Tag: therapy

Through the Years

Today marks 8 years that hubby and I met and spent time together for the first time, so we consider this our “first date” anniversary. I had been following him on Twitter for a bit and wanted to formally meet him. So I set up a public group dinner for anyone and everyone and made sure a mutual friend of ours got him to come. We hit it off pretty much as soon as he arrived and the rest, as they say, is history.

It’s taken us a loooong time to get where we are now in our relationship. Like most couples we’ve had a hundred ups and downs. Through the years we’ve learned so much about each other, what works for us, and what doesn’t. But the most important thing we have learned – and still are learning – is how to communicate. I’ve mentioned therapy before and I cannot recommend it enough to anyone. Please don’t think you have to be going through a life changing event or feel you have to be depressed to go to therapy. For me, therapy is helping me communicate better and more clearly when I need, want, am upset or dissatisfied with something or someone. I’m learning more about how other’s communicate (in relation to my own ways) in order to adapt and work, live, and play more effectively with others. Personally, I have learned so much about myself from therapy and it helped release some long term negativity that had been weighing me down for years. With hubby, we’ve grown closer together through our therapy sessions because our therapist has been able to help us see how we feed off each other positively and negatively. She’s given us tools to use when tempers flare and what were previously knock-down, drag-out, week long fights are now usually 5-10 minute discussions on who felt what way and why. And then it’s done. It’s pretty amazing.

We’re not perfect, but we’re definitely getting our groove. We get each other and we make each other laugh. We take care of each other. We know each other. We don’t always agree, but who does and why would we want to? He keeps me chill and messy and I keep him organized and tightly wound. lol. We work. Happy anniversary-ish, babe. I love you.

picture of me and hubby

I Don’t Remember That

I’ve wrestled with this issue my entire life (as far as I can remember): I can’t remember things from my past. I can’t remember how I met most of my friends, I can’t remember movies I know I’ve seen before, I can’t remember important milestones. I’ve gone on entire vacations and don’t remember any part of them.

I don’t know if it’s normal or not, but I definitely don’t feel like it is. (What is normal anyway? lol) I talk to friends who are able to tell me detailed accounts of nights we’ve spent having fun at the beach and they can’t believe I can’t recall any of it. I’ve had former roommates recount numerous tales of us living together, but I don’t remember any of them. I believe them, of course, because I’ve been like this my entire life. But sometimes it really upsets me that I can’t seem to remember my own life. I am grateful for all of you who put the pieces together for me when needed and don’t judge me for it. But if you’ve ever wondered why I take so many pictures of anything and everything now you know. I take pictures so I can look at them later because I know I likely won’t remember it. I have thousands and thousands of pictures documenting good times with friends, family, or just something I want to remember later.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not completely blank inside. I do have memories; they are just few and far between considering my life span and the amount of experiences I’ve actually had. I have snippets here and there of when I was younger and lived in Wisconsin with my mother…those aren’t that great. A previous therapist believes that may be when it all started – she thinks I may have learned long ago to block out things as a coping mechanism (for what, I have no idea) and that may be a possible explanation as to why I can’t remember as much as other people. But it also may just be that I don’t pay attention to details as much as others. It could be any number of things. But I do have memories of the rest of my life…with my dad, the my family, my friends, and the like. The more recent the activity the more likely I am to remember it. But sometimes the memory loss really comes in handy….I can see the same movie three times and it seem brand new to me every time. It’s almost like “50 First Dates” in my head some days. lol.

In all my years of therapy I have learned two things about my condition: it doesn’t affect my work and it only affects my life and no one else’s, as in I remember things and details about those close to me. Again, therapy suggests it’s because I care about those close to me so much and want to ensure I’m listening to them when they tell me things or when things are happening to them.

So, now you know that I’m not an airhead, I just have a crappy memory. lol. I try very hard to remember things, especially if you tell me something. But, if I do forget and have to ask again once or twice, please understand why and don’t be upset. Now, who wants to go see a movie? 😉

How Do You Say Goodbye?

pictures-630378_640Many of my friends know that hubs and I are getting ready for a move. Close friends know that I am working to declutter before we move so we can have (and move) less stuff. My closest friends know that I tend to keep everything that means anything so I have 5 “memory boxes” filled with scraps and trinkets starting from the time I was probably 18. I also have boxes and boxes of pictures that I just move from one place to another. Real photos…like they used to print years ago in actual photo labs and not just Walgreens. I’m sort of trying the Konmari method and sort of just trying to take less stuff, so I’m going through the boxes and throwing away old pictures.

When I opened the first box, I had no idea 1998 would hit me in the face like a wall. Wow, 1998. I was 23, barely old enough to drink, married for three years at that time, living in Montgomery. Pictures from my grandfather’s funeral along with visits to Wisconsin, Michigan, and Canada filled the bed as I pulled batch after batch out of the box. Beach trips with my girls, a road trip to the Saturn Homecoming in Tennessee in 1999 in my Saturn with Tomma where we saw Train, Faith Hill, Tim McGraw, and Hootie & the Blowfish in concert. An epic Fourth of July party with all of our friends in Montgomery. And dogs…lots of dog pictures. Dog pictures with my ex husband. Pictures of my ex husband.

A year ago – even a few months ago – these pictures would have unleashed a waterfall of tears…not unlike the Niagara Falls pictures I came across…with him in them. But I truly believe in the power of prayer, of God, of medicine, and therapy. My therapist knows my deepest, darkest secrets and doesn’t judge me for them. She helps me with them. A few months ago she had me do an exercise where I said goodbye to the ex husband, who I still held on to in my heart. I had a lot of guilt over our divorce (it was my doing) and blamed myself for it for many, many years after. Many years. Lots of blame, guilt, and regret. Things that depression is made of.

