Reflection
Yeah, I realize the last post was kind of flippant. I think I was just so relieved that a professional (yes, I know all of us are professionals, my pretties, but the question is, professional whats?) told me that I was normal. Or told me just to stop analyzing things.
In my heart, I thought I was doing the right thing, trying to sift through history and such. She told me that the options were huge, and that I just needed to stop.
We discussed many things, among them eating disorders and OCD. We stayed on the topic for a good while, and I was surprised. She repeatedly touched on my eating habits, and I wondered why that was even a consideration, considering that I am among the throngs who go to the gym in quest of the "BODY". Inattainable as it seems, at times. I realize that I have lost weight recently, but it's because I've worked my ass off to do it.
We talked and talked about the boys, about sex, about everything, really.
I kept saying, and I don't know why, that sometimes I wished I could turn it off. My head. That that was why I exercised, because that was the only damn time I got a little peace and quiet around here, dammit!
She said that it was evident that I was mostly up in my head - something I have accused Dick of MANY times. She also said that I needed to live more in my heart, with my feelings.
But what it comes down to is that I am not comfortable with them. I can rattle off several situations where I have been made to feel incorrect or inconsiderate for my actions and feelings by people close to me, and I wonder if this has to do with it, but again, I'm not supposed to be analyzing, right? I'll just tell her about it, I suppose.
She said that right now I was AT RISK for wanting to drink again, or falling back into it, and DEAR LORD DO I KNOW THAT. I LOVE not being hung over, not being sick, not worrying that I made an ass out of myself (well, I do anyway, but when I'm not drinking I remember EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED), but yesterday, I served my grandma a Corona, and I thought, "I could just take a little sip. Nobody would know." But I didn't.
And then later, my neighbor offered me jello shots (MY ABSOLUTE ALL TIME FAVORITE - Can't you tell? I'm even YELLING ABOUT THEM, THE JELLO-Y GOODNESS OF THE JELLO SHOTS. *DRRRRROOOOOLLLL*), but I just made that "no thank you" hand motion that I am famous for, even thought I felt like I wanted to Snuffleupagus that WHOLE tray.
I'm trying to Pavlov myself. Whenever I want a glass of wine, I drink the non-alcoholic crap. And it is crap. It's terrible. But I soldier through it, trying to convince myself that all wine tastes this assy and that I'm really not missing anything. Now, you and I know that's not true, but I'm trying to convince my binge tendencies otherwise.
The good doctor also said that she wasn't convinced that I shouldn't be medicated. For my anxieties. I'm a million miles from where I was, in terms of needing to know where the bathroom is and I'M GOING TO PEE ALL OVER THE PLACE when I get nervous, but there are still flickers, the expanding butterflies in my chest when I'm overtired and overstressed. Paxil would not be an option considering not 1 but 2 suicide attempts within a year. I still hold strong on no Pill for the PILL (that would be me), but I'm trying to be open to it.
I have concerns because I was so altered on the Paxil. A zombie. I've also seen the repercussions of suddenly not taking it, instead of weaning yourself from it, and that feels like an added stressor to me.
The shire beckons.
Jane Says: You're so afraid of what people might say, but that's okay because you're only human.
Sounds familiar.
In my heart, I thought I was doing the right thing, trying to sift through history and such. She told me that the options were huge, and that I just needed to stop.
We discussed many things, among them eating disorders and OCD. We stayed on the topic for a good while, and I was surprised. She repeatedly touched on my eating habits, and I wondered why that was even a consideration, considering that I am among the throngs who go to the gym in quest of the "BODY". Inattainable as it seems, at times. I realize that I have lost weight recently, but it's because I've worked my ass off to do it.
We talked and talked about the boys, about sex, about everything, really.
I kept saying, and I don't know why, that sometimes I wished I could turn it off. My head. That that was why I exercised, because that was the only damn time I got a little peace and quiet around here, dammit!
She said that it was evident that I was mostly up in my head - something I have accused Dick of MANY times. She also said that I needed to live more in my heart, with my feelings.
But what it comes down to is that I am not comfortable with them. I can rattle off several situations where I have been made to feel incorrect or inconsiderate for my actions and feelings by people close to me, and I wonder if this has to do with it, but again, I'm not supposed to be analyzing, right? I'll just tell her about it, I suppose.
She said that right now I was AT RISK for wanting to drink again, or falling back into it, and DEAR LORD DO I KNOW THAT. I LOVE not being hung over, not being sick, not worrying that I made an ass out of myself (well, I do anyway, but when I'm not drinking I remember EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED), but yesterday, I served my grandma a Corona, and I thought, "I could just take a little sip. Nobody would know." But I didn't.
And then later, my neighbor offered me jello shots (MY ABSOLUTE ALL TIME FAVORITE - Can't you tell? I'm even YELLING ABOUT THEM, THE JELLO-Y GOODNESS OF THE JELLO SHOTS. *DRRRRROOOOOLLLL*), but I just made that "no thank you" hand motion that I am famous for, even thought I felt like I wanted to Snuffleupagus that WHOLE tray.
I'm trying to Pavlov myself. Whenever I want a glass of wine, I drink the non-alcoholic crap. And it is crap. It's terrible. But I soldier through it, trying to convince myself that all wine tastes this assy and that I'm really not missing anything. Now, you and I know that's not true, but I'm trying to convince my binge tendencies otherwise.
The good doctor also said that she wasn't convinced that I shouldn't be medicated. For my anxieties. I'm a million miles from where I was, in terms of needing to know where the bathroom is and I'M GOING TO PEE ALL OVER THE PLACE when I get nervous, but there are still flickers, the expanding butterflies in my chest when I'm overtired and overstressed. Paxil would not be an option considering not 1 but 2 suicide attempts within a year. I still hold strong on no Pill for the PILL (that would be me), but I'm trying to be open to it.
I have concerns because I was so altered on the Paxil. A zombie. I've also seen the repercussions of suddenly not taking it, instead of weaning yourself from it, and that feels like an added stressor to me.
The shire beckons.
Jane Says: You're so afraid of what people might say, but that's okay because you're only human.
Sounds familiar.
This entry was posted
on Sunday, July 16, 2006 at 8:28 AM.
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I'm glad that you're talking to someone. I hope it helps. re the medication, I think you need to do what feels right for you. Maybe with the guidance of the therapist, but ultimately, it needs to be your decision and one you're happy with.
I didn't do too well on Paxil either. I also switched from Paxil to Effexor and I tolerated that pill much better, in fact it helped.
My suggestion is trying Xanax or Ativan - neither are everyday pills but rather you can take one when you are feeling very anxious. Thats what I do now.
You will figure out whats right for you. I am so proud of you for facing all of this head on.
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