Psycho-Babble Social Thread 221574

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Re: I'm fine » Dinah

Posted by Pfinstegg on April 24, 2003, at 20:23:09

In reply to Re: I'm fine » judy1, posted by Dinah on April 24, 2003, at 17:55:19

I think I have an unusual psychoanalyst- he uses art therapy regularly, and is thinking about EMDR and sensory integration therapy, although not recommending them yet. He thinks that a lot of stress reactions to neglect or abuse aren't accessible to memory or verbal expression, and he wants to use as many non-verbal channels as he can. It is becoming a fascinating, terrifying and tremendously powerful experience -undergoing therapy with him.

I do notice something, Dinah. You don't have any memories of anything terrifying in your childhood- just "memories of memories" and sadness. But you have intense fear reactions now to particular people and situations when no actual danger is present. Where do these come from?



Re: I'm fine » Pfinstegg

Posted by Dinah on April 24, 2003, at 20:36:32

In reply to Re: I'm fine » Dinah, posted by Pfinstegg on April 24, 2003, at 20:23:09

I guess I always assumed it was because I was crazy. Not insane, but crazy, nuts, whatever. I do remember that. I remember the looks I got back when I was crazy. Maybe that's why I can be so honest here on the board. No one to look at me as if I was about to go off. Well, maybe once or twice the looks made it through the written medium, but not often.

Is remembering how people looked at me as if I were a live grenade a sufficiently traumatic memory for EMDR? I know it's still traumatic. I have the vague memory of crying and accusing my therapist of looking at me that way just recently.


Re: I'm fine » Dinah

Posted by Pfinstegg on April 24, 2003, at 21:15:33

In reply to Re: I'm fine » Pfinstegg, posted by Dinah on April 24, 2003, at 20:36:32

I feel crazy, and even worse, paranoid, myself, sometimes, too, but we are, for better or worse, stressed but sane! I have had that terrible feeling of not wanting anyone to look at me, too. It's hard to offer suggestions to anyone, as it's so hard to know whether they fit or could be helpful. I would say that staying with the feelings around your fears, and trying to explore them- honoring their reality, even though you don't know their origin- would be the way to go when you are working with your therapist- of course, I know you are doing a wonderful job of that already, but I do feel from reading your posts over the last 7 months that some kind of trauma or intensely fearful state occurred when you were a child, even though you can't get in touch with it now. If I am completely off-base, just ignore it; I know I am influenced now by my present therapist's thinking, which is very PTSD-based for everyone with disabling psychiatric symptoms, whether anxiety, depression, phobias or a tendency to dissociate under stress.



Re: I'm fine » Dinah

Posted by sienna on April 25, 2003, at 14:47:32

In reply to Re: I'm fine » sienna, posted by Dinah on April 23, 2003, at 19:19:05

hi dinah i dunno maybe that T that does the EMDR could tell you if it could help. I dont rememer much details in what hapenned to me and i am going to see if i can try it. but i dont now will it work or not. somthing needs to fast though.


Re: I'm fine » Dinah

Posted by judy1 on April 25, 2003, at 18:46:10

In reply to Re: I'm fine » judy1, posted by Dinah on April 24, 2003, at 17:55:19

Dinah, forgive me if I've asked before- have you been hypnotized? I know you insist on having no memory of abuse, it's just so many of your symptoms are indicative of that (or a severe PTSD response). Has your therapist ever encountered someone with your symptoms who didn't have a history? It's amazing what the brain can store away. (If this bothers you, please don't answer).
As far as your spouse, he seems comfortable with his denial, but are you? Would it be too stressful for you to have him involved in your recovery, or would he prefer not to? I was amazed how willing my husband was- but it came down to acknowledging or ignoring the 'elephant in the room'. take care, judy


Well... (unpleasantly graphic and overdisclosing)

Posted by Dinah on April 25, 2003, at 20:14:02

In reply to Re: I'm fine » Dinah, posted by judy1 on April 25, 2003, at 18:46:10

Actually, while I thought my therapist had finally accepted that nothing had happened, this subject cropped up in therapy today (as topics often do after I post here). And it turns out he still can't quite believe that nothing ever happened.

