Only Forever

It’s been a while since I’ve been here on WordPress, both in reading other’s posts and writing.

I’ve been absorbed in my business. Trying out different things, reaching out to people who I think might need a website or branding, creating, setting up “practice” websites. Because when I’m in design mode, the world doesn’t exist.

A couple of hours ago, I got hit with the realization that I’ve probably just been wasting my time. I’m doing all this work on my business, but for what? I haven’t had a client in so long that I’m not sure I’ll even know how to talk to them if any show up. It feels like things won’t ever change. So I’m just over it. Over everything.

My move to Sweden is still not happening. It was moving forward a little over a month ago, but it’s stalled again. It seems I’m blocked any which way I go. Limbo is a strange place to be in.

I saw the interim therapist twice again, even though I said I didn’t want to. The last session we had felt like we connected in a way we haven’t before. Haven’t seen her in a few weeks now though.

Am seeing my regular therapist next week Wednesday (which we booked a few weeks ago), for the first time in what seems like forever. I’m not even sure whether I still want to see her. I’ve been feeling indifferent towards her for a while now. I also don’t have my hopes set on that appointment. It might get canceled. So not placing any “bets” on it.

I promised her in an email more than a month ago that I wouldn’t bother her again. And I have this thing where if I make a promise, no matter how much it hurts, or how hard it is, I refuse to break it. I’ve been the victim of too many broken promises throughout my life and vowed to never do that to anyone. A part of me thinks I’m taking it to the extreme. But the other part won’t back down. She has a baby now anyway, so I’m not important anymore. If I ever really was, as far as the therapeutic relationship goes. Everyone has their own lives, that I just don’t feature in. And I’m not owed that. The world doesn’t owe us anything. So it’s fine I guess.

I haven’t seen any friends, or anyone for that matter, in weeks. I guess I’ve been numb for so long now that I don’t even know whether I’m capable of any genuine emotions anymore. But whatever.

Online “connection” feels so fake to me lately. I know it isn’t, not really, but to me lately it feels that way. It’s just not good enough. Social media, people “liking” and “commenting” on photos and video’s. It just seems so superficial. It’s like, what’s the point of anything, you know?

At least I’m not drowning anymore. I’ve learned to breathe under the water. It’s dark, no sunlight reaching the depths. It’s quiet. There’s no struggle. I’m just floating around. It’s not a bad feeling. It doesn’t feel like anything.

Wish I could write an inspirational post for a change (been meaning to for a while), but can’t seem to get there.

I don’t know what to do with myself. The hours are looming before me, so just going to take my meds now and go to sleep.

Light and Wilderness

Life is strange. I am strange. I had forgotten that there was a pandemic going on. And that it was the Easter weekend. How did that happen so quickly? Didn’t the year basically just start?

I had run out of food and some other necessities, and managed to return to the real world just in time to sort that out.

I had made an appointment with the interim therapist and only discovered it the next day. Way to go dissociation! But I think it was the right thing to do. So, my brain does have my back sometimes it seems.

The move? Didn’t happen. Two days before the time, I woke up to a message saying that due to unforeseen circumstances they had to cancel. For the first time in days I actually felt something. Not sure what that feeling was. But I couldn’t stop laughing. Weird. The place I was currently staying in had someone moving into it the day after I left, so couldn’t stay. I spent hours trying to find another place, but most of those I found within my budget were already booked. At some point during this process, panic showed up.

Funny thing is that up until then I had only managed to pack one big box, which was just less than half my stuff. So no need now to rush-pack after all.

I phoned M, because I knew she had a spare bedroom, and explained the situation to her. Asked if I could just stay for the month of April while I find another place or wait for one of them to have a room available again. I was going to pay her upfront for that month of course. She told me that it’s not a problem, but she’ll let me know for sure later that day. I was a bit worried because the guy who’s renting from her (and is like her surrogate son, subconsciously replacing her son who passed away, in my opinion) is rude to everyone but her. Even M’s friends don’t like him, saying he’s manipulative. I agree with that, but it’s her life. I was sure that she meant it when she said she was okay with it, but that the “I’ll let you know for sure later today” was so she could discuss it with him.

