Out of the Storm

... I've balked at starting a recovery journal because I've known about CPTSD for about five years now, I'm an intelligent woman and I don't believe I personally can recover. Younger people, and those who've established a FOC, yes. But not me.

I remember a photo of my elder sister and myself sitting among other children at Dad's work Christmas party. We were watching some kind of show, and our faces were lit up. Okay, Sis looked a bit anxious, but I was sparkling with unalloyed pleasure. I wish I had that picture now, but from many moves and being NC with FOO, I have no pictures of myself before I was about 20.

Most members will probably be aware of Maslow's hierarchy, but for those who haven't heard of it or need a refresher, here it is: https://www.simplypsychology.org/maslow.html

I've mostly been okay with the basic needs, and I am now, but I'm stuck on Belonging. I got by for a long time, believing I belonged in my FOO. As scapegoat :roll:, but I had a role and I knew how to play it. I belonged at primary school and at the first high school I attended, liked by teachers, some close friends (all now long gone from my life), getting good marks. Self-esteem was okay then.

Then my family migrated. In one hit I lost my friends, the extended family, my pets, my school, my familiar town. My childhood. I started a new school where I was teased and mimicked by others for my 'annoying' accent. The scapegoat role became the only one I had. I cried. I kept a journal, which unknown to me my mother read while I was at school.

I went to work, got fired a few times, then found a career and mostly stuck to it. A couple of workplaces -- the best of them -- I actually felt I belonged. Where I didn't, getting up and dressed five days a week kept me going even when I hated it.

I married a violent man and five months later I ran for my life. Mother had already told me she didn't want me in FOO, so I moved a long way away. Soon settled in a job, made some friends, felt like I'd been reborn. Went to university and got a diploma. Kept working. Bought a house. When it was paid for, I bought block of six apartments, then went back to my birth country intending to stay until the mortgage on the apartment block came down sufficiently for me to sell both properties and buy my ideal home.

A few months later a monster flood hit the town I'd left. I had no family, and no friends who cared enough that I could ask them to sort things out for me. With my house and the three downstairs apartments uninhabitable, the mortgage went out of control. I sold the apartments; the bank sold my former home and I got a $10,000 bill for the shortfall.

I kept going. I remarried.  H has never held a job for long. I was the breadwinner while 'we' were paying off a house. We lost that when my industry all but collapsed and I could no longer find work. I left H for five years, went back to that town where I'd once owned property, and got two-thirds of the way through a degree with the usual high grades. There was once again a sense of belonging at university. I liked the lecturers and students and they liked me.

Then the bike accident and the head injury. TBH I think it was the death blow.  In and out of hospital for six months, misdiagnosed and mismedicated for schizoaffective disorder. Medication enforced after I left the nuthouse. I dropped out of university. I could barely get out of bed, I was so depressed. I could no longer ride my bike (developed a phobia), shopping became an issue and therefore feeding myself was a problem. Relationship has been a major issue for me since the initial migration, and apart from two or three exceptions my friendships have all been circumstantial. When I leave, there's no follow-up. There's never anyone to help me through the worst times.

Finally I sent H an email. He makes a good foul-weather friend. A few months later he flew to that other country and brought me here to live with him and his mother. But I don't belong here and I see no way out.

To end on a brighter note, the woman who's been my bestie for the past 20 years suggested we meet for lunch this week. She lives a long way from me so we get together only rarely; the rest of the time it's email. Also, she distances herself when I'm sad. But she's upbeat and inspiring and, just for now, I have something to look forward to. A reason to shower and present myself as well as I can.

TIA for telling me I belong here, and the virtual hugs.

:hug: :hug: :hug:

You DO belong here! Can we be your FOC? ;)

You are a vital, valuable component here, with deep insight and a compassionate, caring nature. I'm glad to know you. ♡

Candid, thanks for sharing more of your story.

I'm sorry you've lost so much on your journey through life. You sound as if at certain periods of your life you were really strong. Same here. I try to find some of that strength. I hope you manage too.

I don't have a FOC either, not even a partner. I've never had one. I do have my little pets, and I now have a lot of friends and people I know about town. For me it's been really important as well to find groups that I feel I belong to. I've done a lot of work on that in the last 2-3 years. I moved around quite a bit with FOO, from one country to another. But live in a totally different country now.

I'm sorry about your bike accident and head injury and all the misdiagnoses. At least I don't have that kind of thing on top of it all. That must make everything more difficult.  :hug:

Anyway I agree with 3Roses, you belong here!  :bighug:

Hey, Candid, I've just been re-reading my Journal and seeing so many very helpful, compassionate posts from you. I know you're in a low place right now. But just want to let you know that 3Roses has got it spot on with this: "You are a vital, valuable component here, with deep insight and a compassionate, caring nature. I'm glad to know you. ♡ "

Glad to know you too, and I believe in you!  :cheer:  :cheer:  :bighug:

Thank you both. I like coming here, to my virtual FOC, and I get so wrapped up in being here that it's a shock to get up from my laptop and see where I actually am.

That makes me think of entrainment http://www.meditationiseasy.com/binaural-beats/entrainment-the-universal-law-of-harmony/. Researchers have found that when two sympatico people are in conversation, their brainwaves, heart rate, blinking and other autonomic functions quickly become synchronised. We can't have entrainment when we're reading and writing in different time zones. This isn't to diminish my feelings for this virtual FOC, but I've become very aware of entrainment and how important it is. People die without it.

Before H came to fetch me 'home', I was alone virtually all the time. What a downward spiral that was. I contacted him because he was the only person I could think of who cared whether I lived or died. Thing is, he and MIL both so often feel alien to me. Much of their conversation is about money: how to hang on to it being the main theme. I've never thought that way... but then, before I came here I had enough money coming in. Money but no company. Now I've got company but no money. MIL and H are both kind to me and I feel ungrateful for writing this, but they're simply not on my wavelength. I often cringe hearing them speak. MIL gives the impression of being in a perpetual bad mood and usually shouts when she speaks. There's openness and honesty there; contrast it with my mother, so calm and controlled and insidious in her verbal abuse. But that's what I grew up with. That's what feels like home.

I don't want to be entrained with (or by) these people. I wouldn't be 'me' any more. And if they're like two clocks ticking in sync, being the third clock marching to a different autonomic nervous system beat might explain why I'm constantly exhausted. Also irritable and judgmental, outer critic doing its best to outshout the inner.

Each Wednesday morning I go to my Acquired Brain Injury group. I can tell I entrain there easily, because I walk home on a high (it's all relative) and I call into my local pub for a pint to delay returning to base camp.

It's even better when I see my bestie. She's one of the funniest, most positive people I know. Tuesday will be the third time we've sat together since I returned to this country, and she only gets 45 minutes at lunch time but she packs a lot in. I always go there thinking I'll be more directive and find out what's going on in her day-to-day life, but I get bowled over immediately and just keep answering her many questions. She's been the same whenever I've introduced her to anyone. She's genuinely curious about people.

