Wednesday, 14 September 2011

Crying is weird and I'm scared of everything

Hello, this post is influenced by someone other than the usual blogger but you may not notice the difference so I guess there was no point in me saying that. 

I don't really have anything enlightening to say today (probably not a great opening line for a blog post I know, but if you're looking for enlightenment, you are probably reading the wrong blog... OK, I'm not helping things here!) except that I nearly cried this morning which is very unusual for me. Crying for me is not something I indulge in very often, mainly because I HATE CRYING. I don't mind other people crying; I'm used to patients bawling in front of me, but I just don't find a lot of enjoyment in doing it myself. Sometimes in psychology sessions I feel my eyes leaking; I suppose that's a sort of crying. Or maybe it's one of the others crying. Quite often my eyes just start streaming for no reason at random points throughout the day. I assume it's one of those random body things that don't mean anything although it seems more than a coincidence that it often happens at the end of something stressful. Like, quite often when I've just finished up a clinic and get in the car, the instant I shut the door my eyes start stinging and watering. Maybe it's my body telling me I'm tired or something or maybe it is just one of those random things.

In general though I don't properly cry... you know, the kind where you sob and need a whole roll of tissues to catch it all. This only happens to me once or twice a year and when it does I usually let it be about everything, so it's best if I'm at home on my own, because there's a lot to cry about... preferably with my giant Tigger teddy that my dad bought me for my 18th birthday. I always go for him when I'm in this state because it's a souvenir of one of the very few times my dad gave me any evidence that he cared for me. It's kind of bitter sweet. In general, I look at Tigger and feel hurt, but when I feel so broken, it's the closest thing I've got (or ever had) to a daddy who cares. I've woken up many's a time over the last nearly ten years from a sobbing induced black out with my arms wrapped around Tigger.

The last time I cried was after I went to the hairdressers a few weeks ago. I HATE the hairdressers (Hmm, this morning I decided I'd try to get through a whole day without being negative... oops). Hairdressers scare me. I very, very rarely go there; it's averaging on once a year. It's always difficult because I hate how I look in general. I look in the mirror and see ugly, ugly, fat and UGLY. So it's not surprising that when I get my hair cut I look in the mirror and still see UGLY. It didn't help that the hair cut wasn't what I wanted at all and that the hair dresser then argued with me when I tried to explain that I wanted more layers. I also don't like confrontation, so after this I walked calmly back to my car, shut the door and burst into tears. I felt so angry with myself though for crying about something so stupid and for wasting my precious cry on a time when I couldn't properly let it out, so I forced it to stop and gave myself a nice headache.

Today was at work. A GP confronted me about something I had not done which I apparently should have, although would have had no way of knowing I should have done it. She confronted me in a way which seemed as though she thought I just hadn't bothered to do the thing, however, it was only a misunderstanding in that I hadn't been informed of what I should have been doing so was only doing what I felt was the right thing to do (all very vague, I know). I defended myself; in fact I probably sounded annoyed, but I made it clear that I hadn't been told the procedures and that it needed to be made clear to me. But when she left the room I felt like I needed to burst into tears. I couldn't because I was just about to see a patient so I just sat there flapping my face with my hands to dry my eyes and taking deep breaths.

I'm pretty sure the doctor felt bad then for having accused me in such a 'telling off' and confrontational kind of way because she seemed to go out of her way to be nice to me for the rest of the morning. She even called in a few times to see how I was getting on and at one point touched my arm in a reassuring way whilst being all friendly and 'interested' in my work.

I felt annoyed with myself again for letting this upset me. I thought about why I felt so bad and realised that it's because there is part of me that believes I am really bad at my job and not good enough to be doing it. There's another part that feels I do it well, but it's sometimes hard to ignore the voice of doom telling me that I'm going to be found out one of these days. This, although seemingly insignificant to this jumping to conclusions GP, was for part of me like a confirmation that I am rubbish at my job after all. It's this thing about authority again. I shouldn't see a GP as having authority over me in my job role, but I can't help being scared of them.

The problem is, I see everyone I meet as having authority over me. I see myself as unworthy of being alive and so feel I need to apologise for breathing the same air as anyone I meet. I even feel guilty for writing this post because I have burdened the world with this shit. It doesn't take much to convince me I am bad. I left my psychology session last week feeling OK about things with my T; I knew she believed me even if I don't believe myself and I guess in a way I felt reassured that she mustn't therefore hate me. In less than a week I have convinced myself that she does hate me and believes I am a waste of time and space. I'm dreading going to my session tomorrow because I feel like she will probably tell me off about something, although I'm not really sure what. I think when things like this GP thing happen today, it reminds me of so many other times in my life. You had to follow the rules or else, but the people with the power didn't want you to actually know exactly what the rules were. So you never knew till you broke one of them... and then you knew all about it. I find life to be the same. No one has given me a rule book yet and I try to make things black and white so I know where I stand, but I'm just never sure when I might be doing something terribly wrong.

Talking like this is making me want to die so I am going to round this up and (hopefully) get to sleep.


Anonymous said...

I have not been diagnosed with DID, but much of your blog describes similar experiences that I have both in therapy and daily life. So thank you for writing what you do. I feel less alone. This blog describes exactly my experience. Crying is hard. In fact I have a chronic lung condition where my lungs produce large quantities of mucus. (Your lungs have the same mucus produsing cells as your nose). By not crying out loud, I now think I cried inside my lungs and caused long term damage. But in the past 2 years as I have learned to cry my lungs have been much clearer and I have been much healthier. Crying is good but it is still scary and hard.

Sandy said...

((Candy)) Big hugs!
I don't like the hairdresser, it just never works out right! And I am a bit uncomfortable with staring at myself in that mirror too! It makes me very self conscious, so I go once a year and my hair is almost down to my butt. (I do like it long)
The part with the GP - ouch. It is so hard when you are trying your best and someone suggests you aren't. I understand not wanting to share all the details, but I worked as an Lic. Practical Nurse for 13 years, so I have had a few experiences kind of like that. It really stinks because you feel like you've failed. I think its kind a revictimization, and maybe that GP will be a little less accusitory in the future. I hope you got a little sleep :)

ellen said...

I can sense a different tone and choice of words from usual Candy, so I'm glad you said that about the influence. I don't cry much either, but my eyes often 'leak' as yours do too. I can sense in this whole post that you are criticizing yourself for everything you write and everything you feel. That is very painful and happens to me also.

Last week after therapy I felt my T no longer liked me, because he looked stern, so I wrote him an email and asked. He said he did still like me, all parts, and what a relief that was. Stupid but effective. It's a horrible feeling to think the T doesn't like you.

You seem to have a really responsible job which is fantastic. My own job is OK but I can goof off a fair bit, and I really need to do that unfortunately. Take care, hope you feel better.