The Bomb Shell – Part Deux

So I went back to work yesterday and all that stress I’d been *missing* came flooding back. I feel like a ticking time bomb. I had another windscreen washer moment today when one of my bosses had a crack at me for not going to a meeting that had been rescheduled to today, when I had another commitment. I lost it. The proverbial dam burst and there were tears everywhere (damn! – pun intended). Ugh. Part of me wants to take more time off, and part of me just feels like a failure.

Is this something I’ll miss if my mother lives with me? Possibly. I mean, I’ll miss the freedom I feel to just burst into tears at any old time in any old place. Reality is I need my space. I decided last week that if I knew my mother wouldn’t live for very long then I wouldn’t hesitate to live with her – for all her faults, I love her – but if we’re talking 10, 15 or 20 years, then, umm, we kinda need to have a different conversation. So I speak to my GP, who I have a really good relationship with, and I speak to her oncologist.

The long of the short of it or the short of the long of it is that it seems she really doesn’t have that long. May be two years at most. At most. Ugh. Even though the primary cancer has been removed, she has a couple of mets to deal with, meaning one, more likely two, more rounds of surgery and another six months of chemo, but apparently she’s discussed not having more treatment with her oncologist, which means she has up to two years. Up to. At most. Absolute maximum.

To say I was shocked at this news is an understatement. Shocked because every discussion I’ve been involved in has involved treatment and cure, not no treatment and no cure. Also shocked that I may only have her for such a short time – and yet there’s all these things she needs to teach me, like how to cook pancakes, how to sew a button on, and how to remove stains from things! 😉

And so I don’t exactly say yes to the living arrangements, but I don’t exactly say no, either. How can I say no? Like many of you, the WT says I can but I “won’t” or “don’t want to”. Yep, I guess she’s right. I don’t want to say no to a dying woman, even if I don’t quite want to live with her, either, although part of me does so I can spend time with her and take care of her.

And now to top it all off there are two new lumps in her armpit. They could be anything, I realise that, but of course, given the circumstances, well… you know what I’m thinking.

So now I’m exploring the possibility of renovating my place so there’s more room – at least two “living” areas where we can do our own thing. I’m not sure it will work, but it’s worth looking at, and for me is a better option than moving. Certainly cheaper, and this way I get to keep (may be even improve) my lovely little house.

I don’t know, it still doesn’t feel right, but it is what it is. If she decides to have the treatment then she’ll probably stay with me for six months or more anyway (her treatment being in the city and her home being in the country)… may be this is a better way to do the six months? I don’t know. It’s all messy and swirly in my head. If she’s moving in, I want to make it comfortable (for me) sooner rather than later; and if she’s not, well… I’m not sure how to deal with the temporariness of the current arrangement anyway. It feels like a no win situation. Sigh.

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My head hurts

Does this image hurt your head? It does mine.

This is what it’s like inside my head at the moment – thoughts racing this way and that, too many things to deal with, it’s all a blur.

Yet again I seem to have taken on too much, and yet again it’s left me feeling overwhelmed. Although for good reason, and not necessarily my fault for everything that’s happening. There’s work issues, my mother’s cancer, my own health issues, issues with friends, blah blah blah. It’s not like I’m freaking out over spilt milk.

The thing that’s most consuming my thoughts right at this moment is work. My relationship with my manager has sunk to an intolerable level, to the extent that I would label her behaviour bullying and harassment. It’s brought back a whole lot of “stuff” from when Things Fell Apart – interactions with her (whether by phone, email or in person) literally now leave me shaking and panic struck.

The good news is that I’ve been offered another job. I have resigned and start my new job in about four weeks. I’m looking forward to the new work – it’s more up my alley, I’ll be working with people like me in a professional sense, and I have worked with the boss there before, so I know it won’t be all triggery and yuck.

At the same time I’m upset at the way things have gone in my current work. I think about my boss and I start shaking. That’s not good. I’m also scared of the new job – I’m wondering if I can do it, I feel like a failure where I am (though I know I’m not) … these thoughts just keep racing through my head.

