Therapy Update

 About two weeks ago, I made a grave mistake. I decided to give up on therapy- you can read about it here. Then I decided to give it another try. I had three sessions with this last lady. The first two went pretty good!  Then in the third one, when talking about some abuse I suffered at the hands of my aunt, this new therapist started getting verbally nasty with me and reprimanded me to “just not focus on the past!”  She said in a very demeaning tone to only focus on the present, like Buddhists. 

Well, first of all I’m not Buddhist. But that’s not the issue. I was a sobbing mess for the rest of the afternoon. I feel like it’s considered unfathomable to tell anyone who suffered abuse to just not dwell on it and not to focus on the past. And with such a nasty tone, too. If she’d done this to anyone else, it would be considered wrong. 

In the middle of my verbal beating, she paused and asked, “Am I being too strict with you?”  So she knew what she was doing!  In the moment, I had to say, no you aren’t  obviously when you’re being verbally accosted like this, you can’t say “yes you’re being too strict.” You just can’t, because you’re being extremely reduced.  Many advocates of therapy would say I should have spoken up and said yes you are, so she could “know she needed to try a different approach” but how on earth was I supposed to feel strong enough to do that when I was being literally accused of choosing to live in the past, when trying to process abuse I suffered???

I really should have been screen recording the session, but I didn’t even think about it. She was pretty great for my first two sessions. If I had been screen recording the session, I would have proof of the way she just went off on me. Might I add, “the past” is something I thought you were supposed to “dwell on” and “process” in therapy. 

I am absolutely not going to seek out another therapist for real this time. Most, if not all of them, are toxic individuals, and the narrative about therapy that’s out there in society just isn’t reality for me. It puts me in a situation where whatever anxiety I felt before is made worse exponentially. I am not someone who goes and is able to get the help other women get. 

I just need to accept that there is no help for me and move forward with my purpose. Telling someone like me to “just find a new therapist” is toxic and minimizing. I did “find a new therapist” when I made three consecutive weekly appointments with this lady. And she was great at first and then turned on me in the third session. It’s devastating when this happens. 

20 YearsAgo Today

June 4, 2006 was my first day working as a Discovery Guide at the children’s museum. I worked there for several years. I left in order to finish my last semester and summer sessions to get my college degree. I crammed classes into those sessions that wouldn’t have been possible with a job. It was single-handedly the biggest mistake of my life. I threw my life away for someone else’s dream. 

Working there fulfilled the career goal I set at about age 21 to help children, and it was the only thing I ever did that fulfilled that and wasn’t sad. It was joyous. Thousands of kids from the community could come in and learn on their own terms. I facilitated all of that, and if only I could have a dollar for all of the “aha moments” I saw in their faces. 

Four months later, I found out i was pregnant, and two and a half years after that, I started going through a divorce from Anna’s father. The museum and the people there (and also Anna’s daycare at the time) were such a wonderful support system. I never brought Anna to work while I was on the clock, but I brought her there on my off times to play, because I had a free membership. She was obsessed with that place!  When I was about 8 months pregnant, the head of the cleaning ladies there told me, “Whatever you hate the smell of when you’re pregnant, the baby will love .” I said, “I hate the smell of this museum!” And lo and behold she was correct. 

I went through my phone and added whatever pics I could find from there. Some are during busman’s holidays with Anna when I was not working, and some are from different October's, when we were all required to wear costumes for two weeks preceding Halloween. 

Anna in front of a “carry a kid” 

Pillar on the outside- it’s a spoof on the “caryatids” in Ancient Greece. 

This meme reminded me of field trip days. It really was like this n

Me dressed as a chicken for Halloween.  

Me as an ice cream sundae for Halloween. 

Anna with my coworker, dressed as Snow White for Halloween. 

Anna in one of the changing exhibits that I really don’t remember the details of. 

Anna in the eco station. 

Anna with a doll. 

My baby shower in May, 2007. 