Late that evening I got a message from her with nothing but two links to places found on a local marketplace website (a website where dodgy people love hanging out). The places were old listings. Not helpful. When she didn’t reply to my message, I knew… that was her way of saying it wasn’t going to happen. So now I had that evening and one day to find another place. And you can’t call people at that time of the evening. I was pissed off. Hurt. Overwhelmed. Exhaustion hit me and all systems went offline again. Don’t tell me something is okay, and then change your mind, but not talk to me about it in a truthful and direct manner. Ignore me. Why do people play games like this? Just come straight out and say “no” or whatever it is you want to say. The worst part of it is that M knows that I need honesty and openness. Even if it hurts, I handle it.

My two best friends were also going to be moving the same day I was due to. I phoned them to ask if they could possibly help me out. But since it was a new place they didn’t want to ask the landlord whether it would be okay to have another person move in as well. They actually made the effort to have the open and honest discussion with me, so I have no ill-feelings towards them.

Thankfully my last shot was my saving grace. I went to speak to the owners of the place I’m currently staying in and explained the situation. Asked whether there was any other way. Or knew of any other places I could stay. The lady said that she’d see whether they could make a plan. Turns out that the guy that was going to be staying in my place was only going to be here for a week. The owners managed to sort it out with him, so I could stay. I can’t explain the relief and gratitude I felt. It worked out!

When I had first found that other place I was anxious (moving is stressful, no matter how great the move), but excited to be moving back to an area I knew and loved and was so close to the beach, bus service, M and doggy. That place was also dog friendly, so M’s precious little girl could stay with me for a few days and we could go for walks on the beach (which was only 5 minutes away). I was also planning on volunteering at the dog shelter again as I could actually get there by bus.

So yes, while I’m extremely grateful that I have a roof over my head, I’m also very disappointed that that place hadn’t worked out. But such is life and there’s nothing I can do about it. Oh, and I have to stay here now until I finally get to move to Sweden, as my dad doesn’t want anything like that happening again.

I’m still floating between here and nowhere. Some days I’m actually able to work and study for 10-30 minutes at a time here and there. So that’s good at least. Every little bit helps. When your executive functioning is in a state of disorder, you’ve got to take the small wins when they occur.

My uncle is still in hospital. But apparently there are some good signs for a change. Wish I could see him. Sent him a message and asked my aunt to let him listen to it. That’s better than nothing.

I don’t feel the connection with my therapist anymore. It’s like it just vanished. Like she never really existed. Yes, that again. But it doesn’t feel bad anymore. I’m thinking that it’s only temporary and a product of my self-protective mode. She said she’ll be back, and I want to believe that exclusively, but I don’t. I also don’t believe that she won’t come back. There’s not really any emotion going on with regards to this. We’ll see what happens.

It Just Is.

I’ve reached a point where I just can’t fight anymore. With anyone in my head or against anything. I don’t have the strength for that anymore. It’s also just a waste of time.

Decided that I need to let go of a friend who keeps hurting me and did something behind my back that felt like a huge slap in the face. I held on to that relationship because I’m so damn desperate for connection that I was willing to put up with her behaviour toward me and some other people in my life. I can’t do that anymore. I won’t.

I seem to have regressed to my childhood and adolescent ways of coping. Daydreaming and being content in my own world. I can control everything that happens there. And I’m actually okay with that. It feels like a good thing. It’s comfortable and warm being there. Familiar. It got me through rough times, so while some might think it’s not healthy, to me it is. I’ve realized that I’m better off by myself, and will just keep doing what I need to. Let the world go on around me. That’s how life works after all. We go with the flow. If someone wants to meet up for coffee or whatever, I’ll obviously go along with it. But no more reaching out myself. It’s been pointless 99% of the time after all.

Not sure when I’ll see my therapist again because of the maternity leave. But I’m okay with that now. I’ve also decided to not see the interim therapist again. Need a therapy break anyway. Managed fine without it for most of my life, so at the moment therapy feels kind of pointless. Don’t want to run the risk of forming an attachment with the interim therapist as well. Attachment is too complicated and painful.

Probably going to start packing today for yet another move on Thursday. Will be moving into a much cheaper place. I’m usually super anxious with moving, but been numb since yesterday afternoon when it seems I finally settled into this state of not really caring. It’s a comfortable numbness.

