Ruth

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About Ruth

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    Formerly known as Starfish
  • Birthday 03/19/1968

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    Female
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    Survivor
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    UK
  1. Hi Jonathan I'm pleased to see that you're able to login now using Internet Explorer instead of Opera. Sometimes clearing your browser history and cookies can resolve things and you may be able to use Opera again after doing that. I know a lot of people find switching to a different browser can be a bit of a challenge because we're used to the look and feel with the way it operates but after a while you can get used to it. I was like that when I switched from using the browser in AOL to Internet Explorer, and the same again when IE was crashing all the time and going over to use Firefox instead. I tried out both Google Chrome and Firefox but felt more comfortable with the look and feel and functionality of Firefox - I guess it comes down to personal preference! Ruth
  2. Nixie, safe squishy if ok Sweetie, I'm so very sorry this happened. Inviting them to your house does not mean in any way at all that this was an open invitation for them to do that; it was rape. I know that right now you've a lot of thoughts and feelings and feeling and are so confused about this. I hope you'll reach out for support here and maybe consider reaching out for support too in your everyday life. your health and wellbeing are so very important. We're here for you, lean on us, ok? Sitting with you. Starfish
  3. Strange Old Week

    It's been a strange old week. I'm feeling remarkably calm this morning which is much better than I have been recently. I still feel fuzzy headed and jittery but a bit more even. I ended up not going to work all week but I'm determined to be back there on Tuesday. Ok, so I'm being stubborn but I think it'd be better because of the routine; it's good being productive and will help ease the isolation and anxiety. Work is ok about it and has dished my caseload out and rearranged things and I know they're worried because of what happened back in 2008. I found it funny when G said 'I don't know what to say because I don't know where your head's at'. He told me I could call him on his mobile if I needed or wanted to. Ummm...I think that's a nope. I like G, I know he's my boss and he's not as organized a manager as I'd like him to be, but he's a decent person and it's kind of nice to have the possibility to call if I wanted to, but nope, I'd rather keep the boundaries intact. To be honest, I'm worried too but I do feel that I've caught this in time and am doing something about it now even though I'm not really sure what I'm doing, in a sort of, ok, we'll see how things go kind of way. I had a 'phone call from the surgery on Thursday morning to say Dr P had to cancel my appointment but she could do a 'phone consultation with me or they'd fit me in to see another doc. I chose the 'phone call as there was no way I was going to talk to a stranger about it all as me and docs, me and strangers, well...and anyway, my GP knows me and has been with me through the ups and downs and stuff. Long story short, she's written up a prescription for me, said I can discuss this with my T, but thinks going on anti depressants could be helpful, there's no pressure, it's up to me. No, they shouldn't make me feel numb - she knows I can do detached and numb oh so well by myself and seriously, I'm feeling again, and although it's painful it is better than not feeling but it's yuck all the same. She said they should help with the sleep but to continue taking the sleeping pills on alternate nights as I am now, we can reduce them later. Uhhhh...more pills? Being drugged up? I really need to think about this and talk to T about it too. Here's me wanting to reduce the sleeping pills as planned and yet it's we could add another one every night. Sheesh. I hate meds. Seriously, I take my allergy meds, I'll take antibiotics when I have to, but otherwise, please no. I know it's irrational. I can argue that I've such double standards about it too. I know part of it is related to - actually, I don't want to post that here, I think that's best left to talk with T about. I know part of it is head and body disconnect and just hating feeling drugged too. There is the, 'well if it helps with sleep it will help with everything else' because sleep is so essential and is something that eludes me so much. Hmmmm...There's a part of me that really admires the way Dr P works and puts things out there. Ok, now me, I'm still fighting the notion that I'm feeling depressed. I can easily put it all down to being tired and the PTSD and my not-so-lovely friend anxiety and that I'm spacing out all over the place and just am tired, tired, tired. Waking up at five every morning is not good though, particularly as it takes so long to get to sleep. I felt better strangely when I wasn't getting to sleep until five in the morning. Except that's not really true because I wasn't feeling anything then other than numb or anxious. Hmmm... Roll on Wednesday so I get to see T. Bank Holiday Mondays are all well and good as it's a day off but it means I don't get to see T on those days so then it's just once a week. Ok, so I know I only used to see Mr T once a week but I see T twice a week. I know the decision to take the damn stupid pills is up to me but I really don't want to stop feeling. It may feel awfully painful but it's better than not feeling. But I need to be able to sleep and go to work. Hmmm...
  4. Holding on...

