Interesting…

I met with my counselor today (she really needs a name)… and it was interestsing how my post from yesterday fit in.   We finally finished up the intake questions today.  Now we can really “start”.

But she always gives me time at the start of our visit to just “let it all out”.  The things I just have to say.  And today one of the most pressing things was asking her why I ask people impossible questions.  And I think the question might have caught her off guard, but she said there’s a lot more to get into but one of her hypotheses is something called the Pain Body.  It’s something that a person named Eckhart Tolle came up with.

Here’s an excerpt from a website explaining it:

The usual pattern of thought creating emotion is reversed in the case of the pain-body, at least initially. Emotion from the pain-body quickly gains control of your thinking, and once your mind has been taken over by the pain-body, your thinking becomes negative. The voice in your head will be telling sad, anxious, or angry stories about yourself or your life, about other people, about past, future, or imaginary events. The voice will be blaming, accusing, complaining, imagining. And you are totally identified with whatever the voice says, believe all its distorted thoughts. At that point, the addiction to unhappiness has set in.

It is not so much that you cannot stop your train of negative thoughts, but that you don’t want to. This is because the pain-body at that time is living through you, pretending to be you. And to the pain-body, pain is pleasure. It eagerly devours every negative thought. In fact, the usual voice in your head has now become the voice of the pain-body. It has taken over the internal dialogue. A vicious circle becomes established between the pain-body and your thinking. Every thought feeds the pain-body and in turn the pain-body generates more thoughts. At some point, after a few hours or even a few days, it has replenished itself and returns to its dormant stage, leaving behind a depleted organism and a body that is much more susceptible to illness. If that sounds to you like a psychic parasite, you are right. That’s exactly what it is.

http://communicate.eckharttolle.com/news/2014/08/13/when-the-pain-body-awakens/

Now, I don’t know enough about this man to know if what he says is right.  I haven’t done nearly enough research to see where this aligns with my Christian beliefs.  BUT it makes sense to me.

I was telling hubby today, it’s like I don’t want to get better, like I don’t want to be happy.  I find ways to punish myself, ways to prove to myself I am unloveable (the impossible questions would fall in here).  I explained it like this- I asked my mother a question that had 3 obvious answers:

  1.  No I am not – to which I would think she is lying and doesn’t want to hurt my feelings.
  2. Yes I am – which would prove I am “bad” an “embarrassment”
  3. The answer she gave- which proves to me (even if she doesn’t mean it that way) that I am “bad”.

You see, there is no right answer.  In all those answers I am the bad one. I don’t want to be like my dad, and yet- and I struggle to make my fingers type this- I have been unpredictable mood wise, angry over little things, resentful.

My fingers shook as I typed that.  It’s an extremely hard truth to face. 

I am living in a constant state of self-inflicted pain, in response to the pain I have already suffered?  the pain I am afraid I will suffer? I don’t know. I don’t know why I do this to myself.  I don’t know why someone as intelligent and as insightful as me can let this go on.  Why in over a year I haven’t gotten any better, and when I do start to crawl out of the pit I am in do I fling myself to the bottom again as if I saw something shiny down there that I had to get.

And that right there, that’s what makes me angry all over again- angry at myself. But guess what- I won’t do anything to change any of it. Like I said it’s like I don’t want to get better.  My husband tells me this isn’t an option.  And I want to scream, “don’t you think if I knew how to do it differently I would?”.  But I am tired.  I am tired of fighting, of feeling sad, of being angry, of being so irritable to those who I love most.  It kills me that I am hurting those that are closest to me.

There are days, a lot of days, I think about just leaving.  The thought kills me.  I love my husband and children more than anything in the world, but I can’t stand to make them live in this upheaval.  Hubby would say that should be incentive enough to change.  But I honestly have been trying and I just can’t get off this merry-go-round…..

I don’t know just more thoughts floating through my head.

*** I found this article http://www1.cbn.com/biblestudy/could-oprah-be-wrong%3F that talks about why Eckhart Tolle is not Christian, and in fact teaching anti-Christian things.  And I definitely agree with what they say- I haven’t read Tolle’s book and never planned to.  So what I would say is take the passage above at face value.  Look at it through the lens of Jesus.  Those who allow the “pain-body” to hurt continually hurt us, are letting the Enemy attack us, and we are believing his lies.  And it isn’t until we stand up to him with the Truth that we are able to kick him out of our heads- permanently or not just until next time he finds us weak….. ****

Anyway that’s my take away.  And I can get on board with that, the pain-body is Satan’s influence in my brain.  He makes me forget “it is finished”.  That I am redeemed, loved, chosen and all the other wonderful names Jesus has for me…… now how to get his voice out of my life forever.