Me and Anna in the two and under play exhibit called “totspot”. 

Anna doing a special Christmas activity. I don’t know why she looks perturbed at the presenter! 

 

False Memories

 It took my parents about five days to get from Chicago to Phoenix, Arizona when we moved there in 1993. After celebrating my mom’s birthday in an Oklahoma City motel with pizza and cake, we went through Oklahoma and the Texas panhandle through Amarillo. I fell asleep in the back seat with headphones on, set to a radio station I found by sliding the dial in Amarillo. The static that played after the radio station faded as we got out of Amarillo helped me sleep. I slept for a very long time. When I woke up, I looked out the window and there was beautiful desert landscape with cacti and red sand. For some reason, I have a memory of Señorita by Puff Daddy playing on my headphones as I saw the desert for the first time. 

But there are problems with this memory. Señorita by Puff Daddy didn’t come out until 1997. It must have been another song, or still static. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen the Sonoran desert landscape, either. My parents and I flew there in 1992 to check it out and see if we wanted to move there. This May have been the first time I was seeing it while driving through a rural area. I don’t know why I think of seeing the desert for the first time after a long car nap every time I hear that song. That song always brought that memory up. 

I do not know what a good balance is when it comes to false memories. Am I a liar because I have a false memory?  Does this mean I’m a bad person for “making it up”?  Didn’t make it up?  Not consciously, I didn’t. Is this an example of a false memory caused by trauma?  Did moving from Chicago to Arizona at age 14 count as a traumatic experience?  Not according to ACES. ACES doesn’t include moving away. However, when my own daughter was 14, I was on again off again with a man I knew in high school, who lived in Arizona. What if I had ended up with him and said, “We’re moving to Arizona, say goodbye to your friends?”  I would have been considered a bad parent. But, I was divorced from Anna’s dad, my parents weren’t. Does that make me immune from feeling trauma from a big change like that at age 14?  Even though I was in agreement with my parents, I still felt sadness when we left and some shell shock at key cultural differences between Chicago and Phoenix. That was the first year I really started feeling heat sensitivity that I still suffer from to this day. I really wonder the validity of my false memory. Why do I have it, and is it ok if I have it?  Was moving traumatic for me and I don’t realize it?  If yes, then how does that reconcile with the fact that my parents did sit me down at age 13 and asked my opinion of moving there and I said I was cool with it?  How does that reconcile with the fact that the change in my mom’s mental health after we moved had a positive affect on me?  The moving itself was still jarring. It’s a mystery I guess 

Daily Life

 Wednesday, I went to 25 cent day at Family Thrift outlet in west Houston. I spent $18 on 72 items to cut up for quilts. I love cutting it all up. It’s semi-therapeutic. I got a lot of denim button down shirts to save the buttons from too. I also want to do some button art. Since most of the buttons are white, the thing that would make the most sense to make would be a snowflake or a snowman. We’ll see. For now, I just like cutting up my 72 items. Cutting up 25 cent clothing just makes me happy. If that sounds weird, I’m sorry. I also love sewing and have been watching some ladies on YouTube who are and quilters. Links later. 

My weight this morning was 194.3, and I feel great. A couple months ago, the scale said 215, so this is more than a 20 pound loss. Phentermine works great at making you just not think about food at all. I have not been to the gym in a couple weeks though, and need to get back on it. I got out some old t-shirts that were too tight a couple months ago, but fit great now. Two of them are New Mexico shirts with the very cute state flag, one shirt from the Galveston Seawall, and one that says New Orleans. A week or so ago, it seemed to me that I was just losing boobs and that’s it, but that’s not what it is. I’m losing weight in my abdomen, and that’s making my boobs sag more. I’m getting old I guess. 

