I was in the ER a while ago. The doctor thought I was faking it because he didn't feel I was in sufficient pain. I was "too quiet" and therefore I couldn't be in actual pain. Amazingly, when they ran the appropriate tests, yes there was a problem, yes the pain was real. It's almost as though I came to the ER with an actual problem.
I was taught that my pain was something to hide. My parents weren't people that I could run to in tears and ask them to kiss my boo boos. I was knocked off my bicycle when I was 17. It did not occur to me to tell my mother that I was in pain. I went to bed and couldn't get up the next morning, at which point my mother had to do something. I had broken three ribs and dislocated two more.
It is really hard for me to express pain.
Yesterday I found out my entire summer is scrapped while I take care of my dental work. I am in pain. I don't know how to express it.
I know that the dental surgery will make things better in the long run. I know how fortunate I am that I can get the work done. However, it was not until I was describing the procedure to someone that I took it all in. I broke down and began crying. In less than an hour, my entire summer has changed, I have still have to deal with pain for six more weeks and then recovery. I am scared. Dental work is something I only associate with pain. Getting work done on my teeth is like torture. It's so bad that I have bitten my dentist.
So I am saying, I am in pain. I am scared and hurting. I know all the benefits of getting the surgery done. However, that doesn't change the fact that right now, I just want to go hide in my pillow fort and ignore the rest of the world.
I haven't been posting much. Part of it is because it is summer, but the big part is because my social anxiety and my online/text life have become a problem.
I met someone online, Eric. We had a lot in common, so we met in a public place and that went well, so we continued talking onlne and kept meeting in person. I thought things were going well.
Eric invited me to join him at a wet munch/play party in the local area. I knew that he was going to be there with a friend (his word). However I specifically asked and he told me that it wouldn't be a problem. It was a problem.
His friend seemed like much more than a friend and she was attached to him all night. What I thought as of (and had dressed for) a date was a misunderstanding. I am not sure what it was supposed to be, but I don't think I would have agreed to go out on a work night, dressed to the nines, if I had thought it was anything less than a date.
I was polite that evening. The next day I noted my confusion and I tried to be as circumspect as possible. According to Eric I overreacted. He decided that we should no longer see each other. But no harm, no foul he said.
Yes there is harm and foul. Not only can I not trust anything he says, but now I am second guessing myself in all of my text communications. Maybe I am really just a horrible person who expects too much. I am starting to wonder about all my text conversations.
I am starting to feel like I am expecting too much of everyone. I figure that I was expecting too much to believe that Eric, who invited me to attend an event with him and knew that I didn't expect that I would know anyone, would be more considerate.
If I am just asking too much of everyone, and therefore should stop asking until I figure out what is appropriate. I just want a place safe, with someone who feels real. I have my husband and he is wonderful but he is an introvert, so there is only so much social he can do. I feel like I need something more companionable in my life. I am not sure that is something I can ever hope to find, given my levels of social anxiety.
The one upside is that I did know someone at the event. I reconnected with an acquaintance and that relationship is on the way to becoming a friendship. Thanks to this person, I was introduced to a number of people at the munch and have returned a number of times and been invited to join them at other events.
Today's song is one that...well it suited my mood.
I'm still salty (as my students would say) about not going to Disneyland. At a certain point I just had to accept that I wasn't going to be able to change things and trying to go this weekend in a fit of pique would cost far more money than I have to spend.
I want to go to Disneyland this summer, but it depends on if I can find anyone who wants to go with me.
I realize though, it wasn't Disneyland itself that was the problem. It's that I had started making plans. I started thinking When I go to Disneyland I want to get Wreck-it-Ralph ears. When I go to Disneyland, I want to ride Star Tours. I could imagine myself there and having imagined it, I wanted to make it a reality. It's hard to accept that this weekend, Disneyland isn't my reality.
I like plans and schedules. I like planning a trip. I am good at travel agendas, I used to book travel when I was working in tech and I always loved playing with the possible flight times, figuring out hotel deals and all that sort of thing.
When my plans for Disneyland fell through, I wanted to make sure I filled my weekend up so I didn't have to live in my disappointment. I couldn't do it. Well I could, provided I wanted to do things by myself. However, planning with other people can be a royal pain in the ass. After telling everyone I was going to be busy until Sunday, I missed out on a number of opportunities. The fact that I have significant issues with planning and other people is not helping.
