Follow Up

I need to clarify a few things.

What was is not what is. The depression that is cannot be compared to that which once was. The current conditions do not come close to the despair of those previous. I don't know that they ever could. I'm not silly enough to think that life can't or won't throw worse at me. I think I've seen the lowest point because I myself am so dramatically different than I was two years ago.

It used to be that I could not believe in God's goodness. Now I am convinced of it. It used to be that every difficulty would send me spiraling. Not so, now. It used to be that being without internet meant being without most of my support system. Now I have a solid face to face community in addition to my far-flung friends.

Yes, I have bad days, but the emotions are closer to normal. Yes, I still have a long way to go, but I've come such a long way already. Yes, I asked for help, but there was a time when I could not even do that.

I know I can beat this depression. It's not only possible, it's inevitable. It will take effort, yes. But it will not paralyze me this time, because, in addition to all the other changes, this time I have confidence.

It's Baaaack

Once upon a time, not long enough ago for comfort, I was a walking disaster.

I cannot say for sure when the unraveling began, but by February 2006, it was at crisis level. The depression that had been a constant companion for so long was deepening. Panic attacks, which had until then been rare, became constant. I started counseling, and two months later I met with a psychiatrist. The three of us agreed that medication would be a good option for me.

The meds worked wonders for my overall well-being, but they also buried some parts of me that I rather missed. I could not write poetry while medicated. It was not a question of quality. There just was nothing there. I felt like a door had slammed, closing off the deeper parts of me. Of course, I did not realize it until after I had been unmedicated for a few weeks. After three months of meds, I was alive again. I was also unemployed and broke, so I eased myself back off.

So when Counselor told me last night that the depression was back to a degree that may require medication, I almost cried. I did not know until last night how badly I wanted to avoid going there again.

I do not remember if I said anything, or if she just read it in my expression. We talked, though, and I left with a list of strategies to try that do not involve ingesting unnatural chemicals. Mostly, they involve me being more me than I have been since May, and since that's the goal anyway, it's certainly worth a shot! This might work, if I can manage to pull myself together enough to follow through. I suspect that the fast approaching Nativity season will help significantly.

I will need help. Part of the problem that tipped her off that the depression was back is that I have had little energy and no motivation for who knows how long. I'll have to find a way past those roadblocks to be able to fight this. I must fight this.

I do not want to start 2009 on medication.

Schedule Shuffling

I wasn't supposed to have counseling this week. That was the plan, at least. But my plans never work.

Monday night was messy. Rather, I was messy on Monday. I was chatting with Stacey. One minute I was fine, and the next minute she had a blubbering mess on her hands. (Thanks for being there, Stacey!)

I didn't sleep much or well Monday night, and when I woke up on Tuesday, I wasn't trying to singlehandedly resolve the drought, but I was oh so angsty. Early in the day, I had to hide in the back room at work because I just couldn't get past the emotions.

Fortunately, I got sent on a field trip to deliver flyers to all the schools. Yay! Minimal, brief, and scripted human interaction! I can handle that! However, while I was driving around town, the tension only worsened, so I texted Counselor.

Is it too late to change my mind about meeting today? I figured it probably was, but I had to ask. I was in pretty bad shape, and I have learned not to try to push through it alone if I don't have to.

She offered a 9 pm spot, but I knew there was no chance of me being able to stay awake that late. (I was right. I was crashing by 9:30.) She offered a phone session today, but by then I was feeling a little better, and I decided that I really needed to deal with this yuckiness in a face to face context. I told her I'd just wait until next week. Of course, the day decided at that moment to take another turn south, but I left it alone.

Next thing I knew, she had rearranged things so that she could fit me in at 8:15. It meant I'd have to flex my schedule a bit too, but wow. I almost started crying. I have no idea how she managed that or how much trouble it was. All I know is I am so grateful she was able to fit me in, because I needed that badly.

Um

I think I'm teetering. It feels like the depression is trying to come back. That sucks. At least now I potentially have tools to fight it off. I guess we'll see how well they work.

In related news, I'll see Counselor on Thursday for the first time in three weeks.

Father Patrick said on Sunday that when one becomes Orthodox, all hell breaks loose. No kidding. He told me that it is common for the newly illumined to go through a period of testing after their baptism. He reminded me that even Jesus went into the wilderness after his baptism. The last month of my life has made my friend "Moses" declare me the poster child for post-illumination. I'm not the only poster child in my parish, though, so I know it's not just me.

