To tolerate missing my therapist.

So, it’s been a while. All of my big plans for this blog have fallen through. It turns out this summer has started out busier than I had anticipated.

Currently I’m sitting at the beginning of my therapist’s one week vacation, which has given me a topic to ramble on about. There are only so many places one can turn to rant about missing a therapist. It’s not a commonly discussed phenomenon in my every day world.

Generally speaking, the idea of missing something is a tad foreign to me, and therefore quite uncomfortable. I’ve felt the absence of relatively little in my life. Somehow I’ve managed to skip over developing any sense of object permanence when it comes to other human beings. I usually don’t miss people. In fact, if they are not in my daily life, I tend to think very little of my friends and/or family. I’ve lost many close friends this way. I just let people go and rarely look back.

Who knows why. I certainly don’t. It’s rooted in something traumatic I’m sure. I rarely open up enough with people to truly connect to them in any deep/meaningful way, nor do I expect them to stick around very long. It’s nice because I’m not hurt by the normal comings and goings of friends; however it is still a problem. I also miss out on real friendships. I’ve let potentially long-time friends go way too easily. I can name a handful of people through my life who I feel would still be in my life had I opened up a little more.

Due to the lack of attachments in my life, I only have few people I miss. I notice if someone on campus isn’t around for a while, but it has little impact on me. As far as my friends off campus are concerned, I probably won’t even realize if one had skipped town or began hibernating in his or her house for a while. It’s sad, but true. My sister, who I love dearly, is halfway around the world and has been for almost two years and I cannot honestly say I miss her. I enjoy chatting with her when I can or any visits we have, but I barely think about her not being here or of missing something on either side.

Now, my therapist is in a new category for me. I do miss her. I don’t know why on this one either. She’s in my life for two hours a week, yet knowing she isn’t around for an entire nine days hit me hard.

Part of my issue is that I assume others will forget me the moment I leave their sight as well. In my mind, they must also work in a similar ‘out-of-sight-out-of-mind’ way. My fear is if I’m not in a person’s routine than I’ll be completely forgotten, so I try to do what I can to stay “active” in a person’s mind by staying present in his or her life. I tend to agree to gatherings and activities I’d prefer to not attend just so I’m there and not scratched off the list for the next thing. Basically, I feel like if I don’t make myself noticeable, then no one will see me and will ultimately forget I even exist.

So, this fear is amplified with my therapist because I do miss her while she’s away. I realize just how much I rely on her or what she brings to my life and I’m terrified of losing it. I’m afraid she’ll forget me. I’m afraid we’ll meet again in a week and things will be different. She’ll realize how emotionally draining I am as a patient. I won’t be important to her anymore. I’ll have been replaced or just plain forgotten about.

"Wish you were here
Here to make everything right.
My world revolves around you,
My only grounding source.
In all of this confusion,
I need you even more."
- Jonathon Clay, Wish

(Didn’t think I’d forget to add bits of a song in here, did you? )

She’s my foundation, upon which everything else has settled. I count on our regularly schedule appointments. When I’m struggling, I often break time down to session-to-session periods. She’s very reliable in terms of scheduling. We met the same day and time every week. It’s part of my routine, which I find safety in. I’m without a doubt a creature of habit and my routine is scared to me. I know she’ll help me if I let her and I count on that. In the midst of my roughest periods, all I want is to hear her tell me things will be okay.

In addition, somewhere along the way, some small part of me feels she does care about me and I actually appreciate it. I could even go as far as to say I might even like feeling cared about. I like that she seems interested in me and concerned about my welfare. I feel like she wants to help me. I feel like she sees and hears me, that she notices me. I like feeling connected to her. However, when she’s gone, it’s gone.

I have yet to internalize that feeling and now I’m missing it. I feel disconnected and lost. I feel like I’m floating through the world alone. I feel lonely and afraid.

I have these difficulties every time she leaves for an extended period, but this is might end up being one of the more intense periods. I’ve already come very close to having a panic attack after realizing she was not available, which has never happened before. I need her right now and it frightens me she’s away.

I’m in the middle of what a friend and I affectionately refer to as “summer crazy,” which is never pleasant. My PTSD and dissociative symptoms tend to go through the roof as July approaches, and I need her to help me keep them in check. I want someone to know what’s going on, and at this point, she’s all I have. I don’t want to be alone with it all. I want help. I don’t want to put myself on the verge of ending my life because I’m so miserable.

