2016, a personal review

Tags

bombshell, change, changes, competence, development, driving, job, parents, poetry, sons, therapy

I think, as we enter a new year that I’ve come such a long way and yet still have such a long way to go. I wonder if I will ever make it. I’m more aware of the work yet to do and it scares me. Feeling comfortable with who I am sounds so simple and yet so far.

I’m sitting in the pub starting this while listening to Comfortably Numb which is what it takes to start this post I’ve been ruminating over for the last week. I’m finishing it at home the next day.

Whether 2016 has been a good or a bad year for me I really don’t know. I think it has actually been good but I don’t feel it.

Food Rules (again)

Tags

absorb, food, rules, therapy

Eating glorious twice cooked Belgian chips with loads of mayonnaise out in public (no wonder I like them)

I’ve covered this before but no doubt will have to cover it again until I’m done.

No “childish” foods: mash potato, ice cream, too much gravy, nuggets and the like.

No common / working class foods: the label might be inappropriate but no tinned baked beans, no brown sauce, no salad cream, no fish-fingers.

No pre-prepared foods: I don’t remember ever having any type of ready made food and that includes jars of sauces. My mum lies about using stock cubes to my dad.

No sweets: my mum used to make puddings: stodgy filling crumbles and a superb lemon and meringue pie. Proper puddings for dinners with guests. But that all stopped. My dad likes lemon sorbet (with a shot of vodka), lemon tart and the occasional tarte tatin. But no overdosing on chocolate or sweet stuff or cream. My mum used to make her own yoghurt which again, wasn’t really sweet.

Diet foods: my mum was on endless diets and we definitely had naughty foods. If you’re going to eat empty calories, make them high quality foods. Other than some of the summer fruits my parents always had a fruit bowl with oranges and apples that they forced themselves to eat because it’s good for you.

Eating rules: no eating outside on the street (it’s common); no eating with your hands (it’s just bad manners) and I still horrify my parents by eating chips with my fingers; even picking at bones should be done with a knife and fork; use the correct utensils (fish knives, chopsticks, cob holders, whatever).

I have never known my father to drink more than 2 pints in a pub (other than finishing my mother’s off). He’d exclaim if I wanted to drink beer with a meal out as wine is the proper accompaniment although he did soften to eating beer with Indian food. The last time we went out for a meal my parents had cider and I had a cocktail (two, actually). That got comments. My dad used to prepare a sort of cocktail as an aperitif, but not the sort you’d buy. I stuck to beer when he started including Cinzano.

So these are all my parents rules. I’ve added my own:

• cook from scratch (it’s healthier and tastes better as long as you cook)
• no artificial additives, flavouring, sweeteners
• consider the environment; use up leftovers

I have genuinely lost the ability to enjoy puddings and yoghurts. I love lemon sorbet but I’ve gone off chocolate ice cream. I’ve started forcing myself to have jam or peanut butter on toast in the mornings in the hope that I’ll stop feeling guilty about rule-breaking. I’ve narrowed my food choices down so far that I rotate through a very limited choice which is boring. I have noticed that as I’ve got older I’m loving the vegetables that my mum used to eat for herself and rave about them without trying to force me to eat them: spinach and spring greens. I love courgettes and mushrooms. But these don’t feel like guilty pleasures.

It’s actually quite terrifying how I’ve absorbed some of these rules so much I’m not even aware the rules are there. Which is of course what therapy is there for.

It’s Been a While…

Tags

2son, funding, therapy

Well we’ve had three months of 2son at home. It’s been a long and lonely time. Our social worker has improved. He listens to what I say and acts upon it although it does help if I tell him what to do. But he’s still here.

We finally got 2son back to school with the presence of the social worker, a placement officer for an alternative placement and a call to the police. I then had to take him up to school, stay overnight and come back again.

Relief was short lived as funding for his placement has run out so he is there for 3 weeks until the end of term. The council are not minded to fund him for over the summer. They might fund him again from September.

So a strongly worded letter has been sent.