Well, last time I saw her I had a cold and was feeling rotten. Her questions brought me to tears. When she left she said: "I hate to leave you like this." But she went, and she didn't contact me for a long time. I got the message; I've had it before. H calls her my fair-weather friend, but that isn't true. She's been there for me through very dark times, including when I left H in 2011; she just hasn't got time for perpetual misery.

Yesterday I referred to H as my foul-weather friend. Most of the time he does his thing and I do mine, in separate rooms. When he notices I'm really in a bad way, that's when I see the best of him. Yesterday he wandered in while I was writing my first journal post and asked when I could be ready to go out for lunch. He hates going anywhere on a Saturday because of the traffic on the roads, but he said: "You've had a rough few days and I want to cheer you up."

So we went for lunch, and then we went to look round a National Trust property, and I was dragging my tail the whole time. I didn't want to walk. At all. I didn't care about the spring flowers he was pointing out. I could barely acknowledge that it was indeed a fine day. All this revved up my inner critic. What a misery-guts. Why should he be bothered with you? You might as well have saved him some money, stayed home and gone back to bed. Egad, that wing mirror -- you look a hundred and ninety! Smile, for pity's sake!

So I told him he had three choices: find a way to get rid of me that won't implicate him, send me back to where he got me from, or locate some help. Urgently.

After dinner we watched Derren Brown's Apocalypse, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Apocalypse_(Derren_Brown_special). Whew, Derren put that young man through some heavy stuff! He was still in a compound when he received a message from his family to say they were alive and well, and where to find them. His face lit up and he was the happiest viewers had seen him since the program began. H said: "He's still got a long way to go." I said, choking up: "He knows his family are safe and that they're looking for him. That's everything." H missed that completely; he was too caught up in  the action.

I was a mess by the time the show was over. H was very good. I tried to explain it wasn't the family stuff that triggered me; it was the fact that he missed it completely. Like the young protagonist, he takes family for granted. He has no idea what it's like not to have one, not ever to have had one.

I told him the guy in the film was 'home' as soon as he knew his family were okay; that family provides an internal home, a place of safety and love. And that that being so, I've never had a home, and I desperately want one, which was why I wore second-hand clothes and saved madly for my first property while my young co-workers were buying the latest fashion and going nightclubbing. I've spent my life in Maslow's lower levels, constantly looking for home like Harold with his purple crayon. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZVaOOgWyvJM

Yeah, H was lovely last night. He always is when I'm really in a bad way.

When I finally emerged this morning he asked me how I was. I said okay. So he's back in his small corner and I'm in mine, nothing being done about finding help, much less getting us out of MIL's home...

Roll on Tuesday, I say.

candid, thank you for starting your journal, for allowing us in a bit. 

i can relate to the entrainment thing, and your situation on several levels.  i had to spend a bit of time living at my mil's and it was horrible.  it was so bad that i even once called my mom, crying.  as usual, she didn't know what to do with my emotion, so remained silent.  feeling very alone after that call.  i just wanted to get out of there. 

i've been pretty good at being a chameleon personality, but i'm totally with you on the idea that there are some people i can't, won't, and don't want to be on the same wavelength.  i don't like where they are, how they think, their perspective on the world.  not that they're bad people, just so different from me on too many levels.

when i think back on some of my relationships, i can't tell if there has been any actual entrainment in the past or if it was just me faking myself through it.  if i think about it, there is really only one person with whom i can feel that, and it's my daughter, and it's only been in the last year or so.  like we're vibing on the same cylinders.  i have flashes of it with my hub, but not normally and not for very long.  it's actually a weird feeling for me, but it is a feeling, and i'm grateful just to be able to feel it.

so, poor subjects as we might be here to attain retrainment with each other, i do consider people here as virtual foc, and can feel closer to them in some ways than people in real life.   keep hangin' tough, candid - hangin' right beside you.  we'll virtually get through this together!     :hug:

oh candid, i so feel for you, i really do.  i can relate to that feeling of loss, having had a home, family, pets, career, doing what i loved, being good at what i did, and now my possessions would fit in my car, can't work, have retired so i could get my soc. security money every month and that's it.  whittled away, every bit of it.

i also write, can relate to that dream of yours - and it sounds beautiful.  it's so so so very frustrating to have those dreams snatched away from us.  i continue to write but doubt that it's going anywhere.  still, it's something i love and i haven't given that up yet, altho i can only concentrate on it for about a half hour at a time now before i'm exhausted. 

you know, methinks that it didn't all end with your accident for a reason, that there's a reason why you're still here.  maybe you don't know why yet, maybe you won't, but you are here, you are reaching out to others on this forum, and you're giving to others as well.  that giving that you're doing, candid, the support, the validation, the compassion that you've given me and others - that's something very special that you're doing.   you are making a positive difference in this world and in peoples' lives personally.  we've benifitted from you still being here, and i thank the stars for that. 

i found out that sometimes we touch peoples' lives in a profound way just be being ourselves and that we might never know about it.  it happened to me and i found out about it by accident.  i was shocked as all get out when i heard - i was just doing what i do but it made a big impact on another person's life when i wasn't even trying.    you are alive and here, you are actively impacting others' lives in a most positive way.  you may have lost a lot, but you haven't given up, haven't thrown in the towel, and i'm grateful you're still here.  i don't doubt others feel the same way.

standing right beside you, candid.   we've all made those mistakes in our choices, in our relationships, in the paths we've taken.  i've made too many to count.  please, don't ever let that strip you of the wonderfully kind, caring, intelligent person you still are.  that inner critic can go take a flying leap!  you are still valid and valuable, no matter what.  never forget that.     :hug:

You brought tears to my eyes, San.  :hug:

Quote from: sanmagic7 on April 10, 2017, 11:45:00 AM
methinks that it didn't all end with your accident for a reason, that there's a reason why you're still here. 

The only thing I can think of is to learn to love, to learn to accept the love offered right here, from MIL who hunts out my favourite chocolates from the tin, from half-crazed H who knows all of my history (and I mean all of it, because he has more than a touch of aspergers and remembers everything) ... and who has told me many times that he'll always be on my side. He's offered to email my sister to ask for some of our childhood photos. I dunno, not sure if I want to have even indirect contact with any FOO member. I can still 'see' some of those photos in my mind, but I can't show them to him.
 

Quoteyou may have lost a lot, but you haven't given up, haven't thrown in the towel...

I think I have, or I would if I knew how. What would giving up look like, if not this? In Viktor Frankl's book Man's Search For Meaning I read that people in concentration camps got to know when death was imminent, because people would remain in their bunks, urinating and defecating where they lay. I have to say I couldn't do that unless I literally couldn't move. Ugh, what a ghastly thing to recall.

Quotewe've all made those mistakes in our choices, in our relationships, in the paths we've taken.  i've made too many to count.

I've written a lot about accepting myself, but nothing about accepting my life as it is. How can I possibly compare my present circumstances to a Nazi death camp? Um... family gone. Everything I worked for gone. Very slender hope of surviving this and doing better some day.

Quotestanding right beside you, candid.   

Thank you for all your kind words, San. Where would I be and what would I be doing without my FOC here?

