Today it occurred to me that I have to go back to therapy next Tuesday. Dr. Sadie's secretary phoned yesterday, said her flights had been changed, and she couldn't meet me this Thursday, was that ok? Of course it was! I did a little "No therapy" dance and breathed a sigh of relief. Well, what is going on? Does that mean my therapist sucks? I don't thinks so. I actually think she's the best person for me, and she has a lot of common sense. I really respect common sense in people. She's a good egg. She's also a huge pain in the ass, as she makes me talk about my childhood. She doesn't let me just tell funny stories. I get that this is good, but it feels BAD.
I imagine that I don't look too crazy to you, the seven readers of my blog. Since I started this blog a week or two ago I've been in a pretty good place. You don't hear about how in February I got so depressed that I lay in the shower sobbing and thought there was a physical hole in my gut. It was a devastating experience. You don't hear about how I sewed my shirt to my stomach in January during a very bad series of nightmares. Here is a tip: Don't show up to therapy with the t-shirt that you slept in sewn to your skin. It's bad form. It scares people. You feel like a kook.
She made some mention of hospitalization and I stood up to go. I told her absolutely not would I go into the hospital. I knew she could sign something and get me admitted without my consent but I looked at her and told her I'd get in my car and drive across the country without even looking back. She calmed me down. Kudos to her hearing me on that. I've never been hospitalized and I feel that it just isn't an option. She made a deal with me not to hurt myself and she would see me in a couple of days. I asked her if I'd get kicked out of therapy if I broke this contract and she said, "No, of course not." God, this woman is good. If she had said yes, I probably would have run over my foot with a chainsaw just to get kicked out. She was compassionate and non-judgemental, which is just what I needed. But anyway, talking about my crazy mother, doing intense trauma "therapy" and having the Lyme - it was all a bit much. Having such intense nightmares that I drink coffee so I don't sleep. Crying for no reason in the middle of Target, being unable to see a future for myself - all of this is rotten. That is the biggest understatement in my blogging life. IT IS HELL. I bet a lot of you can relate.
We had definitely toned it down since everything got intense, and yet the nightmares were still severe. I also started Cymbalta for the depression and to see if it would help the Lyme pain. It helped both. I was able to go off all pain drugs for the entire month of April! I was off antibiotics for the month (they alternate months with them) and the pain just went away! But this bingeing thing started. I started throwing up, trying to rid myself of all the poison in my past. I would tell her a bit about it, but it's so shaming that I can't really talk about it. It finally occurred to me that it could be the Cymbalta. I stopped taking it and the binging stopped, too. Luckily, she was out of town so she couldn't lecture me about not stopping something on my own. But the pain came back up, and here we are.
So, to get back to the main topic, I'm terrified to start back to therapy. I haven't felt depression in three weeks. Some good things have happened, and some bad things have happened. I've started doing collages and started this blog. I'm trying to get to know my inner mind better, to see why I do things. I just want to feel creative and not worry about falling back into a dark hole of despair. I hope Dr. Sadie can help me with this, but it seems like it has to get worse before it gets better. Thanks mom, for all of this. You should have just fucking killed me when you had the chance. I wonder if I should send this collage to my shrink so she knows to be very gentle?