Many Years of Poems

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!!!

I ran out of my Invega yesterday, but I should have one more 15-day script and the certificate to get it filled free. Well, I can find the certificate but not the actual prescription, which does a lot of bloody good. Fuck.


And in further fuckery, the SDC program is not accepting new applicants at this time (probably due to lack of funding), so I can't get help paying for therapy so I can't go. FUCK FUCK FUCK!

Did I mention FUCK!!!

Nicholas and Cliff are both mad at me about smoking. Cliff got mad because I went out and smoked in the car because it's raining outside. Nicholas says I act like a junkie where cigs are concerned.

I feel like I need something to calm my nerves. I backed myself off the Buspar and Klonopin and now I am not taking anything to settle my nerves. Smoking calms me down when I'm feeling anxious.

Part of me would like to end that addiction. It's not healthy, it's expensive, everybody imaginable wants me to quit, there are ninety bazillion reasons not to smoke. But I can't get away from the comfort I get from smoking a cigarette.

I withdrew from the _survivors_ group because Nicholas wanted me to; he said that it was only a painful reminder of what I've been through and that I should give it up. So I did.

But I feel like no one will let me have my comforts. I feel like I'm being asked to make all these changes and nothing is familiar or comfortable any more.

Cliff just read over my shoulder and said, "Why did you stop taking your anxiety medicines? I'd rather you were taking the anxiety medicines than smoking." Good question.

I backed off the Buspar because I didn't have any refills for it, and I felt like nobody trusts me with the Klonopin after what I did two weeks ago with the suicide attempt (overdose of Klonopin). But I guess I can refill the Klonopin and/or talk to my psychiatrist about writing me a script for the Buspar. (I was originally prescribed the Buspar by a psychiatrist at the hospital. I don't think my psychiatrist has ever prescribed it to me.)

I probably should talk this over with Patricia (my new therapist) when I see her again next Monday. I need some new comforts in order to get rid of the cigarettes. I just don't know what else to do.

I still feel fairly calm and peaceful.

Cliff is getting over being sick and poor Nicholas has been running a fever all day and sounds like a bullfrog because his throat is sore and his sinuses are all fubar. (He's got a fairly deep voice anyway.)

I've been nagging him to rest and drink lots of fluids because that's about the only thing that really helps a bad cold. I put a hot compress on his head to try to loosen up all the sinus crap but I'm not sure that helped. He's being male and stubborn and wants to sit up with me instead of resting in bed like his sick ass ought to. It's sweet that he wants to be with me, but he should be in bed.

Tomorrow is my therapy appointment, and then Wednesday I have to see my psychiatrist. I'm hoping I can get my psychiatrist to put me back on Zoloft instead of the Paxil. My gyno thinks the Paxil is making me gain weight which I do not by any means need to do. I'm hoping that Patricia (the therapist) is as cool as her bio makes her sound. She called me today to confirm my appointment and I spent a good five minutes trying to figure out her accent. She sounds a bit like a Scotswoman who's been living in the Southern US for a long time. I'll have to ask tomorrow.

I'm a little nervous still about the therapy appointment. I feel a lot better since the ritual but I know I still have work to do.

I'm also nervous about Thanksgiving. I don't really have the money to do the traditional meal here, so if we're going to have turkey, etc. we really have to go up to my parents' house and I still don't know how my parents are going to react to Nicholas. I shouldn't care, but I don't want to alienate what family I have left. Oh well. I guess we just have to wait and see on that one.

I think I'm going to go take a nice warm bath with some lavender oil in it and go to bed. I'm tired from staying up all night last night and not sleeping much today, and if I go to bed, Nicholas will too and rest like his sick behind needs to.

After I wrote the last entry, I took an overdose of Klonopin and had to be rushed to the hospital. I just got home this morning.

I'm doing better now. I just felt like everybody was angry at me over things I don't know how to fix.

I'm going to go back into counseling. I have to learn to cope better than I'm doing, or one of these days, I will kill myself. I had every intention of doing it the other day, and I was already feeling the effects of the overdose when I told Nicholas what I'd done.

Oh, and karmic_serenity, thanks so much for the hug. It's going to stay on my profile page as long as LJ will let it.

Anyway, I have to learn some better ways to cope with anxiety and frustration and I have to learn how to get past my communication blocks. Sometimes I just can't talk even when I desperately need to. So off to counseling I go. I'm going to check out a couple of different counselors and see which one I think fits me best and then start going on a regular basis.

Hello.

Still alive.

Finally got on with Jewish Community Services, although they're much more expensive than my current counselor and on the other side of town from where I live. I've seen the counselor there once; I'm going to give her three counseling sessions before I make up my mind about her. She's younger than my current counselor, which might be a good thing, closer to my age, more able to understand me. On the other hand, less experience with the world and as a counselor. (My current counselor has children my age. The new counselor is probably younger than I am, but probably not by more than a few years.) We'll see. One session is not enough to know whether it's going to work.

I have been feeling a bit better. My doctor changed my depression med and I think it's finally working, even if it does make my feet swell.