Okay, a volte-face. I accept my circumstances for the time being, and I don't accept myself. Stop moaning and do something, Candid. Stop saying it's over and hoping for an early release via cigarettes. Fitness first, then we'll see about pulling in some £££, and finding good company. Then we'll see about renting somewhere. Then we'll see about writing again. And then...

one step at a time.  if you'd given up, you wouldn't be posting here.   i think i just saw something lovely happen to you.  you go, girl!!!   :hug:

Quote from: sanmagic7 on April 10, 2017, 12:56:15 PMi think i just saw something lovely happen to you.  you go, girl!!!   :hug:

Thank you, my darling. It's been a good day today, but then it usually is when I see my bestie. We last met in January, when I was in a dark space, and she left me alone for a while. So today there was a bit of performance anxiety going on beforehand, but once we got together I didn't even think about it. She remarked: "You're more cheerful today than you were last time" and I reminded her I'd had a bad cold then.

After she went back to work I had a stroll around town, nice sunny day, feeling a wee bit better about life. I asked at the job centre about training for people who've had a long lay-off. The couldn't help me because I'm not in receipt of any government money (don't I know it!) but they sent me to the library where a friendly chap put me on the phone to a place where they do career counselling. I have an appointment for that on the 25th. Fingers crossed.

So I got the bus 'home' feeling properly entrained again, and walked into this place. Never mind. Chin up and all that.

Now then, I have a question. I've seen a lot here and in PW's book about sitting with the bad feelings, and I don't know how to do it. A woman at the Findhorn Community told me I was not quite in my body, and I know I'm spaced-out much of the time. It's like my feelings will kill me if I don't dissociate.

H was not home and MIL was just heading out when I got back. Oh goody, I thought as I let myself in, but no. Horrible gnawing anxiety about being alone here and have nothing to do or that I wanted to do. Okay, I'm supposed to 'sit with' this. What does that mean? I don't know. Aaaargh. I had a cup of coffee and a cigarette. I know, both anxiety-producing even though the coffee was decaf. Didn't even enjoy all that bitterness, but it was something to do.

The feeling didn't go away, obviously, so I booted up the laptop and have been here ever since. MIL is home, watching television. H will be home soon. That doesn't make the feeling go away, either. So I feel a compulsion to be busy busy busy to avoid having my bad feelings kill me.

:aaauuugh:, now I've got the rainbow flashes that herald a migraine. Haven't had one of those for ages. Better go smoke another cigarette.

Yesterday I wrote some goals on my Need a job thread, and thought it might be a good idea to post them in my journal.

1) Do something about my fitness. The weight gain and shortness of breath are NOT helping
2) Get involved with the mental health organisation. in whatever capacity so long as it gets me out of the house
3) Keep looking for work, paid or unpaid
4) Be as prepared as I can be for the local council interview late July

I may be on point 1 for some time. Two years ago I was still cycling around on the other side of the world, still feeling competent, still healthy despite having been a smoker for more than four decades. Then on June 4 2015 I found my father's death notice on line. There was no one to call. It was 2am, but that wasn't the reason there was no one to call. There just wasn't.

It wasn't unexpected -- that's why I'd been googling his name every so often -- and I had known for years that I would never again see him or hear his voice on the phone. Because he had alzheimers, the only way to get to him was via my mother, and that was too high a price. I had already mourned the loss, or so I believed.

He'd been dead six weeks when I saw his death and funeral notices. Obviously no one had told me. Not one of my three siblings, none of my relatives. No one thought I had a right to know. They no doubt told themselves and each other that I didn't care.

Not long afterwards I got on my bike with a bellyful of wine, and you know the rest.

I shouldn't have come here. I need territory. Okay, my heart had gone, my will to live, and I was unable to take care of myself over there. After a long separation, H made plans to fly over as soon as I contacted him... and brought me back to his mother's place. I am fed. I have a mattress in the roof space to sleep on, climbing up and down a loft ladder. Apart from that I do nothing, have nothing.

Most nights I go to bed so addled that I vow tomorrow will be different, I'll get up early and have a walk, not start the day with coffee and fags. I'll get some heart and energy back, some enthusiasm for life such as I had just two years ago, when I was still at university. But it isn't a case of simply going back. Galling as it is to have got so far into my degree, been asked to take Honours... and then given up, I just don't have it in me to go back into the classroom with a new bunch of people. For the sake of completion, I'll state here that up until November this year the university will allow me to go back and pick up where I left off. After that, I would have to start again -- which obviously is out of the question.

I feel racked with guilt about H, and to a lesser extent MIL. It was very wrong of me to get back to him after more than four years apart.

So last month I had an exit plan. It was so clear to me that I told H I needed to go to the nuthouse. I've seen people there on an outpatient basis since then, but have now been discharged with a prescription for anti-Ds. :roll: Psychiatrists always think pills can fix anything. This latest one told me I'd been very stupid, and not for the first time, and was now in an impossible situation. As if I didn't know all that!

To sum up today, my four-point list looks like a mountain to climb, and I see no real good at the end of it. So there has to be a point A1: recover the will to live and thereby have the motivation to save myself.

 :hug:   I'll try and actually write something later. I really ought to be getting on with various other things for myself right now. All online, so that's why my computer is up and running. Otherwise turning it off and fleeing would be good.

 :bighug: You'll manage to save yourself, the worst part of your story is in the past.

You're not stupid!!! I would call that charlatan some very colorful and creative names were it not for the forum guidelines. He is without insight.

There is recovery! You are strong, intelligent, compassionate. You are worth the effort.

 :yeahthat:

So, I'm finally getting back to you on this post, Candid. When I first read your goals, I was hoping you weren't setting yourself up for disappointment. I used to always set my goals too high and then fail at them and feel even worse. Especially with your first goal, I'd be worried, since you write it's like a mountain to climb. You know like the way you expressed concern about me when I was considering writing that FOO letter. So if you'd like to know more on my experience of goal-setting and how I now cope with it, tell me, and I'll write more. Otherwise I'll keep my mouth shut.

It sounds as if you're in a hard place, or were when you wrote this, with a lot of realisations coming up, but also questions on how to continue and where...  :hug:          Keep us posted please, as you are able.

As for that psychiatrist, our decisions aren't stupid. They are the best we can make in the circumstances and at the time we make them possibly the only way to go. If there'd been a different viable option at the time you contacted H, you would've looked at that and chosen it, but for whatever reason, there wasn't one, or it had even more drawbacks.

Thank you, sweet Blueberry.

There's still some large-scale self-destruction going on, but I managed to get an application form to the MHO and I have an interview on Tuesday. This is for voluntary peer support work. There's a short training course for starters. Best I can do for now, but I have some Ideas about it.

You see, I believe most if not all MH issues come from bad experiences in infancy. And I want to make recovery from Compromised Caring my life's work now. I doubt I can do it full-throttle in my present circumstances, but I can do it unpaid and see how I get on. It's part of a long-term plan.

As to that psychiatrist, he saw me twice and gave me a prescription for Sertraline. The second appointment he brought in two med students so I could tell them about being misdiagnosed and mismedicated (by force) after my head injury. I emphasised the need for medical and psychiatric professionals to listen to their patients.