So I’m okay.

Thanks to all of you who read and comment on my posts. 🙂

Time Doesn’t Stop Flowing

I received an email this morning reminding me that my birthday is coming up soon. Well, thanks for that. But hey, they sent a voucher as well. For something that I have no interest in.

And once again I was sent down a rabbit hole of existential angst.

I’ve recently give my business a bit of a makeover, complete with a redesigned website. Since first starting my business I’ve learned a lot. Both from personal experience, and theoretical knowledge through courses, books, webinars, other entrepreneurs, etc. I’ve reworked my business model a bit and feel more confident with my direction.

Running a business reminds me of life. If we’re not growing, changing, or experimenting, we can’t expect anything to be different. Sure, we may fail more than we succeed, but that’s part of the deal I guess. Here’s hoping that my persistence will pay off eventually.

I don’t have much to show for my life. I don’t have anything to my name. I’m not financially independent. But to that voice that shows up way too often, and is often way too loud to ignore… I’m trying dammit! And I’m proud that I haven’t given up on my business or myself. I try to be a good person, treat others with respect and kindness, and give where and however I can. This all has to count for something.

On another note, I got to see my therapist this week. No cancellation. It was a good session and a lot got cleared up. I feel confident and secure in our relationship again. It was our last in-person session until after her maternity leave, so from next week it’s video sessions. There are going to be weeks when I don’t see her, or where she might have to cancel. But we’ve discussed it, so I feel at peace.

It’s been such a busy week, what with my laser-focus (forgetting to eat/sleep/etc) on my business. I’m officially running out of steam now, so have decided to step back and rest this weekend (well, from with what’s left of today).

I’m not that young anymore after all. Except in my own mind of course.

A Lifeline

Last week my therapist cancelled our session due to a personal loss.

My heart went out to her.

It was a strange experience. Usually a cancellation would trigger my abandonment issues. But this time all I could think and feel was an intense sadness for her. What this cancellation means to me didn’t even enter my mind (at least not consciously). For the rest of that week I carried on with life as normal.

Of course, I thought about my therapist often, and experienced those same feelings of sadness for her situation. Along with a deep sense of care, and hoping for comfort for her.

Something inside me shifted on Monday. Certain frustrations in my life intensified, and I received some bad news regarding my emigration (a new plan has since been made however). I was feeling extra intense pressure from my dad and everything starting going haywire inside my head. I felt overwhelmed. To the extent where I just wanted to end it all, just wanted to make it stop.

And then the panic set in. The desperation. I wanted my therapist. She would understand. She always does. She was the only one I feel safe with emotionally. Our session was a couple of days away, but what if she cancels again? What if she doesn’t come back? What if our relationship changes due to her loss? Yes, now the attachment demon had arrived. Now it was about me again.

I felt ashamed by these new thoughts and feelings. How could I be so selfish? That’s when the self-hatred kicked in.

On Tuesday came the message I feared. My therapist was cancelling our session this week too. This brought back the memory of another attachment figure, my OT, cancelling two of our sessions back to back, and then sending an email weeks later terminating our work. The reason for the new cancellation was also a trigger. The memorial service was on the day my session was supposed to be. My therapist had said that she would be back in the office this week. So the thought that she was going to be seeing some other clients this week, but not me, felt devastating.

In panic mode all I wanted to do was beg her for a time, any time this week, even just a 10 minute call, which we had done before. I wanted her to know how badly I was taking this. The effect it was having on me. I felt like I had been on the edge of a cliff since the previous day, and now I was slipping. But despite the frame of mind I was in, I resisted my urges. Because I didn’t want to make things harder for her than they already were. Because I care about her.

But I knew I needed to do something because at that moment I didn’t trust myself with myself. I knew I needed to talk to someone. A professional. I thought of the therapist who I had two sessions with when my therapist was on leave. While I had been comfortable with her, I wasn’t comfortable enough in this situation. I didn’t want anyone that was even remotely connected to my therapist. I wanted A. Other than my current therapist, A knows me best and knows how to work (and deal) with me. We worked together for more than two years after all.