Cliff and I finally set a date and started with the wedding planning. He wants to go to Vegas and get married in a swimming pool with Mai Tais in our hands. I told him I'd do that if he'd arrange it, since I'm doing all the planning for the family-and-friends handfasting and reception.

Wedding planning is a pain in the ass, but it's kind of fun too. Doing the bridal registry was fun; I got to pick out all sorts of specialty cooking things we want that we haven't been able to afford to buy ourselves. We were 28 and 32 when we got together (now we're 32 and almost 36), so we both had a fairish accumulation of household goods. But we can replace some things that need replacing and maybe get some new toys for special cooking since we both like to cook. Finding a place to have the handfasting and reception is going to be a pain. Picking out the fabric for our garb (we're both in the SCA so we'll get married in dressy SCA garb and that way we can use it again) was fun; sewing it will be a pain so I've decided to hire that out so a friend who sews better than I do.

It gives me something to look forward to. I just want a pretty ceremony and a good party. I don't want anything too fancy or expensive. That's not too much to ask, is it?

I just came back from an appointment with my therapist. I see my psychiatrist tomorrow, and then on Thursday I have to meet my mother at the lawyer's office about the adoption.

My therapist (and my boyfriend) want me to start going to a support group (or more than one). I left a message about one support group with its coordinator; we'll see if she calls me back. This is a therapy group for women survivors of childhood trauma, which probably would do me some good.

I miss my old support group in Charleston; I miss my Monday night ladies. I don't know if another support group will ever measure up to them.

I feel scared and alone and I don't know what to do. I don't feel like anybody else in the world knows how I feel, and I don't know how to make anyone else understand.

According to my mother, the lawyer has found my ex-husband and will be able to serve papers on him about the adoption. I hope he doesn't come to court. I don't want to see him; I don't even want to think about him.

I went to see my counselor today for the first time since before I fell and hurt my feet. I cancelled a couple of appointments because I have to climb stairs to get to her office, and I wanted to wait until I could move a bit better before attempting those stairs.

The hallucination episode happened right after the last time I saw her.

She asked me a hell of a question. She wanted to know what the facial expression was on my dad's face in the mirror.

That kind of took me a minute. I've been trying not to think about that whole episode as much as I can avoid so doing.

He was glaring at me.

I don't like thinking about this. It bothers me.

I've been having a pleasant little IM conversation with my friend in England; he can usually cheer me up, unless he's in one of his rare bad moods. He's in his usual fairly chipper mood, so I've been distracting myself with witty transAtlantic repartee.

I keep feeling afraid that people are angry with me for various reasons, usually ridiculous reasons if I examine them with the eye of logic. Paranoia, paranoia, everybody's coming to get me...

Well, I HAD made an appointment to see the doctor again. (Recap for anyone who doesn't remember, I've only seen him once, I only really need him for medication management, I have a counselor for actual talk therapy. The one time I saw him he asked me if I had resisted what my dad did to me, or if it was "just statutory rape." Doctor shit episode 1, episode 2, and episode 3.)

The appointment was for tomorrow morning, but last night I realized that if I didn't deposit the money I had set aside for the appointment into the checking account, the checking account would be overdrawn. Rent came out of the most recent paycheck, and we also had to buy parts for my car (which is mercifully running again, so I can give my parents back the car they've been letting me use and get them off my back), so money is a wee bit tight. I thought I would be able to call the doctor's office, explain that I can't afford to make the appointment and reschedule. Simple, right?

Not hardly.

I got a lovely (/sarcasm) letter from the doctor's office shortly before I made the appointment, in which they informed me that if I didn't make an appointment soon, they would close my chart. So I made the damn appointment, thinking that I would be able to afford to go.

When I called to reschedule, for one thing, one of the office people got incredibly snotty with me; "Why do you need to reschedule?" (It wasn't the question, which seems reasonable to me; it was the vocal tone.) But what would have seemed reasonable to me, once I explained that I simply do not have the money, would have been to let me reschedule the goddamned appointment, let me pick up another sample package of medication so that I don't stop taking my meds in the interim, and shut the fuck up. She rescheduled the appointment, and when I asked about med samples, she said she'd have to speak to the doctor and call me back. (Again, not really unreasonable; I can understand having to check with the MD before dispensing psychiatric meds.)

When they called me back, they told me that if I don't keep the appointment tomorrow, my chart will be closed. Closing my chart means that in order to see this doctor again, I would have to pay the initial visit fee ($150-some), and probably fill out some bloody annoying paperwork. They said that I can come in tomorrow and pick up another month's worth of medications, but if I don't come to the appointment (WHICH I CAN'T DO BECAUSE I DO NOT HAVE THE MONEY), I will have to pay the initial visit fee again at the rescheduled appointment.

I was so upset when I got off the phone that I immediately bummed a cig. I was trying to quit, or at least cut back severely. (Later on, I went and bought a pack, to avoid bumming too much from my friends.)

I'm still pissed off, and this happened a few hours ago.

I was supposed to meet my parents for supper tonight; my aunt and uncle and some of my cousins are in town, and I would like to see them. But I'm too angry and upset, and I don't want my family to see me like that.

