Under the table

English: Wooden kitchen table and chairs

Today I told Doc what I learned from Cate last week. He listened, and then I just heard the world “trauma” and I started shaking badly. He then asked, “Is someone having a hard time? What can I do to help?” I could feel that “the little one” wanted to get under the table next to me, and I told Doc that I was aware of this. She really wanted to get under that table. But I resisted. It was weird, not normal. Loco. Loca. Loony. No! We will not get under the table.

But she insisted, and the more she insisted, the more I shook. The more I dug my heels in, the harder I shook. Something had to give. Then Doc said, “I invite you to get under the table if that will help.” You get to a point sometimes in life when you run out of the plausible normal-sounding options. When you reach this point you are at the end of your rope, and you start entertaining those options that seemed crazy and insane because you are desperate for some kind of peace. This was that kind of moment for me.

I leapt for that table like a lifeline, so much so that I almost hit my head on the table. I feared getting under the table because I didn’t want to “lose myself.” I was afraid of having a dissociative experience that I would not recall, like I had last week. Surprisingly, what happened is that my body became peaceful the very moment I got under that table. I felt peaceful, and then very sleepy. I could have slept under that table  for hours.

We continued our session with me under the table. It was weird, but it worked, and I shook a whole lot less. If someone told me this morning that I would end my day speaking to my psychiatrist from under a table, I would have laughed at the improbability of that scenario. You just never know what works.

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

No matter what, keep going

That’s what I’ve been doing. I’ve been keeping up the good fight, regardless of how I’ve felt. Also, I am very grateful to everyone that has left such supportive comments, and has been patient with me, and my dreary self these past several days.

It’s bad for me not to post regularly, as I’m absolutely stuck on what to write, what to say. I can start with what’s new in my world. I went on a date last night. I know that may sound a bit mad, as I’ve not been in the best state of mind lately.

It was one of those accidental things. I logged on to my match.com account out of curiosity. I had not been on the site in a couple of months. I saw that I had an email from a guy with whom I have a number of things in common with, a rarity! I’m rarely this interested in a person, but I emailed him back right away. Thankfully, he had only emailed me two days prior.

So, I checked in with all the parts if they thought this was a good idea. Someone had a mild objection. I’m not sure who, but we worked through it. I promised that if it seemed even remotely iffy we would be out of there.

Strangely, but wonderfully, I did not start to shake during the date. We just went for tea, but you never know what will start me shaking. He was very much a gentleman, and all the parts approved of him. Everyone was well behaved, so this bodes well for him.

Somehow I let it slip that I blog. He then asked me what I blog about, and I realized that I was stuck, as I was not going to lie. I said that I blog about my PTSD, and I said that I wasn’t sure if that was too much information. His face then softened, and he said that he understood better than I knew, that 9/11 is very hard for him every year. He then looked at me, and said that if he ever does anything to trigger me to please tell him, and that not to worry as it’s not too much information.

It’s promising, and I do like him. But I’m cautious, as I know he does not have anything close to even half the picture of me. I’m not even sure if I should be dating. Though I do know that I’m comfortable around him, and that does not come easily for me. We shall see.

Out of touch

I’ve been out of touch on here, just completely checked out. I’ve not blogged in at least two days. I think that’s a record for me, albeit not a good one.

I’ve had a lot on my mind.

  • There’s the suicidal ideation that I’m batting away like a mosquito.
  • I’m still trying to wrap my head around these “other parts of me.” Now that I know they are there I want to throttle them, quite frankly.
  • When I did acknowledge these “other parts” I realized that at least one part did not want me blogging these past few days, so I didn’t. I think they were happier with the rest from blogging. (Admittedly, I feel a bit off even admitting these things.)
  • I had to go to a work party today that had me feeling all sorts of wonky loca wiggy. I admitted to a colleague/friend that I took a Xanax just to get through the party. Her reaction was: “For this!?” Well, yes, given the sheer amount of people, 400+!, the alcohol and the loud music, yeah, it was a bit of a test for me. I was afraid of wigging out right there in the middle of the party.
  • Trying, trying, trying to fight the feeling of not wanting to be on this earth. I do small things, like start reading a number of books at the same time. Then I tell myself that I can’t be gone because I don’t know how they all end. I know, weird, but strangely effective.

That’s pretty much it, just trying to keep one foot in front of the other, day by day.