In other news…

Therapist is lovely and I enjoy working with her. I increasingly come home wanting to write but quite frankly at the moment I haven’t the energy, hence the long gap. We’re spending less time talking about food and more about my parents, which is necessary. She said today that that she heard “I want to break free” by Queen as my song, in that I want to break free from my parents, my children, anything that ties me down.

So life is a bit shit at the moment. There’s so much more to say but I’m really not motivated to say it.

Finally, holiday. Self-hatred comes free.

Tags

acceptance, help, holiday, self-hate, therapy

It’s been a long time coming. It’s two years, if not three since I last had a break from my children. Thanks to conspiring events, I’ve just had 6 nights to myself in Tenerife.

1son had offered a few years ago to babysit and give me a few days away as a Christmas present but it never came off as whenever we are on school holiday that would mean him looking after all 3 of his brothers and I think that would be too much. No doubt it would be fine but I don’t suppose 2son’s social worker would approve. However, whilst entering school dates in the diary this year I noticed that for this February half term 2son’s was actually the week before 3 and 4son’s with him returning to school on the Monday. Coupled with the fact that the following Monday was an INSET day (teacher training so no school) gave me a 6 night tight window. 1son was going away himself but it turned out he was coming back on the Monday so just in time. Trying to book a holiday at the last minute, when I really didn’t care much where to go was difficult and the best deals were all for 7 nights however I made it and left.

Not Going to School

Tags

BESD. ASD, choice, help, school refusal, sleep, therapy

Despite barely venturing out last week, I managed to at least get Christmas put away and the house tidied in preparation for peace and quiet this week. 3son and 4son went back to school on Monday. 2son is still up in bed asleep.

The taxi was booked as usual for 10am. It arrived at 8:30am and I told the driver to go away and come back. A good start to the day, I thought. 9am came and 2son was still fast asleep, not reacting to my voice or to gentle prodding. So I phoned up the transport service and asked them to re-arrange for midday. They did that. I tried to ignore 2son for an hour which didn’t work and then re-arranged for 4pm as he slept on. Now, at 1pm I’m still waiting for him to wake up.

How do I put Me First?

Tags

breaking chains, generations, me first, mefirst, parenting, therapy

I meant to write this after my last counselling session but I definitely need to write it before my next one in a couple of hours.

I do like my counsellor, but she’s been too soft on me, letting me ramble without ever challenging me to stay on target. Last week we actually started to discuss that, with only two or three sessions to go before we finish.

I can see, not so much with my mother, but certainly with my father, how hang-ups are passed from one generation to the next. His mother was dumped by her parents when she was six so she brought up her son to never get too close to people, including her husband, in case they vanished. Self-reliance and independence were taught to the exclusion of building and valuing good relationships with other people.

In turn he passed this on to my sisters and I in different ways. We are all three marred with personal issues, with problems in forming relationships. My father’s attitude inadvertently led to my picking partners that were wholly unsuited to me.Thus, almost inevitably, I became a single parent.

I do not want my hang-ups to be passed on, with whatever variations, to my children. I said to 1son last year that as long as he didn’t end up in therapy when he was 40 I’d think he’d turned out better than me. I have spent an enormous amount of time over the years  thinking how I felt when my parents acted in a certain manner and how I should act towards my children for them not to feel this way. I cannot relax and let them go with the flow feeling confident that they have a solid emotional foundation on which to build.

I want to break the chain that links the generations. I am petrified that my children are going to be as unhappy as I have been.

The trouble is that by not looking after myself properly, by not caring for myself and being able to look after myself and put myself first, what message am I then sending them? What example do I set?

I hide behind my children in therapy. I talk about them, what they are doing and what I am worried about. Last week my therapist said:

I know more about your children than I do about you.

I don’t talk about what I want for me. I don’t talk about where I want to be in 5 or 10 years, what I want to have achieved, what my dreams are, what my hopes are and how I feel about the rest of my life.

Last year my therapist stopped me from talking non-stop about my children. This year’s hasn’t and I need to make it clear when I start with a new therapist later this year that I need someone who can be tough on this issue.

But that’s not the point of this post. This is:

Given that I acknowledge that I need to put myself first, both for my own sake and for that of my children, how do I learn to do so?