I’ve been thinking….

I have been thinking a lot lately that I don’t recognize who I am anymore.  I have become the grouchiest, most irritable person there is.  I get upset at the littlest thing.  I use language that I don’t approve of nor do I normally use.  My family is the main target of my grouchiness, and my angry outbursts it’s not usually directed at them, it’s my frustration with other things- like tonight that my shelf next to my chair needed to have the books taken off because it was too heavy for the old plaster walls.  I was slamming things around, grouching and grumbling that I can never have anything that I want etc etc etc.

I am tired of being someone I don’t recognize, but it’s almost like I don’t have control over myself. It’s like I am Bruce Banner.  And I have become very selfish.  I don’t feel like I have anything that’s “mine” any space that’s “mine”.   Every space that I have tried to set aside for me and my “bubble” gets taken over.  I need space. I need somewhere to go and escape.

Growing up I had a friend, and her mom had her own room.  I don’t know the exact specifics of why, but I didn’t understand at the time.  But now, I understand- at least in my own way.  I want a room of my own.  I obviously still want to share a room with my husband, but I want a room where I can keep my books, my sewing and knitting stuff, a room I can go to to escape when I am feeling like the Hulk wants to rip himself out of my body.

I don’t know that I can make any changes.  I don’t know that I can find a place in my house and make it mine.  Maybe it’s selfish.  But then again- my kids have the toy room, and their bedrooms.  They take over the living room until they go to bed.  And hubby, right now he doesn’t have any special rooms, and he doesn’t complain- I know he wants a workshop but he doesn’t get all pissy about it. I thought about making the school room a library/sewing room, but realize how much work that would take to do- so much to sort and sell….  Then I think I should just get rid of all my books, and just keep what’s on my kindle app, and be done with it.

It seems like every day I come up with a “dream” or something that I want to do, or get or whatever.  And I told hubby today that I need to stop dreaming, I need to stop wishing.  Maybe that will make me happier- if I just accept that this is as good as it gets and be done with it.

Need to recognize blessings….

I spent some time yesterday writing about the “shining” I don’t do. But I was remiss to mention that despite our differences, despite my mother being disappointed in me, despite my feelings of envy of my siblings. I love them. So much.  I don’t think it would matter to me so much what they think if I didn’t.

Today I asked my mom if she was going to get another goat when hers dies and one of her reasons for saying no was the goat may outlive her- her current goat is 14. My mom will be 65 this year. That would mean she expects to die by the time she’s 80? My grandmother lived to 85, my grand father 90.  And if she doesn’t come down with cancer like he did I see her living to her 90s as well… or at least I hope.  But I told her I wasn’t happy she said that.  As I was sitting at her table today looking at the pantry that enters into her den, I was almost not “there”.  I was sitting at that table, and people were walking around, with plates of food, dressed in black talking about how special she was…. that was an eerie feeling.  I don’t do funerals as I have mentioned before…. so there was the first “off thing” but to be sitting there and to have such a real intrusive thought enter your brain was hard.

We spent a lot of time today talking about looking back.  Looking back over our lives for regrets and things we are happy about…. I spent a lot of the day sad. Sad about what I coulda/woulda/shoulda done.  Sad that my time has “passed”.  At 40 there aren’t many big dreams you can make and achieve. I should be “coasting”now, but I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.

Shining….

My dear brother has me hooked on a song by Ed Sheehan – Supermarket Flowers.  He wrote it for his grandmother who had recently passed. If you haven’t heard it, and are in the mood for a good ugly cry open youtube and have a listen.

When I hear the song I think about my mom. But I am not so sure it’s MY mom I am thinking about.  I think it’s partially her, and partially the mom I wish she was.  The mom who always picks you up when you fall.  Needless to say, every time I listen to it at the very least I get choked up, but usually I shed a few tears and often have a good ugly cry.

