A charming hello to you and I hope that your day follows a good and happy pattern. I am going to write one of those blogs that sorta just let itself out of my head onto the page. I have not really slept since the call from my therapist as she told me that I am getting a new psychologist. This will mean going through all that “let us get to know you” again!
I get so frustrated as I know what my issues are but I need to know how I go about fixing them. I know there are ones that relate to my childhood that will certainly take longer and most likely a different approach to repair but let us start with the ones that will allow me to leave the house without fulling into a crying, hysterical baby the first time he meets Santa.
The next issue I have is that I have had so many of these ‘professionals’ ask me what sort of psychology I studied for my Educational degree. First of all, I fail to see what that has to do with my own personal issues, I would watch for students that displayed signs of low self-esteem, victimisation, abuse etc, so we could address it, and it was very educational based, looking for lack of social interaction, defecting from sudden movement etc.
My second issue is that I have survived abusive relationships, have had issues where my children have been exposed to both natural and human danger, where I had no control but as I could compartmentalise that it was easy to handle. Yes, I can pick up a book and read through the data and knew how to put it into place was as simple as following the direction. However that Adrienne is no longer here!
I currently think I have no worth or value. I know how to identify what my problems are (after all I have an about average IQ), but six months ago I died but I had a medical team smart enough to get everything going again. After four days in a critical care ICU coma and additional five days in ICU, I was told that I had some damage, no one was too sure how much or if I would ever return to ME! I do not need to be a genius to tell me this. I have worked this out for myself. Start a conversation and forget what I was saying after two words, a book I would have read in a single day taking over a week, not recognising words that a child in year five would know, going to a room a by the time I get there forgetting why I was going there.
It is destroying me, my English (I am dyslexic, so my relationship has always been very special) is all I have ever had and when I say that to the psychologists they give me an answer such as “let us work on the cognitive-behavioural therapy, all the rest will follow”. Not being able to write, or read as I could is like being dead…it was my lifeline during an abusive childhood, aggressive marriage, a lifetime of negative self-esteem, it is my best friend, the only friend who does not care if I am crying, fat, lazy and so many other annoying bad habits.
I am sorry to be so negative but it scares me because my writing and reading are not what they were and I NEED them back but no one cares. It has always been my safety blanket, my best friend, sometimes my only friend. I have decided to do more house cleaning, yes I know that I did some the other day but I really need to do something to use up these negative, miserable feelings.