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Today I was told that I was “stuck” in my therapy. That my anxiety was ruling my life. I have reasons for that anxiety. Every time I take a risk, I have gone one step forwards and then I am knocked backwards two steps back. So, why bother with even trying. I’m getting too old for this and the damage from these encounters only makes it harder for me to function day to day. So I protect myself by avoiding situations where the same thing could happen again.

They want me to go to an intensive program for a few weeks and then come back.

I was super anxious about my mother’s upcoming cataract surgery. It’s hard enough just holding it together on a day to day basis. Distracting negative thoughts and fighting depression and the messages of self-hatred. It’s exhausting. For four weeks I’m gonna be more of a caregiver than I am normally. This builds added anxiety for me. I talked to my therapist and I was able to work past that hurdle.

Now they add this shit on my plate. MORE anxiety. You get rid of one and decide I could be doing so much better if I were more social. That you want to send me away and put me in some type of program. I am now making a mountain out of a molehill. Last time I was put into some type of day program. I was frightened because the majority of the participants just straight out scared me. Not because of their illnesses, but because they were men and I had been molested as a child and hadn’t dealt with that aspect yet.

Whenever I get into group therapy settings, I ended up facilitating the group instead of the facilitator. And when I try to turn that around and don’t talk until it’s my turn and ask for help, no one is able to help me. So group doesn’t work for me. My Pdoc said in that situation I should be happy just to be able to have helped someone. Fuck that. When do “I” get the help “I” need in that situation? Yeah, I’m happy I could help you, but where does that leave me? How does that help me towards stability?

They spring this on me two months before my mother’s surgery. It’s not the surgery I’m concerned about, it’s her reaction to the medication she has to take BEFORE and AFTER the surgery.

She’s on Letrozole for her cancer. She’s cancer free and has two more years of this stuff. The side-effects for her are exhausting. Foods and odors and medications cause her to have reactions that shoot through her body, from head to toe and last a long time. She has to drink lots of water and milk to calm her stomach and wash it out of her system. And then sit down and calm her nerves and her heartbeat. I understand this but her doctors seem to just ignore her remarks. I know and she knows that she has no choice but to finish off the last two years. The alternative is that cancer could come back, so there is really nothing anyone can do but put up with this.

This is where the anxiety comes from. I feel for her, it’s called empathy. And she’s my mother.

As I said, I got over that anxiety. But there are reasons I’m not a social butterfly.

I feel like I’m being judged by other people when I go out. OK, paranoia. I dismissed this and just started to feel comfortable and safe at one place. When this person decides to validate this fear by looking me up and down with an expression on her face like she smelled something bad. The stink face.

I didn’t smell. I was neat and clean. But she looked at me like I was beneath her. Judging me. Situations like that keep me from taking the risk of ‘being social.’ I could have said something, but out of respect of the people and the building, I kept my mouth shut.

I was walking down the street and some guy who decided I was in his path and didn’t want to move over his way mumbled that I was a fat fuck under his breath. I yelled “Fuck You” and continued on my path. Judgement. More justification of my mindstate.

I take the leap into a relationship and it turns out to be verbally abusive and almost physically. So I’m not heading down that track anytime soon.

Then there’s the chronic pain. If you hug me, it hurts. Sometimes even the slightest touch hurts. My knees swell when I walk and sometimes my leg drags if I walk too long. I fight through it and keep walking. It goes away, but the next day I suffer. My body is exhausted and I struggle to move around. I’m one day up and one day down. This is constant. Right now I am in pain. The weather has a lot to do with how I feel. Trying a new vitamin, hope it helps. This is my manifistation of Sjögren’s Syndrome, the joint pain etc.

This is a factor in my ability to be social. But I have no cane. I don’t talk about it to anyone but one friend who is in the same boat. No one wants to hear that all the time.

I can’t dance anymore. I can’t run. I can walk, so I am grateful. So my rant is over. I was very upset at the start. I might go to the program, just not now. November when everything is over and I have fewer worries.

 

 

 

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