I reached out to her and asked whether we could schedule an appointment for sometime this week. I was worried that she wouldn’t have time available. But thankfully, she did. So we scheduled a video session for the next day. And even though I was in a horrible place for the rest of that day and evening, there was that little sliver of hope peeking through. Keeping me going. Keeping me safe.

Still, leading up to our session, fears that she would cancel as well, kept showing up. But she didn’t cancel. She showed up. It was like coming up for air.

We’ve had contact since we stopped working together when I moved over to my current therapist in 2018, but they were just text messages here and there. She still reads my blog. This has all been enough to keep our connection strong.

I didn’t know what to expect after such a long time of not seeing her. I thought I’d be nervous. That it might be weird. But it wasn’t. It was as though no time had passed. It felt familiar. Comfortable.

For some reason, my distress of the past few days and hours fizzled out as soon as I saw her. We caught up a bit. Some nice moments.

It was easy to open up about everything going on. And it felt so good to be able to talk to someone about this situation with my therapist. Especially with someone who is a therapist herself, and at the same time, knows me well. She provided different perspectives. Possibilities. Got me to list the evidence for why I can trust my therapist and know she cares about me. This exercise was extremely helpful, and not something I had been able to do, or see, in my distressed state.

What was also helpful was when A told that I’ve grown since we worked together, and pointed some of it out. It helped because I’d been feeling like a failure. A therapy and personal failure. Like I had regressed completely. It also felt really good when she said that it was nice to see me again. A much-needed boost to my self-esteem.

Ever the ethical professional, she asked whether I would be okay with her contacting my therapist to let her know that we had a “emergency” session. I actually really appreciated this because like she said, she doesn’t want to interfere in my work with my current therapist. Feeling protective though, I asked her to rather send her that message next Monday. I want to give therapist some “space” this week. She doesn’t need to be thinking of me right now. I’m seeing her on Monday (still struggling with the fear of yet another cancellation), so then we can discuss it as well.

This session was exactly what I needed. It felt like a warm, comforting hug. It was as though I had been stuck in a pit of despair and negativity, but had been pulled out of it. Of course, this doesn’t mean I’m completely okay. I’m still struggling. But I’m coping.

We do what we have to in order to survive.

It’s Not Okay

I shouldn’t be drinking wine (or any form of alcohol) when I’m on my own.

Yet that’s exactly what I’m doing. There’s a sense of rebellion in it, and for some reason, tonight, that feels good.

You see, I told my therapist I wouldn’t, yet here I am. I lied to the one person who has been my rock during a very confusing, overwhelming, and difficult period.

I’m struggling with this whole living alone thing. I’m so done with it. I always thought that’s what I wanted. But it turns out I need that knowing that someone else is around. I want to be alone, together… If that makes sense to anyone else. I have been getting out and spending time with my best friend every now and then, but I’ve found it’s getting harder and harder to leave and face the world. When I’m out there I just want to come home. But once I’m home, I’m relieved, but alone once again.

I have reminders set up for everything, because without them I tend to get lost in some or other world. I have a few special interests, and once I’m “in the zone” with them I struggle to get out of it. I’ll be working on a website design project and before I know it, 6+ hours have passed and I’ve forgotten to eat, go to the bathroom, sleep, etc. I don’t realize I’m hungry or haven’t eaten in 10 hours until I feel dizzy and nauseous. So, as you can see, reminders are a necessity for me. When living with someone I basically follow their lead, and am reminded and more motivated to take care of myself and do the basic things.

The whole pandemic thing doesn’t make things any easier. Everything feels messed up and out of sync in the world. And personally as well.

So, therapy. Had my session today and told my therapist about a dream I had where she was pregnant. I then asked her whether she was, but wasn’t expecting the answer to be “yes”. I had meant it more as a joke than an actual question. It felt as though I had just walked in front of a truck, and I have no idea why I had such an intense reaction to that news. I think I tried to make a joke about how my mom always had this thing where when she would dream someone was pregnant, it would turn out to be true, and that maybe I got that from her. I didn’t want my therapist to know that I had just become extremely uncomfortable. But obviously she noticed. She told me that she hadn’t told any of her clients yet, that I was the first, and she was open to any questions I have. I asked her whether she would adopt me. Seriously. So weird I know.

