10:40 p.m. - 12/12/02
before my spirit falls again.
I've got to stop exhausting myself to the point I don't feel like I can journal. I really am overextended, right now, however, and that is going to change...once I'm like a week into Winter Break. I did work out an as-needed extension of the semester, though, so I don't have to attempt and finish three weeks of work in one week. I think I can get a good deal of it done before next weekend, but I don't have to run myself ragged trying. Which is nice. God bless the doctor and the mommy who make such things possible. Oh, and the cool principal whose name sounds like a movie star. They all rock my socks. (My orange-tiger socks, no less. Oh, yes.)
I didn't go Christmas shopping last night, which is probably good because it probably would have made shopping non-fun rather than making a bad day good. The bad would have infiltrated the good rather than vice-versa, and I dig Christmas shopping. I always have no budget, which I actually enjoy (so long as I have *some* budget) because it means that I have to find something really small and cool. Plus, this year I have a budget out of more money (still have income from the play) so if I dip into extra money, I dip. It's not like it won't all balance out in the end. Does karma apply to capitalism? One wonders.
Do I sound like I'm feeling a little better? Because I am feeling a little better. I'm not sure why. I guess because I didn't do the amount of schoolwork I have been doing. I did the amount of schoolwork I would do on a normal day, not an it's-right-before-exams-and-I-have-to-be-a-machine-or-I'm-worthless sort of day. All that means is I have to study for my psych test during the day tomorrow, which I prefer anyway. And I won't have as much busywork to hand in, which means more busywork this weekend. But hey, what else is there to do in a car on the way to see Silje? And if it doesn't get done, I don't care. I won't be penalized, and no matter what my head says, Mistrandy will not beat me over the head with a frying pan, or stop liking me. People just don't care. I forget that she's more laid-back about this than I am. I forget that Neverland is not a good gauge of the universe.
John said something very amusing the other night (his visit was part of why I didn't update later, when I said I would) about Neverland. It went something like, "You just have to follow your own path. You may not always be right, but you can comfort yourself with the fact that you are always more right than those in [Neverland.]" I cracked up, and I've adopted it into my mental toolbox. It's almost as good as the slogan we want to spray pain on the "Welcome" sign that says, "Welcome to Neverland, where everything is perfect...except you." That is literally the best description of them I've ever heard.
But anyway, I was saying I feel better. As evidenced by the fact that I can feel how tired I am and that I'm rambling in an anecdotal sort of way (as opposed to a freakout sort of way.) I also tried to go Christmas shopping tonight, but I didn't get very far. We picked a shitty store in terms of the toy department, and I am all about the toy department. They also really pissed me off because when we finally found a copy of The Velveteen Rabbit (I'm sorry but how can you not have The Velveteen Rabbit), it was wrapped, and I didn't find out until I got home that despite the fact it had the author's name on the spine, it was actually an adaptation. Major pissiness ensued. I bought it for Silje, because it has that great theme of being loved bringing you into your real self, and once your real you can never go back (and if that isn't Rogers, and recovery, and Silje, and our relationship, than screw it, I don't know anything)- but most of that message is missing. The toy horse is totally minimized. They had to adapt this book WHY? [End vent.] Ah, well- I'll pick it up at an actual bookstore on the way north. North. Finally the right direction.
Our first stop was fruitful, however. We went to a craft store so Mom could make a supply list for an art class she's teaching at the residential center down the street from where we live. I wandered around growing excited by all the goods. Craft stores are so brutal, what with pens, and stickers, and yarn, and and and...a girl could just go crazy. Oh, wait. Anyway, I picked up a tiny bunny to go with Silje's book, and then...I ended up buying presents for me. I feel the slightest bit guilty, but only for how it *looks* - because it wasn't out of my Christmas budget, so it only *seems* shady. And it was really very wonderful. I bought myself a small stuffed dog that looks so similar to the one Tracy used to share with me, it's nuts. I was in shock when I saw him; it really is like hers in miniature. A month or so after it happened, I found one who looks very little like him but has some similar quality, and he's been keeping me company ever since. I guess I'm creating a tradition of some sort, to last until I feel the need to revise it. I also bought yarn that I remember her using, something I was very happy to find. I looked at Wal-Mart when we were out with my aunt Sunday, and I went a little nuts because I couldn't tell between two scheens which one she had used. (She probably had both; who knows at this point.) But today, I saw an entirely different one that I *know* she had, and which is actually even *more* like Tracy, and just really took my anxiety away. It was like, "well, *here* it is." That's a good feeling.