Knowing where things are coming from is helpful, but I am so ready for this forty days (literal or not) to be over.

Public Service Announcement

Sometimes "good" and "right" are very painful and bring along their very own lung squishing elephant.

Back to the Future

Um, I think I just figured out where the panic attacks came from two years ago.

In related news, I've been fighting off the first attack of 2008 for the last few hours.

Breathing would be nice.

I need a hug.

EDIT: 3:30 pm- Much better.

Van Gogh, Monet, and Picasso

Where's Dan Aykroyd when I need him? Ghosts are popping up everywhere this week.

All my neighbors have decorated their homes for Christmas. Mom has her tree up. I helped decorate a friend's tree on Saturday. I personally haven't done much of anything in the way of my own Christmas decoration in three years. I had a teeny tree in 2005 which I strung with Hershey's kisses, but that's all the Christmas decorating I did that year. Of course, I didn't have a space to decorate last year. So now that I have my own space, I still haven't done one shred of decorating. Why? Because when I moved out of the condo, I did so rapidly, and with much abandoning of items. I never even thought about the box of decorations in the garage. I didn't realize until May that this could mean never seeing my Christmas ornaments again.

Last night, I accompanied my mom at her school's Christmas dinner. Someone who died more than three years ago made an appearance in someone's comments, and this caused me some trouble. It would seem that I am still being haunted.

Counselor and I have been dealing with a certain issue for a few weeks, and last night's ghost played into that process quite cleanly tonight. This process usually has been rather predictable, with a sequence of difficulty breathing, migratory tension, and shaking. This time, however, there was no tension. Instead, there were thoughts and images flying through my brain so quickly I couldn't see or catch them. I told Counselor it was like I was standing in the middle of a paintball war, and I was getting hammered. Things did calm down before it was over. However, now my mind looks like Vincent Van Gogh, Claude Monet, and Pablo Picasso had a dramatic pointed, and painted, argument.

Facebook was suggesting to me this morning that I might have new contacts and I should let the Friend Finder check for me. This was not the greatest plan ever, and the new contact that showed up translated into a cruddy mood most of the day.

An email this evening tells me, though, that my Christmas ornaments are, in fact, not in Arizona, but still locked in the garage at the condo, not six hours but a mere twenty minutes away! Meanwhile, facebook has included the option of blocking specific users. I have made use of this feature.

The ghosts have gone to sleep. Now I shall as well.

Ghosts? What is This- Halloween?!?

I was feeling particularly inspired last night. I decided chicken and rice sounded good, so that's what I made. Sorta. I coated the chicken with lemon pepper and garlic powder. As it sizzled in the skillet, I thought to myself, Hmm. Let's try this with a splash of wine. So I poured some sauvignon blanc in. Then I thought, Hmm. How about alfredo? So I added some of that too. There was perhaps too much wine or not enough alfredo, and this morning I thought that maybe peas would have been a good addition as well, but it was really good.

After dinner, I tackled a stack of papers that needed to be dealt with. Some were shredded, some were filed, some were put into notebooks. In one of the notebooks, I ran across some pictures that didn't really belong there.

It was suddenly difficult to breathe. Ghostly reminders are turning up in odd places these days. Really, my Russian notebook was not where I would have expected to come face to face with that one. One eleven-year-old 8x10 hit the shredder immediately. I never really liked that picture anyway. I had big glasses. It was bad. Good picture of my sister, though, but that was why it had to go. The other picture was harder. It had a stranglehold on me from the moment I saw it, and I couldn't bring myself to destroy it. I knew I needed to, and I wanted to badly, but I couldn't. So I put it next to the shredder and left the house.

A few hours later, after an evening of being a bit off, I returned home. The first thing I did was pick up that picture and shred it. I didn't look at it, because I knew what would happen if I did. I didn't think about it. I just did what I had to do. Once it was in the shredder it was easy, and I was so relieved.

The whole thing was a little rough, but that's not surprising. I pretty much expect that ghost to throw me off once in a while. This time I managed. Not by myself, mind you. No, I had help.

It's so good to know I don't have to fight the ghosts by myself anymore.

Who Said Miracles Don't Happen?

It was Monday. I was walking past the bank on my way to work, and a car slowed down as it passed me going the other direction. The driver was a chamber member who I've gotten to know some. She waved and said hi.

