The-rapists of the mind

Catching up on my voyeuristic reading into the minds of my friends on blogger

and I am surprised to note that G. has a male therapist.

I was in therapy for oh, I don't know, about a decade??? And until she went crazy, my therapist was a woman. Not to say she wasn't a woman after she went crazy, but rather that she was no longer my therapist. Not that I would have rejected her for being crazy -- that would just seem terribly hypocritical of me - but I wasn't given the option. She kind of up and disappeared. Sort of.

Anyway, when I first began therapy, she sent me to a male psychologist with an office in Newtown for a while since it was apparently evident to all that I was so unbalanced that I shouldn't be let loose in the world without medication to even out my brain, and her qualifications apparently didn't include the right to prescribe mind-altering chemicals.

This turned out to cause more problems than it fixed. The first time that I saw this guy, he knew from my referral information that I had issues with eating. As in, I did it as little as possible. I used to think I was quite clever in quipping that I managed to exist on a diet of caffeine, nicotine and sugar. And it wasn't far from the truth, it just wasn't as clever and cute as I thought it was at the time.

So I show up for my appointment, and I am fighting the urge to run out of the office, and he disappears into a back room off of his office and comes back with what? Soup! Sits down down at his pompous desk, turns to me and says in all seriousness, "you don't mind if I eat while we talk, do you?" WHAT THE FUCK, DUDE?

Every time I went to see him, he would try to get me onto a scale in his office so he could demonstrate to me that I was unhealthy. I think I only got on it once, and after that more or less told him to go fuck himself about the scale. I would be in a bad mood for two weeks before my appointments to go see him, and depressed for a week after. Of course, I was more or less depressed all the time anyway, but my point being that just the thought of having to endure this pompous asshole for 45 minutes once a month more or less ruined the rest of my month.

I quickly came to the conclusion that considering a lot of my "issues" were rooted in problems with male authority figures, having a therapist, even a supplemental one that I only had to see because he had the godlike ability to dispense drugs, was entirely counterproductive, not to mention a horrendous mind-fuck.

Luckily I found out, clever creature that I am, that I could stop torturing myself with this asshole and just get my primary doctor's office to write the scripts for me! I only wish I had realized it sooner.

The therapist-patient relationship is a very dangerous, precarious thing, and at a certain point definitely requires a leap of faith. I can't pretend to know what's best for other, but I definitely know that for me, having a male therapist would never in this version of reality be to my benefit. Unless maybe you're of the ilk that think a great way to get over the fear of heights is to jump out of a plane and think it will miraculously cure you in a day.

Back Pain is a Bitch

Okay, so here's what's going on...

Last Wednesday around lunchtime I got a bad headache, the kind that sits in your eye socket and I felt really queasy. This lasted the rest of the day and I went to bed early.

Woke up Thursday feeling ok, but by lunchtime my back was starting to hurt and ended up hurting so bad I left work 2 1/2 hours early. Came home, laid on the couch all night, went to bed early again.

Woke up Friday, back hurting right away. I had to have Les help me put on my socks and shoes because I couldn't bend that far and he also had to help me get in my car. He yelled at me and called me a stubborn Pollack, since obviously I shouldn't be going into work. I went anyway, because I am a stubborn Pollack. Forgot that the train kind of makes jerky motions around the bends, and by the time I got to work, just the lift of the elevator going up made me twinge. Suffered through until lunchtime, when my boss sent me home because she said I had lost all color in my face from the pain.

I went to my chiropractor Friday when I got home from work, felt slightly better, not by much. Thankfully Dana came over and helped me self-medicate until I pretty much passed out on the couch around 4? and slept there until Les got me up to go to bed for the night. I'm glad it was Dana, who has a penchant for the dark side of things, because I think anyone else might have been calling a priest to perform an exorcism on me, when I several times had all-out demonic possession style back spasms that manifested themselves as uncontrollable jerking, flailing, screams/cries/whimpers of pain, and a string of curses. Pretty much everything but the pea soup.

Went back to the chiro Saturday morning, got a GREAT adjustment, felt tons better. Not all better, but much better than I had. The pain was mostly only on one side at that point.

Went to see my primary doctor Saturday afternoon. They looked me over, poked, prodded, and gave me a series of (gentle) kidney punches. The outcome? Double up on the Aleve, take it easy, and follow up with my gynecologist on the fact I hadn't had a period in a year. (more on this later)

I guess I should explain that it was the kind of back pain that lives at the base of your spine, and exhibits itself in horrid sharp spasms of pain whenever you get the slightest bit off center or sometimes just for spite.

