Across and Inside my Universe

It Could Be Alot Worse

I'm having some anxiety over my mammogram results, but it could be much worse.  So, I had my first baseline set May 13th; they wanted me back for a closer look at one, which they told me was pretty common as when they have no baseline to compare to they need to nail down the particulars of various structures, like lymph nodes in weird places or whatever.

Due to various things like vacation, forgetting, and such, I didn't get back for my followup mammograms until today.  After the mammograms, they made me sit around for a long time, and eventually ultrasounded me trying to see what they are trying to nail down, that way.  However, neither the ultrasound tech nor the radiologist doctor could find it.

The doctor told me that "it looks benign" and that "it is probably a lymph node".  Then he said, "We need to see you back in six months, to see if it has grown.".  

Urgh . . .  that doesn't sound like a lymph node?

However, I get the impression that this is MOSTLY a dot your i's and cross your t's situation; that there is a slight possibility it could be something that grows, and is/becomes a problem, but that the probability is so low they are not even needing to look at it for half a year.  No one actually came out and SAID these things though, but it's kind of what I gathered from how they were and what they said.

Still, I've also gathered that there is a possibility it COULD be something bad; they don't just shoot you with x-rays for the fun of it.

My grandmother had breast cancer twice, however, it was not premenopausal, and her five daughters, most in their 70's, have not gotten breast cancer, and none of their female children have gotten it either as far as I know.    

It has also been close to two months since the initial mammogram; yes, they needed a closer look, but they probably have an idea of size from May to compare it to (maybe they don't, but the thought is comforting, and it doesn't hurt anything to think it) and they didn't say that it had grown or anything . . .

So, I am doing some CBT to try and calm down a bit, but this is something that is there, in the back of your mind . . . 

I DID ask the doctor where the 5mm oval . . . white splotch/lymph node . . . that we can see on the mammogram was; they took some funky angled mammograms, so seeing the images wasn't necessarily showing me where it was because I didn't know the angle/frame of reference.  Not more than a very rough idea.  He told me where it was, but he also said I'd not be able to feel it.  I responded by saying I figured breast self-exams weren't a bad idea anyway, and didn't say more, knowing it'll help MY peace of mind to know where a lump MIGHT possibly show up, if this . . .  splotch/lymph node thing isn't a lymph node and isn't benign.  

See, just KNOWING this information, makes me feel less helpless, and like there is something I can DO, aside from just waiting six months and going in for the next mammogram and/or ultrasound . . . perhaps these things are so unlikely to be bad that aside from practical experience and getting more familiar with how things feel WITHOUT lumps in them, it is not likely to help me find anything where the splotch is, but it sure helps me out psychologically . . . so I'll take it.  Knowing more just . . . I don't know, it helps.  I think sometimes too much info can be too much, but at this point, I'm glad I thought to ask things that make ME feel more in control, even if that control is an illusion . . .

Gee, I may be talking myself into a hole about this; I'm already poorly enough off in so many other ways, emotionally, right now.  Well, at least I can feel good about having gone and dealt with this, which I really hadn't wanted to do . . .

Unsafe

Well, I'm not safe.

Lability is uncomfortably high (I hope I'm using the term correctly).  My state of mind, my emotional perspective, keeps shifting so much that any decision I make, even fully believing and commiting to it, I can be doing just the opposite five minutes later (or half an hour, hour, etc.).  The place from which I am interacting with the world from, feels as though it's on a mess of shifting tides and currents.

Part of me thinks, well, isn't this just weakness of character, not being able to stick to anything or operate from a stable state of self or being or mind or whatever?  That word, stable, though, is part of the key.  The whole shifting currents thing, is another.  I'm NOT STABLE right now; I'd not call myself UNstable in a crazy, psychotic way, but  . .. well, basically what I've described above.

It is tempting to fall into the trap of thinking, hey, since I'm seeing this problem, and acknowledging it, doesn't that mean I'm functioning well enough to be or feel safe?  I've fallen into that trap before.  While identifying this stuff, prioritizing it, taking some actions with it, etc. are positive and functional, healthy things, the very nature of being so . . . well, volatile isn't quite the right word, I'm not going to lash out in an extreme way (although I guess suicide and other things actually are pretty extreme) at anyone else (hrm, I've been highly irritable and rather snappish, which I've been not pleased to have acted out as much as has been, the last few days; it has been uncharacteristically frequent and drop of the hat.)  I've been quite reactive and on a short fuse, not even necessarily being aware of having a short fuse, until I snap at my husband.