I was hit with a startling realization. I had to stop for a second.

I'm back on my own. I can walk to work. I have friends all over the place. There's a boy who loves me, and I love him. (OMG!)

This is all very surprising. In a very very good way.

I love my life!

Bet you never thought you'd hear that from me.

Screwed Up

For as long as I can remember, I've thought I was a screw-up. I mean, it seems like every time I turn around someone is pissed at me. "I need to talk to you" seriously makes me nervous, cause all I can think is What'd I do this time?

Sometimes it's fair. I'm not perfect. But other times I just don't get it. Sometimes it's not even because I did or didn't do something. Sometimes it's just me. Whatever the case, people get mad, and it's somehow my fault. So I learned that I am a screw-up.

But I was thinking about some of the new things I'm learning, and I was thinking about part of my conversation with Counselor last week. I had a lot of space to think at work this morning, and I had an aha moment. Maybe.

What if I'm really not a screw-up after all? What if I've been surrounded by people who react and blame and never stop to question why? What if all these people around me all these years have been looking at me through the lenses of their own issues without ever realizing it? What if I've been their scapegoat so they don't have to face their stuff? Or maybe they don't know they have stuff to face.

That would sure explain a whole lot.

But if that's the case... How do all these people get through life without ever asking all the whys? Am I the only one who compulsively analyzes what I do? But maybe that's something that came with being a screw-up. Maybe I just learned to be well acquainted with every little flaw so that somehow I could make all the blame make sense.

There's no way I'm as big a loser as I've been trained to believe. There's no reason for someone to carry blame that isn't theirs to bear.

Well, I for one am gonna try to be honest with myself.

Text is a Verb

I guess I still have that phone phobia when it comes to Counselor, which is really strange. I just can't ever seem to call when I need help.

Lucky me, texting is an option. I can manage that. Why I can text when I can't call is beyond me, but whatever. It accomplishes pretty much the same thing.

A few minutes after I sent that text to Counselor, she sent back a reply. When I read it, my response was Duh. Why can't I remember that on my own? But that reminder was apparently all I needed, cause I've been fine since then. I mean, the circumstances that caused the sadness Sunday and Thursday are still in play, and it's... sad, but I haven't had to fight off the compulsion to hide.

What I have had to fight off constantly is the jaw thing. This seems to be my new MO. I read chapter four of the book on Tuesday, and wouldn't you know it, my jaw was going crazy the entire time. I guess it's another sign that I'm doing well- I actually am aware that it's happening. I can't make it stop yet, but that'll probably come soon enough.

Something really cool happened today. I was sorta cleaning, sorta packing(!), and my phone beeped. I had just emailed sc0tlas, so I thought it might be him, but it was Counselor. Checking on me.

It kinda made me feel special. :)

Baaaaaaa!

Well, this is no good at all. In fact, it's bloody ridiculous. I have spent the last two hours wanting very much to crawl under my desk and hide there.

There's a mixer tonight! I can't be anti-social today! There's going to be like 50 people at this thing, and I'm going to have to interact with every single one of them. And my usual partner in crime at the check-in table won't be there. I had to get a sub.

Why couldn't I have wanted to hide yesterday? Or Tuesday? Tuesday would have been great! I had counseling. She would have helped. I guess I could call... But this is so lame! Gah. I need to either get over myself and call, or get over this rather persistent sadness and move on. Both options are easier said than done.

I keep catching myself clenching my jaw. My facial muscles have gotten quite a workout this week doing that.

Oh, what a day.

EDIT: I texted Counselor.

Yay!

After work today, there is counseling, for we have a mixer on Thursday.

After counseling, I get to see the apartment! W00t! If that goes well, I'll pay the deposit tomorrow. This is still unreal. I drive by the place every day now, and I have to remind myself that this really is happening. I went to the taco place in downtown and nearly flipped. I could see what will soon be my front porch from the parking lot!

Eeeeeee!

Oh, and the rain from Sunday cleared up nicely.

Smiling

Let no word ever be said against Counselor.

Today she had me laughing so hard I was crying.

Which was somehow exactly what I needed.

She also had some good things to say to/about me that were very hard to take in, mainly on account of their goodness.

You may have noticed I needed that too.

I feel good.

*smile*

Eeek

I am sooooo not ready for counseling tonight.

Not even sure why.

Just... stressed about it.

Blech.

I'll be better once I'm there.

