Tuesday, 3 January 2012

Back to porridge

I haven't really got much to say today (the last post was so long that you may still be reading it) except that I went back to work today and boy was it hard to get out of bed this morning! I didn't actually make it out until 9.43 and considering I'm supposed to be in work by ten at the latest, it wasn't a great start to the new year. Thankfully my manager is pretty relaxed about these things and seems to know I do my hours, so I've never been pulled up about being late, yet I don't want to push my luck. Tomorrow I have to be up and at em by 7.30am. You can't lie in when you have a clinic to run! It's always tough getting back into the routine after being off. Oh well, at least today wasn't too stressful by my usual standards. I really hope I can get to sleep tonight though. My sleep is so variable. At the moment it seems to be: sleeping, but feeling like part of me is still awake at the same time (maybe part of me is?).

The other thing I wanted to say is that I am doing OK... you know... coping wise... since T left. Each day since I saw her last week I've thought 'I'm doing OK now but how will I be after x, y and z happen?' Well, x and y have now happened and I'm still OK... but z is still on the horizon. Z being, meeting the replacement clinical psychologist. That is going to happen on Thursday morning.

So what does OK mean? OK means, I've been thinking about T, but not feeling bad that she's gone. I'm sad that she's gone, but not in a 'my life is over' kind of way and I don't feel all that sad either really. I've just felt fine about it. I don't feel abandoned the way I thought I would (I'm sure you're as surprised as I am about this). I haven't reflected much about this (and you will understand why in just a moment) but in the brief time I have spent reflecting, I've come up with two possible reasons as to why I am not feeling 'abandoned'.

1) T is coming back in six months. I knew she was coming back, but I thought I didn't believe she would. Maybe part of me realised that thinking that this was goodbye forever would be too much to cope with, so it's easier just to tell myself that she is coming back and focusing on that has helped me feel positive.

2) It's a parts thing. It's just not going to work for me at the moment to have the parts active who are going to feel awful, so they are either gone down, wherever they go (the back of the bus) or I'm not connected to them at the moment and the ones who are more positive and helpful are up at the front of the bus. I guess I'm in function mode. It doesn't help to try to connect with those other parts just now, it's a huge risk because who knows, they may be feeling pretty awful and I can't risk that coming out. So I am avoiding thinking too much about it (hence the little reflection).

One thing I will remind myself of though is that function mode is fragile. It works great for me because it makes life easier, but it is very fragile in that if something bad was to happen, the crash can be devastating: much worse than it might be when I'm a more balanced version of myself. I am therefore treading carefully and trying to avoid too much stress. I'm avoiding reflecting and Adam has been warned to tread carefully (as much as I hate to put pressure on someone else because of my own problems, but it's probably in his interests too at the moment).

I've just thought of a third possible reason actually: maybe that meltdown I had just before Christmas eve was me dealing with T leaving after all. Maybe that release of anguish was what I needed to get out some bad feelings and now I am feeling more accepting of the situation.

Whatever the reason, no one is as relieved as I (except, maybe for Adam, who was bracing himself for disaster) and I just hope things continue to go well. I am kind of nervous about what the heck I am going to say to new psychologist on Thursday now... "Hi, I'm Candy and I've been miraculously cured in the last week! Forget everything my notes say about me, I'm fine really. Thanks but I don't think I'll be needing you." OK, maybe we should just take one day at a time.


ellen said...

I'll admit I was waiting for the porridge, and then it didn't appear...must be an Irish thing :-)

I find for me, the parts are most attached to my T in that childish, unreasonable and intense way, so I can relate to how you're describing your emotional situation Candy.

Good that everything seems manageable, if a little fragile. It seems you don't do ordinary sadness too much - you go from everything is find to complete disaster. That is an unsettling prospect.

Anyway, glad you're doing well. And I thought your summing up of the year in the last post was great - nice to hear you be positive and appreciating your own progress. Happy New Year.

Ruth said...

Sounds like you have a tentative internal truce which should help for a while. I find maintaining this type of peace do able for awhile. Sufficient unto the day became my mantra when I need to cope. Take care. I'll look forward to your post after Thursday.

Candycan said...

Lol, Ellen, maybe it is an irish thing. People say it when all the fun is over (like Christmas) and it's back to the usual daily grind of work. Sometimes people say it after their lunch break too. Porridge here is what we call oatmeal so i guess it probably comes from the old days when people maybe ate porridge most days but had a fancy breakfast on special occasions... or maybe I am completely wrong but that's what I surmise.
Thats a good observation by the way: I don't do ordinary sadness much. Maybe if I could manage ordinary sadness I could avoid the disasters. It's hard to know how to do it though because I don't feel it's always a conscious choice to dissociate from my true feelings. I would like to know how to change that.

Ruth, I think it's either an internal truce or some kind of separation. It's anyone's guess what the heck is going on in there at the moment, but like you say, sufficient unto the day and my evil today is to be happy that I'm not more connected. Thanks for reading :)