I've been irritable and snappish before, without the high lability; mixed states suck.  There is more here than just that, although mania and depression certainly make matters rather worse . . . 

I have therapy tomorrow, and I don't know if my psychologist will recommend the hospital.  We've already taken some familiar and not so familiar steps, around here.  Any excess medication my husband has hidden.  A step taken once before, for a time, that I've asked of him again, is to not leave me alone at home for three hour+ stretches.  Two hours feels like it'd be kind of rushed for anything extreme, but that may be because I'm particular.  I hate to scare him like this, but on the other hand it feels the responsible thing to do.

So, he may need to stay home from church on Sunday.  This would carry us to next Wednesday, when I'll be home alone for most of the rest of the week.  If I am still highly changeable/feel like my behavior could turn 180 in the blink of an eye/feel like my mania or mixed state or whatnot is pushing me to danger, then we'll have to probably hospitalize me or figure something else out.  I am REALLY hoping that I'm not like this, then.  It usually has only ever lasted a few days, 3 or 4 tops, but I had this a week to 10 days ago for 4 days or so, and now again and it's just rather scary.

I dunno, maybe I'm a wuss and not taking responsibility, when I say that I can't seem to be able to say that what I decide right now will be the place from whence I could reasonably still be operating an hour from now, etc.

The pull to reckless and harmful, serious things of a variety of types is strong, although I am currently fighting them.  Some things you can't come back from, and some you maybe  shouldn't (okay, definitely stuff to bring it up tomorrow in therapy.)

Edit:  This talk of lability, and danger, and unsafeness, and my assessments thereof, are based mainly on how my psychologist has assessed me most recently last week when discussing the same kinds of things, as well as in the past, the few other times that it has been this bad (all since early 2012, really).  Things I'm saying here are based on concerns he's discussed with me about my safety and stability and such when I'm in this/these states, having experiences as I've been this week and being all over the place, and stuff.  My safety has been a major issue and concern to him, in many of the ways I posted about here, and some things I haven't posted.

Edit:  Also, I do have upcoming appointments with my psychiatrist, later this month and then in August as well, since my urologist cleared me for going back on psych meds/back to the psychiatrist (I know one doesn't necessarily mean the other but he has pronounced my kidneys fine, after a CT and a cessation of the most distressing symptoms . . well, I may need to check one more thing with him, but he did clear me.)  Still, I may be contacting her sooner, by email I guess, if my psychologist thinks I need to go to the hospital.  Maybe her emergency nmber would be better, I don't know?  I' ve left a message on there before.

Do What Hurts the Most to Improve What Hurts the Most

Or:

No pain, no gain.

That's a little black and white, but since running from pain is what I do best, learning to just sit with my pain, heck, learning to recognize when what I'm doing is a defense or running from pain, is pretty much where I'm at alot of the time.  Yes, even after all these years of therapy.  I was sooo un-self-aware back then, and therapy's helped me alot through the years, subjective though my opinion might be.

So, to improve in areas where you social anxiety bell starts ringing, you need to at least approach that bell and face some of your fear, and learn that you can deal with that situation, without retreating, in order to make gains in that area.

Sounds so simple, doesn't it?

When spelled out intellectually like that, it does, but feeling it is quite intense and often difficult.  Still, I've gained some sense of efficacy in some areas I needed improvement in; oh, how many more there are!  

A month ago, when my husband started physical therapy after his arthroscopic shoulder surgery, I went with him and saw the therapist who'd been my physical therapist several years ago.  He's the owner of the place, so quite capable (or seemed so to me).

He asked after my recovery, and was unpleasantly surprised/startled to find that my total knee replacement recoveries have turned out so poorly.  He kind of quietly threw out there that perhaps some strengthening, exercises and such, could do improve things quite a bit, if not solve the problems entirely.  He expressed his sadness that I was in such lasting pain and again seemed to think that improving strength would help.