    I'm avoiding writing in my journal right now. I can't say quite why that is, but that's what I'm doing. I've had a weird morning so far. Firstly, the bin men arrived and emptied the green bins. Good. I hopped out of bed to check as I'd thought it was the usual bank holiday routine and hadn't put the bin out on the pavement, but they'd emptied it which was good as I cut the hedge yesterday (nice reminder of that as I cut my fingers cleaning the shears later - not badly, but it's a tad painful each time I tap on the keys here now) and I've more of the garden to put in the bin again. I'm considering call someone to pay them to help me with this as the tree needs pruning and there are a couple of buddleias that need removing too and I am not strong enough to do that. Plus, they can then clear everything up and away. Hmmm...I digress. Anyway, some lovely teeth chattering earlier from out of nowhere, followed by some tears and more teeth chattering. And now? Now, I'm holding on. I'm ok but feeling a little bemused about all this. Funny, I was saying to Dad the other day (again) that the only thing that anyone ever talks about when they bring up Proust and Remembrance of Things Past is the memory of madeleines and tea and his mother. That was because we'd been howling with laughter at the scene in Bored to Death the other day. I've often said that maybe that's as far as they read. Now the thing is, I've never read it and don't really think I can be bother to wade my way through all of it, but it makes me smile that's really all anyway ever talks about. I'm always reminded of Jen enthusing about Proust and yet she did the same thing. I remember asking her about it and yet she didn't recall anything else. Hmmm...I do wonder if that's because the rest is not that fascinating, if anyone has ever read any further than the madeleines and all they're doing is plucking a literary morsel (ahem...nice wordplay that sprung to mind there) from their memories or what they've recalled hearing about the madeleines. Is this a serious thing to ponder? I dunno. But it's funny how memories and recall and shut off and shut out are intertwined in a strange and yet reassuring way. I digress... What sparked all this off in some ways was the teeth chattering and the tears and remembering Mr T and also thinking about T and that's she's away. Five sessions, it'll be three week in total from when I saw her last, and I'm telling myself it's not that long. Seems like a long time though. And I was thinking, 'Well, I could write in my journal' but then thought that no I don't want to place any words there. Maybe it's because I'm holding on until she's back. See, putting some words down right now is maybe a little too real. They're just words, right? Hmmm...But words have other things attached to them; feelings, memories, the whole myriad of the senses that can be engaged in those little words. So no, I'll put off writing the words. But I'll admit I'm thinking about words and putting one word after another so it makes a sentence that maybe would bring up some semblance of meaning. Sheesh. I hate it when I'm writing like this. I sound a little cryptic and weird and it's not that I'm trying to be that or that I am. Then again, I'm hiding the words in my head, rather than uttering them so maybe that is being cryptic after all. Ok, it is. But I'm holding on, whilst she's away, and keeping things on hold. It feels like a pause yet at the same time the scene's still running silently in the background or maybe like the scene's paused and on hold and I'm still moving. It's a little surreal. Sometimes it's like I wish the moment for, 'And they all played (together) would come so that everything's not so separate. That 'Oh,’ thought Tubby, ‘how happy I am!’ moment. I want to write some of the things down before she's back. Maybe I'm trying to nudge myself in that direction by writing this.
  5. Since I started therapy with T things have been a little - no really a lot - weird. First of all, she is a woman and although I saw Mrs L, I was in a very different place in so many ways then, plus it was stop-start and I knew it was only going to be for a few counselling sessions at my GP's surgery. I saw Dr P before I went up to my folks last week for my opticians appointment (A says my corneas are still as dry as a dry cracked riverbed and there are some spots that are not holding moisture at all), haircut and chat and chill with I (my oldest friend) and he said he could see I was really struggling inside, and the folks. My birthday (very spacey) and Mum's birthday. It was hard. See, there was the conversation I had with Dr P about how I've been very lucky with the T's I've seen. She said Mr T was very good for me. He was, and I am so grateful I had him as a T then as it enabled me to unblock some of my life before FW and deal with some of the crap to do with him. The weird thing is I had to shut up a lot of it as I knew we were running out of time and I'm amazed and really glad I did manage to talk about Mum. That's not to say I wasn't incredibly hurt when he mentioned 'the feelings I have towards my mother' in the combined report letter to Dr P (always sends one of those at the end of T) and to the LC. I'd had all those thoughts and hurt feelings about what he'd said about it being a private confidential discussion with my T. Yes it was, and no he hadn't breached confidentiality because I'd given my consent to the report but I was well feeling a bit out there. When I saw Dr P I actually said it was difficult because T is a woman. It's funny, cringe making and a whole lot else besides, but Dr P is a woman but because she never pushes and lets me make decisions and, ah, I dunno, maybe it's because I view her as being so 'safe' and do very much on my side, in my corner, so to speak. I dunno. I know I'm bloody lucky to have such a brilliant GP. And no, I don't always agree with her, mind you, I think that comes down to sometimes not actually being aware, even though I am aware but not. Hmmm... Can't you just tell my thoughts are all over the place here... Anyway, T. I've finally settled on calling her T (her first name). Bit of a change for me. Mr T was always Mr T. I never actually called him by his full surname (which began with a T) just Mr T. It fitted him. Well, for me it did. Now T, I don't want to call her Ms B. So it's T. And no, I'm not about to share her name here, in my journal I type it out not just the initial. Might not seem much to anyone else but to me it makes sense. I think that's because with the crap that's coming up from when I was little calling her Ms B would be putting her on the same footing as Mrs M (particularly) and Mr H and Miss J. And back to when I was living in L Miss S. All teachers. And whilst I think (well I like to think) they did what they could (it was the 70's). It's a bit like when the Priest came to our house in L and gave me a tiny prayer book. He'd told Mum he wanted to see me. That was around the time she stopped going to church. I don't really remember much about it apart from being called into the kitchen and being handed that little prayer book. It has a lime green cover with a picture of a church (with a steeple) on it. It was meant for children. I don't think I said much. I'm not up to writing about the other stuff from then that's been surfacing. It makes me spin all over the place. The strangest thing in some ways has been recalling my time with Mrs L. I remember telling her that 'I'm not ..... I'm .....' and her smiling and saying of course you are, you're who you've always been. But then skip to the very last session with her (that was when it was out of the surgery and in her private practice because she'd double booked me (last appointment) with someone else (first appointment). What's been so strange is recalling the conversation we had and her saying to me, 'I remember ..... telling me that when she got away it was like a giant spaceship came down and whooshed her away, it was like getting away from Bluebeard.' I'd thought at the time, she's confusing me with someone else again but now...ugh...hmmm...WTF. Seriously, it's like when T was saying about being present and Dr P saying I'm detached enough as it is already. Arrgh...and what makes all this worse is T knows how I shut down and flat line (well that's the noise in my head) when we start talking about Mum. And she says she'll be with me, and sometimes I'll shutdown and sometimes I'll go back to numb but I'm scared. See, she's on holiday after this week. For two whole weeks. And it's not like when I saw Mr T. I only saw him once a week and I think it's weird because I used to miss him terribly when he wasn't there but I always knew he cared and that he would be there when he got back. Now, I've no reason to believe that she won't be there or that she doesn't care but it's bloody scary. I think another thing I'm finding really hard right now is that I'm getting bits of memories again from before FW (and I don't just mean the stuff from when I was little) but all sorts of tiny snapshots and bits and none of them are in the right order. Ok, well why should they be. But my head is doing enough of a time warp as it is. You know, this is the most I've written (apart from going through a pack of post it and some scribbles in a notebook) and I feel I suppose detached enough and yet in one place to get this out. Gosh, I've got too good at moving things around and putting them into their nice little boxes and lidding them. And it's not like I'm doing it on purpose. That sounds so weak and feeble, but it doesn't seem like it's a pre-determined act. Well, not all of it. It's like when Mrs L said about living my life creatively, and Mr T talking about my adaptive behaviour. I think I've been doing this my whole life. Like when I said to T the other week that FW trashed my mind but I think it was in a bit of mess before then anyway. Yuck, yuck. That was when I mentioned a little bit about FW and torture. Strange, I'd thought I'd do a recap of FW and then get on to other stuff but I sort of boinged into Mum. That was at the very first session. As much as I may be able to relate to men better I think that's surface stuff when it comes to letting people close unless they're safe and only ever going to be 'platonic'. And I think that as much as Mr T was fantastic, it probably is for the best that I'm seeing a female T for this next stage. And S is right; she is a safe pair of hands even though I don't like all the crap that's coming up and out. Why is it that I seem to do everything back to front, wrong way around, upside down? Maybe it's not so much that more that I've got more support now as she's there for me twice a week and now is the right time to have all these memories surfacing and breaking through - even though I'm trying to push them aside - well it's overwhelming trying to catch all of them. And that's without the noise in my head and the shouting, screaming, soothing, the don't do it, the don't go there, the what's the point if you don't, you deserve more and all the rest that's going on. Still, gotta hang on to hope, gotta keep that glimmer alive. I'm getting tired now. Need to rest and then have something to eat.
  6. Hmmm...

