Choices…

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So I have some choices to make. I had some good feedback from some counselors the other day.

1. Am I acting in my best interests? Should I be more honest/truthful with the professionals? Is the crisis a way to feel the care and concern from the people in my life? Will I need to keep the crisis going in order to meet that need?

2. One thing after another has been happening, and it feels like I have no control over my life. Indeed, am I not giving up more control to all of the other professionals now involved? Is there resentment? is it expressed as my defiance and pushing away? How can I exert control in a helpful way?

3. The Wild Boar is a great image, with thick skin, growling and charging. But although it gets us through, it also keeps other people out, and prevents pauses for reflection. Why am I protective, why do I need such a thick skin/personal bubble?

4. There are too many cooks in the kitchen. Being involved with so many professionals means that my therapy might stay at this elementary level, and not move beyond. If i want to go beneath the surface, get help identifying what i know intellectually vs experientially, I may need some help. But I definitely need consistency, and a stable therapist, otherwise the frustration is going to continue.

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So – which therapist gets to stay, which has to go? and if I ask for a new one, how do i know I’ll like them?

what am I protecting myself from? People, the world. They hurt me all the time. But maybe I need to practice shrinking my bubble, and letting select people come closer. And allowing that good stuff to come through the bubble, to penetrate my thick skin.

I think the crisis has helped me to experientially know that i am not alone, that I have lots of love in my life. Something I knew intellectually. And I think I can say with confidence that I do not need the crisis to continue in order for me to keep feeling that love.

And yes, I think there is definitely some resentment in the cloudy mix of my baggage. Who wouldn’t be resentful? But I’ll have to come up with some potions to turn that resentment into something helpful.

 

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further thoughts on death

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I’ve been thinking more about my reaction to the dissection this morning. I felt tired for the rest of the day, sometimes feeling quite withdrawn, and sometimes feeling more like myself. Once I got home, I gave in to the lethargy, possibly some self pity, and the general ‘traumatization’ as my roommate put it.
I did not have such a reaction to the dissections from last semester. In fact, I was quite rude to the squid that I cut up. F teased me about it, and I responded with, what’s the matter, it’s already dead? But the beings we dissected last semester where all alien to me. I have never seen one living. Especially the horseshore crabs. They look like creatures from a science fiction film.
But yet I am upset at today’s behaviour because of death. I have clued in to the reason why – the cats are the first real dead being I have been forced to acknowledge, and even examine. Even when Trix passed away on New Year’s Day, I only looked at him long enough to tell he was dead and to put him in a bag for burial. I felt as though it would be wrong to look at him in detail. Like it would be disrespectful for others to know I was curious about his being dead. Perhaps the giddiness and high energy of today is just the others’ way of handling their curiousity – by joking and making light.
Trix’s death was tidy, and put away quickly (although I have not yet buried him, since it the ground is frozen). Being confronted with the stiff, wet, preserved, smelly bodies of the cats in class forces me to look at my feelings around death. I would be further traumatized if I had to look at my cats in that way – empty of life, static. I am uncomfortable with Death. Not for the sake of those who die, but instead my own sake. (After all, we are all selfish beings – the world revolves around our own egocentric view.) I would bemoan the loss of those who die, for how they make me feel. For the comfort of their presence in my life. If that presence is removed, I would be sad.
And I am not always certain what to do with my sadness. My emotions are confusing to me, buried deeply in my ‘psyche’ or what ever I should call it. I am getting better at understanding and acknowledging my emotions and how they effect me daily. I think that is partly why I did not fight my reaction today, but let it have control, let it happen, and dare I say, even embellished it a little. For someone who dreams less in words, and more in feelings, you would think I would have a better grasp on my daytime processes. Nope.