I found myself out of sorts after hearing this, and as I lay in bed that night I realized, "He's saying that I don't have to be in pain; that there is something I can DO about it."  I felt anger, because how does he know I haven't worked hard?  I have.  I felt frustrated, that he would just assume that something COULD be done, because I've had to come to terms with being in pain alot.  I felt anger that he was dangling no or less pain in front of me, if only I would CHOOSE it, the implication being that if there was something I could do to improve my situation and I didn't, then I was CHOOSING to be in pain (or at least, in as much pain as I am).  I did realize eventually however that most of this was how I felt upon hearing or pondering what hea said, and wasn't necessarily what he said, or meant.

I chose, last week, to get over myself and have my husband ask him what I could do (the holiday being kind of nuts, I couldn't make it to many of his physical therapy appointments, although I could have done better than I did).  Why let pride stand in the way of possible improvement?

What the physical therapist suggested is standing up and down out of a chair, like I used to do at physical therapy and at home during recovery, using legs only no pushing up on the arms of the chair with my hands, etc.  He also said I can use a pillow in the chair if I can't stand up without using my arms without it.  To that I thought, "What, does he think i'm THAT weak?"  I can actually stand up from a crouch now, and it was less than a year ago when I couldn't do that; I'd gotten in a crouch and was stuck (it felt like I had no way to make myself fall over either, weird as that sounds, so I could get up from there, so I felt trapped and feared getting in a crouch again).

However, a week or two ago I crouched without thinking about it, and got out of it myself (with agonizing pain, naturally, but still I did it.)

So, I'm going to start doing three sets of 10 of these, several times a day, with a day off in between here and there, as when you are strength training I know the muscles sometimes need time to build back up.  Or something.

I've got an office-style chair that I can and do usually keep set really low.

The thing is, standing up without any assistance from my arms, or from setting my legs farther apart, has the pain hitting a level 7 during the whole muscle-pushing process.  Level 7 is alot.  So, to stand there and do it ten times in a row, rest for a minute or two, do ten more, rest, and 10 more . . . well, that's alot of pain.

Still, I don't, I really don't, want to let pride or complacency get in the way of possible improvement, so an extra heaping of pain it is, and I'll note down every two weeks how my pain is, of differing types in my legs, and do this for three months at minimum.

I'm not optimistic, but  I guess we'll see.  If there's only a minor improvement, is that enough given that I'd likely have to keep up with some level of strength-boosting/painful activity to retain this improvement?  It depends on how much, if any, improvement we see.

**

On another note I don't think messing w/meds is a good idea.  I'm actually desperate to have higher Lamictal to be a barrier between me and aspects of my mania that I had forgotten how they felt, partly because I couldn't understand how I could feel that way and still be me; however, I am starting to be reminded.  I was going to go back up on Lamictal but just upping it a little, made the urinary system a touch worse, enough so that I just cannot make myself go back up; it'd be like having to use a hammer to squash a bug on my hand - I can't make myself do it.

I really, really don't want to get off the med, but I really, really can't live with the developed side effects either.  Just, this isn't me not wanting meds, I tried to make it work for a long time.  There's practically no choices left, of mood stabilizer (lithium has such a high side effect profile? is it? that I'd really like to let my kidneys and bladder heal up and have some time where I'm not constantly worried about my health and side effects; however, the mania isn't just going to go hide under a rock.  Ugh.)

When Your Doctors Don't Believe You

When your doctors don't believe you, you feel like you need to prove your problem/theory/what-have-you, if it is provable.

In my case, the Lamictal IS affecting my urinary system.

So the not brief but explained as briefly as possible history/experiences that I explained to all three doctors in September about these issues, WAS relevant, and I don't have to think of myself as a rambly, irrelevant person.

You see, I do ramble and/or am irrelevant at a variety of times to some degree or another.  BUT, I try to not do that at the doctor's office.

See, when I went and saw my GP a week after the Instacare guy prescribed oxybutynin, I did mention the bladder, urethra, and kidney discomfort/pain.  My GP said to keep taking it (because I'd laid out brieflly what happened after I stepped down off Lamictal, last year, unsupervised; it was what I consider to be likely a textbook case of how epically bad stopping a mood stabilizer on one's own can be.)