    Ok, so I did sleep last night but have the most awful headache. I've finally managed to eat something which is a good thing and I did manage to get the water working after a fashion so had a shower. I was thinking of attempting the journey to H as a try out. I've not done that. It was trying to snow and I looked at the travel planner and it supposedly takes an hour and fifteen minutes by the alternate route so add at least ten minutes to that because it's always out when it comes to the bus bits. Hmmm...So at least two and a half hours for a round trip to that place and a T who I had such a horrible reaction to and I'm thinking no. C'mon kiddo, who cares what they say at the LC, if they think I'm being difficult, if they want to class it as extreme transference, it is not worth putting yourself through that kind of hell. If I'd a good relationship or at least a chink of a fit I'd think work through and try it but I keep going back to the dentist issue. I made my decision then and asked to see someone else. I'm doing the same now. I have difficulty travelling, they'll either come up with someone else even if it means waiting, or I look elsewhere. This feels bloody scary but a damned sight better than the thought of going there and seeing her again. I'm shaky and drained and upset and disappointed and a whole host of other things I can't quite grasp yet but there's a part of me that really knows - and I mean that deep undeniable knowing - that this is the right decision for me right now. I've got so much crap to sort out here too - I rang the agents earlier and spoke to S who said she'd get someone out to look at the boiler this week. Phew! I rely on having a shower so much and having been so triggered and thrown back having to play turn on and off and on and off the taps all over the house to get hot water anywhere just so I can have a shower isn't good. Plus, fingers crossed the heating is still working but that really would be a hassle and a half. You know what irks me - I think I should've gone with my gut reaction in the first place about travelling to H. Flipping stupid of me to put myself in that position anyway. Ho hum. I do try but sometimes I really should know when something's way too far out of my comfort zone for now. I mean seriously, if I'm getting so stressed out on the journey there and back what am I going to achieve? As it is, this feels like a setback but it's not going to be because I'm stopping it before it starts. I'd like the space cadet head to bugger off now and get some balance back. Ugh...still, this is better than earlier.
  7. Yuck