Focus

Tags

assessment, beautiful you, counselling, exercise, focus, modalities, reputation, safe, sustainable, therapy, trust, wii

Yesterday we had our fourth counselling session. This is the time when you decide, if ready, whether you and the therapist are going to stick with each other for the rest of therapy.

For no particular reason this led off into a discussion on how therapy worked at the institute and what effect having a limited time with each therapist means. Different therapists are working at different levels (some therapists, some counsellors) and different modalities, with my current one developing her integrative skills.

What is good about this is that each therapist takes a slightly different view, with his/her different skills, level of development and personality. By the time it comes to the end of 9-10 months with a therapist I feel I know what they’re going to pull me up on and I can avoid those areas if I want to. I enter a comfort zone with my therapist and I’m not there to be comfortable. I do wonder what happens when you’re with the same therapist permanently and you feel so comfortable that it stops being challenging.

Each year you are assessed, by a separate therapist, who determines what level and type of help you need and assigns you a therapist with whom you then start. You can specify gender as well if you want to. So I have to explain myself from scratch in a session and then start the same again. Every time I do this it’s different because I am at a different stage in the process and what I’m thinking about or wanting to focus on changes as my perception of reality changes. This new assessment always encourages me to re-assess myself: where I am, what I’ve learned and what I want to focus on.

The disadvantage of this of course is that I spend several sessions with each therapist just telling my life story, and depending on their level of training it might take them a month or two before they really participate and start working me. But I feel this is a minor disadvantage.

This institute is safe; I feel comfortable and relaxed walking through the door. It’s a happy positive environment. Also whenever I talk to psychiatrists or psychologists or therapists of any sort and mention the name, they either trained there, or respect it as one of the best (or indeed both). So professionally it has a superb reputation and I trust the organisation. This means that I don’t really have to learn to trust the individual therapist as they sort of come pre-vetted. The other vast advantage is that it’s cheap. Fees depend on means but start at £5 a session. Can’t complain about that!

This was not really what I went in to talk about.

Where do I go this year? The big vision (going back to #5) is the freedom to be me, to be happy. This is quite a wide woolly vague vision although still perfectly valid. I don’t know how to make that big step so I’m starting with the little steps that I can focus on.

These are:-

Reading Beautiful You and going through the challenges without beating myself up over skipping one (#15) or not doing one every day. I skipped yesterday and am not going to manage it today as well. Learn the little habits, like smiling at myself in the mirror rather than frowning, or stopping self-denigrating thoughts before they form in the hope that eventually they will just stop forming. I know it’s all about changing my mindset, how I think, how I see myself and these little things will help me change the bigger picture.

Exercise: I am focusing on enjoying it. I’m thinking about the short term immediate benefit, not the long term putative better fitness that may follow after a year or two. But I am thinking about this good feeling that follows exercise, feeling energised and able to sit down and word harder and concentrate  more at the PC. I’m doing, or aiming to do a half hour in the morning (workout or Zumba) and then when I feel like slumping in the afternoon doing an hour or so of dancing or some such  exercise. I am focusing on that energising feeling and I’m noticing the difference in what my muscles can achieve between one day and the next. I’m trying to just think about that. I’ve done well these past few weeks, have mostly had 2 sessions every day, and again, I’m not beating myself up if I only do one or don’t manage any. I’m trying to tweet them when I’ve done for the record but seem to forget more often than not.

I’m not really trying to focus on anything else. These are two major things, blogging every day which takes time and nigh on two hours in front of the Wii as well. I need to plan meals better and all that sort of stuff but these two will do for now. What matters is whether I can keep this level up over the next few months and not lose interest as I always have done when trying for a sustainable lifestyle change.

 

 

My Mouth Ran Away With Me

Tags

anti-depressants, confidence, excuses, exercise, integration, ssri, therapy

Yesterday I went back to my counsellor for what is only my third session after a long holiday break. It felt weird as we hadn’t had time to get started before Christmas really.