There is a line towards to the end of the song where he says:

Hallelujah
You were an angel in the shape of my mum
You got to see the person that I have become

That bit of the song made me wonder every time. Obviously Ed’s grandmother had been proud of him, look at what he had accomplished.  But I wondered what my mom thought. My gut told me that I am an embarrassment.  On disability, poor, have mental illness, never finished college, never got that “big job”, never really did much with my life in term of success the way the world defines it. I have a husband who worked his butt off to support us for 20+ years, but then became disabled as well. We lost our house, our car.  We are not like anyone else in our family financially or career-wise.  My sister got a bachelor’s degree, a master’s degree and became a dually licensed therapist, with her own practice and employees.  Her and her husband make a whole lot of money, and live a life where they don’t have to worry that the next time her kid grows out of sneakers it will break their budget beyond repair.  She is not obese, and she is “the pretty one”.   My brother is what I would consider a big whig at one of the largest banks in America.  He is extremely successful and has climbed the ladder at the company from the ground up.

So after weeks of wondering what my mom would say if I asked her about “the person I have become”.

So the other day, on a particularly sad day, I thought what the heck let’s make it worse and ask her.


Me: (8:00am) Please don’t call me back about this- I’ll cry and I’ve cried enough today- are you disappointed in the way my life has turned out?  Disappointed in who I became?

Mom: (2:07pm) Am I supposed to answer this? U said not to call you.

Me: (2:08pm) Yes you can text, just don’t call, if I hear your voice I’ll cry.

Mom: (2:11pm) No I am not disappointed in you. I am disappointed you don’t have the support you need to shine.


 

What does that mean?  I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. I can’t shake my feelings of sadness. My mom isn’t disappointed IN me, but she’s disappointed in my life.  She’s disappointed I don’t “shine” in her eyes.

Shine- what could I do that would make me shine in her eyes? Make lots of money? Have a really good job?  Have children without mental health issues? Not have mental illness myself?

I know at least a part of it she blames on my husband.  My sister, step-father and mother have all made comments over the years that make it obvious they don’t like certain things about him.  My step-father went so far as to say that my husband “mis-uses” me.

My husband doesn’t misuse me.  And it’s not his fault I don’t shine.  I made the choices that have made me who I am and if I don’t shine that’s on me.

I know I am fat and not as pretty as my sister. I got my dad’s genes, I was doomed before I was born.

I know I didn’t graduate college (not for poor grades or lack of funding – which my parents didn’t help me with AT ALL might I add) but because of different priorities- namely wanting to be a wife and mother.

I know we are poor and that’s an embarrassment. I know we drive beat up vehicles that are loud and ugly.

I know we don’t buy locally sourced organic food.

I know I don’t make my own soap, lotion, and deodorant.

I know we don’t grow 99% of what we eat.

I know that I have children with issues and I know you blame me and my parenting for them.  I swear if I could have done something that would have prevented, autism, bipolar, ADHD and anxiety I would have done anything. I would have traded my life for it, because my children will suffer their entire lives.

Shine.  The word just keep rolling over in my head.

I don’t shine… am I tarnished silver? That with a little polishing could shine again?  Am I a star that has lost it’s shine because it’s dying and it’s light is flickering?  Am I like flat or matte paint and no matter what I do, I will never become high-gloss?

I don’t think there was ever shine in me.  I think that shine was put out long before I ever became an adult.

But that doesn’t change the fact that I will never be someone my mom is proud of.  Ive talked to a friend and my husband about this, and they both tell me not to let it bother me.  My husband says it’s not an insult (sorry I don’t buy it).  My friend told me not to worry about it because she’s not the most supportive person in the world, and that money isn’t everything.  And yes she’s right.  But…

BUT

No matter how old you are you want your mother to love you, to be proud of you and to “be there”. No matter how old you get you want your mother.

I have had an extremely emotional week.  Not for any particular reason. I am just sad, and when I am not sad I am angry, frustrated or irritated.

Tomorrow I have to go to my mom’s.  My sister will be there too.  I offered to let my husband stay home.  He’s sore from falling down the stairs, and pretty much just from living and we both feel like he will be judged because of what he can and can’t do.  But the thought of going alone is terrifying.  I’m dreading it, I can’t wait for the day to be over- and it hasn’t even happened yet.

Well I guess that’s all, nothing really to say other than I am not doing well at all.

 

A Valentine For my Husband

A break from our regularly scheduled whining for a Valentine for my husband.