As I mentioned before, I have Daddy issues. My father would make plans with me. He would regularly break them. My stepmother or stepsister's needs always seemed to override his promises. I am glad that there weren't cell phones back then, At least once my father and I got going, I wouldn't have to worry about our time being interrupted. That is a reality now and so when a phone pings, I can feel the panic rising.
The big problem is that I will plan with people and then things change and the plans fall through. Sometimes it's beyond the person's control. Family emergencies, work issues, or something will honestly come up. It bugs me, but I understand. I have certainly canceled on enough people and my RSVP record is not a good one. I am one of those people and I am not proud of it. I get anxiety and don't respond to invites.
However my anxiety is quadrupled when I am trying to make plans with people and I can't get things settled. I would rather not bother making plans. I don't want to imagine myself enjoying my time with the person only to have it canceled on me. Between depression and anxiety, a last minute cancelation can cripple me for the day or sometimes the weekend.
I feel like people don't always understand my anxiety. My BFF does. "Rachel, there's a show, it's on this day, I can go. Let's get tickets!" I love her for that. I have a plan, I have tickets. It's set.
However other people will tell me that they need to check with this person and that person and they will let me know. So it will be Wednesday or Thursday, but they still can't confirm plans for the weekend. I am not sure if that's worse that the other thing, when people make plans and then change them at the last minute. Once in a while is understandable, but when it happens over and over, it becomes an issue.
I stop wanting to make plans with them. In some cases, I just walk away because once my trust in them is broken, I don't see how to rebuild it.
I know sometimes might read these entries and wonder if I am talking about them. Trust me, if I am spending time with you and haven't discussed this with you, then we are fine, at least in my book.
If we did spend time together and I stopped, then it's probably because I didn't feel that you would be able to deal with my anxiety levels, including the anxiety of trying to explain this to you. It's not personal, I just felt like I was sparing you fuss and nonsense. I am not good at dealing with my anxiety these days, there is too much going on. I apologize that I couldn't give you the benefit of the doubt.
I am trying to be more honest with myself. If I am afraid of planning, I am only hurting myself. I need to know what I am doing. I need to have a schedule planned and know that it's likely that the plans will follow through. I also need to be better about answering RSVPs.
And so my final comment is to thank the people who put up with my crazy and keep inviting me out to do things.
This is father's day weekend. I hate this weekend. I hate it with a passion. My relationship with my father has always been strained, so I it was difficult when he was alive. Now that he has passed away, it is even worse. For anyone who has lost a parent, I feel your pain. It is a horrible thing and while it becomes bearable, it never gets better, at least not for me.
Since my father has passed I have tried to make sure that I keep myself busy on Father's Day. I do things. I know that the worst thing I can do is give myself time to think.
I wanted to go to Disneyland this year because between stuff and work and stuff at home and Father's Day, I wanted to go to my happy place. Even if it was with a bunch of students, it would have been such a welcome distraction.
I know that there are other things I can do, other places I can go. I know it's just an amusement park and an expensive one at that. However, if I could put together a trip with people and go this weekend, I would.
I have talked in therapy about my unresolved issues with my father. I know that my dad loved me in his own way. I know that I am not solely responsible for the choices he made in his life or the estrangement between us. Most days I am all right with it. But around his birthday and on Father's Day, I get really emotional.
I don't want to spend this weekend thinking. I hate it when plans go south, but this weekend is harder than usual. I want to escape and forget.
I probably just sound like a pouty child. I went to Disneyland for my birthday last year. I have no excuse to complain. I think I could take it better if the past month or so hadn't been such a clusterfuck. I just feel like I got punched in the gut and I don't even know how to recover. I just want to curl up in a ball and cry. I am trying to keep it together for work, but it's been difficult and I am tearing up at school. It isn't helping that my class is watching Hunger Games.
This is my favorite parade. I even have the song as my ringtone. This makes me happier than anything else.
I try to live by the motto that the best revenge is living well. I say I try. I can be a petty bitch sometimes.