And then there’s my health issues, which don’t seem to be going in the direction I’d hoped. I need to think about some options, but I can’t. There’s just too many and I’m not ready to deal with them. May be the work issues are taking up too much space?

And then there’s friends, some of whom have said insensitive things to me. And one of whom I’ve said insensitive things to and now I’m in a panic that I’ve ruined our friendship. I’m really sorry I hurt this person, it certainly wasn’t my intention, and I don’t know what else to do about it. I am hoping she’ll forgive me.

It’s noisy and messy in my head, and I don’t like it. I want to run away, never come back, crawl into a dark hole and stay there in the foetal position. I know none of that will help, so I’m just trying to sit with how I feel. Man, that’s hard… and then the thoughts race again and it’s all a blur.

Come back!

I don’t know what’s going on with me this week. Somewhere along the path to sanity there was one too many straws on this camel’s back and I lost it. I’ve been (metaphorically) kicking and screaming like a bratty little kid again.

Actually, there are some reasons – at least these are the straws that proved too much. One – the doctor’s office *lost* my allergy shots and now, after six months of anti-cat shots, and nearly $1000 in doctor’s fees, I have to start all over again. Sigh. Second – I’m still sick from when I got sick on my trip. It’s driving me insane. I had tests this week, but no results as yet. Three – I don’t even know what three is anymore, because all these things are so petty.

Somehow this has all lead to the two year old on the inside coming out and reigning supreme. It’s like she’s done a swap with my adult self, and I don’t know how to reverse it. I’m p*ssy at the world, and my therapist, for no good reason at all.

All the irrational thoughts and feelings I once had, and seemed to have rationalised back where they belong, have come screaming forth. All the stuff about the world being against me, my therapist *hating* me, my therapist abandoning me, me being useless… blah blah blah. It’s all back. I even cried at the doctor’s office today – quelle horreur!

I don’t know how to get it back under control. I’ve tried rationalising; I’ve tried talking to the little kid (but who can talk to a toddler in the midst of a tantrum?); I’ve tried resting/soothing … I don’t know what else to try. It’s like two years of therapy have just vanished – poof!

Please, adult self, wherever you are, ple-e-a-a-se come back!

The joys

*** WARNING: COULD TRIGGER ***

Oh, the joys of PTSD! Just when you think everything is going ok, something comes along and bites you on the a$$. Well, in the head, really.

I saw my therapist this week. I realised afterwards that I’d been holding on to a lot of stuff that didn’t start to come out until it was nearly time to leave. (Really? Bet that’s never happened before?!?!?!) Anyway, she told me she’s out of the office one day next week because she’s appearing in court against a man who raped his 3 year old child.

I didn’t realise this was a trigger, but it was. Who does that? I mean seriously, who does that? Who rapes a 3 year old child? And how can they sit in court and protest their innocence? That’s just so so wrong. That’s disgusting. That’s just… ugh.

I’m so not coping with that. Talk about triggery. Ugh.

I have absolutely no idea why this was such a big trigger for me. I wondered if there was some memory of my own surfacing, because I saw my bedroom in the old house. I can see the grey-green carpet and the orange-yellow curtains. I can feel the curly texture and see the wavy pattern of the carpet. And I started hearing things, or thinking I was hearing things, I’m not sure. I think it was my voice, or my voice in my head, I’m not sure of that either. I’ve never had an auditory experience like that before. It’s scary and freaky.

Here’s what it’s like when this happens.

It’s like the world slows down and speeds up all at the same time. Things start to spin wildly out of control inside. I’m flooded with emotions. I’m spinning uncontrollably but trying desperately to hang on to the present at the same time. Everything around me becomes more distant but larger than life, all at once. And if the trigger is really bad, like this one and the fishy one, I start feeling like a little kid again, even thinking like a little kid. It’s like I’m being transported through time and space. It’s weird and freaky and scary.

And then the inner critic starts up with her incessant criticism and sniping and negative talk. Ugh.