Today is the 33 year anniversary of my parents and I leaving Chicago, where we were all born. Tomorrow is my mom’s 81st birthday. We never do things for birthdays that end in 1- they just aren’t exciting. When we left Chicago for Arizona on May 29th, 1993, we had gotten to Oklahoma City by the end of the next day. We had my mom’s 48th birthday in a motel there with pizza. We had a car with an attached U-haul and a 10 year old dog that would live about 2 and a half more years. We went to bed that night and at 3:00 am, the dog was barking at people in the motel hallway and we left because my father didn’t tell the desk we had a dog. 

Our move to Arizona was very good for my mom at the time. They were in a big friend group with the Chicago GOYA (Greek Orthodox Youth of America), which included some of my aunts and uncles on both sides. This whole friend group had a big competition with each other to see who could move from Chicago to Arizona. I often wonder what caused that challenge among all these people.  Nowadays, it’s considered bad parenting to move a kid to a new state just because, but it wasn’t considered bad parenting back then. My mom kind of didn’t want to go at first, but once we got there, she perked up for at least a few years. My mom had just turned 48, and my dad was 51. I’m turning 48 in about 7 weeks, so it’s nice to know that if my mom could have a good start at this age then I can too. I’m not saying I would move anywhere. Kevin and I want to live in his parent’s guest house as long as possible because the rent is so cheap. But I can renew my mind and set new goals. 

I’ve been very down due to leaving my job at the inventory service and getting into caregivers again. With my husband still working there, I have to hear about it every day. I can’t not ask him how his day was. 

Right now, I’m taking care of a 99 year old on hospice. Her kids are caring for her, and they need a break. She often makes me think of an old character from the 80’s that just wouldn’t die and was indestructible. I think it was Svengoolie but can’t remember. I have perpetual anxiety that she’ll die when I’m with her, but it’s honestly not that big of a deal of that happens. After all, it’s been long expected and she is 99. If I live as long as her, then my halfway point won’t even be for about a year and a half. That’s encouraging. (Kind of), but not really because this 99 year old tends to have panic attacks. It’s a little daunting to think about still having panic attacks 50 years from now when I am confined to a recliner and dependent on others for everything. When she has one, I just take her hand and put the other hand under that arm and let her stand up while I sort of support her as she stands there. This standing eases her anxiety for a minute or two. 

The other person I’m caring for is the one who’s granddaughter witnesses a classmate being killed. This woman also lost her husband four months ago and sometimes cries to me about it. It’s hard for me to bear other people’s trauma like I am, but I try to deal with it by listening and letting it pass.

This Monday and Tuesday I have 12 hour shifts with another client that just wants you to go in another room and she “hollers” if she need you. So I’m setting the intention to bring my notebooks and jot notes all day. 

I’m just praying for more easy days. As I write more and more about the jobs I’ve had and the people I’ve helped at both ends of the lifespan, it’s hitting me just how much I’ve dealt with. The fact that the therapist I saw didn’t believe a couple key elements of my story gives me hellish imposter syndrome, but I’m working through it. Acknowledging that trauma can alter your memories is tough when you’ve been writing a book and consciously trying to make up fake scenarios that are “based on” real ones to protect the identity of the person you worked with. How much of my book will be BS?  Essentially, I don’t think it matters, because the message will stay the same. There’s a very complicated balance between changing things up to protect privacy, knowing you might remember things wrong due to trauma, and having a condescending bitch for a therapist that was like “Are you sure it was that and not this?” Ugh seriously fuck that lady, I’m so glad im not going back. 

The ACES Questionnaire

 Before I was diagnosed with chronic PTSD, I was asked to fill out the ACES Questionnaire. This stands for Adverse Childhood Experiences. It’s a list of ten things that you answer about things you went through as a child. There is no real score to decide if you have chronic PTSD, they just say “The higher your score, the more likely you are to suffer complex trauma,”. 