I do have one memory. I checked with my mom when I first remembered it, and she verified it and asked me if anything had happened.

I tend not to give to much weight to this memory, first of all because I remember that nothing had happened, and secondly because according to my gyn I was at least partially errr... "intact" in young adulthood.

It was between ages 3 and 4 1/2 while I was living with my Mom in my grandparent's house. I had insisted on wearing a too small for me shorts outfit. A shirt with a cute little frog in the same blue fabric with tiny white polkadots that made up the matching shorts. That evening my mom noticed a bloodstain in the shorts. She and my grandma grilled me about whether anything had happened that day. Where I had gone, and who I had been with. I remember quite distinctly looking down at the shorts in my hands. The blue fabric with the tiny white polkadots. There in the crotch in the relevant area was a blood stain about 1/2 inch on either side of the seam. About 2 inches long. As best I can judge from memory image. They were insisting that something must have happened. There was the evidence right in my hands. And I knew that it was my fault because my mom hadn't wanted me to wear the too tight shorts. I was confused and upset at their questions. I honestly couldn't remember anything unusual happening that day. I promised them I had stayed around the house area. I hadn't gone in the corn fields.

They probably at least looked me over. I can't remember. They finally decided it must have been the too tight shorts. And the matter was dropped.

While I'm pretty sure nothing happened (because I remember remembering that nothing happened) I guess that could have been traumatic in itself. It never did feel traumatic as I remembered it, and surely that isn't enough to account for my fears which extend all the way to kissing. It is just a stray childhood memory. No more traumatic than the other embarassing things I remember from childhood.

I'm gonna regret this post, I can tell even as I hit submit.


Re: Ugh. Never mind. Don't read above post. (nm)

Posted by Dinah on April 25, 2003, at 20:16:35

In reply to Well... (unpleasantly graphic and overdisclosing), posted by Dinah on April 25, 2003, at 20:14:02


you may regret post but cathartic nontheless I bet (nm)

Posted by lostsailor on April 25, 2003, at 20:22:15

In reply to Well... (unpleasantly graphic and overdisclosing), posted by Dinah on April 25, 2003, at 20:14:02


Re: mostly embarassing :( (nm) » lostsailor

Posted by Dinah on April 25, 2003, at 20:24:43

In reply to you may regret post but cathartic nontheless I bet (nm), posted by lostsailor on April 25, 2003, at 20:22:15


gotcha, but safe here--we all say things, ya kn (nm)

Posted by lostsailor on April 25, 2003, at 20:38:57

In reply to Re: mostly embarassing :( (nm) » lostsailor, posted by Dinah on April 25, 2003, at 20:24:43



Posted by kara lynne on April 25, 2003, at 22:28:58

In reply to Well... (unpleasantly graphic and overdisclosing), posted by Dinah on April 25, 2003, at 20:14:02

I understand how you would feel vulnerable after writing what you did, but I really hope you don't feel bad about it. There is nothing embarassing about what you wrote; it's a very powerful memory. It made me retrieve some of my own, really early memories that I would like to have more clarity around. I wish I didn't understand that dreaded feeling of vulnerability so well, but I do. But maybe it will help to know that your post was meaningful to me.


Heavens, that was nothing to be embarassed about (nm) » Dinah

Posted by whiterabbit on April 25, 2003, at 22:29:45

In reply to Re: mostly embarassing :( (nm) » lostsailor, posted by Dinah on April 25, 2003, at 20:24:43

Posted by justyourlaugh on April 25, 2003, at 22:30:23

In reply to Well... (unpleasantly graphic and overdisclosing), posted by Dinah on April 25, 2003, at 20:14:02

remember this is like journaling..
its all good..let it out...
sort it out..
we will listen with patient, friendly ,loving...understanding..


Re: Thanks guys. That makes me feel better.

