I find myself missing them. Wanting them back. Wanting to do it again. I scratched in high school. I don’t know what precipitated it, how long I did it or how I stopped- though I vaguely remember my mom having the school nurse do random arm checks… interesting she (my mom) didn’t do them herself.
But why now do I have the compulsion to do it when I’m not sad, rage-filled or frustrated? Maybe I’m stressed, I certainly have a lot of stressors in my life, but when I look at my arm it’s like something is missing. I just want them there I want to feel my sleeve rubbing against them and the scratches burning. When did I get this messed up? Will I ever feel “normal” again?
Tomorrow I see my counselor for the first time. I’m nervous. I don’t know where to start, what to share, how much to share. Will I get diarrhea of the mouth like I do when I see my son’s counselor for updates on him or will I just sit there wondering where to start? Childhood abuse? The happenings of the past 3 years that have pushed me over the edge? That I often feel my sanity is hanging by a rope with just a small strand left? That I’m not sleeping well again? That I’m irritable again? That I don’t want to leave my house- like ever- unless it’s with one of my few “safe” people. That my OCD is affecting my children? That I want to keep scratching? That I spend almost all day playing solitaire on my phone and napping and I feel like a lazy sloth of a parent? Or maybe I just shouldn’t say anything at all. Or maybe I should comment on things in her office like I do to my psychiatric NP. Her choice in art, that she has no tea bag in her cup today. Where’s the broken clock that’s ticking? Why is the wall behind her blank? I’ve been in this counselors office before for my intake and there is certainly no lack of things to notice and talk about. She has a shelf of Barbie type dolls on the top shelf one of Rosie ODonnell one of Mimi from the Drew Carey show… I wonder if she’ll sit behind her desk- I don’t think I’ll like that, it’s too far away from where I’ll have to sit, I’ll feel like I have to yell. I’ll feel like it’ll be a barrier between us….
We’ll see tomorrow I guess…