I spoke quite animatedly about the positive effects of the SSRI I’m taking, how it gave me energy and motivation, both physical and emotional that meant that I simply achieved more in the day and got off my chair more. I spend less time day dreaming and messing about, more time relaxing properly or concentrating on work. The house is cleaner than it’s been for a while and I’ve had more enthusiasm for writing this blog.

As well as the medication the book that I am going through for this year is also giving me a focus. I think of it as my thought for the day as it gives me something to think about each day in a structured way.

“What is my vision, what do I want to get out of this therapy” she asked. Partly thanks to what I wrote last week I was able to simply say self-respect and the freedom to be me. It’s not complicated really. It’s also what I try and give my children, the freedom and confidence to be who they are without trying to push them into a mould.

I have the rational understanding of what happened and why, and what effect it had but I have been stuck for the last six months or so at starting to move on from that point to integrating that understanding and learning to like and respect myself despite all the crap.

I babbled, possibly more than I’ve ever done in therapy and my hands were waving around as well. I know that much of this is the tablets so in that sense it’s false, but it feels so good to feel good.

I spoke of my children and the double-edged sword that they are: their presence has always stopped me from giving in to depression, from hiding under the duvet and refusing to get out or from withdrawing from the world and that is good. But it’s also meant that I haven’t acknowledged depression before, so I haven’t really tried to deal with it previously. They also provide me with an easy excuse for not being able to do things because I have children. Many of these I will be able to do once they’re older so they are still within my grasp but I also use them to protect me when I don’t want to face the real reasons I have for not doing things.

I also spoke of exercise, of trying once again to include it into my daily routine, that I hadn’t missed a day since I started. I’m doing it first thing in the morning and then a longer session most afternoons or evenings when I feel myself start to slump. I’m trying to recognise the energising power that physical activity has as well as the strength that it brings.

We haven’t quite gelled yet, my counsellor and I. It normally takes 4 or 5 sessions for both of us to sit right with each other and we’re not there.

I felt hugely positive although the fact that it’s partly the medication talking takes away my confidence slightly. I know I wouldn’t be like this without it. It does give me time and space to make this state of being real and that’s what I’ve got to remember.

Let’s Start Again

Tags

psoriasis, self-hate, therapy

Wow, that’s the longest gap in posting since I started. I do apologise.

My mother and father passed on their cold to me, how kind, and I went down and down, eventually spending all of last week in bed before finally starting to mend. I very rarely get ill but I find that when I do get ill it tends to last longer and feel worse than it used to. I’ve had thoughts running around my head that should have appeared here but was in no way able to be coherent.

I met my new therapist today.

It’s bizarre, debating where to start. We talked a bit about what type of therapy (integrative) and whether it was in the client’s interest to know more about the whole process or whether it’s better to have no pre-conceptions. I do occasionally wonder about some study in this area but not very hard.

One session is hard to tell from but we got on quite well and I tried to explain where I was,  starting with the now rather than the then. It always seems to take a while to get going with someone new.

I talked about lack of self-esteem and how it was more than that, although I shied away from saying I hated myself. I talked about not being happy with the way I looked and that the lack of self-worth was stopping me from getting on and enjoying my life, as well as stopping me being able to manage exercise and food in order to look after myself.

I caught myself using exactly the same techniques I had been caught for using last year: avoiding eye contact and slowing down with my speech when it came to describing my feelings. I found this quite difficult to articulate and explain.

I only indirectly talked about my children which was good. I didn’t really want to as they take over so much of my life. 2son has stopped leaving the house again, not even to see his therapist although they do talk on the phone. We’re having battles over his hair and I’ve told him I’m going to hack it off with scissors while he’s asleep if he doesn’t let me help him look after it.

I’ve also ripped up the carpets downstairs (sitting room and study) which I’ve been meaning to do for years and even more so since 2son urinated all over it. We sand the floorboards next week and I’m deeply grateful for a friend’s offer of assistance as I would never have got round to doing it on my own.

My psoriasis has come back. After having lost a large patch on my knee this summer for the first time in years, I’ve broken out in little patches all over my body and on my ears which is most uncomfortable. I’m not surprised as I certainly feel more stressed again. Having 2son go backwards has really thrown me. He was doing quite well at the beginning of term but I think it was all too much too soon for him and he just stopped going to CATE before half term. I have no idea where we’re going with him and hope to have a team meeting before Christmas to discuss what’s going on.