I was more than happy to tell my former in-laws about how I had been at the same job for going on 8 years, commiserate about all the work that comes from owning a home and how proud I was that my daughter had graduated college and was living on her own while we chatted at my son’s graduation. It was all the sweeter because my ex husband was unemployed and considering moving in with his parents.
I learned the hard way that revenge never goes well. It’s all well and good to think about it and come up with wacky scenarios involving secret agents and a German polka band, but I’ve found that revenge fantasies should stay in the realm of ridiculousness.
There is something different than getting revenge. There is letting someone hit rock bottom and not sparing them the consequences of their actions. There is a lot I don’t agree with when it comes to 12 step plans, but I believe that some people have to hit their rock bottom before they can get better.
It’s hard, watching someone you care for fall to pieces. It’s rough knowing that you could just take one step and help them. It was a hard learned lesson to know that all helping does is make a next time more likely. It’s hard because it’s a judgement call and it’s never the right time.
I can tell you all about the concept of detachment. The idea that the other person created the mess and cleaning it up isn’t helping, it’s enabling.
It’s even worse when the person just suckers another person, or another group and you end up the bad guy.
Letting someone hit rock bottom is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Regrettably, I’ve done this more than once. I know that no matter how good the intention, the person will likely blame you and hate you because you stood by and did nothing or worse, made them face the actions that put them there.
I miss dancing. I have had people ask me why I let “Kevin” prevent me from attending dance events. People have also mentioned that there are other venues where he isn’t an organizer or a participant. Why don’t I attend those?
Yes, there are other venues, but many of my social contacts and people with whom I enjoy dancing aren’t there. The dances in the East Bay are convenient. The dances in other parts of the bay are lovely, but going to a dance and knowing only a couple of people is difficult. It's hard to rebuild a social circle when you have anxiety and other issues.
However, people have a point when they remind me that Kevin is one person and I shouldn’t let one person have such an influence. I know that. I know it’s all in my head. I know that I am giving Kevin more power in my life then he merits. I know all that, but regrettably my amygdala does not. My issues with Kevin touch upon some deeply held trauma. I can’t simply turn my trauma response off any more than I can cure my diabetes.
It is easy for people to dismiss a mental condition because they cannot see it. That is one of the reasons I believe that mental health and diabetes are so frequently compared to each other. Diabetes is hard to see, but left untreated, it has significant consequences.
The same way I have to treat and deal with my diabetes, I have to deal with my PTSD. I have my good days and my bad days. I take my medications, I do my best to control the factors that I can and hope that I will make it through the day. However, diabetes is slowly killing me. (I don’t mean to be melodramatic, but I don’t know how else to put this.) My mental illnesses are causing my social life to slowly erode. I hate it.
As a diabetic, I don’t walk into candy shops. I could. There are often sugar free alternatives and a very small amount of candy could be dealt with if I am prepared for it. There may be consequences, but they are manageable. It’s also stupid for me to walk into a candy store, because the more likely outcome is that I will harm myself by eating too much sugar.
I hope you are seeing the parallel. I could go to dances where Kevin will be attending. I can probably have a good time and if there is a bit of drama, so be it. However, as someone with PTSD, my problems are not because of one person. It’s that the situation is a loaded and threatening one and so the more likely outcome is that I will harm myself. Kevin is just the likely trigger. He is the candy in the store.
I can’t explain all of my PTSD. In short, I have Daddy issues.
All right, I am being flip, but it’s true. My father would promise to do things and when something better came along, he’d would change his mind and his plans and would recognize that he had done so. I think I was about 16 when I realized that I could not believe anything my father promised. If, for some reason, my stepmother decided that she needed something for herself or for her daughter, whatever my father promised me was no longer a priority.
My father always meant well. He would apologize for ruining my plans or for not being supportive. He never did anything about it and he never stopped the behavior. My stepmother and stepsister lost his house, his savings and ruined his health and to the day he died, he couldn’t blame them. It was always my fault for walking away from him and not supporting him.
I remember I asked him once, what resources did he think I had? How many times did he have to choose my step-sister over me before I gave up? I was the good girl who followed the rules. I kept curfew, I didn’t use drugs or alcohol, I didn’t run around with gangs. This is why my sister got a sweet 16 party, a car and an incredibly expensive wedding for a marriage that lasted, I kid you not, 364 days. She left her first husband the day before their wedding anniversary.