I pointed out to him that at the time I chose to go back to my H I was entirely alone and unable to take care of myself, with reference to Maslow's work on the need for belonging. Sad part is I don't feel I belong with H, much less MIL, and that makes me feel very guilty. But I must go on.

Again, thank you so much for caring, and to Blackbird and Three Roses for their faith in me,

:grouphug:

 :thumbup:

Wow, Candid! Way to go!  :cheer: :cheer: :cheer: Just listen to all those plans and the steps you've made so far. I'm seriously impressed. I have faith in you too.

Even if there's still some self-destruction going on. There is in my life too. There were times in the past when I kept the physical self-destruction e.g. the super unhealthy eating under control but I didn't manage anything constructive. All my energy was taken up keeping bad stuff under control. I choose to move forward now even if I'm also self-destructing. I hope that makes sense.

It also sounds as if you are turning your own very bad experiences from infancy / childhood into wanting to help other people, so into something really positive. Go for it!  :yourock:    :yahoo:

And then you told the psychiatrist in no uncertain terms what to do with his remarks  :party: Yay you.  :bighug:

Quote from: Blueberry on June 04, 2017, 07:30:51 PM
I choose to move forward now even if I'm also self-destructing. I hope that makes sense.

It does to me! My self-destructing is mostly about cigarettes and coffee. I've long suspected I have caffeine allergy because it winds me up something shocking. Getting out and about will mean I spend less time on the back step with cuppa and fag because there's nothing else to do.

QuoteIt also sounds as if you are turning your own very bad experiences from infancy / childhood into wanting to help other people, so into something really positive.

I have a theory that our suffering can turn out to be our goldmine, if we keep holding on through the darkest times. I know I would find the work both challenging and rewarding, so I have to assume it will also support me financially.

Thank you both for being on my cheer squad.

Quote from: Candid on June 05, 2017, 08:53:25 AM
Getting out and about will mean I spend less time on the back step with cuppa and fag because there's nothing else to do.

:yeahthat: That's what I've always found too with all the work I've done through the years whether volunteer or paid. Or even just interests or new hobbies, like my weed collecting and eating. I get out of the house and exercise the old brain and get new input into life and it turns into an upward spiral of healing rather than a downward spiral of stagnating or getting worse. As we probably all know on here, there isn't a continual upward spiral, but still it helps me to see there's progress and hope and helps me keep going. 
All the best to you Candid  :hug: Keep us posted.

Getting out and about among other people will make a difference. I look forward to the training course (four consecutive Fridays) when I hope I will have the sense of belonging I crave.

Quote from: Candid on June 04, 2017, 07:52:09 AM

You see, I believe most if not all MH issues come from bad experiences in infancy. And I want to make recovery from Compromised Caring my life's work now. I doubt I can do it full-throttle in my present circumstances, but I can do it unpaid and see how I get on. It's part of a long-term plan.

Me too. I have a great dislike of the current diagnosis system. I admire you for pursuing that, that's really amazing. I'm on your cheering squad as well :)  :cheer:

Thanks, Blackbird. I believe I can continue to work on myself while helping others, because working will give me confidence and better self-esteem, both sadly lacking at present. Signing up for peer support work is as much as I can do. It depends on an interview tomorrow afternoon whether I will be at the training group this Friday.

Quote from: Candid on June 05, 2017, 10:46:13 AM
Getting out and about among other people will make a difference. I look forward to the training course (four consecutive Fridays) when I hope I will have the sense of belonging I crave.

:cheer: Yay, Candid!
Getting out and about among other people  - I'm sure it will help! I have both on my list of things I have to do each day, because these are things that keep me stable from day-to-day. Real, non-digital, contact with at least one person daily and going outside. I get a lot from nature / greenery so that can just be the garden, but then I might see and speak to a neighbour too. That's not to say that nature/greenery has the same effect on everybody so I'm sorry if I misunderstood your previous post, that your focus is on being among other people.

I know also so well craving that sense of belonging . Though it has lessened over the years of healing, actually.

Good luck with your interview tomorrow! They must see that you're a Treasure! You do so much peer support here.

o candid, it's been so long since i've weighed in here, but i've got to admit, i'm so proud of you and what you're planning, what you're doing, what you're realizing.  quite impressive, sister! 

i've found that helping people also helps me.  often i learn something that had been just out of reach because i get to hear it through their reactions, words, and responses.  i think you'll do great at this.  you've shown so much caring and wisdom on this forum, it could only translate to real life in the most beneficial of ways.

good luck with your interview or audition or whatever it is.  i sincerely hope it goes just the way you want.  yay, you!!!   love and a big hug!

Quote from: Blueberry on June 05, 2017, 11:10:38 AM
Getting out and about among other people  - I'm sure it will help!

I hoped so too. I was accepted into the training group and showed up for the first day yesterday. Far from a sense of belonging, I was closer to what the * am I doing here? We did a lot of splitting into groups or pairs, and a lot of writing on big sheets of paper with coloured pens. In fact we were told we could draw instead of write, but I drew the line at that. At every step we were praised and encouraged as if we were in kindergarten. I'd gone there with the briefcase I used for university, and couldn't help comparing the two scenarios. How have I fallen so far???

Quote from: sanmagic7 on June 10, 2017, 12:25:44 AM
quite impressive, sister! 

I'm impressed that I went so far as to apply and join up, but am now casting around for what door to push on next. Yesterday's session was five hours, as the other three will be. I felt absolutely shattered by the end of it. I know it's an option not to go again, simply to return all their 'training materials' on Monday, but I feel the need to have something else in place. I am really floundering here.

Quotei've found that helping people also helps me.  often i learn something that had been just out of reach because i get to hear it through their reactions, words, and responses.

I agree. I've done adult counselling in the past and got a lot out of it, but that isn't the expectation from this training. It's more about facilitating social outings and in-house activities for groups of people with mental illness, all of whom have standard diagnoses and are encouraged to take their mind-numbing meds. It felt like a very low-energy group yesterday, in shabby surroundings that are a pain to get to on public transport.

At the end of it the co-ordinator did a go-round about what we'd each got from the day. Others were saying they felt less alone and had learned a lot. I sat there feeling more alone and had learned zip. She saw the look on my face and told me I didn't have to say anything if I didn't want to. I should add, as if it's relevant, that I was by far the oldest person in the room.

I need trauma counselling like... years ago. I need one person IRL to know where I've been, and what it's taken to hang on this long. Because I'm feeling estranged from the whole human race today, and it's just too damned hard.

 dearest candid, is this the right place for you?  i get what you mean when you said you got there w/ your uni briefcase but were being praised like a kindergartner.  is that really a fall, tho? 

working with the mentally ill is not for everyone, that's for sure.  maybe it's just not your scene.  are you going to give it another shot, see if anything washes out differently for you?  if nothing else, i don't personally see it as a fall, but as a learning opportunity.   would it help to speak with the co-ordinator about what this type of training is supposed to produce for you? 

i know i've got nothing but questions here.   i wish it could've been more productive to you, that you could've gotten that sense of camaraderie and belonging in the group.  just my perspective, but if it were me, i think i'd go back one more time, see what happens, what the expectations are.  maybe it's actually counter-productive to your needs.  i don't know.

i do so wish you can get that trauma counseling you want and need asap, candid.  my heart is with you on this.  soon, please, soon, help my sister!  i'm sending that message out to the universe.  big hug!