So, I kept taking the oxybutynin and the Lamictal. However, over the last three months the abdominal and sometimes side/back kidney pain had been becoming more frequent and too common.  The bleeding had gone away, the bladder was somewhat calmed down (although not like last March), but it still seemed to be over-producing as well as could only go about 4 hours, so it was still getting me up at night.  (Also becoming harder to sleep with the pain and discomfort).

The worries about it and the physical interference with good sleep are two factors in why I think the mania has been breaking out more the last few months.  The other factor would most often be stress from a juvenile court case in which I faced speaking in court, and other things (It's about the victim, not me, but since I'm not going to expose her on here, I'll risk sounding like it's all about me.)

These things all acted to marginalize the effectiveness of the 150mg Lamictal that I've been taking.

A week ago, it was getting so bad I wanted to go to my pyschiatrist, with proof, so I'd be believed.  Plus, I wanted it to stop.  So I cut my dose in half for a few days.

I did not expect such a quick or significant difference, figuring the urinary tract had been so abused for so long it'd need time to heal.  Within a DAY a significant amount of pain and discomfort was gone.

I knew that cutting the dose in half wasn't the wisest idea, so after a couple days I went back up, but only to 100mg.  I couldn't bring myself to take 150 and be that badly off, again.  The pain and discomfort went back up within a day of bumping back up, though not as bad as it was at 150mg.

Proof, anyone?

Now, I did consider that my judgment may not be the best right now, what with all the mania and stuff.  Also, the last time I took myself off Lamictal, the end results were . . . bad.

Still, this time it will be in partnership with my psychiatrist (as soon as I email her later tomorrow).  If she says to keep taking it, which I highly doubt, I'll do it until we meet and can figure something else out.  However, I hesitate to keep taking it for longer than needed to step down off it, because after so much abuse to my bladder and kidneys, what's the risk of permanent damage?

So, yes I took medical matters in my hands, but I didn't intend to do it for long, and as well the doctors didn't believe me before anyway.  Just because my psychiatrist said that this isn't a side effect of Lamictal, doesn't mean in my opinion that it can't EVER be; it's not a KNOWN side effect, perhaps.  Also, there are statistical outliers, people for whom their bodies' response to medications can or does fall way outside the reasonably or even rarely expected effects.

It's happened to me before, and now again.

I am regretful and a bit fearful that there is one less med between me and the mania; however, I'm on some Seroquel, which I wasn't last year, and I've handled twice as much as the current 150mg before, I think even over that to 400mg.  It was eventually stopped because at the time it was being used for depression, and didn't do much for that.  I can tell it's helping stabilize mood a bit, now, though.

Now, I actually don't think the doctors were wrong in what they considered and what that led them to recommend, AT THAT TIME (although they were still wrong, then, about the bladder/lamictal thing.)  There were several seemingly medically reasonable (to me) reasons to suggest going forward as the doctors had said with the Lamictal and the oxybutynin.  I'm glad I did things their way for long enough to know that not following orders wasn't what was going on.

My GP considered things with his knowledge, but also deferred to my psychiatrist as, I think, was proper to do given the risk of possible death if I stopped the mood stabilizer, since if I even THOUGHT I might start down the bad path from earlier this year again, I wouldn't be able to live with myself.  My psychiatrist, of the three doctors, gave me the best impression that she was weighing the pros and con of a medication that was possibly (though not likely as she did tell me Lamictal doesn't do that) harmful, against the pros and cons of stopping that medication.  She investigated anew with me how effective I felt the Lamictal was, and such, and I appreciated her doing that; it helped me feel that my experiences would all be a part of what she decided.  She said for me to keep taking the Lamictal, and I did, though reluctantly, because I'd been so tired of the bladder problems.

Knowing for sure, now, it IS relieving to know that something hopefuly fixable (after this long, has there been permanent damage?) is behind the kidneys/bladder.

I don't know that anyone necessarily cares about all this, but I don't know what audience I have in mind or think I have with this blog, so I'm all over the place with what I post and don't post.

And The Walls Came Tumblin' Down

Well, that's what it feels like. 