So, with all things considered, I miss her. The thing is I don’t know how to tolerate or alleviate the feeling. I can’t make her come back, nor would I want to. She needs her time away, just as much as anyone else. My first reaction to missing her is to conclude that I need her too much, meaning I need emotionally pull away, which isn’t healthy. In my mind, it becomes a sign of vulnerability that cannot be tolerated. Well, actually, that’s my only reaction at the moment, although I have begun to resist that urge more recently.

The goal is to tolerate such a feeling. One day, like any other feeling, it won’t be so new and overwhelming. In addition, I have to learn to internalize the positive feelings and believe that they remain the same during these breaks. I have to learn to hold onto the feeling that she cares which doesn’t change when one of us takes time off. But, when will I get there? That place seems so far away as I stand here holding this intense anxiety and loneliness.

She's suggested a song she's connect to me to help me remain anchored in our relationship. Music is something we use quite often in these situations. Either I recommend one to her or the other way around. The idea is that we'll both think of each other when we hear the song(s), therefore stay connected when we're apart. It does help. I've created a playlist of songs I've related to her in some way. Most of the songs are those I've passed on to her, with a few just random ones I've kept to myself and the four she's given to me. At times like this, that playlist is on repeat.

Why am I so emotionally inept??

A world of words.

Walkin’ like a one man army
Fightin’ with the shadows in your head
Livin’ out the same old moment
Knowin’ you’d be better off instead
If you could only

Say what you need to say
- John Mayer, Say

If only I could, John, if only I could.

I live in a world of words, as most do. My days are filled with them. Reading materials pertaining to my field of interest. Listening to well-scripted presentations. Discussing new findings. Writing papers. Lecturing students. For all intensive purposes, grad school is a lengthy training course on research development and writing.

The cornerstone of Academia is sharing ideas. Journal articles and textbooks are read in order to formulate research questions, for which experimental methods are developed to test those hypotheses. Months are put in gathering data and days of complicated statistical analyses to draw conclusions from the results. All so a paper or two can be written emphasizing the significance of those findings. As a further test of one’s writing skills, the original paper is condensed into a single paragraph abstract that will ultimately make or break the entire thing. Eventually, those original papers are revised and reformatted, with each version sent to a conference committee or a respectable journal. The hope is it will be deemed worthy of inclusion in said conference or journal, leading to a presentation or publication. From there, slides highlighting points and posters displays are made and presented. Leading to more questions and the cycle begins again.

Therefore, existing in a professional domain where Intellectual Property is of the highest value, I am worthless if I’m unable to appropriately articulate my thoughts and ideas. My right of passage is the ominous dissertation, a word I imagine makes even those not faced with one cringe, and an oral defense of the work. The path to the promise land of tenureship is paved with published articles, awarded grants, and conference presentations/lectures. Effective writing and speaking is a necessity and I do, in fact, possess those ever-so-important communication skills. The point of all of this is to say I am perfectly capable of accurately expressing my ideas and thoughts.

Yet, those honed skills and abilities have not filtered into the rest of my life. In my personal life, I'm inept with regards to self-expression. It is as if I've lost my words, or at the very least, lost my control over them. My ideas are brief images that I neither have the time with or words to describe. In some cases, I’m simply unsure what I’m feeling. I seem to have no means of describing my emotions. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not necessarily a lack of vocabulary. There's a disconnection between my internal experience and those labels.

Throughout my childhood, I was told and shown my feelings were unacceptable and had severe repercussions. My stoic father punished me for crying, pouting, arguing, or any other reaction to a situation. I was to be still and quiet, not allowing anything to affect me. My emotionally needy mother often took my feelings from me. Whatever was bothering me was much harder on her, or, if it wasn’t, dealing with my display of emotion was, leaving me as the one to consol her. I was told my negative thoughts would hurt those I cared about. Specifically, if I were to ever feel any amount of anger towards my mother it would destroy her, leading to her suicide. I was terrified to hold a thought or feeling in my mind for more than a second, for fear something terrible would happen. My solution was therefore to have none, and pushed them all safely away.

Now, the problem is they are so foreign to me I can’t even comprehend such feelings and thoughts, let alone explain them. My communication skills fail me. The part of my brain able to speak is detached from that which feels. It makes therapy a difficult, frustrating process and personal relationships a struggle.

But, how can I be so articulate in one part of my life while the other continues to lag so far behind? Why is this turmoil stuck in my head with no way to escape? How do I let it out? How do I learn to differentiate feelings and explain them? Have I missed that stage in my development, leaving me trapped in this place of confusion and frustration?

