I met with the assistant dean today and was able to withdrawal from the program. The school is not right for me. Now, I just need to pull myself back together. I am not sure what my next step on this journey. I think my parts need to introduce themselves to my therapist and talk about why the fall is such a bad time.
Today, I plan on going home and watching tv. I still do not like leaving the house. Now, I will also be able to use the bike that I have a little every day to build up the strength in my legs.
It started with a panic attack this morning. I did not want to get out of bed. I felt paralyzed. Yesterday was to much. I fell walking into school. The neighborhood where I have to park is questionable. Today, I am left with the cuts and bruises.
Then there is the fact that I feel like I am drowning with school work. I knew it would be a lot. Mentally I am ok, physically my body is breaking down. I am so drained. All I want to do is sleep. My hands and feet are going numb. Fibromyalgia is active again. Inside, I just cannot keep up. My thoughts are slow and I am always sore.
Luckily, I am seeing my therapist more often. I still miss my psychiatrist. I feel like she would have known just what to say. I miss her everyday. It is not often that one finds a psychiatrist who really cares. Being tired does not help anything.
I want to go to sleep. My body is fighting to stay awake. Thoughts of self-harm are strong. I am doing no my best not to act on them. I find that I cannot remember huge chunks of class. I am not sure where I am drifting off too? Maybe my safe space? That would make sense since the area around the school scares me.
I saw my parents this week. Once at a wake and another to me at a restaurant. During the wake my mother came over to talk to the kids. They were not having any of it. In fact my daughter was ready to scream. When wee saw them the next night at dinner, they did not even come over to us. I really think that the only child that they want to see is my oldest. He has not spoken to me for about two years. He has blocked my phone number.
This morning is training for my field placement and I am unmotivated. I did not want to come into a school. I was fine the day that I left teaching and have not gone back. What is getting me through is that one month is already over. I can apply for the specialty that I want next year. I am hoping to be in a hospital or hospice. I am looking forward to doing a placement in an area that I chose, instead of one chosen for me by someone who does not know me.
I am already burnt out not even halfway through the semester. I need to enforce the modifications in my 504 plan. I need the adaptations to make it through the semester. Parking is crazy. I am so tired after having to talk so far. Then I have trouble staying awake in class.
My kids are taking things better than expected. The always seem to find a reason to do their work with me. They motivate me to keep going.
Field is not going as well. My field instructor believes that my mental illness is going to have a negative effect on my work and capability in the field. I have had to go above my field instructor and I hate that. Why can’t I get through a semester without an issue?
The only saving grace is that I have therapy twice a week. That has helped to reduce the impact of secondary trauma. The times are effecting my school work, yet I need the time to work on my issues.
It is only the third week of class. I feel like I can barely keep my head above water between the readings and papers. All of my papers are due in the first two months of class. This is not an easy schedule with therapy twice a week and seeing my psychiatrist.
Then there is waking up early on Monday to get the kids to school. They want to come for their optional weekends. The only issue is balancing time with them and school. I really want to spend more time with them, yet I have so much work.
Therapy has become more challenging. We need all parts to begin to work with our therapist, yet all are not sure how they feel about “coming out” to him and revealing who we all are. That will make us vulnerable. Are we ready for that?
At least I will have time to work on my paper this evening. I also somehow need to complete all of my readings for tomorrow!!
Overwhelmed!!! I can ask for an extension due to my 504, yet I feel like I should be able to do this like everyone else without turning assignments in late. Maybe I just need to accept that I am going to need a little help to get through this.
Today is just beginning. At least I have arrived safely from the parking garage! One item down for the day.
Somehow I survived my first week of field and class. I am trying to take it one step at a time. I make lists of everything I have to do and then cross each off as I do it. This gives me a sense of accomplishment. Field is hard. There are points where I feel like I have not received the training and struggle.
The kids first week went well. So far, they like all of their teachers and have their friends. I have already received a frantic call about homework and was able to help over the phone. I will see them soon and I cannot wait to hear more details.
I am now having therapy twice a week since my psychiatrist decided he only wanted to manage my medications not my parts. My therapist is helping. He reassures me all of the time that what I am going through is normal and has assisted in helping me with reality testing .
Home life is ok. My husband and I arely at home. We are both so tired by the end of the day that we wind up just going to sleep.
The good news is that I am taking my medications. I am waking up and getting a little more sleep at night. The only problem are the mightMares that wake me up in the middle of the night.
Today is my first day of field. I am sick and excited all at the same time. I am scared to be here for an entire day. Normally, I can only go about 4 hours and then I will begin to fall apart. Hopefully, I can keep it together.
I have PRN’s, yet I am worried about taking them because they make me sleepy. This is going to be such a challenge.
The kids were over this weekend. My oldest moved downstairs and my youngest got a bigger room. They were happy. Now they each have a tv and either an x-box or a blue ray.