Moving on to the factors of the multitude of possible causes....

Possible Factor #1: I had not had a menstrual cycle (aka period) since last February. As in February 2008. That is, I hadn't - until last week. So maybe it's like PMS x12. I'm ridiculously bloated - and not in that "oh I'm a girl and I'm so fat!" way, but seriously - at max bloatage you would think I'm in my second trimester. (No, I'm not. See the fact that I *finally* had a period last week) I was concerned after the first missed cycle... and the second... but decided to chalk it up to pre-marital and work-related stress. I actually saw my gynecologist about six months in, and tried to bring up my concern over this, but unfortunately they were running behind on appointments that day, and I didn't get to see my usual doctor that I ALWAYS see, and the doctor I did see kind of blew me off and didnt' really listen, and basically told me that tons of women would love to not have to worry about their periods. I was so frustrated and exasperated, I figured that I had tried, and would just bring it up again at my next visit. Not sure if this is relevant or not, but for the record, the last time I was there (when the not-my-doctor blew me off) was a 6-month check-up (instead of the usual annual) becuase of the fact that at my last annual exam, my pap test came back abnormal, which meant they did a follow-up colposcopy (if you've never had one, thank your lucky stars) and told me to come back in six.

Possible factor #2: over the years I have been in several moderate car accidents, which caused back trauma, whiplash, etc (hence my having a steady chiropractor) Occasionally, it flares up a bit, although to be honest it hasn't been this bad (and for this long) in quite a while.

Possible factor #3: My mom suggested it might be kidney-related, which I rejected out of hand, telling her emphatically that I *KNOW* what back pain is, and this was it. However, when the doctor was doing the kidney punches, it kind of hurt a little bit on the left side. And since then I've been paying more attention to how much I pee. Which, now that I notice, is more than usual. I don't have trouble going, in fact you could make liberal jokes about I.P. Freely, but still... I have had a Urinary Tract Infection twice before, and an unconfirmed small kidney stone a couple of years ago. (I peed, saw blood, heard a "plink", but by the time I got a doctor appt, they could confirm nothing) Also, I have been drinking a lot more coffee since I started the new job. I have become a Dunkin' addict. So I've been having 1-2 large cups of coffee, and a soda with lunch. Caffeine, caffeine, caffeine.

So when I explained all this to my primary doctor... well first off, she looked horrified when I told her about not having a period for a year. She started flipping through my chart and asked if I had told them that before. I told her what had happened at the other doctor. She looked genuinely concerned, but when I told her that I had an appointment this Thursday (with my normal GYN), she told me to follow up with them and let her know what happens. She said with all the factors I threw at her, I had so much going on, that it was probably best to address one thing at a time, starting with why my cycle was all buggered up. But in the meantime, she asked if I was taking anything for the back pain. I told her Aleve (I didn't want to mention that I had tried taking the muscle relaxers and analegesics they had prescribed after my last car accident, but they were from September '07, and didn't seem to do any good, at which point I switched to Aleve). She asked if it was helping, and I said (honestly) not really. She offered a script, but I am always paranoid that doctors will think I'm fishing for prescriptions, so unless I really really need it, I try to do without. So she said to just double up on the recommended dose of Aleve, which is basically Rx-strength anyway.

After that, I spent the majority of the weekend sleeping - either on the couch or in bed. I went to work today - got in early in fact, since I woke up at 5 am (an hour before my alarm) because, duh, I had to pee. Made it through the whole day, but was moderately uncomfortable all day. Only a handful of the strong, sharp spastic pains, mostly just a more general discomfort and pain. That's where I'm at at this point, just waiting it out until Thursday, to see what my other doctor has to say....

In the meantime, I am tired, slightly irritable, definitely emotional, in varying states of pain and/or discomfort, and wishing for the days when I don't have to wonder if getting up out of my chair is going to set off a Turret's Syndrome-worthy string of expletives in a work setting.

Ode to Gwen

Ok kids, blame Gwen for this one…

I have always been a prolific writer – even when I was too young to really have much to say. I remember when I first started keeping journals, I was so young that all I could think to write was something like “dear diary, today I ate grilled cheese for lunch. Then Patty and I fought because she was being a jerk. I’m going to sleep now. Good night.” I have thinking bouncing around in my head a great deal of the time, many of which I am concerned about what people would think of me if they knew the things I think about sometimes.

I have the feeling, and I will warn you, dear reader, up front, that this is going to be a windy, scattered posting herein, and in my best of intentions I will expand more on any points of interest along the way at a later date – but right now I feel like my head is overstuffed full and I need to release the pressure valve.