The window in our bedroom started cracking in the wood frame that holds it in the wall; plaster cracked and water came out, and eventually wet wood sawdust bits . . . the wall is sunk in and soft in the lower corners.  There's a hole in the siding just outside.

So, what does my landlord want to do?  Bring in dirt and slope the grade away from the window; it's become sloped toward the window.  He'll plaster up inside as well.

He says he has many decades of construction experience, and simply regrading should do it.  I hope so . . . the window is also sending a crack upwards in the wall above it, as it settles on its softened lower wood frame area.  Yeah, he's taking care of it alright.

Okay, so not long after that (and it's still not fixed, the window), I'm in the bathroom, and it starts raining on my head.  I hoped it wasn't toilet water; it wasn't, but it was kitchen and bathroom sink and laundry drain water . . . eww.  That one took them a couple days.

Now, a few weeks later, they are finally looking at fixing the ceiling above our toilet.

Also, around the same time, I pushed a hole in the wall by the toilet, as I have to brace myself lowering onto the commode.  Well, I suppose I could do without, but it's MUCH more painful that way.  This time instead of spreading out my hand flat, I used the heel of my hand.

Oops.

Okay, so now last night, the people upstairs are showering, and the drain in our furnace/water heater closet bubbles up and leaks into the carpet in nearby closet, bedroom, and hallway.  We use towels and a fan.  This morning, they start to shower and BAM!  Soaking wet all over again.

UGH!  I'm afraid of mildew if this doesn't get dry by tonight; we only have one fan, as we pulled our box fan out and it was dead.  So I just had to switch it to the hall which has had no fan on it at all, although the other areas are still quite dam (edit: Freudian typo? heh).  The hall is still WET, though.  Too bad we don't have a steam cleaner to soak some stuff up; maybe I can find someone to borrow one.

They just came and are gonna snake a thing down through the system.

My daughter is completely out of sorts with all this, afraid that we'll have to move, afraid of everything breaking, and stuff.  I completely understand.

I am so tired of problems, especially water problems.  PEACE and security would be nice.  Not frequently feeling like we're in crisis mode dealing with problems would be nice.

Off to wash and dry yet another batch of towels.

Sleep Paralysis, the Hallucinogenic Kind

You do NOT want to experience this.

It's beyond the most horrific, terrifying, deathly, panicked, frantic thing I've ever experienced.

I've had this once or twice before, and had forgotten all about them.  Last week I had one.

I woke up, but I couldn't move.  The fact that I couldn't move didn't occur to me until I tried to fend off the evil entity(ies) coming through a portal a few feet away into my room.  They were coming in to kill me and take me away to a nightmare of eternal horror . . . I tried to fend them off, there was a specific motion I was supposed to do to fend them off, but it was then I found out I could not move.

I then kept trying to shout, "WHITE! . . . WHITE!"  over and over again, because either that would summon the right kind of help to stop them, or it would summon my husband to my aid.  I could have sworn that I actually yelled this, but when I finally was able to move and went out to my husband, he said he'd heard nothing.  I still felt the evil so strongly that I performed the movements a couple times at the physical object in the room from whence the entities were portaling, before I left the room, even though I knew it wasn't real.  It FELT real.

 I found a variety of websites, many of which use the same painting to represent this problem.  I've also read a wide variety of possible durations for this: anywhere from a minute or less, to several minutes, up to 8 minutes, and some said up to an hour or more!

There are some things that make you more susceptible, like irregular sleep schedule, lack of sleep, stress, sleeping on your back, and other things.  I found one site that mentioned bipolar being a potential factor.  I found another one that mentioned, with a technical term for something that seems like the exact opposite of sleep paralysis, if you are prone to moving around in your sleep, performing actions, etc. then you might be prone to the paralysis.  I guess both of them have your sleep/wake out of sync with the paralysis you are supposed to have only while sleeping.  I do tend to move around in my sleep, even hitting myself or throwing punches, and other things, as well as some infamous sleepwalking episodes.  Still, out of all the sites I looked, almost all of them did not mention these two things.

Some sources listed a few things you could do during the episode (although I'm not sure if I'd be composed enough, with the overwhelming terror), such as wiggle your fingers or toes (apparently extremities have a better chance of breaking through the paralysis).