I have had to increase therapy to twice a week. My psychiatrist had stated that he is not going to do parts work with me. I really wonder why he went into trauma to begin with if he wanted to keep a huge divide between him and his patients. My therapist was great about finding an extra time for me to come each week. I am going to need something with all of this stress.
This really is one hour at a time. Then onto class this evening. At least I have off tomorrow. That should help with the stress and the sleep. Now just to see how today goes!
I met with the liaison from the student disabilities office today. She was nice and seemed to think that all of my accommodations could be met next semester. There is still so much doubt that even with the modifications I may not be able to do this. There was a question about extended support. I do not have any. The best that I can do is to email my therapist.
Today, I took a chance and showed my therapist my artwork. He was able to see the maps that we had done and drawings that we have made. We feel like we are on the cusp of a breakthrough. We have been holding so much in for so long. Those that say that we cannot talk or that what we have to say is stupid or will not be believed. Our therapist ensured us again that anything that we say is confidential and acceptable.
I hate driving to this campus. Two years and it will be over. Two years which seem like I surmountable mountains ahead of me. I took a step today and I will take more over the next few weeks.
I heard that trauma therapy was a guided tour though hell with the patient as the tour guide. The statement could not be more accurate for me at this time. I am at the precipice. I can see the fire and the smoke, I can feel the heat. Now, I need to take that very hard first step inside. Go back into my memory and dig out the thoughts and feelings fromm so long ago that still haunt me and have become my personal demons.
These same thoughts have also become a prison from the outside world. They keep me isolated and alone. Afraid to tell my story or feeling different because of what I have been through.
My therapists office is a safe space. If I have to go through the journey, at least someone is going to be there with me. To hep me when things get tough and to pick up the pieces so that I can move on to the next week. All of those horrible experiences need to be relived in order to heal. I hope that this works and that going through some of this makes these memories have less of an impact on my life.
If I want to help others with their problems in life, I need to address my own. It is time to take that first step into the unknown and to find our what is behind all of the flames and the smoke. Maybe after all of this, I will have a sense of piece and can have a relaxing and tranquil spot to think of my memories. Maybe they will just be contained somewhere that is safe and only I can get to. They will only be memories, not events that still control my life.
A genogram. One simple word with so many complex issues. Normally, people in therapy are asked to do them. Often they help to explain relationships and issues. I have not been encouraged to do one. In fact, I have been discouraged. My family is part of the reason that I have PTSD. I do not want to go delving into something that I know will upset me. This semester has not even been over a week and I am already overwhelmed.
I need to complete the assignment, yet I do not want to take a close look at my family. Maybe I will try to start it and take it to therapy this week. Another part of me wants to email my professor and explain things. Then I think about the fact that he will most likely not care about my issues.
A guided tour through hell. That is what I feel like I am getting with some of these assignments. Tomorrow is another day of new adventures. Hopefully they will not be nightmares.
My ultimate goal is to becom a Social Worker in a child welfare division. Right now, I am still trying to process my own traumas in therapy. To get through all of the things that happened to me.
I had a reading this week for one of my classes on how a certain targeted group is treated by a group of professionals. Of people who we should trust. It made me sick. To know what year it is and that people still have antiquated attitudes.
Class talks a lot about oppression. This just reminds me that there are certain companies that will not even hire me based on the fact that I have a mental illness. Then there are the interviews that I may get. I have to make sure to cover the scars from all of my self harm.
If I ever do get hired, I will need to listen while people talk about their families, while I cannot talk to mine and they do not want to talk to me. Holidays are hard. Birthdays are hard.
Having a mental illness is somewhat invisible. Sometimes that can be horrible. Times when people talk negatively about anyone who has a mental illness or says that they are not as bad as they seem. I am guilty of trying to hide my panic attacks and pretending to be ok when I am falling to piececs.
I have thought a lot about self harm lately. About how it would relieve some of the pressure and hopelessness for at least a few minutes. Then I think of my kids and my goals. As bad as I feel, I have to keep going and maybe one day, if I get out of the other side I can tell someone that it does get better. It is hell and fighting along the way. One can slip and fall down. It is definitely a rocky pass with obstructions. Yet, a long way down where they may not be able to see is a light at the end. It starts as a speck. That is where I am. I hope the light get bigger and brighter. I want to give others hope that abuse does not define them. That it does not have to keep them back. That their abusers are not the ones with the power any longer.
My abusers are still there. They are still active. I am still going through my dark journey. Sometimes it is not pretty. I think I spent my entire therapy session last time just yelling that I felt that no one cared or could see me. So, things are a struggle. They are hard. Everyday brings something new. Negative or positive. There are so many pints where I want to just stop and say that is enough. No more!! I cannot say it always is better or that the days are always great.
Reality is that there are triggers everywhere. That I have to just breath to get through or leave the room for a few moments. That is my reality.