I told my family I didn't want to drive tonight because in order to get where we were to meet for supper, I would have to drive over a major bridge, and we are currently under the last little bits of Tropical Storm Alberto, so I didn't want to drive over a bridge in 45 mph winds. This is true, but it was an excuse.

When I told my boyfriend, he said, "Fuck him. He's an asshat, and we don't need him. We'll find another doctor." He also said that when he goes to work tomorrow (he's a paramedic and works at a hospital), he's going to ask around and find out the proper channels to go through to file a formal complaint.

I have been having the worst time all evening trying to calm myself down; I can't lie down and take a nap because I'm too upset. Every time I try to quiet my mind, I start having thoughts of harming myself, or thoughts of suicide. The old, "This is hopeless, you can't be saved, you're not worth saving, you should just go away" recording is playing in my head again.

I think I'm going to have a friend ride with me tomorrow to pick up my meds, just for moral support. And I'm going to need her help anyway, to get my parents' car back to them. I just hope I've calmed down enough to drive safely by then.

Well, I saw my counselor on Wednesday; she complimented Cliff and me on our ability to communicate and resolve difficulties (re: his beer breath during his birthday celebration).

She also seemed rather surprised at the doctor's phrasing of the rape question. She asked me if it was okay if she asked him why he said that; I told her to go for it. (I already cleared her to discuss my treatment and counseling with the doctor and her supervisor.) She seemed to agree with me that perhaps he might not be the best doctor for me. If he thinks there was anything I could have done to keep my dad from hurting me, then I don't need his kind of "help".

His office has called me a couple of times, but we keep missing each other. I'm not sure what they want; maybe they want to know why I haven't made an appointment.

I'm going to have to do something, because I only have so much of my medication, and I probably really do not need to stop taking it.

It all depresses me though; the thought of having to see the doctor again bothers me, because of the "was is JUST statutory rape" thing and because of his general demeanor, which made me a bit uncomfortable. But the thought of trying to find another doctor who is willing to see me without charging more than I can pay is not exactly thrilling either.

My counselor also wants me to think about my goals for treatment. I don't know. I'm having such a hard time making myself get out of bed most of the time that I have no real hope for being able to work or go to school again. (I've thought of returning to school to pursue my MA in English.)

I feel less suicidal than I did; at least I'm not spending a lot of time thinking about ways to kill myself. But I still feel fairly hopeless most of the time; I still can't see a future for myself in which I will be able to take care of myself, or be able to make my life into a life I want. I still can't see any way I'll ever be more than I am now, depressed and anxious and too afraid and despondent to really do anything.

I still worry about money, about getting the bills paid, about paying for my medical care, about the huge mass of debt I have (mostly medical). I still have nightmares; I had a horrendous one a few nights ago, in which my parents told me I was no longer welcome in their home, and they didn't want me around my daughter.

My parents have given me no real reason to think that they'd kick me out of their lives; I don't really know why I dreamt that.

I suppose I should call my counselor and ask if she has talked to the doctor, and if so, what he said and what she thinks I should do next. I'll call her in the morning, I guess.

I saw my counselor again yesterday afternoon. It seemed to go pretty well, but I think I'm about to have a problem. The counseling center is run by the Catholic Diocese of St. Augustine (in conjunction with St. Vincent's hospital, also a Catholic organization).

I'm not Catholic.

I'm not even Christian.

I'm divorced, 30 years old with a child who will be fourteen in a few months, and living in sin with my boyfriend, whom I have no particular intent to marry. (Nothing on him, I just have no real intent to remarry. I won't say never, but I doubt I ever will.)

My belief about Deity is that there is a divine power, the source of all energy, creative and destructive (because sometimes destruction is necessary, just as death is necessary), transcendent of human form and definition, and encompassing both masculine and feminine energy in perfect balance, which manifests itself most clearly in the cycles of the natural world. This does not fit well into Christian beliefs, and it certainly does not fit well into Catholicism.

I don't really believe in an afterlife; I'm sort of torn between thinking that when you're dead, that's it, and believing in the possibility of reincarnation. Again, does not fit well into Christianity, and particularly not into the Roman Catholic subcategory. I call myself an eclectic pagan, simply because my beliefs don't really fit into any other category.

As usual, I don't fit the paradigm.

Anyway, in yesterday's session, my counselor asked me if I'd grown up with any religious instruction, and I did.

( Long-ass tangent on religion )

But somehow I think my non-conventional belief system ain't gonna fly with this Catholic counseling service. I didn't actually articulate all this to the counselor because we were out of time when the topic arose. But I expect I'm going to have to explain it eventually, and I'm a little worried about the consequences. I guess I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.

In other news, I heard back from the doctor's office, and I have an appointment on Monday, May 1. The doctor is willing to see me at a reduced fee, so YAY for that. I sort of hope he'll want to change my meds or something. I am not sleeping well at all, and that never does anything good for my temperament or emotional state. I have a hard time falling asleep, and then I don't stay asleep. Bleah. I also have shaky hands sometimes, and I feel jumpy and anxious a lot of the time, and I still have my times, especially at night, when I really don't want to keep trying any of this.