Have no fear for givin’ in
Have no fear for givin’ over
You better know that in the end
It’s better to say too much
Then to never say what you need to say.

I hear ya, John. It's just harder than it sounds.

"Wait it out while I am someone else."

The post title is a line from John Mayer’s song, Not Myself, one of my all-time favorites. For whatever reason, I find the lyrics really hit home for me and where I am in life. That place being in a general state of limbo, where I often don’t feel like myself. Or, at least not a self I’m comfortable being. I’m still finding my spot in the grand scheme of things. Trying to make sense of my past and creating a future. I know I’ll always be relatively the same person, but who is that?

Suppose I said I am on my best behavior…

Currently, I’m still in this glorious transitional life stage called young adulthood. I’m in the process of finding my place in the world and feeling settled in my life. From an outside perspective, I assume I come across as a well-adjusted individual. I’m living on my own and supporting myself, which I have been for years. My choosen career path could be considered respectable by some. I've found several enjoyable hobbies, have had the opportunity to travel, and have surrounded myself with good people. What more could one ask for?

I chose to continue my education and stayed in school, although, “grad” now adorns the prestige position title of student. While my responsibilities and expectations on campus are greater, I’m still living a more advanced version of the student lifestyle. Basically meaning, I’m skimming by on a research assistantship stipend and student loans, without the added buffer of parental financial support, and bogged down by the common worries and burdens of other adult. It's true, grad school isn't a continuation of those carefree, fun college years. I’m ready to take the next step on my career path, but it takes time. I love what I do, but I certainly don’t want to be a ‘professional student.‘ It can be frustrating idling at the bottom of the Academic World. Fortunately, graduation is coming into focus.

There are times I lose my worried mind.

However, there’s a lot of self-doubt and internal turmoil hidden within my mind, leaving things less stable than they appear. I’m in the middle, or rather close to the beginning, of processing a troubling childhood in therapy. There’s a lot to get through and I’ve spent most of my life living in fast forward trying to stay one step ahead of it all. Well, it caught up with me. Fortunately, I’ve found a compassionate therapist willing to deal with my stubbornness.

For the most part, I tend to allow fear to rule my life. I’m afraid of confronting my issues because I worry I’ll crack under the pressure and things will fall apart. I avoid acknowledging my feelings for fear they will overwhelm me. I refuse to change many relatively problematic behaviors or challenge distorted thoughts, because I’m concerned it will only reek havoc on my mental ‘stability’ and my external facade will crumble.

However, once again, I’m not at a complete halt in this area either. I am making progress. With the help of my therapist, I’ve made significant changes in my life, with many more on the horizon.

Would you want me when I’m not myself?

I wish I was more settled in every part of my life. I’m not comfortable in my own skin. I’m plagued by body image issues. I’m chronically insecure about my intelligence, despite external reassurances. I spend a lot of time hating myself and feeling like a failure. I feel ruined by my past and unlovable. Yet, at times, I also have high hopes for my future. I believe things can be different than they are… that I can change. I have goals and feel confident I can reach them.

And I, in time, will come around…

In some way I think I am slowly becoming a better person, friend, sister… overall, a better me. So, how will it all turn out? Who will I be when the dust settles? For the moment, I’m just me, searching for myself and trying to figure out my future. Leading back to the original question, who will wait it out while I’m someone else?

Making a mark.

The emptiness of this blog intimidates me. Beginnings are always awkward in my opinion. The responsibility of making that first mark on any blank space isn‘t something I take lightly. There’s no turn about once it’s done. There’s no taking back that initial stroke of your paint brush or pen. The perfect white canvas or paper is now spoiled. Will the newly added mark be the cornerstone to a beautiful picture or a permanent blemish rendering the medium useless?

Which is the best foot to put forward in any given situation? Which side of me would be most readily accepted in this situation? Which part of me most appreciated? It’s hard to tell. There’s also the other side of it. Which piece of my life would be off-putting or alienating? Let’s face it, some things about an individual can be received poorly, whether it be the actually information or its delivery.

So, how do I want to present myself in these ever-so-important opening moments? How do I make a good first impression? There are certainly no social cues to steer me in the appropriate direction. Although, that’s because this is my space. A place where I get to tell my story, with all of its highs and lows. I get to choose the direction and set the tone however I see fit. But, how?

Regardless, I need to get things rolling and this was my first step. A quick hello to get these first few words out of the way.