Wheeze
Doing okay with taking the antidepressant and the pill but using the inhaler has gone to shit. Not clever especially when been varying nicotine sources. Weather looks great for tomorrow which is a relief as bucketing rain and a new psych to endure would be too much. At least its not too far.
..
Wasnt too nervous the night before to sleepy and had a fair bit wine but this morning. Ug. Not full on, “I cant do this bad” more like “I really really dont want to.” Glad really that the actual doctor wasnt there so spent an hour with the CPN giving a detailed as possible, leaving out remembering another mother, trying not to automatically churn out easier than truth bullshit, oh god but if I’m totally wrong about absolutely everything history.
She was good. Professional. Non judgmental and compassionate. A bit shocked about the involvement of so many authorities and positions of trust with children but wasnt scoffing or saying it was impossible. Like other CPNs she wasn’t too keen on people being labelled with personality disorders with any any recognition of abuse, trauma and its longterm effects.
Exhausted after though. Probably would of helped if I had got some soup from somewhere instead of just a latte and a salted caramel filled donut that partly went all over my tshirt. Dont think there is going to be any plant watering and feeding, grass cutting today. Way to tired, sore, weepy, little.
Found a hippy store after the appointment, do love a hippy stores. Got some incense and a couple of things.Was going to get a sun catcher but was put of by the crazy tourist prices.
..
Had started reading Daughter of Smoke and Bone we got for Pablo at Christmas. Enjoying it, the girl has an unsharable, unbelievable life and gets tired and sick of all the lying that’s necessary if she is ever to have a conversation with anyone outside of it, she tells the truth sometimes but with a wry smile so its interpreted as a joke. We empathised with that. It just crosses lines in parts where we start to feel encroached, stolen from and erased but then it or us pulls back and we can enjoy it again.
The reading, the appointment today have us thinking that maybe we could find or create a beginning, a middle and an end to all this, that we could allow ourself to embellish, to leave out, to simplify, to guess if it helps. With these thoughts and the gladness over knowing we will have something to type on and find our hidden objects soon we tried sleeping. But not for long. Our knicker elastic was digging in and started to really bother us.
Secondary school, start of the first year, arms scar free. Sitting at the big wooden work benches arranged so kids are in groups of three or four. Glad to be in a room that is lined with tools and machines and feels so unclassroom like. There had been flutters, followed by blasts of anxiety, denial and amnesia but this was stronger than a flutter, it was a turning, a stretching and in went on for too long to just ignore. In all the internal turmoil, contradictions there was one clear and articulated thought,
“Where the fuck have I been?”
In the following weeks and months as the movement and our responding to it just became normal, often the only thing articulated was pleading,
“Please don’t make me feel happy. Dont make me feel alive.”
Until we couldn’t fight anymore and gave in to it deciding we would fight and feel alive and happy as much as possible and not be so easily pushed into not being there as that would be the only way we would ever be happier, be safer or even notice if there was a chance of real life. Me and the baby were completely and certainly doomed if we stayed under and very probably if we didn’t we realised sitting on the stairs in Skene. If the worsts happened we would end up under again anyway just as was planned but it felt so absolutely worse a go. We were standing near that same spot the first time we answered back to a handler, my god the look on his face as everything he was so confident in fell away annihilated by one or two words, the body language and the direct look from a pregnant twelve year old, surrounded and isolated. We pitied him but knew it would be best to not show him how much just yet. The real plans and expectations were not his and we figured he would get those directly above him soon enough but it would probably best if we had as much time as possible for that.
We found out quickly though that for many of the rungs above him all we needed to do was be there and we could do so much, it shocked us how much we could avoid, trick or fight off. Not everything for ever though of course as she isnt here.
..
Wasnt too nervous the night before to sleepy and had a fair bit wine but this morning. Ug. Not full on, “I cant do this bad” more like “I really really dont want to.” Glad really that the actual doctor wasnt there so spent an hour with the CPN giving a detailed as possible, leaving out remembering another mother, trying not to automatically churn out easier than truth bullshit, oh god but if I’m totally wrong about absolutely everything history.
She was good. Professional. Non judgmental and compassionate. A bit shocked about the involvement of so many authorities and positions of trust with children but wasnt scoffing or saying it was impossible. Like other CPNs she wasn’t too keen on people being labelled with personality disorders with any any recognition of abuse, trauma and its longterm effects.
Exhausted after though. Probably would of helped if I had got some soup from somewhere instead of just a latte and a salted caramel filled donut that partly went all over my tshirt. Dont think there is going to be any plant watering and feeding, grass cutting today. Way to tired, sore, weepy, little.
Found a hippy store after the appointment, do love a hippy stores. Got some incense and a couple of things.Was going to get a sun catcher but was put of by the crazy tourist prices.
..
Had started reading Daughter of Smoke and Bone we got for Pablo at Christmas. Enjoying it, the girl has an unsharable, unbelievable life and gets tired and sick of all the lying that’s necessary if she is ever to have a conversation with anyone outside of it, she tells the truth sometimes but with a wry smile so its interpreted as a joke. We empathised with that. It just crosses lines in parts where we start to feel encroached, stolen from and erased but then it or us pulls back and we can enjoy it again.
The reading, the appointment today have us thinking that maybe we could find or create a beginning, a middle and an end to all this, that we could allow ourself to embellish, to leave out, to simplify, to guess if it helps. With these thoughts and the gladness over knowing we will have something to type on and find our hidden objects soon we tried sleeping. But not for long. Our knicker elastic was digging in and started to really bother us.
Secondary school, start of the first year, arms scar free. Sitting at the big wooden work benches arranged so kids are in groups of three or four. Glad to be in a room that is lined with tools and machines and feels so unclassroom like. There had been flutters, followed by blasts of anxiety, denial and amnesia but this was stronger than a flutter, it was a turning, a stretching and in went on for too long to just ignore. In all the internal turmoil, contradictions there was one clear and articulated thought,
“Where the fuck have I been?”
In the following weeks and months as the movement and our responding to it just became normal, often the only thing articulated was pleading,
“Please don’t make me feel happy. Dont make me feel alive.”
Until we couldn’t fight anymore and gave in to it deciding we would fight and feel alive and happy as much as possible and not be so easily pushed into not being there as that would be the only way we would ever be happier, be safer or even notice if there was a chance of real life. Me and the baby were completely and certainly doomed if we stayed under and very probably if we didn’t we realised sitting on the stairs in Skene. If the worsts happened we would end up under again anyway just as was planned but it felt so absolutely worse a go. We were standing near that same spot the first time we answered back to a handler, my god the look on his face as everything he was so confident in fell away annihilated by one or two words, the body language and the direct look from a pregnant twelve year old, surrounded and isolated. We pitied him but knew it would be best to not show him how much just yet. The real plans and expectations were not his and we figured he would get those directly above him soon enough but it would probably best if we had as much time as possible for that.
We found out quickly though that for many of the rungs above him all we needed to do was be there and we could do so much, it shocked us how much we could avoid, trick or fight off. Not everything for ever though of course as she isnt here.
