Friday, January 14, 2011

more things to say

So, I posted something today, but I wrote it awhile ago... I'm just that disorganized. Well, I am used to know one reading my journal, but I am starting to prefer this public form of venting. So anyway, I think I'll write something else.

I had a meeting with a crisis counsellor today. She gave me a piece of paper with the number to call someone locally to talk about Ontario disability support. There. I found a good reason to go to a counsellor, even though I feel some resistance to going, because my doctor thinks I need to talk about "anxiety". Yes, I'll admit I have anxiety at times. Anyone in my situation would experience anxiety, or depression or something of that sort, so fine. My rapid-heart-rate episodes are triggered by things like standing and walking around, rather than stressful events, NOT anxiety, but fine. This might be good.

It's funny when someone hands you a piece of paper and tells you to do something that you knew you had to do already, and how it is so valuable sometimes to just have the support to do the right thing for yourself. When I got home I found my friend online, Kristen, who gave me the additional support I needed to just go ahead, as well as the advice I needed that with my Chiari Malformation diagnosis, it will probably take a lot of time, because conditions that are not well understood like this often face problems accessing ODSP.


Pang of guilt: My Mother was always the chatty one. I would call and she would chat on and on. Now, I'm the chatty one. Why don't I ever call just to listen anymore? Oh good, I can talk to the counsellor about guilt too.


There is a loss of a sense of self, or a part of identity that one may have once had that can come with having to ask for help. I worry how I will let it roll over me, or how it will sink in, that I don't really have that thing attached to me at the moment called a "job". This kind of hit me while I was trying to finnish up my last couple semesters of school (part time) while I tried to keep a part-time job, and essentially hide, though I was never shy, the fact that I was going through something rather fierce that was dominating my body in all sorts of ways. I sometimes look at people around me and think: Gee, what's it like to stand around on a curb, drunk and freezing late at night with a bunch of friends or people or whatever? Wow, what's it like going out with people from work? What's it like having random encounters? I don't really remember sometimes. All I have to talk about is how it's hard to sit anywhere for any amount of time if I can't lean my head against something, and how much I love my new cushy bath pillow and bath matt. Sometimes I think I'm living in a different universe than everyone else. Sometimes I think: Where am I?

Part of what I was trying to get at the other day when I mentioned my talk with my friend on skype was that thinking you are loosing yourself, and then realizing there are other people experiencing very similar, yet unique, things is one positive out of all of this. And what really makes it seem manageable at times. And it's amazing how tough people can be sometimes. And it's amazing how people manage to have a sense of humor! The weirdest things are funny to me these days.

I am thinking where am I? What universe is this? Where am I going? And then I notice there are others sort of "here" too.

Some people even seem to want to visit my universe, or maybe they are already part of it. I like it when friends drop by spontaneously to eat Greek On Wheels. Just a hint. No not really, but yes why not, please everyone come bearing Greek On Wheels. It happened today anyway. Nick is a thoughtful guy, and he brought Derik. Tiff was having a girls night. Dani is out right now. It's kinda lonely. She doesn't go out often. But Emmet is putting on The Emmet Show, and bringing me a purple mouse and doing back flips. No, I'm not on hallucinogens. Emmet is our cat. He is quite acrobatic.

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