The other three are mostly all right. 1son is enjoying college and work, although intends to complain that they’re not working hard enough on their course, which I find quite remarkable. 3son is absolutely loving secondary school, was very proud to come back with a bruised eye from standing up to a much older boy on the bus for trying to bully him. We all said well done. 4son has found it a little bit difficult being on his own in the park after school but seems to have adapted. They all get on top of each other that little bit more now than they used to which 3son does not help by his arrogance due to his perceived superiority as the only one in secondary school.

So there we go. I didn’t intend to come away from here for so long and did miss it. I’ve still got a cold and a developing cough and a need for sleep. Kids are OK more or less; I’m starting therapy again and going to see GP on Thursday. There’s more to tell but that sort of wraps it up for the moment.

Thanks for listening.

 

 

Getting Scared

Tags

camhs, counselling, decisions, emotions, fear, hump, therapy

It seems that a lot has been happening that I just haven’t written about. Mostly I’ve been getting scared.

Before half term I had a long talk with 2son’s therapist. We started off talking about how he’d made great progress that term and that we needed to talk with him about why he’d given up, whether he was feeling pushed or not. I then moved on to some of my own fears.

I’m anxious that despite all that I know about myself, that I’m teaching my children to hide their emotions as well, even though I strive so hard not to.

1son cannot deal with confrontation, to the point that he can’t tell one of his former best friends why he’s fallen out with him because he can’t handle that conversation. He dares not apologise to my sister for his extremely bad behaviour towards her because she does get emotional and start shouting and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

2son won’t talk about anything that goes through his head. He missed last week’s session as his therapist was ill and I asked him why he wouldn’t go to CATE, whether it was the teachers/children/set up/pressure or anything else that was running through my head. I wasn’t getting cross with him but I was exasperated. He said nothing. He hardly ever says anything about what’s in his head.

3son and 4son for the most part are nice to 2son. Once in a while 3son will blow up and tell 2son he’s useless (with some inappropriate language thrown in) but for the most part they try to be nice. I recently discovered some writing from 3son where he said “[2son] is still fucking useless”. But, like me, they are both worried about expressing their anger towards 2son in case it’s counter productive so they bottle it up.

I’m worried that I cannot sort myself out in time to sort them out and that despite all my best efforts I won’t be able to get there in time.

I explained much of this to 2son’s therapist and asked if CAMHS had any pull with getting me more intensive/stronger therapy than I was getting. No, was more or less the answer but they’d have a think.

I also had my mother visit for not quite 48 hours this week which didn’t help my mood. Don’t think we really said much which considering it’s the first time she’s visited in over 2 years really says it all. She once referred to us not having long chats but didn’t take it further and she was fairly appalled when I asked what my nephew was reading at Oxford where he’s just started. Didn’t anyone tell me, she asked and I pointed out that 2sis doesn’t communicate with me at all, she didn’t and no-one else had bothered. We didn’t have huge amount of time together and my sister (1sis) came visiting with dog which helped.

The other thing that is of course like a ticking time bomb of a deadline is my ever increasing weight.

After my mother’s first hour, she went off to have an afternoon nap and I got out the vodka. I don’t usually drink in the daytime but the pressure and anticipation had got to me. I realised this was foolish so I phoned up the place where I go for counselling and made an appointment for an assessment this week. I also made contact with a lady running group therapy that a friend of mine went to. This is a structured series of 10 sessions, for sufferers of domestic violence. I initially thought this was not really applicable but when you include verbal abuse then I suddenly can tick all the boxes so I’ve signed up for that in January. Plus of course I have my book which is swimming its way here that I mentioned in my previous post.

I need to stop being too scared to open up and learn to get my fears out there otherwise I will never be able to overcome them. I am at a hump at the moment and, as previously said, it’s not just a hump it’s a bloody great mountain or brick wall in front of me. I do feel that if I can just take a tiny step forward the rest will flow.