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A different kind of T for me.

Posted by ClearSkies on December 14, 2005, at 20:20:03

She's the Big Sister and Confidante I never had. She reads my posture and gauges my moods as if I'm, um, wearing my heart on my sleeve. She gives me homework. She won't let us go too quickly and skip the hard stuff. She has launched a period of self inspection that I haven't dared go near for many years. Much more writing, journalling. Better words tumble out of my lips as I'm challenged, yet in a kind manner.

I'm going super sonic right now. Thoughts, memories, reflections, connections, extrapolations all right there for me to point to and say, "ah! That's it!". I think I can comprehend the meaning of and value of transference. Having an intelligent conversation is key. Talking to someone who has reviewed your last session BEFORE you walk into the room is another key. Someone who makes suggestions as to what tangent to follow, but lets you choose. And then coaxes you back to the path not taken, and why was it so?

I'm seeing her once a week at the moment, and have a lot of other stuff going on at the same time: yoga classes that have been one-on-one sessions due to holiday schedules; starting accupuncture treatment for TMJ and related headached; becoming more educated about perimenopause and how I can create a better dialogue between my doctor and myself, and how I can help my own situation (nutritional supplements).

In between I'm a slow moving turtle, working on one project after another. Currently redecorating our 1970's era barstools with a coast of paint and a new fabric for the seats so I'm not as embarassed to have them in my home.
Pruning down my massive book collection on the scale of "what would you take to a desert island with you?" A very interesting shake out of titles there.
Do a little bit, rest. Go for an appointment, drink a decaf coffee thing, run around and do grocery shopping (a big victory! No xanax need now), get home and rest. Get up and cook dinner, some never bloody ending housework, sit and sulk for a bit. Eat dinner and sit in front of the TV. The TV that belongs in a RobbReport Top 50 Companies' meeting room.

Spend the next several hours trying to lower the noise level in my head and the adrenal level in all my limbs in trying to get ready for sleep. Currently the routine goes like this: wash face and neck with a yummy smelling cleanser I bought in Italy. I fairly expect to look like my 21 year-old neice by the time I finish the bottle. I brush my teeth, I waterpik my teeth and am slightly disgusted at what gets flushed out from between our teeth after we've brushed the buggers for 2 minutes. It's truly disgusting.

Smoothe a lovely smelling creme of ginger extrait that calms the skin to better receive the restorative nature of sleep,
Pop in my NTI night guard on my front teeth, Wrap a travel pillow around my neck to stabilize the movement. Reach over to the bedside and put on a CD - maybe Healing and Meditation, or The Best Hits of Massage Therapy, or, my favourite, the Sounds of The Sea, replete with wale songs, loons, seagulls, and both lapping AND crashing waves to listen to.

The last step - putting on the eye mask with extra cushioning that covered the entire occipital area and applied a gentle pressure. Perfect for the low grade headache that might leave of its own accord given such a lovely and soft setting.

And I ready to....
Watch as my mind performs accrobatics before me. Thought are going loop-de-loops before me, one thought leading off to another, and there's another one waiting to take us off again in a different direction. I try to step back and observe as I can't stop it, no no no no no. No suggestion of Slowing Down or Let's Work on This Tomorrow has the slightest chance for success.

After an hour and a half, the Ambien comes out. I do try to take it later as it works for ever shorter periods of time, and I end up wide awake at 3am.

I'm working on my anxiety from many different approaches, Cymbalt and Lamictal are keeping my darkest depression from my door and the manias from manifesting themselves as cruel and irrational rages. The GAD is better, but not gone by any means. My p-doc wants me to stop taking the xanax, I've done that and so the resulting anxiety, left unmedicated, persists throughout the day until it joins me in bed at night time.

So I'm preoccupied at the moment.


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Psycho-Babble Psychology | Framed

poster:ClearSkies thread:589143
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/psycho/20051210/msgs/589143.html