Someone even made a movie of it!  I can't imagine anyone who's experienced the hallucinatory form wanting to bring those feelings up again, but then I don't understand horror movies either.

One Noisy Neighbor Out; A Pair of Them In

In the decade we've lived here, we've rarely had problems with noisy neighbors.

Our last one, who moved out two weeks ago, was an exception.  Her stereo was in the bedroom, or at least the one she preferred to listen to, was.

In the last 3/4 year I've gotten more migraines than in the previous 5-8 years.  Lotso stress and such.

There's nothing like going to a cool, quiet, peaceful bedroom, putting your sleeping mask on to really keep the aggravating light out of your migraine-sensitive eyes, and a few minutes later you start to hear her playing music.

ARGH.

Sometimes I could almost make out the words, except the beat was thumping too loud.  Other times it was half that volume, but still loud enough to keep me from resting.

I tried several different things, but eventually resorted to banging my cane on the ceiling.  It took her awhile to get the message (maybe cause her music drowned me out sometimes?)

About 6 weeks before moving out the noise quit being a problem; hmm, could her love of listening to music in her bedroom be that important to her?  I'd have tolerated much more out in the living room than I would in the bedroom; how hard is it to have your stereo out there?

So, this new couple seems to  be "night" people.  At first I was hoping they were staying up late to unpack and put things away.

The seem to have a sort of schedule, however, of staying up until midnight or 1, and then one of them at least seems to get up every two hours in the night.  They could just have a job that ends late, or sleep much of the day, or have medical issues getting them up at night, or have the munchies, or whatever.  I don't mean to sound whiny.

Tonight, though, it sounded as though they were watching TV, in their bedroom, at 1:30 am.  This could be a problem.  Especially since they seem to be night owls . . . I'll have to see what all they are doing, and if it's loud enough to interfere with sleeping, if it's something that people could be reasonably expected to be taking into account the time of night, and that neighbors are sleeping (or trying to.)

Am I catastrophizing a bit?  Probably.  More, though, I'm just venting, because we just got over the last noisy tenant overhead.  (We're in the basement/ground floor).

Also, sleep is a big deal for bipolar disorder, so I'm a little sensitive on the subject. 

I don't want to feel like THIS in the morning.

I note that when I look at the three pics in this post? I have a strong negative reaction to the old lady/broom one, curmudgeon comes to mind. The young lady pictures? A positive feeling about them. No matter the age, people have a right to a restful bedroom for sleeping, old or young. I just thought it interesting to note this, and I have to keep resisting the urge to pull the "negative" one down, lest it make people think that I'm an old curmudgeon . . . Fight those stereotypes!

Also, I don't talk to them face to face, as a reasonable adult might, because I'm afraid to.  Can't do it.

What's My Problem?

Why am I so upset about the group therapy?

It's not the end of the world if I'm faced with something unpleasant about myself, however awful it feels or seems.

It's not the end of the world if I feel as though I was manipulated by the psychiatrist.  Would it have been better if she hadn't done so? (If she actually, intentionally did; manipulation is in the intent.)

Sure.

Is it any surprise to me that she's insensitive, dominant, strong in her opinions, outspoken about them, and has a definite idea of what she feels is best?

Put that way, no, no it's not.

It's never fun to be receiving such things, from a doctor no less, and even more difficult to bear, from a psychiatrist.

Still, I can discount some of her "authority" by thinking of the above things that should not surprise me anymore.  Why would I put alot of weight on what someone like that says, if it's not specifically medically related?  Ie, if it's not medical advice she's giving me but therapeutic (both are medical in their way but I think you know what I mean).

So regardless of how she was, as I discussed in my last post, I can follow the chain of thoughts that led me to a very bad place, to a very . . . difficult view of myself to approach, let alone investigate.  That makes it hard for me to discount anything, and so leaves me with a feeling similar to the picture up above.

I feel kind of like it would be healthiest for me to set aside this difficult, painful view of self for awhile and just keep on plugging away, step by step, at improving.  It's hard though because this thing wants to pull out the rug from under me and just bring everything crashing down.

Perhaps I'll gain some more perspective and/or distance from it in therapy tomorrow.  I feel like I've already gotten a little, as I'm not flailing around emotionally, as much as I was.