I'm so sorry, Candid, that it turned out not to be what you were looking for / what you thought it would be. I'd encourage you to try the second session, but only you really know deep down whether it's anything for you. Being exhausted afterwards could be a good sign for me, meaning that something had been going on internally.

"At every step we were praised and encouraged as if we were in kindergarten. I'd gone there with the briefcase I used for university, and couldn't help comparing the two scenarios. How have I fallen so far???" FWIW The first time art therapy was suggested to me (about 20 years ago) I thought "What a waste of time!". I've sure changed my mind on that one.  I've done a lot of inner child work in groups where it was just brilliant that we got to draw and play and all sorts. I didn't see it as falling, more as looking at different aspects of myself and opening avenues that had never been opened up before. Moving out of cognitive only. It was very healing. It could be useful to have more of these avenues open for working with the mentally ill too. I often used to praise my inner children with age-appropriate language, and I did/do have kindergarten age Inners. Maybe you can imagine the praise going to your inner children instead of big Adult Candid?

Agree though with sanmagic that it's time that the powers-that-be give you your trauma counselling!

I hope you don't feel estranged from this community here? Sadly we aren't IRL support for you.  :bighug:

i think blueberry brought up a good point.  i've done art therapy along the way and have found it particularly interesting and helpful, coming at this stuff from a different angle.  to see what's coming from my brain/mind pictorially has often given me a greater grasp of what i was dealing with.

whatever works for you, candid, of course.  with you all the way, sweetie.

Thank you both for encouraging me to keep going. The third session (last Friday) was great. We broke into pairs to tell our stories and things suddenly got real.

Final one is this week, then we'll be given our certificates and launched as volunteers. I'm hoping this will inspire and assist me to find paid work.

You're back! Good to see you.  :hug:

So glad the sessions turned out good after all.  :cheer:

yay, you!  so glad you decided to finish.  i don't think it can hurt for your future endeavors.  fingers crossed and prayers flying that there's a job out there waiting for you.  bless you, dearie!  big hug!

Quote from: clarity on July 11, 2017, 05:31:24 PM
If I must become a bit of an arse to accomplish all of this, then so be it!!

Second shaft of light for the day. I'm being an arse, have been since I arrived in MIL's home nearly a year ago. It's nice to know why I'm doing it.

I find myself Home Alone right now. MIL is shopping. H has gone somewhere he wanted me to go with him, but at 10.40am I'm not dressed yet.

I live with two people who shout a lot. MIL shouts as a matter of habit because H is hard of hearing, but she also bawls at me and the cat when he's not around. The fourth member of the household dissociates. Freezes. I do very little in terms of housework or anything else, don't speak unless I'm spoken to. When I realised it had gone quiet, I got a glass of wine and went outside with my cigarettes. What an arse. Most of the time I wish I was somewhere else but I can't think of where. Otherwise I'd be gone, you bet.

I believe the word is anomie. I'm so cut off I think I might be going mad, because no one seems to have noticed. The UK Government helps with my feelings of non-existence by denying me a penny of financial help because I haven't been in the country long enough. I'm persona non grata, for sure.

There's no one on earth I feel connected to, including myself. That post Three Roses linked to http://www.new-synapse.com/aps/wordpress/?p=1911 has blasted me apart. I don't know what to do with this.

Our purely individual side seeks satisfaction of all wants and desires. It knows no boundaries. ~ http://www.faculty.rsu.edu/users/f/felwell/www/Theorists/Essays/Durkheim1.htm

What I'm going to do right now is shower  :aaauuugh:, get dressed, and clean the bathroom. If I finish that before anyone gets home, I'll look around for the next worst area and start on that.

i read that article from 3 roses, and there is a lot there.  feeling disconnected from self is a biggie, but i do believe we are the only ones who can find a reconnection.

i also believe we can make choices and decisions on what we want our 'self' to be like.  one question i started asking my 'self' (when i finally found a sense of her) when i had a decision to make was 'is this beneficial to my life?'  it was a question that helped me stop to think about what i was doing, what i wanted to do, and along the way it kept strengthening and determining who and what kind of person my 'self' truly was.

being stuck the way you are, candid, certainly doesn't help your 'self' to know herself.  being disregarded by social services and members of your household, i'm sure, contributes to that feeling of disconnection and isolation.  if i may suggest, you've already got some sense of your 'self'.  you know what cigs you like, what type of wine you like, that you want clean surroundings, that you're a hard worker, that you're intelligent, kind, caring, and willing to put in the hard work that's needed for your recovery.  you're willing to take risks (your trainings) and follow thru.  these are all part of what makes up the essence of candid.

it's a beginning, and i do believe that as you become more mindful of who you are and who you want to be, you'll begin to know and feel candid in a stronger manner.  i have faith in you,   big hug, my dear.

Hi lovely Candid

It must be so so tough in your situation... in fact that's a silly word to use.    Thing is, to heal we seek solitude instictively...and if the only cave we have is polluted by others then we cannot relax and let the healing happen... then we disconnect to numb it all out...a catch 22. I really feel for you.  :hug:

Im so glad youre being an arse. But becoming a renegade arse is essential..  not a self critical arse. 

Your right to exist in this world is IRRESPECTIVE of the opinions and actions of anyone else......

Fly your flag!!!!! Rooting for you being yourself, the queen of planet Candid!!

:heythere: xx 

I spent the whole of yesterday in the attic (aka my bedroom), totally burned out.  I managed to write out my recent history re. sleeping pills, plus a list of people H should inform in the event of me going mad or dying of insomnia, then finally dropped off just after dark.  Okay this morning, so I'm off to the doc's to get it on record before my personal battery runs out. 

The nuthouse (Jan-Feb 2016) used to include in my nightly cocktail an antihistamine (Pill A) to make me sleep.  I continued intermittent use afterwards. The psychiatrist I saw a couple of months ago said Pill A was bad for my brain :roll:; he prescribed Pill B.

The doctor I spoke to last week was alarmed to hear I was taking double doses of Pill A or Pill B and still not sleeping.  He said the surgery couldn't be responsible for what a double dose of Pill B might do, and prescribed Pill C, of which he was sure one dose would do the job.  I've never met this doctor and hope not to.  He prescribed over the phone.

I always do the research.  It would take a truckload of Pill B to carry me off.  Pill C is another matter. I was heading for my bestie's place to stay over Friday night, having just picked up the latest knockout.  One Pill C on Friday, adverse side-effect.  It didn't knock me out, either, so  Saturday was a trial for me and for bestie. 