This happened a few days ago and I still don’t know why, damn it. And I had had such a good day too, when this happened. I’d felt pretty funky in the morning so I spent the day doing things I like – cooking, ironing, watching my favourite TV show on DVD. And then this. Days of this. Bleuch. I feel so broken when this still happens, and now I’ve slunk so low I don’t know how to get out of it.

I remember Back Up Therapist saying triggers and flashbacks are all the worse when you can’t figure out what they mean. Hell yea.

I’m still struggling to maintain a connection to the present. I’ve been quite dissociative for a couple of days. Flicking back and forth between the present and somewhere else, though I’m not even sure where. Derealised, depersonalised and forgetting things. I messaged my therapist earlier today but I had no idea what I said. I went to the supermarket and I have no recollection of what I bought, or why. I don’t like this one little bit.

The urge to SI has been stronger than it has been for months. I have French doors at the back of my house. I don’t want to go near them. I’m afraid I’ll put my hand through them. Or my head. Each time I smoke I want to stub the cigarette out on my leg. I’m too afraid to go near the back shed because that’s where the Stanley knife (box cutter) is. I went to the supermarket and all I wanted to buy was food that I know will make me sick.

I hate this trigger business. I hate the way it sneaks up on you. One minute everything is fine – the next, I’m “vortexing” out. I messaged my therapist earlier today to see if she could talk to me. I haven’t heard from her. Rationally I know she’s probably busy, but inner critic and inner child are going gang-busters with over analysis.

I’m so exhausted by all this. I’m not sure I can keep doing it.

Not-so-Nice – Part 2

Hi everyone

I just wanted to say thank you for all your messages of love and support since yesterday. Ordinarily I’d write you individual replies in the comments, but I’m just not up to that right now, I’m sorry. I do appreciate you all though.

I have cried so much I look like I have black eyes, my nose is raw and I have used an entire box of tissues.

I’m still gutted. I feel raw, fragile and numb all at the same time if that is possible.

The Wonder Therapist, bless her, has offered to see me tonight (Sunday), because she knows how upset I am. She probably also knows how things like this are a fast track to self-loathing for me.

This has brought up all those old feelings of wanting to hurt myself, and worse. It doesn’t matter. Don’t say that it does, because it doesn’t. For all her “wonders”, the Wonder Therapist was wrong about one thing. It doesn’t matter. I don’t matter. I was a fool to think I did, or that I could have a relationship and family like any “normal” person.

In other news, one of my other Polyvore collages won 3rd place in a competition about isolation. Great (said with all the sarcasm in the world, because I really couldn’t care less right now).

Feeling funky

Following on yesterday’s triggery mess, I’ve been feeling down today. Self-loathing on high. Tears somewhere under the surface but unable to spring forth properly (except when I’m reading other people’s blogs).

I hate it when I’m like this. I have a session with the Wonder Therapist later today so I’m hoping she can work some of her magic.

Fear and loathing in…

Well, you know I don’t live in Las Vegas, but “fear and loathing Down Under” didn’t quite have the same ring.

A lot has happened since my last post. Too many twists and turns to describe in detail. What I did want to talk about is this:

Funny how you can be travelling along kinda nicely, if a little miserable, but trying hard to believe in the faith that others have in you, and then you do something that makes you feel completely and utterly ashamed of yourself. Disgusted. Appalled. Filthy and rotten to the core. A dirty, rotten scoundrel*.

Yep, that’s me.

I’m not going into details, but trust me when I say I’m disgusting. I haven’t been able to shower enough to wash off this scunge. I haven’t wanted to write for fear of infecting you. And I certainly don’t want to talk to my therapist about it (though I will, my Inner Compass is good at keeping some common sense, even when the rest of me completely abandons all rationality).

And, yes, it has made me want to do things to myself that I haven’t done for quite a while.

For those of you thinking this is just my Inner Critic talking again: it’s not. She’s very quiet at the moment. She’s just sitting smugly in the corner filing her nails. It’s a shame the rest of me couldn’t follow her lead.

* Use of movie titles unintentional and of no psychological significance, other than perhaps that I am so pathetic that I cannot even to find my own words to describe how I feel.