Posted by Dinah on April 25, 2003, at 22:33:37

In reply to Dinah, posted by kara lynne on April 25, 2003, at 22:28:58

I'm all too familiar with Babbler's remorse, I'm afraid. This place is like a journal in some ways. And in some ways it's better, because there are others to help me sort things through and gain perspective. I tend to wrap myself in circles. true » Dinah

Posted by justyourlaugh on April 25, 2003, at 23:15:28

In reply to Re: Thanks guys. That makes me feel better., posted by Dinah on April 25, 2003, at 22:33:37

journaling for me was scary,,because at the time i was writting ...a novel(i am a closet artist and writter like everyone else here)
i dont like the idea that there is a chance it would be read..
journaling...books...artwork...more more more...
myself included..
have "it" let "it" go.....forget"it"


Re: Well... (unpleasantly graphic and overdisclosing) » Dinah

Posted by leeran on April 26, 2003, at 2:06:55

In reply to Well... (unpleasantly graphic and overdisclosing), posted by Dinah on April 25, 2003, at 20:14:02

Please don't have babbler's remorse. You remembered it in such detail that it must be a memory that you need to address now and then.

Your story reminds me so much of one of my best friend's stories of a man who lived down the street from her family. He lured her onto his lap one day, while he sat in the garage wearing only his boxer shorts. She has vague memories of perhaps seeing his *****. She was close to the same age you mentioned. Maybe a little older, but definitely no older than five.

Because of our work (lol, no were not streetwalkers), she and I spent years together - day after day - just the two of us.

If I'm remembering correctly this memory came up in one of our many conversations and it was something she hadn't thought of since childhood.

Her sister made her tell her mother, and it turned out to be another case of sweeping unsavory memories under the rug (Dinah, I'm not saying you or your mother/grandmother were "under the rug sweepers" - I'm referring to a mention of the "proverbial family rug" in a post I just made under Pax's thread).

My friend's mother simply forbade her to ever go near this man's garage again, and told her she must never tell anyone else what had happened . . .

Can you imagine??? I know her mother, and she was one of the best mothers you can imagine (and not just from my observations, but from my friend's viewpoint as well). But those were different times. Maybe people didn't make as many waves? Maybe she was in a sewing circle with guy's wife? I don't know. She doesn't either, but I know that she has wondered, as an adult, if it has affected her sexuality. And when you think about it, how could it not? She's never been all that thrilled about sex so it's certainly a possiblity.

On a slightly different note - I told my husband about my "comrade in vomit" last night and he thought it was so wonderful (how do I put that, this late at night, that it doesn't sound totally weird/surrealistic???) that there was someone I had finally connected with about that fear.

You are so open and it is such a gift to everyone else, so BR shouldn't even enter into it! Gosh, that one post of yours about vomit may have saved me some valuable time to discuss other issues in the therapist's chair. One babbler's remorse is another babbler's salvation.

As for me, I'm sure I'll feel like I have babbler's hangover when I wake up in the morning.

p.s. I have now written three different responses to your sexual aversion post and each one sounds flakier than the one before it so I'm going to have to decide. If only it had been a mechanical only problem because I have the short story on overcoming that one. I'm still grappling with whether or not I've ever had sexual aversion or if I just eventually despised my first two husbands so much that I fell hopelessly in love with my v*brator.


Re: Well... (unpleasantly graphic and overdisclosing) » leeran

Posted by Pfinstegg on April 26, 2003, at 10:53:49

In reply to Re: Well... (unpleasantly graphic and overdisclosing) » Dinah, posted by leeran on April 26, 2003, at 2:06:55

It's so good that you brought that memory up, and I hope that you will see that you have only accepting, warm and loving responses here. Many of us have memories like yours- fragments which don't seem to add up to much, but which are, nonetheless, surounded in shame and fear, for reasons which are hard to explain. When you talk about them, be sure not to retraumatize yourself by becoming overwhelmed by anxiety or shame; you are truly safe here because you are speaking to unknown people who REALLY understand what you are talking about. Hopefully, you can re-experience and work through these traumatic memories, insignificant as they may seem ( they aren't!) slowly and in a safe and loving atmosphere with your therapist.



Re: Well... (unpleasantly graphic and overdisclosing) » leeran

Posted by Dinah on April 26, 2003, at 11:37:03

In reply to Re: Well... (unpleasantly graphic and overdisclosing) » Dinah, posted by leeran on April 26, 2003, at 2:06:55

Thanks for thinking of me, Lee. I suspect there are no easy fixes for this problem. :( It's just too pervasive and longstanding. I looked it up on the internet, and was quite discouraged.

