Insanity of the fish...

"Whenever someone sorrows, I do not say, "forget it," or "it will pass," or "it could be worse" -- all of which deny the integrity of the painful experience. But I say, to the contrary, "It is worse than you may allow yourself to think. Delve into the depth. Stay with the feeling. Think of it as a precious source of knowledge and guidance. Then and only then will you be ready to face it and be transformed in the process." Peter Kotestenbaum

First let me start by saying bad day. It's been one, alright, and I'm not sure how I'll turn this into a positive blog by the end. But I'd like to, so that I can go to bed with piece of mind

I'll go ahead and tell you now that I started a new blog. I call it my "Creative Therapy". My therapist told me to start a journal and I hate hand witting anything, so I just added another blog.

I went to see my therapist today. She's awesome and I would recommend her to anyone except for the fact that if everyone started going to her, I'd see her quite a bit less often. So thanks but no thanks. I'll leave her name undiscovered. I knew when I woke up that this would be a hard day for me.

Therapy for me is all about reliving the last several months, the feelings I've felt. Reliving the pain and suffering. The heartache and most of all, the loss. She would be happy to know that I'm feeling this way; except, I absolutely hate it.

I built a wall that I thought no one could penetrate. No one except a woman with a degree and words that will put you into a trance instantly. She'll relax you at the snap of her fingers. She's just that good. Then before you know it, you're spilling your guts out to her. Telling her all the rotten feelings you've got harbored deep down inside you. By the end of the session, you leave feeling worse than you did before you got there, which is ironic considering the whole point of cognitive therapy is to make you feel better about yourself.

Apparently, I'm living in denial. I'm refusing to go through the grieving process, which is okay with me since I don't have to cry. And according to her I'm throwing myself into work, school, and my son. I'm not giving my soul and heart enough time to heal. I'm running 2,000 miles an hour on empty. Eventually I'm going to break down. (All this is true and correct, but again... I'm really okay with that).

Therapist: "You need to get angry. Physically and mentally. You need to hit things, throw things, yell, scream."

She told me all the ways in which I could do these things without hurting anything or anyone. Hitting pillows, throwing ice in a tub, screaming in your car, running, etc. She also told me that I need to start eating more. Not that I wasn't eating before. I would skip the first two meals of the day and eat supper. I'm also a heavy caffeine addict and she wants me off of it because it's causing me anxiety attacks and is going to severely damage my functioning level if I don't stop now.

So, after my session-I went out and bought a big ice cold Pepsi. It was awesome. I didn't do it just to defy her. I don't know why I did it. It's really the same thing with smoking.

Mind: you need to quit.
Body: uh, no?!
Mind: You're only hurting yourself
Body: So what? I need the nicotine. I need the fix
Mind: Seriously? get over yourself
Body: ::cha-ching:: swipes card for a pack and an energy drink::

I think my bosses may think I'm slightly insane, though. Today I brought them my work excuse which had "Alabama Psychiatric Services" printed on the front with 3 more therapy dates within the next 2 months (they didn't know that they were for different reasons: Marriage Counseling, Therapy, Psychiatry). I was half tempted to say:
"Look, I'm not some bipolar schizophrenic working for you. I've just got issues, okay?"

But I figured I'd let it be and play the crazy card for a while to see how far it gets me. I'm pretty interested since they like to play practical jokes on ME and I'm curious to see what they would do if I just started acting loony on them one day.

So, today at work I was thinking about goldfish. Relating my life to them. Wondering how we're the same. Well I think we're as much the same as brother and sister (minus the gills and water)

I got two fish a couple weeks ago from the state fair. I knew they wouldn't live long. With my luck, NO fish live long... but these were Fair Fish and had an even less chance of surviving.

You live your life under a microscope getting watched by strangers. You feel trapped, obviously. Your life under constant scrutiny. You can't make a move without someone noticing.

Everyone expects you to fail because of your recent backgroudn (in this case, the fish has been traumatized by being moved from the fair to the glass bowl at a home. In my case, my mother and son died in 2 months time).

If you don't fail, you're a freak. If you do fail, you'll meet everyone's expectations. Can't the fish get a break? Can't you just let it be without watching it every second of the day?

People are constantly criticizing the way I act. I'm not grieving yet so I must be insane. I'm acting normal, it's fake okay? I'll put on a social facade all day every day for the rest of my life if I must, but until the therapy works, we'll just stick with the plea of insanity. As far as the fish is concerned, well... my fish died. Hopefully I won't any time soon. I'm pretty sure I can make it through this hump in my life with lots of time and effort.

That's all. This post is lame. I know. :)