I’m still feeling battered and bruised from the therapy session on Monday. Yesterday I had to be in at work and it was a nightmare basically. I kept thinking about death…I had a few meetings and must have been giving off just a black aura. At lunch time I phoned a friend, D, who was busy. I told him I was having a bad day, very depressed, and hung up as he was doing other things.
I felt a little better just from that tiny call. Sometimes just letting someone know how bad I feel helps. I kept wondering if he’d call me back. He did eventually call me in the evening, which was kind.
In the afternoon, I remembered my emergency pills, so took a half. Ah…better. The thoughts of death stopped for a few hours, and when they returned, I took another half a pill.
Packed into the subway like a sardine on the way home…that didn’t help my mood any. At home I went right to bed. Being able to lie down and not having to cope helped. I just drifted and felt feelings, breathing. I was sad, but no longer completely desperate. I thought about calling Ron, and ended up deciding not to. We’re not on good terms, in my mind at least. Also I wasn’t thinking straight, and thought he would be angry if I called.
My friend D called me back at that point and asked how I was doing. So kind. I was kind of crying, but I could talk. I told him I was going for therapy and it made me feel like crap. This friend is not a therapy kind of a guy, but he’d actually been helping a friend with a social work assignment recently, so he started going on about what this book said – the need to grieve, and re-integrate into society, or something like that. I just laughed that he would have anything to say on that at all. I told him I’d had a bad session and the therapist really hadn’t been much help. Or any help whatsoever. We don’t go into details, as he wouldn’t understand, but it helped so much to have someone on the phone who was concerned enough to call me, and who hung out on the phone for a while with me.
He said I should have some dinner, and I said I didn’t need to eat because I had chocolate, the organic kind with ginger…Oh yeah, that’s a good supper, he said, and we kind of laughed.
After that I felt better. I am more relaxed, so no longer feeling the massive anxiety. But I’m down.
Today I spent a lot of time lying in bed looking out the window. I have a sliding glass door in my bedroom that overlooks the veranda, so I have a good view of tree-tops and roofs. It was OK to just drift, kind of peaceful actually. I can’t usually lie and do absolutely nothing for hours, but today I had no problem doing that.
I’m working from home, and did do a few hours work, but I’m waiting on a document, so there’s a lot of leisure time.
The main cause of all this is the memory I kind of fell into during the session. Then the fact that Ron was unable to be helpful made it a little worse. I guess I’d kind of idealized him. He does have charm, and I like him as a person.
What he thinks and how he feels seems a little too important to me. Really, this is about me. Whether he thinks I’m crazy, or hysterical, or boring…that should not be the centre of the story for me. It’s me that’s trying to deal with all this pain. Really, I deserve credit for that, as a kind commenter pointed out to me. I am trying to work things through, which is a good thing. I’m going to keep telling myself that, because I’m feeling as if I did something rather shameful or unpleasant by going into that memory at all. But I did not do anything wrong. I’m paying Ron to help me – instead I’m worried he’s judging me.
And then I’m hoping he doesn’t actually think any of those things, and then I fear he does. Sigh. It’s an endless loop which I’m going to stop looping on.
When I first came into the session, and he looked so pre-occupied, I wish I’d said something about it. Now I’m thinking maybe it was me – I was very anxious when I went in. Was he worried about me, or startled or something? I was wearing an unbecoming checked shirt – did he hate the shirt? Just to show how ridiculous my worried thoughts are. The only way to know would have been to ask.
Well – it hurts. The ‘WTF does Ron think’ issue is a side issue. It’s my past that’s hurting me.