So.

So, my mother sent me a birthday card.  First contact in two years, I think, and first sane contact in probably 4 years.  It was a nice note–she has me in her thoughts and loves me, basically.  Nothing beyond that, but what was there was genuine, and I think it was a brave thing for her to do, and probably quite difficult.  She did not sign my stepfather’s name to the card, which I know would have been extremely difficult.

So, what to do?  I do think I want to respond in a polite, mild way.  Thank her for the card, express my hope that she is doing well, say that we are all doing well, and sign off.

Any thoughts on this plan?

I’m not sure she has any agenda beyond letting me know she loves me and thinks about me.  I am content to receive that greeting and toss back a similar one, and hope that it pretty much dies there.

I feel like I should be freaking out about this, but I’m not at all.  I was kind of surprised to see the card, but not shocked.  I figured something would come at some point.  I was mostly surprised by how I didn’t react.  I mean, I didn’t go numb.  I just didn’t experience it as as big of a deal as I expected to experience it as.  I don’t think there’s a flip-out hiding under the surface, either.

Right now I’m super tired and I can barely even see this screen.  I’m getting a cold or something.

The only other thing I want to post is that my therapist is the best in the world, and I have lots more to say about that in another post, I’m sure.  She’s beyond great.

Shut down

I’ve been hiding out in my bed for the last several days.

This cannot be my response to overwhelm.  This cannot be my response to being triggered.  Ugh.  I feel like a failure at life.  I have done what I needed to do parenting-wise, but little else, including missing two days of work.  Which is idiotic.  I didn’t have anything really important going on at work–didn’t even have any classes coming–but it’s idiotic to miss work for reasons I don’t even want to go into here.

The trigger for this little meltdown was partly the book I read (Denial by Jessica Stern), partly my therapy session.  As ridiculous as I know this is in my intellectual mind, I am having major issues with the moment when T leaned forward.  I’m not having issues with that actual moment as itself, but about what got triggered by it (i.e., I have no concern about T attacking me or doing anything inappropriate, but whatever my brain got reminded of is really wreaking havoc).  I’m too mortified to write what my brain got reminded of.  Sorry.

Mostly when I shut down, I sleep.  I sleep loads.  If I even think about getting up and doing something, I am overwhelmed with sleepiness.  I bathe, I eat, I might read a little bit or surf the web a little bit, but mostly, I crash out.  If I’m awake, I’m anxious and trying to wipe my brain clear of icky thoughts.  If I’m asleep, I get a break from all of that.

Today I have managed to stay awake most of the day.  Went to the grocery store with Boo and watched a few shows with her.  But I’m not feeling like myself yet.

In sum, this whole thing sucks, and I need to do a better job of managing my life when I feel lousy because this is Not Working.

Hmmm. . .

Yesterday’s therapy session was. . .interesting?

T said “Wow” three separate times in response to willingness/ability on my part to answer questions without going straight to White Brain mode.  I didn’t notice the difference, but apparently, T did.  It was interesting.  T says that things have changed somewhat significantly recently.  I sort of understand what she means–I can feel that I am more comfortable and calm and trusting–but it’s weird to have her seeing something that I am not completely solid on myself.

At one point, we were starting to stray into some rough territory, and I could feel myself about to freak out, so I said, “We need to stop talking about this now.”  (“We” meaning me and T, not me and some other parts of myself.  I never think of myself as “we.”)  T said, “Wow.”  I asked her via email this morning why she said “wow” to that, and she said it was because I actually acknowledged that I was uncomfortable instead of just switching to “I have no clue what we’re even talking about!” like I guess I usually do.  I didn’t freak out, but my legs froze up for a few minutes and I couldn’t come up with any words, but I wasn’t really freaking.  Just a minor panic.  At that point, T sat forward in her chair, which she does sometimes, and oh boy, that did NOT go over well, so I managed to say, “I need you to not sit forward like that,” which I guess was also a step forward for me.  And then after a few minutes, I could move my legs, and I felt okay.

It’s kind of odd to try to write about this kind of thing.  It’s a basic freeze response, but it’s hard to describe.  And I can’t remember even what exactly we were talking about–I have a general idea, but not anything specific.  I know we were talking about the book I wrote about in my last post, and about why parts of it ended up being triggering (the parts about sexual abuse in the family), but I don’t know what specifically set me off.  I know some people record their therapy sessions, and I’m sure my therapist would be open to this, but the thought terrifies me.  I guess I kind of value the protection that the “fog” of not remembering what freaked me out provides.