We Have Met the Enemy

...and he is us. (Walt Kelly)

This morning I arrived at the park a bit early. As I sat in my car, and then as I wandered around in the few minutes before SM arrived, I found myself engaged in an activity I haven't done in almost a year. Self-flagellation. I was mentally beating myself senseless. As if the voices yesterday hadn't done enough. Yesterday I wrote about monsters. Today I felt like one. I was interrupted by one of the voices.

Are you beating yourself up? It was one of the kindest voices I know- the voice of Counselor.

*nods weakly*

Why?

Because I'm an idiot. *blabbers on about being defensive and absolutely loathing the version of Sam that showed up the last few days*

I don't remember all of what the voice said. Maybe I don't need to. But it was good, and it stopped me.

Last week she said she was glad her voice was in my head, cause it meant that even when we're done, she'll still be there. She'll never go away. That's comforting, in an eerie, freaky sort of way. I was sure glad it spoke up today. I may have needed it then more than I did yesterday. I just wish I could trust the voice as much as I trust the person. I'm not sure I can let myself off the hook for my recent freakishness just yet.

SM agreed with my assessment that Counselor will probably suggest that I should have called yesterday. Maybe I agree too. I think I know I should have, but I didn't feel like I could. I don't deserve any help, I told myself this morning. That's the same broken record that was playing Thursday night when I couldn't sleep.

I really am my own worst enemy.

Monsters

I was collating when the Titans escaped. With little warning, my mind was in full scale rebellion. The screams were deafening. Worthless and Lazy were throwing stones. Lazy's son Unmotivated and Worthless's sister YouDon'tMatter started a dizzying dance, sucking life out bit by bit.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't focus. I became less coordinated. My hands started to shake.

I closed my eyes and tried to find the good voices. In recent uprisings, I've been able to find Pastor or Counselor whispering behind all the screaming. If I can't control the voices myself, if the good voices speak, I can hear them and the chaos fades.

But both the Pastor and Counselor voices were silent. I couldn't find them anywhere. I couldn't even imagine what they'd say if I could find them. I was terrified. I grabbed my phone and several times nearly called Counselor. But there was that huge collating job that needed to be done, and by then I was alone in the office, which meant I was the only one to answer phones. Still, my phone remained open and ready for me to hit send. There it sat, mere inches from me as I struggled through the job with a war raging in me.

I have no idea what finally broke it. All I know is one minute was hellfire, and the next minute all was calm. Ashes and ruin all around, of course. Suddenly I was exhausted. Go figure.

I still can't find the good voices. The places that the Titans hit with their rocks, the parts that were torn by the frantic dance, these still sting. I am at peace, but I am not without injury.

Went out to dinner with E tonight. Meeting Stephen Minister tomorrow. Lunch with another church friend Sunday. Monday I'm on my own. Counseling is Tuesday next week. I'll make it. (I say this more for my own benefit than for any other reason.) Maybe then I won't be so freaking defensive with her like I was last night.

Insert Sound of Gears Turning

12:30 am. Guess whose brain won't shut up so she can sleep. Silly brain. The middle of the night is not the time to be processing counseling. Not when I have work in the morning.

Except that Counselor said that's the best time- right after counseling when the defenses are down and I'm tired. So, yeah, I guess it is prime processing time. But sleep would be good.

So since I can't seem to stop thinking about today's session...

To Counselor, even though I doubt you'll ever read this. Thank you for being someone I can trust. Thank you for being kind when I'm wrong. And thank you for being patient with me. I am not patient with me, so this particular quality surprises me, especially coming from someone who has seen my worst. This means a lot to me.

Um, That Was Weird

I read chapter three. My initial reaction to it was WHA? How? Crap! It was convergence on a freakish level. The chapter was about Eve (and her progeny) after the Fall. I can't summarize it with any justice, but let's just say that a good chunk of this chapter found me exactly where I've been the last few weeks. It's as though the book has been hearing/reading my conversations for the last month.

You doubt me? It knew about my dad. It knew about my tendency to shut people out, and it knew all my reasons why. This was a bit disconcerting, especially since I'm just figuring these things out myself. It knew about the abandonment issue, and it knew about my frustration with people who have this thing about disappearing. A brief quote, par example.

Why are most of the relationships of women fraught with hardship?
Their friendships, their families, their best friends all seem to have
come down with a sort of virus that makes them fundamentally unavailable.

Um.