Still, I really do not need another really bad thing to think about myself, when I get suicidal, to pile on top of the other really bad things I think about myself.

Life however doesn't care how many bad things come your way, it just goes on.  So I need to as well, hopefully putting this in a better place.

I Herd You

I went to what I thought was a support group that my psychiatrist runs, for adults with AD(H)D.   It turned out to be group therapy.

She had an agenda, that she guided and directed the group through and towards.  She lectured from time to time; she drew conclusions and presented them as "the" way to feel & think about things.

In some ways, she was as indelicate as a bull in a china shop; however, there was also a sharp mind behind the questions, conclusions, directing.  She knew what she wanted us to think, and she took us there, by leading, pretending to guide, snapping at our heels like a sheepdog if we weren't quite drinking the Koolaid she was dispensing, by running us into the pen she had decided was where we needed to be.

There wasn't much support, and what support she gave to others in the group eventually morphed into her adapting what they'd said, into her agenda for where she wanted things to go.

Now, before this group session I'd had an appointment with her, which went fine, since we'd made some things clear last time.  Such as the notion that I am my own person, in my own life, and I am the best one to decide what works for me, and not her.

That obviously applies to anything, but when you go to a group thing like this you try to leave yourself open to learning something, gaining some support, or insight, or something . . . by the time you realize there's a sheepdog at your heels, you've gone a ways down a path that may not be for your good.  You do your best to keep from bursting into tears through the rest of the appointment, to keep from going where it is that the sheepdog is pushing you, but you are already falling down that mountain.

So there's a knife in my heart, and you'd think it'd be relatively easy to pull it out by discounting the source; obviously she's not a sensitive nor observant nor supportive nor respectful therapist.  Why would one give much weight to what she wants, what she says?

It's not that simple, however.  I wish it was.  See, the things I thought and felt, the places I went to, the conclusions I found, well, there's a train of thought and feeling that I had during this process.  Both she and the group were stimuli in that process, but I can still follow the path in my mind and heart that led me to a really bad place.

I am having difficulty discounting that, erasing it, setting it aside, or whatever.  I can't un-think how I got there.

I feel it's a therapist's professional responsibility to not command the direction of things, to not make conclusions AND present them as what IS, to not herd you towards a prticular destination.

A good therapist, even if they had a particular destination in mind for you, even a general one, that they felt was healthier for you, they would discuss things, perhaps point out paths you might not have considered, discuss how you feel about them, objectively weigh the pros and cons, but they'd never take the reins and grab you and pull or shove you down a path of their choosing.  That's part of what I mean by herding.

I feel like a therapist should respect the vulnerability of the patient(s) and use care and concern, among other things, when working with them.

To not just willy nilly, but purposefully, push patients down a path that they don't know where it's going, and by the time they have some idea they are so distressed that just about anything at that point will settle in and try to take root . . .that is bad therapy, at the least.

Of course, I'm an adult and not just turning myself over to go wherever she wants, but I didn't realize until after this happened, how vulnerable going to something like this makes you, even if you are nervous, scared, and wary.  I had made a decision some time ago to try to learn what I could from whatever the source, sometimes having to set aside my feelings about the source and just consider the infomation.  This, too, made me vulnerable, besides all my other psychological/emotional issues.

I ended up in a very bad place.  Much of that is me, but the therapy itself and the manner of it, is also a big factor.

I'm starting to think, now, that what she said in our amicable appointment a month ago, that whatever she says, it's my choice what I decide is useful for me, is partially an excuse for her brash, forceful "therapeutic" manner.  That she can excuse quite a  few things by saying or thinking that the patient can chuck it all out, if he/she wants. 

If this is so, then she's at the least rather irresponsible.  The people who go to see a psychiatrist are often vulnerable in a variety of ways, and many are not equipped to fend off or sort through her forceful assertions, her "therapy" if you will.

So I think that her expecting her patients to be confident enough and self-aware enough to discount what she says if it's not best for them is disingenuous at the least, irresponsible and harmful at worst.

What a Not So Beautiful Mess . . .

To riff off of a Diamond Rio song title . . .