When I was younger, say, high school into early 20’s-ish, I would think to myself how sad it was when I looked at the people around me who couldn’t stand to be alone with their own thoughts for more than five minutes. Who don’t have or don’t want to develop the ability to sit quietly, read a book, listen to music, but mostly live inside their own head. To have a deep, serious, introspective conversation with themselves. Some might call it a form of meditation, or self-analysis? Anyway, I’m referring to the person who neglects spending time with their significant other – real quality time to focus on each other and developing the bond between the two of you. What I think of as *true* intimacy. Those who constantly have to have a whole crowd of people around, or a tv on “for background”.

College teaches you a few things. And I’m not talking about memorizing dates of civil wars or names of capitals. It teaches you that there is a whole lot of information out there in the world. It’s like trying to think about infinity itself (which I used to try to do as a mental exercise when I was younger, and it usually either gave me a headache or made me feel dizzy) So much like doctors going through medical school, the idea is that you as a conscious being, figure out what information from that incomprehensible overload are things that interest you, that you feel connected to, or whatever the case may be. And you focus. Because no one can know everything. It’s really not possible. For the fact that we use such a miniscule amount of the estimated total processing power of our brains, even if some superhuman genius (like a thousand times smarter than Steven Hawkins) lit up their whole switchboard with brain power, could still not know everything there possibly is to know in the world without their head exploding, or dying of old age, because it would take so long to learn it all.

That was a far digression (you were warned), so I’m going to start that paragraph over again… back to college, and the true value behind it.

Nah, side note on some thoughts on the “college experience” instead…

What I learned in college – by – Sharon Berry

1) my social security number. By heart. To this day.

2) *how to think* as in, providing a thought structure in my head so that things were less of a jumble. Analytical thinking, I guess?

3) that I have a deep interest in psychology, sociology, “women’s studies”, but really more of human interactions overall…

Leading me, for the moment, back to Gwen, who, in the short span of time since we have actively rekindled a long forgotten connection, has done wonders for my mental health and good spirits…

In recent conversations with Gwen, we have touched upon a couple of points that really stir my brain soup.

I realized today (which I already knew, but had *mostly* been successful in banishing to a corner and ignoring it to make it go away, how much I have turned on the “white noise” in my head. I come home from work and turn on the tv and sit on the computer. And it’s not like I’m doing something productive in any way shape or form. Just aimlessly sucked into the internet. Not even writing blogs that make people laugh, weep, and think a little bit more consciously about life and what the true value of it is.

So here I sit, tv off, dogs resting, complete quiet… trying to pull my head together. And do some spring cleaning of the mind and soul, I suppose.

- life and why we are here. As in I find my life view inspiration from such sources as (in no particular order) C.S. Lewis’s The ScrewTape Letters, Tori Amos lyrics, Harold & Maude, Dogma, Chasing Amy, Pay it Forward (yes, shut up.) Pump Up the Volume (laugh if you like at the dated-ness of the film, it is still a good core message – don’t accept mediocrity and someone else’s cookie cutter blue print of what they think *your* life should be… )

- I am afraid of people on the internet. The fact that there are viruses, spamware, spyware, malware, worms, and people out there that have nothing better to do with their time than come up with ways to fuck up my computer and try to steal my money, really bothers me.

- This probably in part circles back to my worldview thing, as in, you should be out there living your life to make the world a better place, or at least a better place for someone – and I mean someone other than yourself…. Much like the “teach a man to fish….” Theory, if I live my life to the purpose of solely my own gain and concerns, and if everyone does the same, then that is like handing someone a fish. If, however, I live my life putting good energy out there for other people, doing what I can to (in whatever measure) make other people happy, which to me is the best way to make the world a better place, and again, everyone else does the same, then it is like teaching us, as a collective, to fish. At least in my head that’s how it works.

So today Gwen basically reminded me to “talk hard” – I hope she will not mind be quoted…


“For me, I guess I just don't feel guilt about anything I write about. It's not me doing anything wrong per se. Well, anything wrong that is going to get me in big trouble, any way. Believe it or not there are some things I don't talk about in my blog, because it's too private and painful. But I think for writing to be worth reading it needs to be brutally honest, it needs to make the person reading it feel something. If I'm not willing to risk any part of myself then I don't think I'd be writing anything worth reading.”

