I am not sure what to write. I just finished doing my therapy writing. All of my fractured parts of my psyche are telling me that I'm making progress and I shouldn't give up. I guess this is a good thing. I'm still not sure how to describe the inside of my head. It's a jumble of things and often it is like trying to get things done with a cat attempting to assassinate you on a regular basis. (That's what they're doing when they do stuff like weave between your feet, lay on the stairs, and zoom at rocket speed across the room to trip you up. Cats are furry, cute little serial killers who are indiscriminate in their targets. And I like cats.)
I'm not sure if I am going to bring the laptop with me to the park to work on the blurb for book four. I told myself that I had to get everything for it done by the end of the week. I just need to bite the bullet and push through my feelings that everything I've done with this project is garbage. I will likely be writing that blurb up in my Writer's Notebook. I have been putting off finding a therapist because I don't want them to put down the work I'm doing with these morning pages/morning blog posts. That really pissed me off when one of my past therapists said "This is a bad idea. You're going to trigger your PTSD doing it." and all but demanded I stop.
My PTSD gets triggered every day the front door to the apartment building we live in slams. My PTSD gets triggered when I am washing dishes or cleaning the bathroom. On some level, I am constantly getting my panic button pushed by just daily tasks. These morning pages give me a space where I can explore what the hell is pushing that damn button and possibly process it. They're as important as the therapy journal work that I've been doing for the last year. (Different therapist said that I should try keeping a journal where the different parts of my psyche talk to each other/me. It's gotten weird but I'm having less incidents where I'm losing time in a given week.)
I suppose I was really insulted by this other therapist thinking that she knew what was best for me and telling me that I was doing this wrong. I've gone through about eight therapists over the last twenty years. All of them, except for that one, encouraged me to write about the trauma and the weirdness in my head. I'm reluctant to go looking for another therapist because I don't want to deal with them saying "Well, I am the expert and you should do as I say." They're my assistant in dealing with all of this bullshit. They're my expert consultant on how to handle my trauma and brain weirdness. They don't live in my head. They don't experience what I do. I am the expert on what's going on inside my head and they just have to deal with that.
Also, fuck EMDR. Most useless form of therapy I have ever encountered. Drop me into a light trance and then ask me 'What do you get?" is really ineffective. Sorry, I can do deep trance work and still not breech the wall between my trauma memories and the rest of my brain. Maybe hypnosis could be helpful, but that's only because it's a guided trick around the blocks that you put up in your brain. That's why it helps people quit smoking and shit. Not that I've researched the shit out of hypnosis because I'm a witch and I use it on myself regularly.
Seriously, I've got some anger issues on how that therapist handled my case and the way that clinic treated me. I'm still working my way through them. I know that the problem was them and not me when I switched psychiatrists and I haven't been hospitalized due to medication changes in three years. Before that, it was just about every year they decided they were going to change my medications. Right after that, I was in the hospital because of side effects. Mind you, when they mentioned the medication they wanted me to take, I said "I don't think this is a good idea. I have bipolar. Those medications can cause suicidal thoughts and severe depression in people with bipolar." They just scoffed and said, "You'll just experience mild flu like symptoms and then be fine in a week." And what happened, I had the response to the medication that I was concerned I was going to and they treated me as if it was my fault the medication didn't do what they thought it was supposed to. That was the reason why I left that clinic. The time that I got the beginnings of seritonin syndrome, I said "Fuck this noise, these motherfuckers are going to kill me with their bullshit."
Eh, I guess I had some shit to get out of my system. And this is me censoring myself for the sake of keeping names out of the public sphere so no one gets on my ass and tries to sue me. It gets hard to do that when I am angry like this. Gold star for me not blowing the whistle too loudly.
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