My therapist asked me yesterday if I wanted to learn to enjoy sex, as opposed to just merely not hating it. And my knee-jerk reaction was. NO!!! YEACH!!!! BLECH!!!! IT IS JUST TOO AWFUL TO CONTEMPLATE CHOOSING TO DO THAT!!! PEOPLE (well, husband) WOULD BE TOUCHING ME EVEN MORE OFTEN!!! LEAVE ME THE %#*@ ALONE!!!

I have this vague idea that I'm not quite making the cognitive leap that if I enjoyed it, my feelings about it would be different. Even the concept is too much for me to tolerate. Maybe over time the very idea will seep in and I'll be able to entertain it.

P.S. I'm not particularly a prude. It's not like throw-up. I don't mind watching sex or kissing in movies. I even enjoy it. I'm fine with auto-eroticism. Sex is great as long as it doesn't involve PEOPLE TOUCHING ME!!!

P.P.S. I'm glad that vomit conversation helped you. It helped me as well. And thanks for the heads up about that opening scene. I wish they would give warnings for that.


Re: Thanks :) » Pfinstegg

Posted by Dinah on April 26, 2003, at 11:40:31

In reply to Re: Well... (unpleasantly graphic and overdisclosing) » leeran, posted by Pfinstegg on April 26, 2003, at 10:53:49

I think that memory is thoroughly explored. That was all there is to it, and it's not particularly traumatic. I'll ask therapist if it is a potential target for EMDR. But I think the goal is to make the memory less distressing, and it already isn't distressing.

I was more embarassed about mentioning something so graphic and, well, ultimately meaningless in such a public forum.


Warning for Lee and Dinah

Posted by whiterabbit on April 26, 2003, at 12:35:08

In reply to Re: Well... (unpleasantly graphic and overdisclosing) » leeran, posted by Dinah on April 26, 2003, at 11:37:03

Never watch Monty Python's "The Meaning of Life".
You guys would lose your mind.


My husband's response Totally » whiterabbit

Posted by leeran on April 26, 2003, at 13:24:51

In reply to Warning for Lee and Dinah, posted by whiterabbit on April 26, 2003, at 12:35:08

I just asked T. (a Monty Python lover) if he had seen the movie you referred to and then read your post out loud. His response was "totally."

Thank you, Gracie, for the heads up.

My worst televised vomit experience (because it came without any warning and it was so graphic) was Adriana's interrogation scene at the beginning of this season's Sopranos run, when she suddenly threw up all over the conference table.

In typical cathartic fashion, I just now realized as I typed that last paragraph why I was bothered for more than a week by that scene (so thank goodness my real life "therapist" was at his computer so I could blurt out the revelation).

My first grade vomit phobia started (in part) with a kid who threw up, in a projectile fashion, across the four desks that were pushed together where I was sitting. The Sopranos scene was shot at a very similar camera angle to what my mind's camera remembers.

Okay, I FINALLY realize why journaling is so important. But, this is "journaling for voyeurs" and so much more insightful . . . I guess I'm a "you show me yours and I'll show you mine" kinda gal from way back when it comes to exposing my issues.

How are you doing this Saturday, Gracie?


Warnings, ratings, aversions, etc. » Dinah

Posted by leeran on April 26, 2003, at 14:54:44

In reply to Re: Well... (unpleasantly graphic and overdisclosing) » leeran, posted by Dinah on April 26, 2003, at 11:37:03

"I wish they would give warnings for that"

Yes, ratings such as:

M - Mature Content
V - Violence (darn, the "V" word is taken)
S - Sexual Content
E - Excessive Emesis

Would save me a lot of time, adrenaline and angst.

On a completely different note . . . (from how my post started out) -

My husband's favorite line about shopping is "I don't like it - I don't hate it."

Your therapist's suggestion about learning to enjoy sex reminded me of this oft quoted line in our household (besides, considering your comments on auto-eroticism it seems obvious that you DO enjoy sex).