And the thing is, she’s right. She’s so right it made me cry. And sit down and write three pages of ramblings to post. I hope I can get them more organized later, so that they will make more sense, but at this point it’s like when you’ve really really needed a good cry for a while, and you haven’t been able to, and then you finally sit down and watch {for me it’s the Color Purple or Steel Magnolias or Hope Floats, but basically the film that you KNOW will release your tears…} and you cry, whether it’s a quiet steady stream of tears, or an all out sobbing patch. Whatever it taken to get that horrible feeling out from inside you. And afterwards, you feel tired, worn out, but better.

Anyway, since I am making myself dizzy with my ramblings, I think I am going to break here and go outside and pick up stickerballs for a while. This is one of my favorite forms of meditation these days. Who knew?

[note – point to come back to later… why I love the word “eclectic” and how it influences my views on life and spirituality…]

A Pretty Good Day

I had a pretty good day at work today - and I'm really glad I did, because I kind of needed it. The beginning of this week was not kind to me. I had to leave work early Monday and Tuesday because I had to get a chipped tooth fixed - twice in a row. Which meant that I had to stay long the last two days to make up time. On top of which, I had to get up super-early on Wednesday, because we were scheduled to take a "field trip" to the Wilmington yards to test out mobile units (with gps! and camera!) So I got up about 2 hours earlier than I usually do. Ouch.

Of course, when I got to work on Wednesday, as soon as I got off the train I found out our trip had been cancelled, because there was a problem with the system. So no field trip for me - just a three-large-cups-of-coffee-long-ass day in the office. Am I weird because I'm excited that I am getting safety shoes?

But today was a good day, and it made up for the rest of the week.

On my train ride in, a woman sat next to me that told me she had never taken the train before, and she had to go to the city for jury duty. So we started talking about taking the train, and I gave her tons of advice (Suburban Station is also called City Hall, so listen for either, if you get confused ask a Transit Cop - every one I've talked to has been super nice, etc etc) and we chatted about taking the train and jury duty. She was really nice and it was a pleasant way to start off the day.

Then I had two really good meetings, and may have a major project (possibly two) to tackle soon. I can't wait! I have been going a little stir crazy getting settled into my new job. As Boomer would agree, the Polish work ethic is a curse. I have been there six weeks now, and have spent a great majority of that time with really nothing to do. It was driving me absolutely mad. I started wandering the floor and looking for people to ask questions to, and offer to help out in any way I could. So try to understand why I am stoked about having something to really sink my teeth into. (and also why I was disappointed that the trip to DE got cancelled)

It's definitely a different environment than I have been used to for the last NINE years. I must admit that I am a bit spoiled, being used to high-walled cubicles, break rooms with free coffee and full-sized fridges, not to mention other benefits and niceties. Knowing exactly what is expected of me and how to meet and exceed those goals. Knowing the lay of the land and where to get information. I am in an odd mix of familiar elements and unfamiliar. Trying to get my bearings. Struggling with it on some days, which is why I choose to make note and celebrate the good ones. :)

Gold stars for everyone!

I recently bought a copy of "Hudson Hawk" on dvd on Amazon's Marketplace. I received it, no problems, in good shape. Yesterday, I got a message from the seller...

"I shipped your order by first class mail on monday. I can't ship any faster. However, you seem unhappy with your order, since you penalized me in your feedback. I trust the brand new movie was satisfactory. Jim"

I scratched my head when I read this. I couldn't think of anything I said bad about this guy, since I hadn't had a problem with the disc. So I went onto Amazon to check what kind of feedback I had left this poor guy.

In fact, here is exactly the feedback I left for the seller:

(4 of 5 stars)

"DVD received in good condition, with reasonable ship time."

So I wrote back with the following:

"Jim, I'm sorry if you feel that I have "penalized" you. I don't see anything negative about a 4star rating. I did not say anything derogatory about the dvd or the service. I just don't hand out 5 stars unless the service was above and beyond. Sorry, Sharon"

Look, this whole "give everyone a gold star, everyone's a winner, everyone gets an A just for showing up" crap has got to stop. In my mind, if you have a 5 star scale, you save the 5 for "over and above", someone that really goes the extra mile. If I had ordered the dvd and it showed up the very next day at my house gift-wrapped with a friendly note, that would have been one thing. But don't whine to me that I only gave you 4 stars, that I have "penalized" you. That's just retarded. If everyone gives the same feedback like

"A++++++++++++++++++!!!!! GREAT SELLER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!HIGHLY RECOMMENDED!!!!"

Then none of it means anything. How do you, as a buyer, determine what's what? That's right, you can't. So Jim, either step it up or suck it up. No gold star for you.