Posted by Susan47 on September 24, 2006, at 17:03:09
In reply to I am blabbering but this is necessary, posted by Susan47 on September 24, 2006, at 16:43:52
Before I saw this new psych, who is blowing the whistle on me, talking to the ex-psych and she will not be pleasant about this, she will not be forgiving or understanding or .. who knows how helpful she will be .. it's a bit frightening to think that they are on one side of the fence, together, and I stand completely alone on the other side.
I know my ex-T didn't handle things well. But only I know that. Of course it's obvious that I didn't handle anything well at all, that hardly needs to be stated. One T I spoke to, in an intake interview, said that it was her job to make sure she didn't leave me worse off than before.
My ex-T did exactly that. He did leave me worse off, much worse. He knew it but chose to close his eyes to that. It makes me very very very sad. He's probably a decent person. He probably wouldn't hurt a fly, not if he understood it. He didn't understand me. I was a fly, buzzing and buzzing, and he swatted me down. Down.
I don't know what to do anymore. I don't know how to handle myself, my pain, my loneliness, my sense of alone-ness and isolation. I don't feel there's anything worthwhile inside myself, so how can I possibly share anything with anybody? I would bring them down and they would bring me down.
There's nothing to do but die, and I know that, but I can't do it because I have this responsibility I brought into my life.
God help me. Let me write positive, good things. Let me feel good things. Let me bring light and life and laughter into my being. Where is it? How do people exist???? How?
I want people, lots of people, to be in my life. I want to be responsive and responsible and loving and good and kind and decent. I want to be whole. I want to make people laugh. I want to love people, and be loved by them.
But I'm so empty.
My drug was my coping skill.
My drug was my friend and my enemy.
It covered up my pain, but it also brought me more.The new psych I saw on Friday said that I was inappropriate with my ex-T. Inappropriate. She doesn't mince words. She said as much. What she doesn't understand is how badly I feel. How her words cut; what she doesn't understand is there was a responsibility my ex-T did not live up to. She knows him very well, she said, and that's a bit frightening. Because if she knows him very well, they're friendly. Which means their values meet, and of course he will say all the right things, and she will agree with him, and I will be crazier than crazy; in the end, I'll be fodder for them, something to chew on and they can pat each other on the back and sympathize with each other having to put up with us crazies. Only maybe I'm the craziest one he's ever had .. the craziest one he ever had to put up with.
I thought I was in love with him. Truthfully, every time I see someone who has the same stance, the same body posture, body language, hair, anything at all that reminds me of him, I am instantly drawn. I can't help it. It isn't something I can just turn off. I feel it deep in myself. It's just the way it is. I should not have continued to see him. I should have been strong enough to look elsewhere for help. I should not have allowed myself to feel just how badly I crave this thing inside myself.
I crave romantic love. I crave approval and I crave respect, being listened to and respected. He seemed to give me that. He brought that to the surface so intensely I couldn't handle it in a
ny way other than .. what? To live it? I had to live it. There was no one to live it with. I turned to drugs in a major way. Ganji every day, every night. Two to six joints every fr*gging day, in the end. I used up all the good feelings my brain could give me.There aren't any more. No more good feelings. And the whole thing, the time when I thought my T respected me or liked me or thought or felt good things about me, the whole thing was a lie I told myself so I could survive.
I phoned in deep emotional states, thinking that what I said made a difference, that what I was saying could actually be understood and respected. But of course it couldn't. It was done under another influence, a coping skill which wasn't a skill at all, just a trap.
God help me.
poster:Susan47
thread:688752
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/psycho/20060911/msgs/688759.html