counselling pt 2-there be drAGONS IN THE SKY

Image

EACH DAY IS THEN ABOUT AVOIDING THE SPARKS……………the sparks start the moment my eyes open, figuring out—

are the nightmare ghosts still in the room,

bleary eyed to work,

a smidgen  of office politics and I’m already starting to crumble

and it’s only 08:45

It’s getting harder to step away from the internal to the external.

I know i’m making progress, trying things out. Enrolled for basic photography class, the enrolment tutor asked what make of camera I had.

Slight problem didn’t know, it’s a compact camera,

Looking at the tutors face I could see this was most definitely the WRONG  answer. A few weeks ago I would have run, made an excuse and left the building very quickly. success, I grinned and said that why I needed a beginners class.

OK, I do feel I am the marked student when the class starts, but trying to tell myself that’s the tutors issue not mine. I actually enrolled actually want to go. Feels like a success. Still utterly terrified, but am able to sort of park the terror till the night of the class, I hope.

Why photography. I love trees and clouds want to track the image of “my trees”. Not actually my trees, but those outside my window .

Devastated that my landlords chopped down a beautiful conker tree, didn’t tell anyone, and feels like a huge loss. I want to ensure I have a record of our trees.

 

 

 

 

Counselling part 1

The trouble with counselling is that it takes over your whole life; it’s entirely in the external world its entirely in the internal world. More often than not those two worlds are colliding.

How can an hour-hour and a half impact so much, how it can just be that all the sodding time?

Feel hungry; decide to eat something reasonable that means a cheese sandwich, rather than just a bag of crisps.

OK, probably means sandwich and crisps. Seems a relatively innocuous, maybe even positive, looking after myself action. But it’s loaded with memories about my stepfather. The memories are still strong; my mind wants to fight me over the cheese sandwich. OK, I give in I have toast and crisps. See!!!!!  I am determined to get those crisps in somewhere. The cheese sandwich becomes a danger, a risk.

BUT………. IT LEAVES A TRAIL OF GUNPOWDER ALL AROUND ME THAT CAN GO OFF AT ANY POINT.

It feels like counselling is creating a trail of gunpowder around me. It was a trail, now it’s becoming a mountain. Miniscule things can start the sparks inside.

Every memory has its different set of feelings, trouble is they get so muddled up; it’s hard to find words.

When other peoples words come out they can set the sparks off.

Sometimes at the end of a counselling session the counsellor asks are you ok to leave;

sometimes I want to say –yep-ok-ok ish

sometimes I want to say I can’t run quick enough to get out

sometimes I want to say –  no I don’t feel safe-but I still have to leave-I say I’m ok

sometimes I can’t say anything very comprehensible-sort of nod as I pull on my jacket in a very disorganised manner-and get out the door-I tell myself I leave the room  in a cool “I am fine and don’t give a dam fashion”…………… think I am only fooling myself on that one!!!!!!

The last couple of counselling sessions have been too overwhelming. I felt like I need a fire extinguisher. It’s the kind of feeling that screams for a bear hug, which is yelling out for someone to say let’s go for a drink—(alcoholic–) get mildly merry and put the world to rights. Trouble is, even if someone offered I’d probably run away.

So, instead, when I get home, its destination bed and sleep or bed and struggling to stay in the here and now. Followed by a mega binge.

 

 

 

LIFE DEATH AND LOVE

Re reading book by  “tuesdays with Morrie”. Its about death, but it is actually about living  and being in every moment of your life.

Like all of Mitch Albom’s books ,this is such a powerfull read. All  of his books come, from me, with a mega health warning, they can take me to places I don’t always want to be. At the end of the process it turns out to be a cleansing, deep layered process, going through my memories and thoughts of day to day living.  Why the health warning re Mitch Albom’s books,because  I stasrt to think about how I am. What is it I do every day. Do I influence anyone negatively. I am so so aware  I do not live life to the full. Do I have any positive impact on anyone at all?

I barely live at all. 

 

Trying not to binge,ye gods and little fishes, that feeling I will die if I don’t get that pile of food inside me. I wish I could describe the feeling I get during the process of binging. I cant do that, the feeling goes once I stop the eating.

Trouble is it doesn’t stop the deep pain razoring its way through my mind . Its the way , I THINK, of keeping away the demons that live in the deepest darkest part of myself. If they got released …. what WOULD BE?? that’s where it feels like I would die. I don’t think(  I think) I even mean I would die by my own hand ,I mean I would just die. I would internally implode not just emotionally, but physically to .

Totally not succeeding with not  phoning Samaritans. Feel I am getting caught in the quagmire of  ropes pulling me round and round. I am falling down huge holes, its only those phone calls with Samaritans  that give me the strength and ability  to keep grasping for the ropes that swing by, just not quite long enough to hold on to . I have to stretch out to grasp them. I keep falling into and getting caught in the human traps that seem to pus and pull me .

They feel a bit like the tree in one of the “harry potter ” film, where the characters get caught in the tree that whirls them round and round,witrh bumps and cuts an will not let them go

 

 

 

new year,new start OR?

 

Should the New Year bring new hope? Or is that just a fallacy to make me feel dire. Or am I turning into a blinking awful cynic. I guess the reality is that I am so utterly blinking scared that what I am hoping for will collapse and burn around me.

Task one: Reduce my telephone calls to Samaritans. Am I contacting Samaritans when I should look inside myself. Its so difficult.

When the pain goes through my mind and my heart

When the thoughts  are racing around

When the thoughts of powerlessness are mighty

When the isolation seeps through my bones and seems to seems to come through the walls and in the air

Are there words to describe how that feels?

Am I setting myself up for failure?

When I talk to the Samaritans I get to sort those thoughts out, sometimes a little, sometimes a lot. Even when a call goes wrong I can learn something. There used to be  a few Samaritans that used to somehow scare me. Not entirely sure why. I think it used to feel as if they were thinking I was just a blinking nuisance. Now,I have even deeper conversations . I think the Samaritans I used to be afraid of were so very brave. When I told them they helped me explore the reasons I felt afraid.