I learned to believe only in the tangible things that my father provided. It was cash in hand or I wouldn’t believe it. I did my best to protect his grandchildren from his fecklessness.
Regrettably, I have a weakness for men like my father. It takes me a long time to stop believing the promises, accepting the apologies and forgiving the transgressions. I hurt myself in these relationships. Kevin is a good example. I never understood that his promises and apologies weren’t worthwhile. He had his own agenda and when my needs weren’t compatible, Kevin threw me away.
I am sure there are those of you who are nodding their heads and sagely seeing the parallels between my PTSD and my recent issues with Primary and Secondary. You are right. Secondary would promise me the sun, the moon and the stars with the full intention of delivering them. Then Primary would remind him that if he didn’t give her the moon and stars, she wouldn’t see him. All of a sudden, Secondary would have to backtrack and try to explain how he had really meant to give me just the sun. He can understand where I became confused, after all Sol is a star, so he wasn’t going back on his promise, I had just misunderstood. (This is gaslighting, right?)
I fall into this trap with a lot of people in my life. They promise (or I think they have promised me) something. I believe them. Then they tell me that I misunderstood them and that they didn’t really mean it the way I had taken it. The PTSD kicks in and I wrap myself in another layer of self-loathing for being so incredibly stupid to have trusted them.
I really miss dancing. While there were problems, dancing was joy enough to overcome them. Kevin isn’t the first organizer to make me feel unwelcome at a venue. He isn’t the first person who was unreasonable in his reaction and blamed me because I was one of the straws that broke the camel’s back. Kevin was not the first to lash out of me for things way beyond my control. What happened with Kevin was that when he did it, the joys of dancing weren’t enough to overcome my personal demons.
I’d like to fix my PTSD. I wish it were as easy as snapping my fingers.
Today’s song is funny for me because it’s about how a person doesn’t feel like dancing, set to one of the most versatile and danceable beats I have ever heard for dancing.
Edit: I updated the content and fixed some spellings errors.
There was a post a while ago on Cracked about media tropes that only apply to women. My favorite had to be the picture of Leia comforting Luke. She had just lost her whole world, he had lost his family and seen his mentor die, so of course, she is comforting him.
I hate the idea that women are supposed to care about a man's* feelings, but it's all right for a man to be an asshole about a woman's.
My husband did this to me a while ago. I had just had a hell week at work, I was sick, and it was Mother's Day. My husband told me that he just wanted a day off. He didn't even think who he was talking to or what my week had been like, just thought about what he wanted.
When my children were young, I used to try and get out one night a week to go dancing. I'd make sure that the kids were fed or that dinner was an easy thing to make. I would usually wait until the kids were in bed or nearly there. I tried to be supportive as possible. I got so much crap from my ex for all the work he would have to do, that going out became a horrible chore and I stopped going.
When he'd go out, he would call me from the office and let me know he wouldn't be coming home until late. There was no warning, and no prep on his part.
However my favorite are the men who thinks that his problems, his issues, his concerns are more important than mine. I swear if one more person tells me that he needs time to process, consider, or that I need to just be patient, I will scream. Hey buddy, I have emotions too and it would be nice if you could consider them, you know, just one bloody time! (I am sure that I am totally wrong and that my feelings have been considered on many occasions. I am being, dare we say, hysterical?)
But no, when men have emotions its a big deal and it has to be fixed right now. If it can't be fixed, you have to leave them to process at their own speed and work things out. When a woman has emotions, she's either hormonal, or she should go talk to her friends. God forbid she ask a man to put his feelings aside and deal with her, even when he caused the problems.
I decided something today. No more pretending. No more sympathy. I am so done.
I have feelings, they will be addressed or you can go fuck yourself. I am pretty damn sure I have already dealt with your feelings by now. Even if I haven't, it won't hurt you to wait for a bit. My tea and sympathy train is derailed!
Today's song was obvious.
*I am sorry to be gender specific. I am sure all people of any gender expression can be selfish assholes. However, my problems have been with men and so I am going to be a man-hating psycho for the moment, thank you very much.