    Trigger warning - swearing, use of real words, mention of SI A lot has happened recently. I had the client from hell, I had my assessment with SC (she was really nice), I talked about a lot and although it was tough it was good, I had the appointment set up with TB, sent off my IVA review stuff to the IP, celebrated five years' of freedom, spoke to the IP team who told me I'd got the ok for the additional amount to cover some of my therapy costs. And then I went to H to see TB. First off, I think H is a dump. B said it's like the dreary end of EG. Bullshit. It's horrible. It's a fucking dump. I didn't feel safe there and it's a hike and a half to get there. OK, so it's a culture shock, from not being in the nice safe NHS environment, it's nothing like the DCP at E, and she is nothing like Mr T. I don't know. And then there was the fact that it was freezing and snowing when I left there, I got lost, wandered around for forty minutes trying not to cry, scared to ask anyone the way - the first person I saw to ask was around my Dad's age and staring at a wall leaning on a walking stick. Hmmm...Except he was peeing in the street. It was still daylight. Ugh. Memories of rain spattering down that night when I was walking to the bus station years ago and was flashed at by that creepy tosser. Well, he was. Wanking, that is. So I shrug it off and go into a shop but the guy behind the counter barely speaks my language and is looking at me like I'm some alien (sure do feel like I'm in nowhere land) but a nice lady (she was younger than me and smiley and nice and friendly) gave me fantastic directions. Ugh. This is a bit disjointed. I've felt connected and not so connected and all over the place since I saw TB. I've never had an assessment or opening therapy session where I've shut down so much. I know S said she urged me to try T with TTB but I'm not so sure. I don't know why. It could be the culture shock, environment, I had a good relationship with Mr T and trusted him, that the journey there and back was ugh and I'm not sure if having a female therapist is really a good idea. Yup, I know I said to S that it's the fit that matter, but she seemed so way off and I was so uncomfortable, I dunno. Maybe it was the way she talked about being divided and that it was always going to be very difficult for me - there's one part that wants to speak, another that wants things firmly shut. She did say that was simplifying it but I am also pretty, I don't know what the words are, I suppose taken aback that she seemed to have made her mind up there and then that this is impossible. This was a first session for fucks sake. Anyway, I'm weighing up if I'm even going to go back - I can mail her the cheque (she said she normally gives the bill at the end of the month) but S said I'd be in a safe pair of hands. So far I can only think of three reasons why to go back. Ok, four if you count the lack of vacancies at the time and cost. Hmmm...I feel so off balance. Weird. I could talk to S but TB...hmmm... Her opening line wasn't that welcoming, 'You're a bit early...' Hmmm...Twelve minutes. It was fucking freezing out there and she mutters about my being early. Apparently it was only two minutes over her allowed to be early time anyway so it just felt like an, I'm putting you in your place now. FFS, I asked her all these things when we started. She has a no cancellation fee policy, ergo, I miss a session for any reason and I pay. Fair enough. She has two weeks off at Christmas and Easter and four weeks in August. And sometimes half-term. Hmmm...I forgot to ask her if she works Bank Holiday Mondays as my supposed allotted session will be a Monday. That's if I make it that far. See, we were supposed to be starting next week, but now it's going to be three weeks later, but in the meantime she can make stupid 'o clock on Wednesdays. Oh, and she said it's only twenty minutes by car. One, I don't drive (well I can but I don't right now), two, even if I did I don't have a car and won't for the foreseeable future. So it's public transport and the hike-a-thon there and back. I hate fucking H and I hate fucking S. Horrible places. Yuck, yuck, yuck. Oh, and will she do emergency appointments and phone calls. I rarely used this with Mr T but I knew he was there. I'm not so sure about her. Funny. I really am not sure about her, the travel or the place. The fee is ok, even with her no cancellation policy. I suppose I'm wondering why S thought she'd be a good fit for me. I don't doubt she's experienced, I'm just not sure about the fit. I dunno. Antennae alert time? Hyper alert time? My head hurts. Hmmm...Can you tell I'm not a happy bunny? Yeah right. I am not comfortable. Fan-bloody-tastic. I don't know if this is just a bunch of reactions to the culture shock, starting again with someone new, travel - I hate it and really am so very fucking fed up that it doesn't seem to get any easier - yes, I get through it but then again that's what I do, get on with things, the yuck fest journey home, or that it is an honest gut reaction that we're not going to get along and this won't work. And you know it's the last one that worries me. The last time I felt so this is wrong, it's not going to work was when I shared a house with friends' years ago and moving in with FW. Hmmm...But then I was the one who opened up the Mum conversation. There's no avoiding it. It's there in black and white in Mr T's report, I spoke about a little bit to S (funny I managed to talk to her) but with TB...I dunno. I tried explaining that it was months in before I discussed anything at all about this with Mr T. The words weren't coming out though. And there was no way on earth I was going to tell her that my ears were ringing and everything was closing in on me. The best I could manage was shutters down; anyway, we'll see. Maybe I'll do the rundown of FW and take it from there and say Mum's off limits for now. I told her FW is a monster and despicable - I don't bloody care what she thinks of that - and that logically I know why Mum did and said some of the things she did but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. My head hurts. I'm going to come back to this later sometime. I'm still stiff, wound up and upset and feeling very unsure. This sucks. I don't think I like TB. There, I've said it. It feels so small, and petty and mean. But it seems real. I can't quite get my head around this. I don't know why. Maybe it is as simple as not liking her. Taking an instant dislike. Silly in some ways as I don't know her. That doesn't mean though that my instincts aren't right. It's a bit like the dentist from hell, my dentist's sister. Dad said I sounded like I did after I saw her before I switched to my dentist. Now that was a meltdown and then some and maybe that is a huge part of it. I know it wasn't just the Mum conversation that was triggering (why the hell I couldn't keep my mouth shut I honestly can't say, it was out - but then she'd got Mr T's report and he'd mentioned the Mum issue anyway) but the defeatist, impatient and unsupportive vibe I got. Huh...stepping back I can play nice analytical games here and say oh, well it's transference crap (or not so crap - still feels like crap whatever way you look at it intellectually) and that it's difficult because generally I relate better to men than women. Funny that though, I have had awesome role models and friendships with some females but I do know that FW aside, a heck of a lot of damage has come from females. That always makes me feel sick. I really think and feel it is so utterly crap that women cannot be more supportive of each other. Oh, and for anyone reading this is not about Pandys, I'm talking my life and experience here. I've been trying to sleep on it. In the meantime, if things don't smooth out I'll think of looking elsewhere. This sounds so defeatist. I'm a bit taken aback by this. I've wanted to call S and Mr T and Dr P but am sitting with this so I can make my mind up; I'm perfectly able to do that. Now later when things have settled more I may sound out S about this. I'm taking the practicalities on board first. In two weeks time there'll be no trains from S to H and back which means a different route (sheesh, I fucking hate travelling, it is still so anxiety provoking) so I need to find out if I can do the journey. If that really is too much and I still feel that TB and I don't fit I'm calling a halt pronto. I am not going to push myself into a state. FFS I SI'd earlier. Now obviously I'm not going to say what I did (it really is fucking embarrassing - I'm always left feeling like it's a self destruct thing rather than what generally would be seen as SI - can't say more on that) but ugh...and I am pretty angry that this happened. That I did this. Except, as usual I don't feel like it was really me that did it even though logically I know it was because there's no one else here but me. Oh, and my stupid boiler is playing up. How the hell can you have central heating that is working but turn the tap on or shower and all you get is tepid water. Hmmm...Well that wasn't a great start to Wednesday was it, a just about ok shower. Since then I've got it to work after a fashion. So it's off to see the agents in the morning to tell them that Mr F (my absentee landlord, but gotta love him, he's not put up the rent) needs to pay for my boiler to be sorted out. Hmmm...And then for an alternative route trip to H to see if I'll be able to make it to next week's T session. That's if I go. The jury's out on that. Ok, so stubborn me, rational me, be fair me, is saying give it another go. And then there's the not in a month of Sunday's, I don't like her, I'm never going back there, along with the give it a chance, see if things are different next week, see if some plain talking (I'm going to have to take it with me in some written form) how I felt and thought about everything during and after the first session. Yuck fest. My head hurts. I'm going to try to sleep. I'm going to bed.
  8. I feel...