I'm being brave in posting this. I want to track my progress on organizing this, although the rest of the house is a mess too (mostly not as bad, but this is BAD, so that's not saying much).

This is the master bedroom in our apartment. Much of the mess is craft items, information, patterns, and publications. There's a big variety of crafts and materials: Beading/jewelry making (including chain maille jewelry), knitting, crochet, spinning, and weaving (that's a four-shaft table loom under a makeshift dustcover), Rubber stamping, scrapbooking, and a variety of paper crafts, with a variety of die-cutting stuff (including a Cricut, a . . . robotic die cutter, if you will, for those who aren't familiar with this stuff), and a big wooden rotating tower of ink pads, reinkers, ink pens, and other things.

I have fabric in various places in the room, handed down from my mom when she was clearing it all out; I have no sewing machine though except a tiny one designed for stitching in scrapbooks and on other paper crafting projects. The fabric has come in handy for a variety of my daughter's school projects, though. I've even saved jeans she's outgrown, and jeans of mine as well, for a variety of recycled/upcycled craft projects. It's a good thing I saved some of my jeans that I'd lost too much weight for, because I gained the weight back and needed them. Lol. I'm working on losing weight again, though.

I have a couple drawers of adhesives, from a Xyron laminator/magnet maker/adhesive applier, foam tape, masking tape, double sided tape, photo corners, glaze-type glues, rubber cement, tacky glues, post it note glue, glue for metals, and a whole host of other adhesives for different purposes, materials, etc.

The thing about all these crafts, is, the last two years mostly doesn't count for me not touching them much, due to a year and a half of surgical recovery; with all the pain knitting simple garter stitch was the most I could handle, and I've picked it up now and again. Also, the last two years my husband's been either out of work, or at two couple months long temporary jobs . . . with jewelry making, buying the findings like jump rings, crimps, clasps, bails, etc. can add up, and so as with some of the other crafts, running out of consumables has limited those.

Also, I suffer from a variety of mental illnesses, disorders, etc. You'd think an OCD person's bedroom would look neat, but then there's ADD, bipolar with lots of depression, etc. and everything's overwhelming. These issues also lead to a lack of desire to do anything, including favorite interests and hobbies. My therapist has recommended I not ditch everything, since once (or if, in my mind) my depression improves I'll regret having gotten rid of everything.

SO. With that in mind, I'm analysing how often I've used stuff, over the last 6 years or so, and factors affecting that, in order to help with what to ditch and what to keep. The last couple years it's been mostly knit, with a little crochet and a moderate amount of weaving. A little spinning, too. The couple years before that, there were sporadic bursts of rubber stamping (often related to mania, but not always), mixed with alot of knitting and the like. Also alot of beading/jewelry making during that period. The couple years before that, was when I started the jewelry stuff, as well as the knitting/crochet/tiny bit of spinning. Scattered Rubber Stamping as well, with a year of digital scrapbooking. It's been longer since physical scrapbooking, but that's mostly due to organizational issues (ie, I can't find my stuff) as well as some money factors (do you know how much the scrapbooking and stamping industries make? It's ridiculous. TOO many commercial products, I think a simpler, less expensive approach will suit me better.

Still, at some point when you're in an apartment, you can't just leave all that space being taken up by stuff you don't use . . . I need to figure out where to draw the lines. It's gonna be hard.

I can do it, though, one step at a time. I have a budget of $200-$250, from birthday and special occasion money I've saved up for awhile. That doesn't seem like much compared to all the stuff in there; some small portion of which needs to go in other rooms.

There's SO MUCH organizing info out there, though, that it's overwhelming. I'm starting with a blog or two, like http://iheartorganizing.blogspot.com/, which has some great ideas and showcases a variety of organizing products, ESPECIALLY in use, so I can get an idea of what may and may not work for me.

Wish me luck? And also, that I don't get so overwhelmed I just quit.

No judging my mess. I should have an apron that says that . . . lol.

Next post on this project will be the list of stuff that I've come up with that needs doing in there. Although, with the rest of the house being a mess too, I'm not sure what I'll do with the stuff that gets kept but goes in another room, before I've cleaned and organized the room it goes in so there's a place for it . . . . it's like a Mobius strip. Or MC Escher stairs.