I didn’t really ask any questions, other than things to make myself seem as though it didn’t affect me. Of course, I did have a couple of very quick tearful moments. She mentioned something about how she’ll still do online video sessions with select clients during her maternity leave. I told her she’ll be too busy with the baby and she’ll wear herself down. “Babies sleep.”, she said. And then I went on about how new parents quickly realize that babies are exhausting and she’ll probably be too tired. As if I have experience with that (which I don’t, other than being obsessed with babies, baby books and magazines when I was a teen). I think it was near the end when I asked her whether she was happy about the baby, and her answer and expressions warmed my heart. I’m happy for her, I really am. So then why do I feel so messed up about this? I’m guessing there’ll be more conversations and emotions coming from this. It shouldn’t matter anyway. I’ll be moving to Sweden probably still this year, and we will be switching to online sessions while I adjust anyway. But it feels like it does matter.

Since our session, everything makes me want to cry, and for a few seconds every now and then, I do. But mostly, it’s just sitting there, wanting yet resisting expression.

I didn’t realize until last week just how much my family moving to Sweden is actually affecting me. They’re over there having a great time, constantly out and about, living the good life. I feel like I’ve been left behind. Abandoned. Another big struggle has been my relationship with M (the lady I used to live with for those that don’t know). For the past few months I’ve been the only one initiating contact, and every time I’ve tried to arrange to visit her, she’s had some excuse. She also confused me so much. Her words and actions never lined up. The few times I got to visit and spend time with her and doggy, I would leave confused or hurt. She would go on about how great the guy who moved in after me is for her. I felt replaced. I felt that she was comparing us. So I tried so hard over the past few weeks to pull away from her. Not letting her know when I was going to be in the area. But I would slip up, only to have my call go unanswered and no contact. It was making me feel like shit every time, so both my therapist and myself thought it was better for me if I just saw our relationship as one that was only supposed to last a “season”.

But the “pull” I feel towards her isn’t that easy to ignore. And I gave in again today. I thought I couldn’t feel any worse than I already did, so what the hell. I called M, and she actually answered and we arranged to meet at our favourite coffee shop. She genuinely seemed happy to see me. But I’ve gotten that wrong with so many people before. So I could be wrong. And even though she also told me that it’s nice to see me, I found myself doubting her words. She brought doggy with her so I could see her too, which I was really glad about.

Today seemed to be a day of shock news. M told me that she’s engaged to the guy who moved in when I moved out. It happened on Monday, and again, I’m the first person to know. They’re 30 years apart in age. Not that I care about age, love is love. But it was the last thing I ever expected to hear. Her husband passed away two years ago, and her son in March. I once told my therapist, months back when the guy first moved in, that I think M has some unconscious process going on. Her daughter, who’s name I share, passed away a year before M asked me to move in with her. Then, she told me she needed to live alone, so I had to move out. Then shortly after that, this guy moves in with her, into what was my room. His name is the name of her son. So I thought that maybe she was “using” us on a subconscious level to try to fill those holes. It was the only thing that made sense to me at the time. When I saw her a couple of months back, she told me that this guy reminds her so much of her late husband. And now she’s engaged to him. She said she’s happy, and I want her to be happy, but I’m just worried. I didn’t tell her about the worried part, and am not sure whether it’s my place to share my concerns with her.

I think I’m having a bit of a mental health breakdown. I even sent my previous therapist a message last week asking whether she was angry or disappointed with me. That’s something I haven’t done in such a long time, so that’s a definite sign that I’m not okay. I’m not okay. Not even a little bit. My therapist will be taking a week’s leave in two weeks time, and we’re arranged a check in. She offered to do a video session during her off week to keep that stability there for me, but I don’t feel that’s right. She deserves a break, so I said we could just do a 5-10 minute phone call instead. I know she’ll only be gone for a week, but with how I’ve been, I don’t think I would survive a whole week without hearing her voice. Hell, it feels like I’m barely surviving as it is.

There’s just been too many changes. And for someone who takes months (and on a few occasions in my life, years) to adjust, it’s just too much.

Nothing feels okay.