    ...like I'm waiting for my head and body to be in one place again. Ok, so I feel drained now in comparison to frazzled, wobbled, spaced, and wiped out but it's been a weird kind of day. Thinking now, now that my head feels clear enough to think a little bit, it's been a pretty tough week and I've just ridden out the anxiety and panic as it's arisen. Maybe today I was in a place and space where it was going to come out. I've more work to do for my IVA review - I received a letter from the IP's team and they want the last 4 year's payslips. Why? They've had them all before, ok, the last 12 months they haven't had yet, but the others. Hmmm...I've got them all anyway, but it's such a bloody chore having to go over all this crap. Still, next year it'll be the last one. Next year... Friday is assessment day with S. She sounded nice when I spoke to her in December. I'm hoping they can come up with something. If not, it's back to see Dr P and to see if either Mrs L or Mr T can come up with something else. As Dr P said, I'm a 'coper', a 'manager' but I need some proper support in place and even though they hve new funding it's for, as she said, 'general counselling not the more traditional psychotherapy which is what you need'. Ok, so there's other avenues to explore if Friday doesn't come up with anything (not that Friday itself would, it's just a day - I mean if we can't see a way forward through the LC on Friday) but this is, well, it's tough. And I know I'm avoiding thnking how I'm going to manage getting there. I keep telling myself so what, you can do it, and G said it's fine, I don't need to take leave that day, I'll be in about 3pm after I've traipsed all the way back. Ugh. Put that away for another day. Next week I'm going to keep a closer watch on my hours at work and eating - I kind of trashed things since I got back to work this year so want to get back on track because I had been doing better there. I'm going to try to make my way upstairs to sleep.
  9. Made it to the weekend!

