that fashion.
I have not been out nearly as much as I used to be, and even I am unsure as to the reason why.
It feels good to wear jewelry, a dress, and heels again. First impressions matter.
I will be bringing the system journal with me so that I can write any notes from the session, especially if they need to be passed on to anyone in the system. It feels like a proactive step.
Having a chronic illness is almost like looking back on your life and what you would have done differently, but without being on your deathbed as you do so.
I’m sure many people would be surprised if they heard the one thing I would have done differently.
I would have gone on more rollercoasters. I wouldn’t have waited so long to try them after much coaxing and teasing by my father and brother. Yes, I would have been terrified, but I would have done it more often and sooner.
Now my body is on its own personal rollercoaster. But it never stops. It feels like I’m on one. But it never stops.
It jerks, drops, flips, twirls.
But it doesn’t stop.
And there is no adrenaline-filled euphoria after. There is no fun.
The rollercoaster keeps going and no one is pressing the switch and everyone has left the park, and you are going to go around and around forever.
It’s very difficult to focus on mental health when physical illness is such a distraction.
When your world constantly tilts, swirls, or feels like you’re on a boat, it’s hard to devote as much time to introspection.
So for 45-50 minutes a week, mental health takes the front seat. That doesn’t seem like a lot, really. Plus, during therapy sessions we obviously have other things to discuss, and I try to separate my physical illness and not talk about it because it’s the focus of my life every living moment of every other time except those 45-50 minutes once a week.
But then once the session is over, it’s back to the land of physical concerns and worries. The session is quickly forgotten; mentally tossed aside.
And, of course, I know physical and mental health shouldn’t be treated separately all the time. I know it’s all happening in one body and therefore everything is intertwined. And I know the physical condition caused a whole new kind of anxiety and depression.
I’m crying a lot recently over this Vestibular condition. And it’s not PMS time. So I know I’m crying for a reason. And it keeps happening out of the blue and is very hard to stop. I’m starting to become increasingly irritable, restless, agitated. I’m easily overwhelmed and feel like my brain is turning to mush. I’m becoming lethargic and I get tired just thinking of things.
My therapist thought my “feeling nothing” might have been depression, but I told her it didn’t feel like every other instance of depression in my life. My “feeling nothing” is actually related to an alter taking emotions, especially the extremes, and bottling them up so I would be seen as more stable to please the people to whom I needed to redeem myself.
However, these days I feel more and more like the usual depression is returning. And I’d bet you anything it’s been triggered by this physical condition. I know it’s affecting one alter immensely, and that alter is once who is already prone to depression, mood instability, impulsive and self-destructive behaviors, etc. So I need to be cautious. Sometimes I feel bleed-through emotions from her and try to untangle what’s going on.
Luckily my therapist knows how it’s affecting the alter and she’s aware of the alter’s tendencies and history.
Everything is so tangled up into itself.
I’ve really been going “stir-crazy”.
Today I was determined to drive around the neighborhood at least once.
I ended up deciding to go to the store five minutes away to pick up prescriptions and run an errand. I made it there and back fine! In the store is where I actually had the most issues…it was like my right eye was wandering. I probably looked drunk to the employees.
But hey, it was a personal triumph to even drive to the store, let alone spend time in it. So who cares what they think? I haven’t had a drink in years because of my meds, so it’s not like I’m going to get in trouble for having a balance issue while walking in a store!
On another note, I saw one of those medical alert bracelets and yet again I find myself wondering if I should get one of those. It might allow for more freedom and feeling secure while out and about without one of my family members with me…
Anyway, it was good to get out and feel like I was able to do something, no matter how “minor” it may seem to others.
Yesterday we were sorting through boxes in the basement to decide what will be shipped down to the new house (not moving there permanently for 4 years yet, but settle on the house next month).
My mother warned, “Sometimes, remember, you give the okay to get rid of things and then…later you….decide not to. So I’ll let you look once more through the piles of stuff closer to when it’s time to pack.”
What she meant but wouldn’t say was, “Sometimes you or an alter say one thing and make a choice, but then you don’t remember and want the thing back.”
See, we don’t even discuss it even though we all know I have DID and they’ve even come to family sessions, etc. where we discussed the DID…whatever. She uses generic terms that make it sound like I’m just indecisive.
And then she seemed annoyed at the fact that I wasn’t exactly giddy with joy while going through the box of my high school things. She said we were keeping all of it anyway, so in that case, I wonder why even bother making me sort through the box?
Do you know why I was agitated while going through that box? Because I barely remember high school, and what I do remember was not pleasant. I don’t remember graduation! She insists I’ll care about the contents of the box “some day”, but how can I care about when I don’t remember? High school was when I really started to get obviously mentally ill and DID symptoms kicked into high gear close to the beginning of my senior year.
With this current therapist, I can see areas of improvement. For example, I now do not get nearly as unnerved or angry upon hearing names of alters. There is also a greater amount of communication from several alters to the therapist. Trust appears to be building. I like and respect the way she approaches the alters.
However, since my life has come to a standstill with this chronic vestibular condition, it becomes difficult to tell when I’m losing time vs. just wondering where the day went. When you can’t really do much of anything except sit or try to do your physical therapy exercises, the days start to blend and blur anyway, except for days you have appointments, and mine are usually packed into the same day each week when someone can drive me. So add the blending and blurring together of time in general to the blending and blurring of time for a person with DID and you don’t have such a great mix. Therefore, when my therapist asks if I’ve lost any time, it makes it difficult to provide a confident or accurate answer. I get really tired of saying, “I don’t know.”.
And while I may feel a bit stir-crazy at times, apparently there are some alters who just don’t know what to do because basically their “jobs” have become nearly obsolete. But when they do manage to exert their influence, it’s this weird limbo. Or it comes way more forcefully and shocks me.
It’s just not an easy time. I almost feel as if I can sense them right under the surface, all restless and listless and waiting for nothing. It’s almost a painless itch.