I'm seeing the topic of sexual aversion/pleasure as a big pond that you are somewhat curious about, and you'll stick your big toe in now and then to test the waters - but you don't want to be pushed into anything.

I absolutely abhor being pushed into a pool or a lake (in the literal sense) because if violates my sense of timing, my need to evaluate everything first, and my option of "opting out" if I need to. Plus, I can't blow water out of my nose. Of course, more than anything, it violates my sense of trust in another person (I was a real wet blanket as a kid, I didn't like cartoons, comic books or being pushed into pools :-)

I guess will jump in, finally, and copy and paste what I've been mulling/journaling over for the last few days, regarding my own sexual aversion.

I've gone through periods like you've described but it's often been based on what I'm feeling about the other person. Meaning, I'm turned off by their behavior, or some component of their behavior, and sharing any intimacy seems absurd.

The more depressed I become, the less I like anyone in my space. That's probably not an intimacy issue as much as it is a "fly in the face" annoyance. One of the by-products of depression and ADD with a little menopause thrown in? Who knows.

The rest of this response is entangled in what I will call my "Jungian Belief System" a.k.a. “there are no coincidences in this haphazard collection of events known as my life.” There’s also a lot of restless fear that accompanies almost everything I do, including pushing the “confirm” button every time I post on this board. The black cloud of fear that stations itself in various positions over my head like the moon (full cloud, half cloud) definitely played a part in most sexual experiences over the years.

I don't think I experienced intimacy, which is what has allowed me to push some of that fear away, until I finally found the one person I trust more than any other (my husband). I wish I could say that I trust myself but there’s a lot of uncertainty that gets in the way. My internal, non-stop static makes it difficult for me to believe that I am worth loving, so I am constantly in awe of the fact that my husband seems to actually love me unconditionally. It truly is a unique concept in my life and one that I never thought possible.

As you know from my posts (even more so after yesterday) my issues go way back and the biggest issue of all is trust. It's so simple yet so complex: I grew up not trusting my own mother (and my father, although he was almost excused from that category because he was at work and despite everything else, he passed along these occasional crumbs of wisdom that could be quite profound).

It really does hurt to type those words about my mother because I know it would hurt her, but it is the plain and simple truth, and it is my truth. Along the way, I grew to understand her - and I have always loved her, but I will never trust her.

That lack of trust has always spilled over into every aspect of my life, including marriage and/or any relationship with the opposite sex.

The one "thing" I yearned for, for as long as I can remember, was one person I could REALLY trust (I longed for this from a very young age). That’s why I identified with the first post of yours that I read here (and responded to, regarding a mother figure as I recall?).

I'm sure I sabotaged my previous relationships with my distrust. Additionally, I made poor choices based on my lack of self-esteem, preferring to be "with someone" versus being alone.

My reasons for marrying were definitely based, in large part, on my co-dependence and fear of being alone. Of course, I ended up feeling even MORE alone in my two failed marriages. Call that irony and/or stupidity (times two).

The agony of those two marriages was compounded by the fact that I was horrified to admit that I had erred not once, but twice. I berated myself (and still do, daily, sometimes hourly) for not learning from one failed marriage, but alas, I’m one of those people who always needs to read the instructions a few times before I “get it.”

I think I mentioned in another post that my first husband compared me to a refrigerator. In many ways, he was right, because after three years of marriage (we were married thirteen) he was unfaithful and my heart never thawed out. If he forgot to take out the garbage I would think “you forgot trash night, AND you were once unfaithful to me.” That betrayal made intimacy impossible. He was even able to walk away from counseling feeling the victor, and his party line became “I did it because of you. Dr. _________ says infidelity is an action against a bigger problem, and you had gained weight and I didn’t find you attractive anymore.” Oh yeah, the other gift of counseling was that I didn’t keep up with the laundry, despite the fact that I made more money (something he loved and hated), did all the other housework and had a fledgling career driven by monthly deadlines (as an aside, he had a stay at home mom so it created a lot of conflict in what my role should be, he definitely WANTED me to work, but he wanted everything else, too - and I'm sure this is a unique situation).

Back to the "post affair" a.k.a. the next ten years.