Since my very first therapy session at age 17 was someone my mother paid for and arranged, I was basically dismissed as someone who has no reason to struggle, because some of the fact that some of the questions on ACES didn’t apply to me. My parents weren’t divorced. They didn’t go to jail or prison, and they weren’t financially poor. I have no idea if they used substances when I was a child or not. And as far as spousal abuse goes, they hurt each other equally. Some versions of ACES ask only very specifically if your father abused your mother. With my parents, it was back and forth. Mental illness in parents is not something I’m sure I can even answer, because while my mom claims to have had postpartum depression for 15 years, PPD is often given as a reason or excuse for abuse- discounting me yet again. All of the other things are arbitrary. All forms of abuse are denied in my family. So I may have this diagnosis on paper, but I really have no skin in the game when it comes to deserving help. 

I posted some of my frustrations online about ACES. Of course, people came back with how “it doesn’t actually matter if your parents weren’t not divorced.”  But it does- at least enough to be counted on that list. 

Someone gave me an example of a child who survives a school shooting. This person said, “They are still going to be traumatized, even if their parents are still married.”  And while they mean well saying that, they really shouldn’t have to say it at all. If that’s the case, then why not put surviving a school shooting on the ACES list?  Sometimes a divorce is actually in the child’s best interest- and I would definitely rather go through that than to witness a school shooting. 

The phone definitely spies, because This came up in my YouTube suggestions about the elementary school shooting in Uvalde four years ago. It’s over an hour long and goes into detail. I realized that I never watched any minute by minute detailed replay of that event. And wow. One thing I do remember was one little girl who called 911 from her classroom five times before the police busted in to disable the shooter. She told 911 operators that her classroom was “full of victims”. This documentary replays her actual 911 calls. I do remember that in the days/weeks after the Uvalde shooting, this little girl had a very rough time and was in the hospital for quite a while. There was a news story about her, and it showed both her mother and father in her hospital room with her. Of course, that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re still together, but there’s a good chance they are. Could you imagine actually having to tell this kid, “Oh it’s ok, you can still be traumatized”?  

“It doesn’t matter that your parents never split up, that’s just on there so they can determine how much support you had when you lived through an actual war zone at age ten!  Just don’t check that box!”  

Can you imagine ANYTHING counting against this kid when trying to diagnose her with trauma?  To me that just screams audacity. 

I think the ACES questionnaire should be updated to include school shootings, medical trauma, and bullying.  Certain family structures and marital statuses don’t have a monopoly on hardship.  

That’s all for tonight. 

Happenings Around Here

 First of all, I discovered Substack. I’m intrigued. It’s a platform where you can write articles about anything. Wow!  I subscribed to about 10-12 people who write about things I’m interested in. 

Secondly, gift card boss wanted to meet me at a convenience store right by one of my clients’ home, 15 minutes before my shift, so she could give me my $100 gift card. Usually she mails them, but I haven’t seen her in person since I was onboarded in January. 

The next morning, I used my Walmart gift card to buy five cases of bottled water for hurricane season.  This added up to a little over $20. With the rest, I bought solid 100% cotton quilting fabrics, because I am officially going to start sewing again. After quitting my training at the ABA facility and becoming very disillusioned, I lost all of my creativity and dumped all of my fabric squares and scraps into a clothing donation bin. It was a very rash and bad decision. My experience trying to become a Registered Behavior Technician was so off the wall that it temporarily killed my soul. 

I had two denim chenille quilts that the sewing was complete on, and they just needed to be clipped and laundered. I gave both to my daughter with a sharp pair of fabric scissors and told her to finish them and do what she wanted with them- keep, sell, or gift. She was eager to finish them. My plan was originally to have an Etsy shop. Maybe I still can. I plan on going back to 25 cent day this Wednesday. 

My daughter Anna is working a summer job at the day camp at the YMCA. She finished training this past Friday and the kids start Tuesday. The last day of this program is July 31.  She’s also working on adding lace to some of her own clothing, and she attended the graduation ceremony for her old high school to support her younger friends. 