Can I just say this sounds eerily familiar? Granted, in my case, the virus is generally geographic in nature. This cannot be helped. (God bless chat and cell phones!) But it wasn't always that way. I seem to remember having friends who were local who liked to hang out who were not married with kids, or single with kids. And I seem to remember having a few families that counted me as almost one of them. I know it's not entirely on me that they're all gone. Whatever the voices say, I know it's not all my fault.

At least, I think I know it.

At least, I hope it isn't.

Cause that would really suck.

I need to read the chapter again before Thursday. In the meantime, there is much to think on.

A Piece of Thursday

I survived.

I realized earlier today that I got to see the sun just after it came over the horizon while the sky was still on fire yesterday morning, and I got to watch it disappear again in the evening. The brilliance was just beginning to fade as I walked into the room for counseling.

How lucky am I?!?

Last week I had a discussion with the Voice of Counselor in my head. Does anyone else do this? Do your voices have mannerisms and facial expressions? Voice of Counselor has both, and this discussion was... enlightening. She didn't actually say anything. It was all in the expressions. Well, I wrote it down shortly after, and last night I read it to her as it had played in my head.

She laughed so hard. She said it sounded like a conversation we would actually have, which is why it was so funny. But it was also helpful.

We talked about my dad last night and some of the things he's said. She understands now why certain things are so impossible for me to believe. And why the book is such a struggle for me. She asked if I felt like he was disappointed with me. Uh, yeah. She asked some other questions. Then she said It's not your fault.

I was suddenly very interested in the blue tiles in the floor under her chair.

It's not your fault.

The floor is taupe except a few scattered blue tiles.

It's not your fault.

All the tiles are speckled.

It's not your fault. Why can't you look at me when I say that?

The tiles were an interesting change from the turtle in the undersea rug that I usually fixate on.

Look at me. It's not your fault.

I finally looked up. I was almost in tears. I could feel them building. They just hadn't gotten to my eyes yet.

Say it.

I could barely get the words out, and barely above a whisper. But it wasn't the struggle it's been other times. I guess that's good. A minute later, Why can't you look at me when I say it's not your fault?

Because I was almost in tears.

I was calling forth those tears on purpose. Why did you block them?

Because I don't know how not to.

So now my homework is chapter three. It's ok, though. It means I don't have to face the second half of chapter two. I can't right now.

And Now to Borrow Some Very Old Words

I get lost in daydreams a lot. Always have. They often reflect my inner idealist. Except when they reflect the scared little hobbit that's terrified of the dark but has gotten too many sunburns and so stays cowering just on the edge of shadow. (That, by the way, is a mental image I've had of myself for years. Maybe sometime soon it will be gone.)

Today brought a new one, and I couldn't shake it. Never can. Today's daydream had me facing Counselor with the hard conclusion that I was ready. Ready to stand on my own. Ready for goodbye. How bittersweet it was! I got teary in real life.

But this isn't something to worry about or even think about now. Yes, that day will come, but it could be months, a year, or even more. I have no idea how much work I still need to do, or how long it will take. One thing is for sure- worrying about it is pointless.

Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.
Each day has enough trouble of its own.

Today

Today I had a hard time focusing at work. Almost two weeks of not enough to do, and even less that's interesting. Except that I found one of sc0tlas's elementary classmates in the paper, being charged with vehicular manslaughter. On the same page I found my cousin talking about her brother's best friend who was killed in Fallujah on Sunday. Rest in peace, Blake. And be safe, James (and Eric and Banjo).

Today counseling was hard. Hard to connect, in this case. I was blocking something. Then I was shaking, but I couldn't figure out why. (I did later.) Then I was avoiding the idea of not isolating myself. I was even avoiding admitting that I do this. But it's true. My default response to trouble is to cut myself off from people. Which kinda goes with why I was shaking. I guess I cut myself off because I figure it's better than being abandoned, which is often the outcome if I don't isolate. At least with face to face people.

Today I got a book in the mail! Someone saw a book about Narnia and thought of me. Someone for no particular reason sent me a book about Narnia, just because. It kinda makes me feel special. :) Thank you, Book Fairy!

Today I am really tired, but it's counseling night, so there's a good chance I won't sleep so well.

Good night.

You Know...

...things are going just swimmingly when you receive an offer to go to the Women's Retreat (not one of my favorite things) for free and accept it as preferable to being home for the weekend.