My “static” always welcomes new voices of criticism. I wasn’t thin enough? Fine, I’ll lose weight. I don’t do the laundry right? Fine, I’ll become compulsive about keeping the laundry done.

Meanwhile, the only intimacy I experienced was trying to lick my own wounds in between “self-berating” sessions. I couldn't erase the description of that hotel room where it happened with a woman whose last name he didn't even know from my memory.

Eventually, as I lost weight and felt better about myself I finally said "I am not the refrigerator he makes me out to be." A little voice said: "Yes you are." So, the fixer in me came to the rescue, and brought a v*brator to the self-help session.

Then, the perfectionist in me jumps in and says "so, you had one org*sm, why can't you have another?"

The little voice says, "yes, but I always feel bad after I have an org*sm, like I've done something wrong" and the loudmouth in me (the part that used to love to argue once I was free of my parents home, but ha since run out of cortisol) says “Hey, I'm in control of this machine and this situation”

And that's kind of how I learned to like myself sexually.

Very weird, eh? Sounds like a sex therapy session with Dr. Ruth and Sybil but working through that gave me a lot of confidence. I started to like my body, not based on how it looked but how it could make me feel. There's a lot to be said for endorphins.

I also realized that at LEAST I could be intimate with myself - which made me a little less lonely and helped me feel independent enough to start to not care what he said (or thought) about me. After all, he said I was a refrigerator, yet I could have ten org*sms in a row! Little did he know that I had finally learned to like myself more than I did him (something he didn't bargain on when I stayed with him ten years after the indiscretion).

I see my sexuality as my own, and I guess (in a grudging way) I have him to thank (in part) for that. After all, any criticism sent me scurrying to change and in the end, it was that change that enabled me to finally end the relationship.

So, now I'm a pretty good laundress, pretty handy with a power tool and the weight, well, that's a constant struggle.

Although the intimacy might have moved up a notch in the second very short-lived marriage, the trust was still absent. I had just exchanged one set of problems for an even worse set of problems.

If I learned to come in the first marriage, I learned to go in the second - and fast. It didn't take me long to see that I was in way over my head. A friend of mine once told me that he compared marrying me to "hitting the lottery." He would have broke me financially had I stayed with him and given in to his many whims.

One day, after taking a wonderful trip with my son (minus the second husband) I came to the conclusion that intimacy/marriage was not in the cards for me.

It was just the biggest "oh, well.” Like air sputtering out of an overfilled balloon. It was actually a relief to abandon this quest that, along with a lot of other issues, had tormented me for years.

I also realized that since I was never going to have the type of marriage I had envisioned, I might as well take another look at myself as an option for adult companionship. I was 38 years old and gainfully employed, and although I had gained some weight, I still did a mean load of laundry. As long as I could keep myself in batteries and my son in the same parochial school (not in that order) I figured we would get by.

So, how the heck did all that help with my aversion to intimacy? I guess because I just ceased to care about the “I” (intimacy) word. I had already conquered the sexual part mechanically, so I started looking at myself like a Swiss Army knife. Self-contained and (somewhat) practical.

When I met my third husband (another wince-worthy statement, because the words “third husband” are a constant reminder of “two failures”) it was totally unexpected, I wasn’t trying to meet anyone, I had no intentions of ever marrying again and he lived in California and I lived in the Midwest so I felt totally safe corresponding with him and being myself. I never thought I would meet him in person, or get romantically involved, so for once I didn’t lead with my fear.

Every really great thing that’s happened in my life has been the result of me not being in control. I got pregnant after seven years of marriage with an IUD in place, I met my husband purely by chance the first time I ever went in a chat room, and I found my dog by the side of the road (which is why I've adopted a "there are no coincidences" philosophy).

For me, intimacy/trust are all wrapped up together (someone else mentioned this a few days ago).

I never felt comfortable offering up my most “neurotic self” to another human being for fear of being hurt or made fun of or ignored. My husband is the only person with whom I truly feel safe. Although that has a ring of co-dependency to it, there is also this complete freedom in knowing that this one person will like me no matter what. Intimacy used to be out of the question because of my blanket belief that “people aren’t really there for you when you need them, so why should I give them that little part of me that’s still all my own?” My husband laughs off co-dependency and says "love is, by nature co-dependent." He is a walking/talking self-help book with a beard like Freud.