The other thing about the dogs: in totem language, one of the dog's main messages is that the flip side of doubt is faith (and vice-versa.) And I just think it's really wonderful that one of my links to her is an animal that helps heal faith and doubt. That's been so broken since last year.
So, not a completely pointless trip out into the "world." (If ten minutes out of D!#$%^ can truly be considered civilization, which I doubt.) I listened to Lifehouse, which is an interesting soundtrack to Christmas shopping, but helped me balance the happiness and the pain. It's odd, as I only have two memories that tie "No Name Face" to Rogers but the lyrics are so entirely relevant to what I experience(d) and watched other people exerpeince, that I always think of them. In fact, something kept catching in my chest. Part of it is knowing how much pain we've been through and still go through. Part of it is knowing that it's Christmas and I miss my family. None of that is entirely bad because I can feel it now, and that feeling is really such an amazing gift. That ability to feel...
I think at any given moment, I could sit down and cry about the pain we've all faced, and by that I really do mean *all of us.* And I guess the fact that I could, and sometimes do, balances all the time I don't spend that way. The fact that I keep living balances everything there is to cry for, and the fact that I cry balances the pain of living. Somewhat...
Jim said to me the other day that when he was in therapy his group leader told them that any day you do not cry is not totally successful. And I started to wonder about that. It's kind of brilliant because even though I'm not sure if I've had successful days where I did not cry, I can't think of any days I *have* that haven't felt progressive. But then, that's the new brand of tears. That's the tears-with-an-agenda, I have people to support me, sort of world. There are other tears that do not feel so hopeful, though maybe they are...
Yesterday, I didn't have many tears. I think I felt too crazy. I couldn't keep from feeling, and I couldn't let myself feel it fully. Honestly couldn't let myself. I know that it was honest because I normally choose crying and being a mess over feeling "crazy"/ not feeling anything. But there's honestly too much right now. There's too much going on to let the feelings take full reign. There are too many things to feel and feel so fully.
For the first time in my life, I called the doc the same day that I saw him. I couldn't handle it last night; I really couldn't. I would have called a friend, but no one really knows (except those of you who read this) everything that I was struggling over. I mean, I can't exactly expect Sara to understand all of my issues about guys and girls and me when I haven't gone into them around her. And even though there's a lot I haven't gone into even with him, I just felt like I needed to talk. I was going to survive without doing it until my mom came in and started talking to me about Chelsie's mom, and how a friend of Chelsie's mom had a daughter who was deathly sick with an eating disorder, and all these other very-not-helpful (but how could she know?) sorts of things. After that, I was finished. A girl dying and mention of the Family She Doesn't Know I Can't Handle Hearing Mentioned were a bit too much. I called him, and got a call back that said he'd call me in an hour-and-a-half, at which point I really did try to break down in tears. Because honestly, if I could survive nearly two hours would I have called him when I did?
I decided to just lie down and fall asleep in the dark, and Mom could answer the phone and be like, "What? She called you? Let me check; no, she's asleep" and I could tell him sorry-but-I-changed-my-mind later. I tried it, but it was only 7:30 or something, and despite being exhausted, I couldn't turn my head off long enough to sleep. So, I got out of bed, and watched part of "Brilliant But Cancelled" and did some history homework, and eventually Mom went to sleep and he called. And it was kind of nice just because it was late (by winter-darkness standards; technically, it was only like 9:30) and he used his first name which he never does, which made me feel special. He said he was sorry for taking so long to call back, and I said I was sorry for calling, and he said, "Not at all," in the really genuine way he says everything. I could so develop a crush on him if I were healthy. Though if I were healthy I might not appreciate all these facets of him so much. Except that when I'm healthy, I'll still have been sick. I'm babbling again. Tangents. Woot.