    Ack...today's been horrible and good and a little wobbly but da-da-da...I made it to the weekend! This is the first full week I've done since October last year. That's a full week with no appointments, no days off, etc. etc. and I'm heading up to some more of those dates but I did it. I got through the week.
  10. I'm tired and my head hurts...

    ...says it all really. Ok, so I've not stuck to my hours this week. On Wednesday evening I sat clearing my outbox. Great. In a cold office when I could've been home listening to the radio or watching television I stay there clearing my stupid mailbox. Tonight (well yesterday now) I had to wait for J to finish because apart from G and P, I'm the only idiot with a full set of keys and everyone always wusses out when it comes to locking up and putting the alarm on. I'm not a flipping keyholder anymore. We went through that fiasco in January when the alarm company rang me up at 11pm on night (yeah right...they were supposed to take me off the keyholder list...). And I know it's kind of silly, and I know it wasn't as if it was anything like I was before, but it's become bloody obvious that this sticking to my hours really is a battle right now. Ha! And then there was all the fuss last week over who's going to the post office because P and A weren't there (that's how I got to go home early) and I gave them a choice but they whined about either option. It's not hard locking up. They have to lock their own front doors every day, so waving a key fob in front of an alarm and then turning 2 keys...sighs. I dunno. It's the comments about, oh it's scary. Sometimes I wonder what my definition of scary looks like. And sometimes I feel so devoid of any norm that it kind of reinforces the old machine mode thinking and feeling. Sighs. Ok, so I'm not back there, but it's bloody hard work keeping things even. Right now, everything feels like too much bloody hard work. Eating and sleeping? Hmmm...I seem to be playing the same old games with myself that I have before where I just push it to one side, let's think about it later, shall we? Maybe also it is a reminder of what Dr P said about waiting until I've the assessment and future therapy sorted before we decrease the stupid bloody pills. Yeah, right. Oh well, only 3 weeks to go then I'm on leave. By the time they sort out the stupid assessment and then I go through the merry rounds of more waiting it'll be my birthday the rate things are going. I'm feeling pretty fed up about this.
  11. Storym weather