There are still those days when I feel like I don't want to be touched by anyone. Typically, it’s because I’m distracted by what’s spinning around behind my forehead. I guess that’s having a “touch” of sexual aversion now and then, whereas it used to be chronic.

It’s like this board. We (human beings who wander around the world and the internet) need to feel like we’re understood before we “let it all hang out.” On a message board, in bed, during a sign of peace during a church service, wherever physical or mental boundaries exist.

Plus, I need to make sure that I don’t end up feeling or looking stupid. I don’t want to allow myself to be vulnerable on a mattress when three hours later the same person is going to shut me out in other ways. In my other two marriages, it just wasn’t worth the emotional investment. Sex is great, but those little emotional rejections aren't always worth the price. After two divorces I decided to weigh the rejections versus the endorphins a little more carefully.

So, that's my sexual aversion story - in a nutshell.

Soon, there won't be anything else to tell

When I start describing the contents of my closet and the way my shoes are arranged, please tell me to go away for my own good ;-)


Re: Well... (unpleasantly graphic and overdisclosing) » Pfinstegg

Posted by leeran on April 26, 2003, at 14:57:53

In reply to Re: Well... (unpleasantly graphic and overdisclosing) » leeran, posted by Pfinstegg on April 26, 2003, at 10:53:49

Actually, the memory of the little girl on the man's lap is my best friend's memory and I just borrowed it when I responded to Dinah.

But there are memories galore that reading this board has prodded out of me.

Yes, working with a therapist is a good idea! It's the next hurdle I do believe.


Re: My husband's response Totally » leeran

Posted by whiterabbit on April 26, 2003, at 15:29:05

In reply to My husband's response Totally » whiterabbit, posted by leeran on April 26, 2003, at 13:24:51

I'm a Python fan myself (I've never laughed so hard in my life as the first time I saw the 'Biggus Dickus' scene in Life of Brian), but the vomiting in that other movie was a little much even for me. And believe me when I say that I've seen some serious puking on the midnight shift in the ER, Lordy. But you know even medical people can have their phobias - mine is childbirth. I can't watch it live or Memorex, I get nauseated and light-headed. Go figure.

I'm fine so far today dear, thank you. I work Saturday mornings at the doctor's office where I used to work full time, it helps me to gauge how well I'm playing with others. They know I take buckets of medication but I guess they don't care
since I'm just so damn good.

Anyway, the weather is perfect here in the Midwest. I don't care about that but I did have enough money to stock up on the stuff I need for my little rituals, so that makes me happy. I'm a coffee hound, although I really don't care for that colored water they typically serve on the job. I have my own little Starbucks-like setup at home with the thermal carafe (you know, burners are evil) and the grinder and the foamer, etc etc. When my psychiatrist Dr. Happy told me to quit drinking coffee I nearly fainted. It's sound advice (caffeine = manic) but after thinking it over for about 1.5 seconds, I decided to ignore him. I just enjoy it too much, really...not just drinking it, I even love making it (for myself).
I've made some concessions though. After noon I start cutting it with (Starbucks) decaff and hot milk, that's the best I can do. And I rarely drink soda.

So I've got my coffee and my ice water, and it's nice and quiet and I'm doing okay. I find that if I take it a day at a time, a step at a time, then I can handle things.

What more could you ask for :-)


I'm so sorry » Dinah

Posted by judy1 on April 26, 2003, at 22:42:01

In reply to Well... (unpleasantly graphic and overdisclosing), posted by Dinah on April 25, 2003, at 20:14:02

for what may have happened to you as a child, but please, please don't feel bad about anything you have written. I have very concrete memories like you wrote about, confusing yet vivid- and i often feel distressed after recounting them to my therapist. but i think once you talk about it, it loses it's power and brings you closer to understanding the what and whys of the present. i probably didn't write this very well and i apologize if my original question upset you, but i'm really proud of you for bringing up a difficult memory with your therapist (and feeling safe enough to share it with us). take care of yourself-judy

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