On this, our 23rd Valentine’s Day, I can say with certainty that no matter what I wouldn’t trade what I have with you.  Through our struggles, our triumphs, the pain and the joy there is no one I would rather “do life with” till death do us part (TDDUP).

Every single word of this song fits us.

 

From that very first song

To “our song”

To the songs that make us laugh and shake our heads

 

 

To the newest song we love

And all the songs in between. Our love life really is a mix tape.  We walk to our own beat, and like you said tonight, even if no one else understands us, we do.  No one, has ever understood us.  No one thought we would make it, heck if you asked me now, as an adult with the wisdom that comes with age, if two young teenagers knew what love was, knew they were each “the one”, and would grow old together, I don’t think I could even bet on that. We proved them all wrong.  We have been through more than anyone would know, and lesser things have ripped people apart, but we clung to the love we share, and came out all the stronger for it.  We are at the bottom of a mountain right now, but we will get to the top someday, and we will see the breathtaking views.

Babe you are the music in my life.  On the worst days, the days when it hurts to breathe, I can breathe because you give me your breath.  When I’m not strong enough to lift my head, you carry me. I love you, more each and every day. I’ve loved you from the moment that teenage me, saw that teenage you.  And I’ll love you till the moment I take my last breath.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

Love,

Fuzzy

What’s wrong with me?

So I mentioned my newest diagnosis, and I mentioned that I weaned off the amitriptyline in hopes that would help with the symptoms of the Autonomic Nervous System Disorder. However, it didn’t help.  And they have started me on a new antidepressant- Doxepim. I am on a very low dose. And ever since we have started the Doxepim 10 days ago I have been angry, irritable, sad, frustrated. I haven’t been the nicest person, nor the easiest to be around.

I am unhappy.  I am not content.  I am tired of living hand to mouth with no end in sight. I am on disability, my husband is waiting for his disability decision.  We will never have financial security.

And it really ticks me off that you can’t be honest with even your therapist or else she thinks you are on foot in the grave to offing yourself. So I am resentful- of pretty much everything and everyone in my life (with a few exceptions).  I am tired of this life.  So yes I fantasize about ways I could die.  Today’s version in my head has me walking out to the car, slipping on the ice, hitting my head and never “coming to” again.  But I can’t tell anyone that, they try to make me think “positive”, “look for the blessings”, and to that I say (and please let me warn you have to take off my Christian hat for a minute) go to hell. Seriously.  Shut up and leave me alone.  Just go away. Leave me alone with my intrusive, unhealthy thoughts. I don’t think I want to change right now. I think I am better off being miserable, because my life sucks, period, end of story.

And then. Then… get this. I get a call from my PCP’s office.  From “my doctor’s” nurse (I have been seeing a different doctor in the office.  And she says “we got the results of your halter and you had a normal rhythm with some extra beats here and there, but it was essentially normal ok?”.  And I was like ACTUALLY…I was in there last week, and Dr so and so, read the draft report and reported that my heart rate was 150 several times, and ranged from 120-150 most often.  And that my diastolic blood pressure is ranging from 87-117 and she diagnosed me with Autonomic Nervous System Dysfunction. And she’s like oooooh yeah I see that here.  Dr PCP may not had seen that before this came across his desk.  And then she proceeded to explain to me how to increase the meds etc. UM HELLO I thought you said I was fine?  Yeah I know Dr PCP blames it all on the fact that I am fat. This is also the same PCP that said a vitamin D level of 15 was just fine (I guess I should just die because I am fat. I am so angry and sick of this BS.

Why do I even bother.   Maybe I should just go off all my meds and just see what happens because I am done.  Nothing I helping anyway, and maybe if I go off the heat stuff my heart will just get to be as tired as I am and be done too.  I am just so exhausted, hopeless and done.

Yesterday at church my pastor was talking about “spiritual Sahara”, and that’s where I am right now.  He said when you are there hope evaporates and dreams die. I couldn’t have summed up my life right now any better.  My hope is dried up and dead, and my dreams are ran through a garbage disposal, put in a trash compactor, flushed down the toilet and sorted out with all the other solids in the waste water treatment plant.

Yes this is a pessimistic post.  Yes, its me throwing a pity party.  Yes its me being angry, resentful and tired of living my life.  But guess what, it’s my blog and I’ll bitch if I want to.