The 16 year old granddaughter of one of the elderly people I’m caring for witnessed a classmate get hit by a car this past week, and this morning, the kid unfortunately passed away. Her grandmother is so worried about her, not only from the trauma of witnessing it, but because it was a hit and run and she had to give statements to the police. Talking to the police can be traumatic for kids, and hopefully these cops were understanding. She’s going to carry this with her for life. 

One of my friends had a baby on January 26 who just went home a few days ago. He was born with hydrocephalus and was in the NICU. She posted an Amazon wishlist, which I ordered a rattle off of. I love Amazon wishlists, because you don’t have to guess what a person wants or needs. 

I went to work yesterday with a woman who is 99 years old. She is adorable. She is being cared for by her daughters who are in their 70’s, and they just need a break. One of the first things out of their mouths when I showed up and before they left the house was that they would give her Benadryl so she’d sleep for me!  Oh?  I heard that was abuse, but I pretended I knew nothing. It’s abuse if you give it to a child to make them sleep. I’m not sure you can tell two 70 year olds who are caring for their 99 year old mother not to do that. Like I said before, elderly people are stuck in their ways. The last old man I took care of drank nothing except coke and rum. The ice melting in those drinks was his only water intake. A major difference between caring for kids vs elderly is that with kids, you always have to do best practice. If an elderly person wants coke and rum, or Benadryl, or cake for breakfast, or a smoke, then who cares. Just don’t smoke around the oxygen!  But if you’re a kid- don’t smoke at all. 

🙈🙉🙊

I have a lot of thoughts to blog about regarding the following topics:

Traumatic memories being processed differently, to the point where you probably don’t remember things correctly, and how that can lead to imposter syndrome when you have PTSD 

The low birth rate and how people are all of a sudden trying to promote having children. 20-30 years ago, they promoted not having children, or at least, waiting to do it absolutely last. It’s so weird to me to see how the propaganda has done a 180. Did they not think my generation would listen? 

I have some thoughts on Joseph Duggar’s nasty ass. 

I’m having Artemis dreams every night. Ever since I killed that deer, the goddess of the hunt is living rent free in my psyche. THE deer I killed is always somewhere in these dreams too. I don’t know how to interpret any of it. Do I need to be interpreting? 

Stay Tuned 

Pics and Reflections

I didn’t even have to ask for a raise lol. I just got this text from GCboss out of the blue. I’ve done such an amazing job, yall!  The new rate is $1 more than my starting pay and still $1 less than her cap. 

I’m getting a shift differential of $5 per hour for working with the married couple. This helps with the fact that it’s about 30 miles away with a seven hour break. On Friday, I went home in between, because Kevin was away for work and I needed to feed the cats. Usually my mother in law will feed them if we’re away, but the presence of Jordan kind of stresses her out. He darts out the door, and she’s really worried about that. So I just went home Friday. Yesterday, however, I did a lot of side jobs nearby on both field agent and iVueit. I’ve been having a lot of free subway sandwiches plus $3. I’m starting to wonder if the Subway employees can tell we are mystery shoppers, because we always order the same thing (have to for reimbursement). 

Today on my seven hour break, I’m going to go to a park in the town where they live. Kevin is off and may meet me. 

Here’s the damage the deer did to my car. I’m thinking back to when it happened, and a man who was local to that town stopped to ask if I was ok. He was very very nice, but he was kindly encouraging me to leave town. Now that I look back on it, I think he wanted to go back and get the deer. Some stuff he said about it makes me wonder if he did. Maybe there’s some unspoken rule in these small towns that if you hit the deer, you get to eat it. Idk 🤷🏻‍♀️. But if so, I didn’t care. I’m not about to fillet a deer. 

Last but not least, here’s Jordan and all of his cuteness. He’s such a joy. He’s 11 months old now. I estimated his birthday to be 6-21-2025, the summer solstice. He showed up on our doorstep on 12-21, the winter solstice, and the vet estimated him at 6 months old. So it was perfect.