    Everything is creaking. Trees are waving and rustling, this old house is moaning and groaning as the wind blows and shudders and rumbles on. I don't like stormy weather. It kind of creeps me out and I'm sitting here drinking Ovaltine, I've taken my pills (thankfully a night on night) and I'm just hoping they'll kick in tonight because I don't know if I can face yet another night of disturbed sleep. I'm still waiting. Each night when I come home from work I look at the doormat and if there is any post (most of it's junk mail) I scan and check to see if there's any news from the LC. I can't call again. Not yet. Leave it 'til next week. We'd said it'd probably be the beginning of December before I have any news about the assessment. It's really fraying me now. I'm trying to distract myself, I've been writing when I can keep myself from being so antsy and I'm trying to be patient also about when I can get back to the gym. I miss the treadmill to pound some of the anxiety away and clear my head and connect with me and break the get up, go to work, come home again routine. Ok, so I know it's sensible, I know it's what R has agreed with me before, but this is hard. I felt like calling Mr T today to moan and say, see, what did I tell you, no matter the connection, I need to get some of this out and there's no one right now. And the stupid bloody teeth chattering is really getting on my nerves. Ok, it's better than numb, but please. It's kind of embarrassing. Full blown panic attack, whatever, I'm not going to get embarrassed by that. Bawling or sobbing like a small child; no, not going to get embarrassed by that. Holding my head when it all gets too noisy in there; nope, not embarrassed by that. But flipping teeth chattering - I get embarrassed by that. Sheesh. Sighs. Morale in the office is really low. Me, I'm just burying my head and getting on with things. And no, I'm being good and not taking on too much or doing the overwork routine. So hugs for me there. But it is pretty wearying. And I hate this time of year. It's strange but I only realize a couple of weeks ago that I've had 5-year anniversaries all over the place this year. And as much as I try to squash hem down as dates on a calendar, I'm more than what happened, right now I feel not so very together. Ok, so that's nothing new. And I know I've made progress. And I know I'm doing well really as there's no Mr T to see every week. And it does seem to reinforce what he said about having 3 times weekly as far better, more supportive and healing for me. But it hasn't even started yet. I've not even had the assessment yet. And so there's s sort of rewind quality back to June when I was feeling so frustrated that I'd be left up in the air. Hmmm...So managing his absences made the ending more bearable? I'm not so sure about that. I think - I feel - that it's more of a case of banging those lids shut and yet having them in full view and really being out of the loop. So, I can call the rapid response team. Yeah sure. And see a psychiatrist. I don't think so as he knows they'd want to push meds and he knows my views on that and that for me, the sleeping meds is about all I can handle. Plus, I've fought hard; I've worked bloody hard at getting me back to work. And yes, there's more to life than work. And yet, right now, that's pretty much all I've the energy to do. Clinging to the edge of the desk for half an hour to keep my head and body in one place was draining to say the least. Spacing out at the weekend is fine - well it's not because I don't like having lost weekends - but when I'm trying to work...ugh. Still, it's top of the mountain day. Then two days before I can crash. I'm going to bed now. They're kicking in. Let's hope they continue to do their work. I need a decent night's sleep. And I hope the wind dies down soon. It really gives me the creeps.
  12. Still waiting

    I wish I was well enough to go to the gym. One; I like going to the gym, and two; it's a nice distraction and helps with my old friend anxiety. At least I'm feeling better that I was and was back at work today (that was rather entertaining in a bizarre way too) and R from the LC rang me last week to say she's sent the request for a report to Mr T, and yes, it'll probably be early December before I hear more from them about my assessment. Ho hum. I saw Dr P last week too (before the yucky virus hit) and had an extended appointment to go over sleep meds, other assorted bits and pieces and update her about the end of therapy with Mr T, that he'll be writing to her, and then the wait for the LC assessment. Great. Yesterday I received my copy of the letter to Dr P. He'd written it before but with the post still being delayed horrendously, things are taking a long time to arrive. Frustrating. It was weird reading what he'd said and that I've made a lot of progress but we'd both agreed there's still so much work to do and that therapy through the LC would be very good for me. Hmmm...still waiting. I'm going to bed soon. I hope I get some decent sleep.
  13. Waiting