I've since found toxicity info in a medical journal, and the minimum lethal dose of Pill C is a wee 50mg.  That means the lowest dose anyone has been known to die from is 7 x 7.5mg tablets. I still have 27 of the little darlings, plus a goodly quota of As and Bs. Sometimes you just gotta laugh.  Had he looked at my patient notes at all?  Seen that I made haste to the Pill B purveyor due to SI?

Anyhoo...

I've taken nothing for four nights now. I'm riding the dragon.  Began mild hallucination Sunday afternoon, by which time I'd been awake at least 40 hours; crashed Sunday night.  Top form (that's my top) Monday and able to get things done.  Monday night awake.  Yesterday had to take it slow, which is where we came in.

H believes I can function one-day-okay one-day-offmyhead until one fine morning I wake up normal. :rofl:  Of course, this doesn't take into account why I got on the knockout merry-go-round in the first place.

Now it's less than a week to trauma therapy assessment.  I got this ball rolling towards the end of last year...

 :hug: :hug: :hug:
I do not know what I would do without sleep. I'm so, so sorry you're having a rough go and wish there was something I could do tangibly to help you. Big hugs, my friend.

QuoteOkay this morning, so I'm off to the doc's to get it on record before my personal battery runs out. 

Good choice going to the doctor with this Candid, I hope s/he was able to help you figure out what to do and how to help you with your insomnia. I used to drink (really) heavily to knock myself out, but then I would wake up and have to go through that all over again, and of course I became addicted to the alcohol.  I quit cold turkey and it was a bad idea, dangerous in fact so again, I'm so glad you're choosing to take this to a physician.    :thumbup:  and :hug:

dear candid, how awful for you.  i've been thru the insomnia madness in the past.  it's absolutely the worst.  i still don't sleep right, but without major responsibilities during the day, i use naps to make up what i miss at night. 

i'm also glad you've seen a doc, and you're a smart lady to do that research.  the docs don't tell us much, that's for sure.  good luck with the upcoming psych review.  i hope it goes well and you start getting some relief.  with all my heart i hope so.  love and hugs flying your way, sweetie.

 :hug: to you Candid, I really hope you get through the week with some sleep and some relief from your insomnia. 
Hope  :)

Thank you all.  :grouphug:  Today was a good day, got out and about and lots of things done, but that didn't include going to the doctor.  What were they going to do but give me more pills I don't want?  Plus not take me seriously, because I've gone there on a good day?

Riding the dragon, for me, has become a cycle of: one sleepless night -- DAY ONE knackered but awake, irritable, unable to do anything; drop from exhaustion for an early night -- DAY TWO good, able to get things done, do all the sleep hygiene things but don't sleep...  I mean, it literally is alternate days now. So I know where I am in the cycle: wide awake at nearly midnight.

It was H who told me to take nothing for a while, and that sounded good to me.  All three of my knockouts are addictive, and all of them fiddle with the brain in ways no one needs their brain fiddled with.  The list of side-effects for Pill B and Pill C is hilarious -- definitely a case of the cure being worse than the complaint.

My vow, knowing what shape I'm going to be in tomorrow, is to get to the doctors' surgery when it opens.  They need to see this.

good for you, my dear.  right beside you.  good luck.  at least you have this alternating thing figured out.  i'd say that's a win in itself. 

getting off those sleep meds can cause insomnia, too, if you've been taking them long enough and you don't wean off them.  just be careful.  eventually it will even itself out, but it sounds like your brain has been thru a lot.   i hope you'll be gentle with yourself, loving and nurturing.  i'll be interested to hear what the doc says.   loving hug to you.

6.30am here.  I won't say not a wink, because clearly there were several winks sometime after the clock struck 2am.  Progress!

Quote from: sanmagic7 on August 24, 2017, 01:51:02 AM
getting off those sleep meds can cause insomnia, too, if you've been taking them long enough and you don't wean off them.  just be careful. 

Thanks for that.  Weaning would mean taking a single dose of A or B, which won't knock me out.  My theory is that getting off long-term sleep meds doesn't cause insomnia; it's just a cessation of masking the problem.  When usage has been long-term, the stooge doesn't realise s/he's 'simply' back to where s/he was before.

Notice I always say "knock me out".  When some smiling professional tells me "this will help you sleep", I groan inwardly.  It's really not a case of being relaxed.  I don't need something to help me sleep, more like a house brick to the forehead.  At the end of a Day One I go off -- possibly closer to coma than to natural, refreshing sleep.

Quoteit sounds like your brain has been thru a lot.

Indeed.  Yours too, right?  The psychologist who diagnosed CPTSD told me the infant response to an unloving mother causes actual lesions on the developing brain. 

NTS:  Leave my brain to any scientist studying CPTSD.  Right now I'm hanging on to what's left of it, if that's okay. :rofl:

I'm highly averse (in theory) to psych meds and sleep meds.  I believe that at some more enlightened time far in the future, people will shake their heads or laugh out loud at the barbaric, brutal, cavalier way in which legal brain-chemistry-altering substances used to be handed out.  "Oh yes, this movie was made in the 2020s. Incredible to think that's what they did in those days, isn't it?" It's the brain, for crying out loud!  That's all I've got to think with.  How can I let someone tinker with that?  I think I'd fare better, or at least as well, with a leech attached to each temple.

So, at this stage I'm still planning to be right after the queue that amasses outside my GP surgery just before 9am every weekday.  I'm taking the six printed pages that come with every pack of Pill C, having underlined all the ghastly side-effects I've had for months, ie. long before I took my one and only dose last Friday night.  I'm also taking this year's edition of the diary I keep religiously every day no matter what state I'm in.  It shows I've been riding the dragon since January 1 (as well as long before), just that on Day Ones I tanked up on coffee to drag myself through.  No more of that.

There's a whopping big road between me and the surgery, the one that links us to London.  Yesterday I did my usual threading across, easily able to judge speed and distance of oncoming cars, halt in the middle, watch the other direction, go again.  Today I'm more likely to be in fugue state at the pedestrian crossing, not able to tell whether that car's stopping or not, possibly not noticing the flashing green man. 

It has to be done.  Mornings are for 'emergency' patients, first come first seen, so I'll be in the waiting room a long time.  Better take a book, too. I'll do my best to be coherent, but the doctor (whichever one it is :roll:) will certainly see and hear a Candid who hasn't presented in this state before.  And what can s/he do?  Nothing.  I know that.  I just want this on the record.

Well, this post has taken me more than an hour.  I'm all over the place.

Thinking of you today, dear Candid. I hope they see.

we're with you in spirit, right by your side, helping you get across that road without incident.  i hope it goes well.

you're right that the original problem is left behind, and it needs to be resolved.  i was thinking of my own case, where i have restless legs syndrome which can be caused by a misfiring of one of the sections of the brain so that the nerves in my legs twitch, make my legs jump, and interfere with my being able to sleep soundly.  it wasn't till i got on meds that i knew what i felt like - i hadn't slept well for 20 yrs. before i was diagnosed.

so, i'm thinking my brain had already been damaged (as you mentioned, lesions or something else) and the physical damage doesn't allow profound sleep.  besides this, i've also had my share of sleepless nights due to other issues, but as they slowly get resolved, my sleep has more nights of what my body and brain need.  i know you're still looking for a t to help with those other issues, too. 

in the meantime, i hope will all my heart that you get some help with this.  it's agonizing, to say the least.  standing with you all the way, my dear.  big hug to you.