So I climbed up on the sink of my bathroom where I take most of my calls (it's really a good nook, trust me)...and we talked about how the session had been really hard, and how things had kind of gotten steadily worse from there (after being ok just afterward) and how it was just a lot to deal with on top of everything else that's going on for me. He guessed a few of them right off: the holidays, school, that sort of thing. And then I listed a few, and he listed a few more, and eventually we realized that if we couldn't even remember everything difficult in my life right now long enough to list it, there was probably far too much going on. He said something about how he felt like he should be upset by how much I was struggling with, but honestly he was just amazed that I was managing to juggle it at all. And he told me he didn't know whether to congratulate me or offer condolences, so I accepted both. I think it just helped to know he was hearing it all. I guess that was missing from the session yesterday; I didn't want to go into everything, so I didn't go over any of it. I didn't say, "this is all the shit that's going on for me; now let's talk about something else." So to just say it, and have someone else go, "Jesus, that's a bit much" was helpful. And he did actually help me deal with some of it- like getting an extension for school, and telling me we can meet if I want to on the 21st, et cetera. Mostly just talking, and feeling like my madness was justified was helpful.
And we talked about the actual session which I think also really helped me. I'd been feeling really overwhelmed by all the demons we'd unleashed. ("there are just so many demons," I said. "yeah." he said. "we've just got to find a way to turn them into gerbils." "what?" "gerbils." "gerbils?! *laugh* I never really thought about it, but you may be right. a gerbil may be the polar opposite of a demon.") I told him how the guilt was really what had stayed with me, the self-loathing that made me feel crazy, shame that made me want to put my arms through glass. he reiterated something he'd said that morning, about how he didn't understand where my guilt was coming from, but he didn't want me to take that as I wasn't being heard. that he understood what I was feeling; *he* just can't see any reason for me to feel that responsible. so we talked a little about how I feel like once I talk about this he's going to see me for what I really am and blah-blah-blah, I'm evil.
"I feel so stupid," I said, "because I've done this all before with other issues. Other shame. I've gone through it all and realized that I'm really not bad, and yet I really feel like it's true this time."
"There's always a first time," he elaborated. "This time we'll turn on the light and the monster *will be there.*" Exactly. We talked about the monster, and how even though it isn't real, and I can bet that I probably didn't do anything as bad as what I'm thinking, I really do feel like it's real. I honestly am scared. He said, we'll just have to coax it out with milk and cookies, and I asked him- a little boggled- what exactly the milk and cookies were in linear terms. Turns out the milk and cookies are a safe place. He says that when the monster feels safe it won't be primed to attack; if we establish the office as a safe place, than it won't be so terrifying to turn the light on this and see what we're dealing with. And once we know what we're dealing with, it's easier to deal. Until then, we just keep talking about the idea of talking about it, about how we can make it more safe. Maybe I tell him the words that can literally disarm me internally, and he learns to use them only intentionally. Maybe I tell him what I'm terrified will happen if I speak, and we talk about why it won't. I don't have to believe, persay, but I can doubt that it will have to go badly. After all, he taught me that.
He also said something about how this will not "completely change" his view of me, a thought that absolutely lit my heart. Because in order for a complete change to mean he would hate me (the way he was trying to say it wouldn't, consoling me), he must like me at least a little right now. And it's not like he doesn't act like it, or like I wasn't glad last night to realize (while I was trying to fall asleep at 7:30) that this is why he's my doctor now and not a member of my family-becoming - because I freak out and need someone to listen and not be burdened, and that's what he does. It's just that sometimes it's nice to have someone who can't say they like you unknowingly imply they do. I don't want him to tell me I'm wonderful because our relationship as is, is so powerful. But it's nice to think maybe he likes me just a little. I like that idea.
I'm trying to think if he said anything else that was terribly important, but my head is fuzzy and in need of sleep, so at this point I can't think of anything. Though I do remember now that I keep forgetting to say something he mentioned a week or two ago, when we were talking about my dad's unintentional bigotry. When I said that my dad without meaning to, largely because of his upbringing and the fact that he doesn't put the stock in language that I do, says really offensive things without any feeling behind them, the doc said, "I've actually experienced that with your dad," which was such a personal remark, it made me feel light inside my skin. I so rarely hear about his experience, and to know that I'm not crazy- that other people do feel that around Dad- was really nice. Even though I was going, "Oh, fuck, what did he say around YOU?" Mostly, I was just glad. Less alone and glad.
Off to read the e-mail born of my last entry. Sorry if I scared anyone. It's really not a danger, just a need.
chord
(who doesn't mean to minimize needs)
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