Retreat's tomorrow. Got the e-mail yesterday. I was going to say no, but then Dad struck again. On February 14th, of all days.

Counselor gave me a new perspective to work with on that subject when we met on Tuesday. And last night, when I found myself needing it, it worked. For an hour or two. Then I started to feel it. I guess I don't get beginner's luck this time. That's ok.

Dad had already killed Sunday, Monday and Tuesday for me. Then he threw a wrench into Wednesday night. So when I found myself starting to fall apart last night, I was almost desperate. I wasn't about to let him steal Thursday and Friday, too! So I texted Counselor.

Of course, as soon as I sent it, I regretted it. There was an argument. I felt like Gollum/Smeagol. But- and this is a big deal- I knew I had made the right choice. So I managed to shut up the voices calling me weak and telling me not to bother her with stupid crap.

She's nuts, though. I woke up at 5:25 this morning for unknown reasons, and as I was lying there semi-conscious, my phone beeped. Wha?? Since I was awake, I figured I'd see what was up. New phone. New sounds. Not sure what that was... It was a text message. From Counselor. At 5:25 in the morning!

And yes, it was exactly what I needed.

Notes To Myself

Lest I forget before I see Counselor, or lest I forget in general...

Apparently I got over the not being brave thing. Yesterday at work I called six or seven people I didn't know to let them know their employment posters had arrived. I, who have heretofore had serious issues with making such calls, made all these calls without having to stop to breathe in between.

Also in the Chronicles of Bravery, I managed to make a phone call on Saturday that I had been afraid of for quite some time. And it went ok. Maybe even well.

On Friday, HeadGuy was on the phone with someone, and I heard him tell them about me. I got a glowing review in that conversation where no review was necessary. It's a lovely thing having a job where I am valued.

Today I did something completely out of character. Today I emailed someone I only vaguely know through an online community that I'm not even a part of. I watch this community from the sidelines, though, and this person turns out to be my neighbor, relatively speaking. Basically, she's close enough to meet for coffee, especially now that she's taking a class a block from where I work. Heh. So sometime soon I may be meeting a RevGal.

Everything has changed since June, except the one thing that doesn't ever change. God has been faithful. I know that now. I expected it all those months, yes, but I lack patience, and I am not particularly trusting. But here I am in February. It is nearly a year after counseling began. A year since the panic began. A year since all hell broke loose. And with the exception (at this point) of the housing situation, everything that was lost has been restored.

Everything.

And not just restored.

From my job to my health to various relationships, and everything else (except the housing, which I am still waiting on), I have been blessed abundantly. There were plenty of times when I felt like Job last year. More than one person mentioned the comparison to me as well. At least once I was admonished not to curse God and die. In the midst of my Job story, I remember looking up and reminding God that Job's tale ended in restoration, so I was expecting mine to do the same. It has, and then some.

I couldn't say this six months ago. Maybe someday I'll have that kind of faith. But better late than never, right?

Blessed be the name of the Lord.

And In Spite of Everything Else

I love Thursdays.

No matter how awful the day has been on any given Thursday, I always walk out of counseling feeling better. In fact, tonight I was beaming, or so said sc0tlas who was sitting RIGHT OUTSIDE. (Oh @#$%^&*, no one in my family knows about counseling.) Have I mentioned before that I meet Counselor at church? Heh. Well, yeah. And this time, my little brother happened to be sitting right outside the room, waiting for the other building to open because he's the sound guy this weekend and practice is Thursday night. *sigh* I had to swallow many words very quickly tonight.

I ended up printing both posts to read to Counselor. First was the one from Friday, then the one from earlier today. I was shaking pretty hard, and it wasn't easy to read, but it had been a rough day, so I wasn't surprised. We talked. It was good.

She said that I'm right where I should be.

She said it's ok to be scared.

She said that I did a good job this week, with the thinking and writing. She said that's what's going to make the panic not as bad.

She said it doesn't matter if I feel brave, cause look at what I've done in the last year. She said I am brave.

She said she's proud of me. She said I've done so much in a short amount of time, and of course there's going to eventually be a backlash, where stuff just piles up and gets stuck. Well, yeah, that's pretty much where I am!

She said she's proud of me. And I'm ok. And I'm doing a good job. And she's proud of me. (Just in case you were wondering what is going to really stay with me from tonight, she said she's proud of me.)

She said it's time for me to decide who I want to be.