 :bighug: :bighug: while you're going through this. I hope sometime soon a doc who knows what s/he is doing comes up with a lasting solution to the problem.

Thanks Three Roses, sanmagic7 and Blueberry.  :heythere:  I wasn't aware of it (or anything else) at the time, but I definitely must have had the Team with me while crossing the road. 

The waiting room was packed and the surgery a shambles, as always.  Their computer was down, which meant everyone had to check in at reception, no one seemed to have a clue who was waiting or what order we came in, and no one's patient notes would be available to the doctors. Having pointed out to the receptionist that no one can get through on the phone and that the online booking 'service' doesn't work at all, I realised I was... um, disinhibited.  For me this has always been the result of severe sleep deprivation, as far back as I can remember. So there was a part-time Aussie in a room packed with stoic Brits for two hours.  I laughed out loud several times, checked "recommended" on a feedback form and wrote under "comments" that it was better than Monty Python.

On balance, I don't think it was worth dragging myself there so a doctor who doesn't know me from Adam could see a Day One.  The point was to get it on record. I had the six-page list of Pill C adverse side-effects, on which I had underlined everything that's also a symptom of severe sleep deprivation.  I made it clear I'd taken one of them almost a week ago and nothing since.  I told her about Day One and Day Two. I opened my diary at random and read out a Day One. (It's an A7 page a day, so that took about 10 seconds.)

She consulted the bible then handed it to me with her finger on Pill B side-effects: agitation, memory loss, confusion, disorientation, irritability, irrational thoughts, etc.  (I was double-dosing on those at the end.)

I pointed out that these were also the symptoms of severe sleep deprivation, ie. the very thing the blasted pills are supposed to fix.  I certainly had all the above before I took any pills. Is this a homoeopathic kind of deal?  It gets a whole lot worse and then it gets better?  Because I'll admit I blanch at long lead-in times.  I imagine Big Pharma rubbing its hands, here's another one about to take the bait that leads to lifelong legal addiction.  Being addicted to anything is a health-wrecking nuisance.  And in the meantime, it's an accurate perception that things are getting worse, plus nothing's been done about the cause.

I wondered why I'd gone beyond the standard 10 minutes with her until she said she couldn't let me out while I was talking about lethal doses and walking out in traffic.  I was gobsmacked.  Had she heard me at all?  I had to repeat that I'd thrown out Pill C and that four or five hours' sleep out of every 48 regularly has me going about in a trance.

If she's able to put anything on record, what with the computer system being down and all, I doubt it will be sympathetic,  Lesson learned: Day Ones are for staying in the attic.

Thought I'd drop last night and was surprised to be awake long after lights-out downstairs.  I woke at 3am and have been up since 6.

 :hug: :hug: :hug: :'(

I'm so sorry! I do hope you get some sleep soon. Words fail me, I'm so sorry you're going thru this and wish I could do something to help you, my friend.

o sweetie, another horrible doc experience.  dang, will they never stop?  my heart is with you, i hope you know that.  standing right beside you.  sending angel wings to embrace you with gentle, soothing calm and care, hoping you can sleep the sleep of the righteous.  at least for one night. 

i sure do hope this gets fixed and quickly.   sleep deprivation is so dangerous, so mind-messing.  please take care of yourself as best you can.   love and hugs always.

Quote from: Candid on August 25, 2017, 08:29:15 AM
Having pointed out to the receptionist that no one can get through on the phone and that the online booking 'service' doesn't work at all, I realised I was... um, disinhibited.  For me this has always been the result of severe sleep deprivation, as far back as I can remember. So there was a part-time Aussie in a room packed with stoic Brits for two hours.  I laughed out loud several times, checked "recommended" on a feedback form and wrote under "comments" that it was better than Monty Python.

:rofl: :rofl: Nothing like a healthy dose of disinhibition.

Quote from: Candid on August 25, 2017, 08:29:15 AM
The point was to get it on record.

I hope very much for you that getting it on record will help in some way. For me in a social services kind of setting (rather than the doc's) it was actually helpful that I got a bit 'loud' even though they made remarks like 'this is not the loony bin here', but they still had it on record that although I was a young woman who didn't look as if she had a problem, I actually did seem to have one, and they supported my application for a disability permit, which meant that the place who decides on disability permits would be more likely to accept the application right away. They did too.

As for the rest of your post, I'm so sorry that you are going through all this. I don't understand much about medication, purely because I'm lucky in that I haven't had to take that much over the years.

But I do have experience in not being heard / listened to.  Mind-messing, more especially so with our backgrounds.

:bighug: :bighug: and angel wings (good idea, san!) to wrap around you, soothe you for the night and help you sleep.

Three Roses, 'mere' acknowledgment does help -- as we here all know, especially when we're not getting it. Thank you.

sanmagic7, I am taking care of myself as best I can, and I know you are too.  :hug:

Blueberry, I was registered disabled in Oz (on grounds of CPTSD), got a good pension, and the government actually housed me at one stage.  That all stopped when I left the country, and I'm not entitled to age pension for another five years.  In England I'm not entitled to anything until I've been here two years.  One down, one to go...

However, I do have a bus pass.  H insisted I apply on the grounds of disability, so on the form I wrote about the 2015 knock on the head.  When we were at the surgery, H neglected to mention that I couldn't drive before that, never have driven. Same surgery, so the doctor was delighted to stamp the form, put his squiggle on it, and see us out.

Well, I didn't sleep Thursday night, either, so I don't think I was on line Friday morning.  Spent the day in the attic reading, and writing by hand. I'd arranged to meet an old friend after work, and decided it would be better to walk into town than to get the bus.  We had a lovely evening in a pub, a bit noisy but I was able to focus and we talked up a storm.  When we parted outside I think it was about 9.30.  He had to go in the opposite direction to get his bus, so I drifted through the town centre and texted H that I was at the bus stop.  While on the bus I got a text from my friend saying he'd had a good time and was home.  That was quick, I thought.  My next text to H was something akin to Houston, we've got a problem.  He immediately called asking where I was, and I said I don't know.  He said I'll come and get you and I didn't think to enquire how.  There was just me and the driver and one other male passenger.  The driver confirmed that I'd missed my stop (by miles) and said I'm not happy to let you off here, we're nearly at the end of the run so I'll let you know when we get back to it.

Meanwhile the other passenger was asking where I wanted to go, and said: "I know where you need to come out: opposite the George & Dragon."  Bingo!  So we were talking about the general area, then he got off wishing me well.  Another call from H: get off the bus at Sainsbury's. Me; Where's Sainsbury's?  Him: This isn't *expletive* funny, Candid. Ring the bell now and get MOFO BATTERY DIES.

So I approached the driver again and he said: "I told you when we were back at your stop.  We'll be back in the town centre soon." Lots of people got on, and after a while it was just me and the driver again until eventually he said, with some emphasis: THIS is your stop.  I told him thanks mate, your reward is in heaven and he asked if I knew where I was going.  I think he would have driven me to MIL's front door if I'd pushed it.

