November 2

 

 

Hey there!

Okay, so I know it's been a really long time and it's not like me to just disappear without at least warning you all that I'm not coming back for a while, but to tell you the truth, I didn't know I wouldn't be writing. It's not like I didn't at least THINK about writing, because I did, but the whole idea of OPENING Dreamweaver and going through all the pain in the assy steps I have to take to update got me all flustered and irritated and I decided that it was okay if I took a break because you all aren't my MOM and you can't tell me what to do or not do, so there. If you want to know the truth, I've had a rough couple of months, starting in May and ending now-ish, but I've gotten some clarity, I'm seeing a therapist (more on that later), and I'm less likely to burst into dramatic, stupid tears in a bar full of friends and laughing people than I was even a couple of weeks ago.

I suffered through a particularly nasty bout of insomnia, wherein I would go to bed at a normal time and lie there reading for hours and hours and hours and before I knew it, it was 3:30 or 4:00 or 5:00 and sleep still wasn't forthcoming and that's a real mess if you need to be at work and pleasant to people again in a few hours. Seeing the sun rise on a work day isn't an ideal situation. My primary care doctor (who, by the way, I haven't actually seen face to face in over 4 years) prescribed me some sleeping pills (Sonoma? Sonata?) and they worked pretty well, I guess, because I took them all. My therapist, on the first day I met him, handed me a huge stack of a different type of sleeping pill (Lunestra?) with a warning: "Some people complain that these leave a bad taste in their mouth!" Being snotty and stupid, I replied "SO? I'll be asleep!" Yeah. Well, the terrible taste lasts approximately 15 hours of the next day, rendering everything bitter, like whatever it was I happened to be eating or drinking had been coated in ear wax (and don't pretend like you don't know what ear wax tastes like, because you know you do, and it's gross). So, I've tried to hold off taking those unless I really need them because no one likes an ear wax entree.

I've been to therapy 3 times before in my life, not counting now. The first time, I was a child, and it was a "play therapist". My mother and I had been in a nasty car accident in North Carolina (our car vs. 18 wheeler. 18 wheeler wins), and I was having terrible dreams. My stint with Dr. Stein (I think I'm making that up) worked. I stopped going. Then, in college after a horrible breakup I couldn't get over. I went once and decided that the woman was a tool and I just needed to snap the fuck out of it. The 3rd time was about 2 years ago, and I went to see her about 4 times, even though I didn't really like her (nor did I dislike her, she just didn't register). She was in a wheelchair, and I know this is awful, but I couldn't get past worrying that I would tell her about something I'd done in the past (let's use, say, get drunk and walk home) and it would be how she ended up in a wheelchair, and she'd hate me, and give me shitty ass advice to be passive aggressive.

Another thing I didn't like about her was that she was a PhD, and she insisted I call her DOCTOR Such and Such, EVEN THOUGH SHE COULD NOT PRESCRIBE ME DRUGS. I work with PLENTY of doctors, real MDs, who I call by their first name. They could cut open someone's chest with a pair of sterilized scissors and massage their not beating heart back into rhythm AT MY DESK if they had to. She could not. If that is snobbery, so be it. I want people giving me advice to have MDs, otherwise I'm less inclined to listen.

The two final things I didn't really like about her (hah, didn't I say that I didn't DISlike her? What I'm telling you implies otherwise) were 1.) She had a giant friendly, floppy golden retriever that once burst into our session. She SHRIEKED at it as it neared me, and I reached out to pet it. Bitch wouldn't let me pet her damn dog! I mean, REALLY. and 2.) She wouldn't take my health insurance and charged ONE HUNDRED THIRTY FIVE DOLLARS A SESSION. That's USD, people. For $135, I not only want some kind of pharmaceutical (I really had no particular kind in mind), I want to be HEALED. I want to not cry and not feel shitty and not be overwhelmed by my life. Thank you.

After the 4th session, I called and left a message on her answering machine canceling the next session and telling her I'd get back to her, which I never did. She called me once, at work, but I recognized her number on the caller ID, and didn't answer. She left me sort of a shrill and pissy message, and then sent me a bill for four sessions, even though I'd already paid for TWO. See? An MD would be slicker than that. Did she think I was so emotionally distressed that I'd forget that I'd already paid half? Do sad people not reconcile their checkbooks at the end of the month?

So anyhow, a few months ago I became overwhelmed again and couldn't see how to make my way out of the way I was feeling. I was crying at my desk at work, all quiet like and covering it up by pretending I'd been sneezing (it worked, I think--no one ever rushed over to me and asked if I was crying). I was crying at home, and more than anything else, I just felt flat. I didn't want to do things I liked to do. I didn't want to go and visit friends or talk to them on the phone. I just wanted to be left alone. At that point, I decided that it was probably a good idea to find another therapist, but this time, I figured I should find one who accepted my health insurance AND who was an M.D., which I did. I'm not saying everything is perfect now, and that I'm skipping all over New Haven smiling at strangers and picking flowers, but the yelling in my head has quieted down some.

I'm not even totally sure that the therapist has everything to do with that, because I'm not yet convinced that he's the right one for me. For one thing, our sessions are very, very brief--a half hour, and I have it on pretty good authority that sessions are supposed to be 50 minutes long, so I can't figure out whether they're so short because I'm BORING him and he wants me the fuck out of the office, or BECAUSE he's an M.D. his time is TWICE as valuable as a PhD's time and he thinks he can get everything wrapped up in under a half hour, but I really believe that I can talk for more than a half hour, so I kind of have to figure out what the deal is with the quickie sessions.

That's the therapy story, which I admit is not really much of an exciting story. Sorry about that. You'd think that after making everyone wait for more than a month (with bated breath, I'm sure) for an entry, I'd have something awesome and rockstar to report. Which I, quite obviously, do not.

My grandmother went to visit Angelo last week, and she found him sitting at the lunch table, EXTREMELY agitated. The staff there locked him out of his room because he would not let them take his dirty clothes. When my grandmother asked him why he wouldn't give up the clothes, he informed her that they were all thieves and were stealing his clothes because his were so much nicer than everyone else's. He also hides pants under the cushions of the sofa in his room. And he steals silverwear from the lunchroom and offers it to us when we visit. The last time I went, he held a spoon out to me and said "Here! Take this! It was in my pocket!". I asked "Why is there a spoon in your pocket, Grampa?" He replied, sort of indignantly "I DO NOT KNOW. SOMEONE MUST HAVE PUT IT IN THERE!!". "Someone put a spoon in YOUR pocket?" He nodded, but I turned down his generous offer, since I have a full set of cutlery here at home.

He is doing ok, as well as can be expected, but it all weighs on me so heavily. When I don't call my grandmother, I am guilty. What if something happened to her, and I couldn't be bothered to pick up the phone? What if it is a weekend and I have no plans and I choose not to call her and she is lonely? What kind of person am I, then? I am guilty that I don't see Angelo all that often, when I know that he always knows who I am, always and that it means so much (at least for a short while) for me to take him out and go for ice cream or go for a ride.

See? That's why I've been away, but as I said, it's quieting down. I'd like to find an easier way to update this site so I don't necessarily have to do it from home. Once I get that all worked out, I bet I'll update more often. Or maybe I'll just remove my head from my ass and WRITE. It's not like I'm not in front of the computer doing online crossword puzzles anyhow.

 

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