Uhhuhwha? Um. Yeah. Right. I'm the person who has always pretty much been who someone else wanted me to be. Lots of someone elses. Yeah. So.

She said that's ok when I said I don't know. Cause she knows that about me.

I guess that's what I get to contemplate this week. I think I'll start by figuring out what I actually like of what's left of who I've been.

It Must be Thursday Again

So, I've discovered a few things in the last week. I've been thinking and processing, mostly about the things I wrote on Friday.

I was talking with Sparks, and he found the right questions. He asked if the shaking was about fear, or anger, or something else, and I realized it was fear. But why? What am I afraid of?

All week I have thought about it, and all week I have been fine. No panic. No trouble breathing. No tears. Ok, I almost broke on Sunday, but only for a few minutes, then Mr. Distraction stopped and prayed for me and I was fine. Well, maybe a little jittery. ;)

Then came today. Good grief. We had our membership breakfast this morning. I was up early, and I stopped at Coffee Place, knowing that this would be The Day That Never Ends. I was fine. Until 11:30. I pulled up my post from Friday to print it out for tonight, and suddenly I couldn't breathe. I was shaking. Half an hour later, at lunch, I was nearly in tears.

Last Thursday, Counselor suggested that maybe some of the panic was connected with counseling itself, and I insisted it wasn't. Apparently, though, she was right. Again. Gah. So now the question is why am I panicking about counseling?

At this point I must correct something I said Friday. There are, in fact, three local people who are safe enough. One is Counselor. Duh. The other two are safe enough, but complicated. Or, rather, I make the situation complicated. They are the pastors, you see, and so many people demand their attention. So I just don't bother, except in extreme situations. I think the last time I actually sought one of them out intentionally was when Grandpa had just died. Two and a half years ago. Even that, though, was barely intentional on my part.

I think, then, that my question has several answers. First, I know that one of these days I'm just going to lose it. There's just too much emotion built up that needs to get out, and for whatever reason I can't seem to let it. I think it shows up so much in counseling (and to a lesser degree, at church) because it would be ok. That would be safe. But I can't. Maybe it's because I've spent so many years stuffing everything that I just don't know how anymore. Maybe it's because I'm afraid of what might happen. Maybe both?

There's also the Old Sam/New Sam issue. I only know the Used To Be. I have no concept of the Not Yet. I am not a fan of the Now.

And don't even get me started on The Book. I couldn't even deal with the thought of reading it this week.

I'm not in a good place here. Or maybe I am. I don't know. It's scary.

Does any of this even make any sense? My brain is not working so well today.

Sam Disappears

I don't feel brave anymore. I don't even feel like being brave. What I feel like is closing up on myself again. Hiding.

I said it before, but the connotation shifted since then. I don't like this middle place. I'm not Old Sam. I can't be Old Sam. But I'm not yet New Sam, either. And more to the point, I don't know how to be New Sam. I don't know the right responses. I don't know where my limits are.

I feel so lost. So I close in on myself, retreating back into the relative safety of isolation. I don't know how I got here. I don't remember deciding. But with me in flux, with the rules of the game constantly changing, I can't see anyone wanting to play. What version of Sam is she going to be today, hmm? I can barely keep up with myself! How on earth can I expect anyone else to?

I know it's a process. I know it's not going to happen all at once, like Counselor snaps and BOOM! I'm healthy. But I don't think I understood how long, how hard it would be.

A year ago I was having panic attacks so frequently that I never really recovered from January until April. It would take days to regroup, and then there'd be another, and so on. Then, after Mother's Day, I was panic free for months. I had two or three during the fall, then I made it through the holidays without an attack. But in the last two weeks there have been four. Counselor pointed out that instead of taking days, it only takes a few hours to recover now. That's progress, I guess. But when I asked if I'd ever be able to deal with life without having to fight off panic, all she could say was maybe. Not what I wanted to hear. Honest, but not particularly encouraging.

I was shaking so hard last night. It scared me. I tried to figure out why. I couldn't find an answer. But Counselor and I agreed that something was going on in me that was causing it. I'm guessing it's the same thing behind the resurgence of panic and the return to isolation.

The last week or so I have been aching to have a close friend nearby. I think if I could get real face to face time with the right person, I might suddenly find myself a basket case. I think that's where I am. I think that's why the shaking, that's why the panic, and that's why the isolation. The part of me that's trying to tough it out is glad there is no such person within at least a three hundred mile radius. The part that wants badly to get better hates it.