I don't recall seeing the George and Dragon. By the time I let myself in, H had gone to his friend's house for the regular Friday night sit-up-to-3am thing they do.  I plugged the phone in the charger and texted him that I was in the attic.  Got up around 4am and got through yesterday somehow. In the afternoon we went to my birth town, round the childhood haunts and ending with dinner at the favourite restaurant of our dating days.  Turns out he'd been pursuing the bus when my phone conked out. 
Why didn't you SAY so instead of wittering on about Sainsbury's?
I thought you'd hung up on me, so I went to (friend)'s.

Got good boundaries, my H. 

When we got 'home' I put my jammies on, took just one Pill B (it had been a week; enough is enough) and descended to H's room.  Woke bang on 3am in pitch darkness; groped for my bedside lamp and was groping for quite a while before I realised I was in H's bed instead of on a foam mattress in the attic.  That must be where he is. I don't remember him removing my glasses and manoeuvering me under the quilt.  Have been creeping about here ever since, although it's daylight again now.

NTS: One Pill B gets me about five hours, if it's Saturday night and I haven't slept since Tuesday.

Sorry for the tome.  I get garrulous in writing when I'm like this.  Actual talking is too hard.  Theoretically nothing to do until trauma therapy assessment on Tuesday afternoon.

Candid, you make me laugh, but your situation really shouldn't make people laugh atm. It's just the way you write, like to top it all off, MOFO battery dies.

Once  in inpatient setting when a patient said something and everybody laughed including me, the T remarked that people sometimes laugh when really they should be crying. The room went very quiet... I'm thinking of that now.

I of course hadn't realised that you're not entitled to anything for another year. That is hard, awful... So that means you might even have to wait that long for therapy?!

You can be as garrulous as you like in your Journal, methinks. Especially so if it does you good.
Wishing you all the best atm and doubley thanks for your support when you're in a bad way.

o my dearest candid,

you dear sweet sister of my heart, i'm just glad you got home and are safe.  getting turned around like that is a nightmare, indeed.  5 hrs. of sleep in a week is wreaking havoc with your life.  i wish there was something i could do to help you with this.  all i can do is send you loads of love and support.  the angel wings are forever there to embrace you and help you get some needed sleep.   a caring and concerned hug coming your way. 

Quote from: Blueberry on August 27, 2017, 01:23:36 PM
Candid, you make me laugh...

Yeah, it was funny.  I was laughing, too.  More poignant, to me, is H (for Hero) chasing the number 26 all over town. Someone came looking for me, and it's not the first time he's done similar.  It's highly illegal to use a mobile phone while driving and he NEVER does it; that's why it didn't occur to me he could be right behind the bus AND talking to me.  In hot pursuit of his little goat -- that's what he calls me on occasions like this. 

That brings tears to my eyes.  Not one of my FOO members (or anyone else) has ever come to my rescue in the way H does.  Now I get the reminder about dear old Dad, who in 2002 sent me money to get myself out of a tight situation (understatement) in Wales.  I'd called around 3am, just before lunchtime in Australia.  Mother answered the phone, told me they had guests, and hung up on me.  A few minutes later Dad called from another room.  He told me he'd worked out the time in Wales (family grapevine in good order) and he knew his namesake was in trouble.

He hoped I'd go back to Melbourne. Of course he did.  I said I needed to get to England and he sent the money anyway.

How could I have told him?  He adored her, could see no fault in her, believed everything she said about me and probably everything else.  But he did what he could when he could.  Always.  Lots of times.

And how could They have told me?  They all knew my cellphone and email. I couldn't have expected it from Mother or YoungerSis. ElderSis maybe....  No.  Of course not.  Lost to the world.  But GCbro... He only had to text two words: Dad's dead, so I didn't have to find the death and funeral notices on line at 2am when there was no one to call.  Six weeks after the event.

My bestie last week: "Surely she must think about it... three ++++ed-up daughters?"  Bestie's very perceptive for someone whose two parents loved her, and who's a terrific mother herself.

BIG TRIGGER HERE
I always balked at the idea that everyone who marries marries their opposite-sex parent. END BIG TRIGGER It's taken me 15 years to realise in what way H is like my dad.  It's easy to see in what way I'm like MIL, who frazzles herself worrying about everyone else.

QuoteT remarked that people sometimes laugh when really they should be crying. The room went very quiet... I'm thinking of that now.

Blueberry, I retired to the attic to cry over whatever-post-it-was.  You wrote something like: "They feel braver when I'm there." That was the sentence that opened the floodgates.  Now you've taken that bravery back, because you need it and because you know the rescue organisation will do the right thing.

QuoteSo that means you might even have to wait that long for therapy?!

For some reason, no.  Well, the good old NHS doesn't want even foreigners Doing Themselves In or clogging up the nuthouses.  My long-awaited intake interview is... tomorrow!

Quote from: sanmagic7 on August 28, 2017, 04:02:37 AM
5 hrs. of sleep in a week is wreaking havoc with your life.

It's been pretty wild, san.  ONE Pill B Saturday night, about five hours.  Second one last night, H this morning: "There's no point putting an episode of Jeeves and Wooster on for you. You just fall asleep." But last night when he decided to intervene I made it up to the attic.  He says that was around 9pm.  I woke around 3am but didn't get up (and on line) until 5am. 

The doctor I saw Thursday told me to take ONE Pill B for seven nights.  I now think she was right, so that's what I'm going to do.  They're not intended for long-term use.

Quotewish there was something i could do to help you with this.

You do and you already have.  :hug:

best to you with the assessment, candid.  i'll be right beside you absolutely. 

so glad your h came after you.  it is a special feeling to have someone come for us.  my hub did that for me, which caused me to know that he was worth my time and effort.  haven't had too much of that in my life, either.   very grateful to experience it, tho, at least once.

hope those pills will help settle your system somewhat and you can get back on some type of sane sleep schedule.  fingers crossed and prayers flyin', doll.   big hug to you.

Quote from: Candid on August 28, 2017, 10:22:35 AM

QuoteSo that means you might even have to wait that long for therapy?!

For some reason, no.  Well, the good old NHS doesn't want even foreigners Doing Themselves In or clogging up the nuthouses.  My long-awaited intake interview is... tomorrow!

I hope so much for you that your intake interview will lead to some help and support, soon.  :hug:

Candid, how's it going? I hope you're just busy and tired, maybe even  :zzz: :zzz: :zzz:
I tried to PM but it doesn't work. So made me wonder. I just hope everything's OK, or as OK as it ever is with this Beast.  :hug: :hug:

Quote from: Blueberry on October 03, 2017, 05:02:25 PM
Candid, how's it going? I hope you're just busy and tired, maybe even  :zzz: :zzz: :zzz:
I tried to PM but it doesn't work. So made me wonder. I just hope everything's OK, or as OK as it ever is with this Beast.  :hug: :hug:

:yeahthat:
Hope things are alright, Candid.