    I’ve not written that much since my last therapy session with Mr T. I miss him. I am coping but it’s hard because I really hate this time of year. I smiled when he told me no one was arranged to be taking my place immediately. I will write about that last therapy session some time, just not right now. I have been busy though completing the questionnaire for the LC plus providing other information for it and it's been pretty heavy going. I thought the one for the DCP was long but it's nothing like this one. I ended up calling Mr T just over a week ago to confirm what R had said when I rang to find out if I could fax or email my forms and stuff and check whether I'd misunderstood about a consent form for Mr T. Turns out she'd not put on in, but yes, she will want a report from him about what we've been working on. Anyway, he was with a client and was interviewing for new psychologists for the DCP the following day. I told the lady on the reception team, it was ok; it could wait, it wasn't urgent, and left a message to tell him it was about the LC, he'd know what I was talking about. He called me on Tuesday. He says he's going to try to combine the two reports in one as he needs to write one for Dr P anyway and will copy that to me. I think he's rather bemused by all this because he's not had to do this before and as he said, I can self-refer myself to the LC anyway. I said I know that but that's what R has said and had sent me the consent form. I found it amusing in a strange way. Ho hum. The weirdest part of the whole conversation was when I said Dr P doesn't know about any of the childhood stuff but is aware of the sexual violence even though we've never discussed it in so many words. To be honest, I'd be more concerned if he refers to the t word some other things - that's down to my stance on labels and how certain people within the medical profession will shove pills at you rather than listen. I know Dr P's not like that but it's not her I'm concerned about. Hmmm...I sent by forms on Wednesday. Anyway, I had an acknowledgement by email on Friday from the LC that A had passed everything to R and she'll be in touch with me - by phone/email I'd presume - to see when I can attend for an assessment consultation for the reduced fee thing. So I wait. And in the meantime, I'm trying not to bury myself in work (difficult as G has been on holiday (again) and left chaos in his wake as ever), I'm trying to get on with things, and I'm acknowledging that I'm in a lot better state than I was this time last year when everything got a little too much and I was off work. And it's strange to see that this year I've ridden out the five year anniversary dates of the last 6 months with FW. From June to February (I know that's really 8 months, but you know how you can squash things down and say, 6 months or so...well, it's like that) really were absolute hell. It was constant, it was unremitting, there was no let up, and yet some things that happened really do seem to have much more magnitude. It's like the imprints have been seared into me. Hmmm...And no sooner do we know it but it will be February. And that will mark 5 years since I left him. And I was thinking, where will I be in 5 years' time? Mr T asked me where I saw myself in 5 years' time and I said, 'You have got to be kidding?!' He laughed because he knows that the idea, the mere mention of a future was such an abstract concept to me a while ago and that the only thing I could mumble about was 2011 and the end of the IVA. Now? Well, I don't have a future mapped out as such, but I am a little more hopeful. Hmmm...And I'm thinking that maybe I'm saying this right now because today's one of 'those' days, one of those dates on a calendar so that if things get a bit wobbly over the next few days I can know that I have some hope. Ummm...I need to try to sleep.
  14. Weird...

    ...that's what today turned out to be. Thankfully the working week is over and I've a weekend to enjoy. And a pink CORE questionairre to ignore. Ok, avoid thinking about, ok, I'll have to do it before Thursday. I laughed and said, just how scientific are these things anyway? And there were some jokes about statistics and hoe I can't scrawl all over it and say I don't know - in reference to how I'm feeling and if I'm feeling it. Of course, some of the questions are pretty striaghtforward, but like I said to him, uhhh...when I'm feeling different so much how am I supposed to anser this? Oh, and he agreed that boxing things up but acknowledging the boxes are there and that things may spill out is sensible until future therapy is set up. I managed to speak to the LC yesterday. The lady was really nice and she said have a chat to her colleague about the reduced fee scheme too. Me in typical, let's run out of the door so I don't have to talk about this, did just that at the end of therapy yesterday (Thursday). Two more sessions...hmmm...still, I've booked that Thursday and Friday off. I'm really glad I've done that after G's horrible outburst this morning. Honestly, you'd think they were doing me a favour by 'letting' me go to therapy. Errr...DDA covers this. Doesn't surprise me really, but still disappointing, and a whole lot else besides. Besides his proverbial kick the cat and then some bit this morning he was 'playing nice' the rest of the day with everyone else. Funny thing is, I think he was spoiling for it. When P's on leave he's either a nightmare to deal with and always ends up lashing out at someone. Or he does the great disappeaing act. 'Tidying' my desk and putting my blanket on the bin (hmmm...how about I put his trousers and shirt in the bin?) well, it always winds me up - the straw this time was my blanket on the bin. Later this afternoon, what made me laugh inside so much was when he just couldn't resist logging on to B's PC...unbelievable - she'd only left ten minutes before. Aaargh. Dinner, Hairy Bikers, Private Practice and copious cups of tea later I'm feeling a lot calmer. And as the folks said earlier, a few months ago this would have really thrown me. So yes, it was upsetting and I did have every right to be angry with what he said, but I got through it. Sleep...please...
  15. Ha bloody ha

    I want to go to sleep! It's a night off night and I'm wide awake. Great. Not. I've been watching the sign zone reruns of the nature programme - the one where the people took part in the competition to join the wildlife team. I'd not seen this episode which made a change. Sometimes when I watch the sign zone programmes it's a rerun of things I've seen already. I opted for this rather than something I've recorded because it's interesting and non challenging. Hmmm...I'm relaxed but wide awake. Ho hum...I'm going to do some stretches, see if that helps...