The exercise in my therapist’s office was the hardest one I’ve ever done and I cried harder than ever as I did it. But I did it. And the feeling after was like night and day. I felt as if a huge weight had been lifted (and actually, it had). I was a changed person and my husband knew it that night (before I even told him what happened earlier that day). I also felt exhausted. I went home, feeling like I had been hit by a Mack truck, and promptly slept for 10 hours straight.

It’s hard to say goodbye to people or things that have been a part of your life for a lot of it. It’s even harder to say goodbye when you can’t let go. Thankfully, with therapy and prayer, I was finally able to cut my albatross and let it go. I will be the first to shout out loud that therapy, counseling, just TALKING to someone can be theraputic and help so much. It doesn’t need to ignored or shushed and should most definitely be talked about and recommendations shared. It’s not taboo – therapy is just like venting and gabbing to your best friend, but to an unbiased outside ear to get a new perspective. And therapists can provide useful tools to help you deal with life’s everyday challenges.

The ex has a good life now, I know this. I’m so happy for him, but even happier that I no longer feel like I’m to blame for everything. We both landed on our feet and we’re both now with who we should be with.

Years ago I never thought I would be able to look at his picture and not cry. But I did tonight. I stared at it for a long time, to see what would happen inside. To see if I would lose it and feel that old guilt well up. It didn’t. I looked at the picture, said a prayer for him, wished him well, and stuck it on the trash pile. That’s how I said goodbye.

Why Adele Could Be My Mother

Adele

Adele
Adele

It seems the world is all abuzz with the new song from Adele and her upcoming album. I heard “Hello” yesterday for the first time. The timing of the song couldn’t have been worse for me (or better, depending on how you look at it). I’m not shy about my private life and pretty transparent. I recently alluded to some “mother issues” that I’m starting to tackle with my new therapist and this song was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

A little background: My mother and I have always has a strained relationship, mostly due to her alcoholism. It was a bitter pill to swallow growing up, always coming in 2nd, 3rd, or not at all, and I finally got some reprieve when she sent me to live with my dad when I was seven years old. But I still saw her every year during summer and the disease always reared its ugly head in some way during my visit, usually multiple times. A few years ago I couldn’t take the mental abuse anymore and the toll it was taking on my life here in Alabama – even from Wisconsin – and had to end my relationship with her. I sent her a letter wishing her love and the care that she needed and a good life, but that I could no longer be a part of it as long as she was drinking. World’s Worst Daughter, step right up! The few friends I spoke to about it tried to reassure me that self-care is important too, as well as my sanity, but I still felt like crap.

Fast forward a few years to now: Therapist wants to start talking about her. Crap, fine. Whatever. I don’t want to, but you know what’s best. A week ago Friday…”talk to her, Sherri. What do you want to say to your mom?” That was followed by a pretty short tirade from me about abandonment, alcoholism, my sister (who had to live with her and deserved so much more), harsh memories and examples, wishing her well and that was it. The therapist was wonderfully empathetic after and understanding that I gave what I had and was indifferent now. Or so I thought.

The following day my sister messaged me that mom wanted my mailing address. What? Who? NOW? What are the odds? WHY DOES SHE WANT THAT? I DON’T WANT TO OPEN PANDORA’S BOX AGAIN. Four days later I received a note from my mother, who hasn’t spoken to me in years (I did try once), with one word on it: “Truce?”

What is she trying to do to me? We’re done with that. We aren’t fighting, so why do we need to call a truce? That letter threw me into a mental whirlwind and I didn’t know how (or how I WANTED) to process it. Therapy appointment made? Check! That was Thursday. Friday I heard “Hello” for the first time. At my desk. At work. BIG mistake. That song, while I’m sure about a romantic relationship, hit me like nothing I’ve ever heard before and sent me into an emotional tailspin. Every feeling about my mother that’s been welling up in the past week, and likely the past 3 years, came rushing to the surface as I heard Adele ask to meet, realizing they are running out of time, and talking about how sorry she was for breaking their heart. I sobbed in the bathroom at work, clutching my mom’s letter, and trying to make sense of what was going on in my head and heart. After a few minutes I composed myself and got back to work. But that song has haunted me ever since.

Those words could have written for me. By my mother. More importantly, to me, those words should have been written to me. By my mother. Did I just want acknowledgement and a heart felt apology? Is that what I have been longing for after all these years? I’m not sure, time will tell. In the mean time, here are the lyrics. I am hoping one day I might hear them from my mother.

“Hello”

Hello, it’s me
I was wondering if after all these years
You’d like to meet, to go over everything
They say that time’s supposed to heal ya
But I ain’t done much healing

Hello, can you hear me?
I’m in California dreaming about who we used to be
When we were younger and free
I’ve forgotten how it felt before the world fell at our feet

There’s such a difference between us
And a million miles

Hello from the other side
I must’ve called a thousand times to tell you
I’m sorry, for everything that I’ve done
But when I call you never seem to be home

Hello from the outside
At least I can say that I’ve tried to tell you
I’m sorry, for breaking your heart
But it don’t matter, it clearly doesn’t tear you apart anymore

Hello, how are you?
It’s so typical of me to talk about myself
I’m sorry, I hope that you’re well
Did you ever make it out of that town
Where nothing ever happened?

It’s no secret
That the both of us are running out of time

So, hello from the other side
I must’ve called a thousand times to tell you
I’m sorry, for everything that I’ve done
But when I call you never seem to be home

Hello from the outside
At least I can say that I’ve tried to tell you
I’m sorry, for breaking your heart
But it don’t matter, it clearly doesn’t tear you apart anymore

Hello from the other side
I must’ve called a thousand times to tell you
I’m sorry, for everything that I’ve done
But when I call you never seem to be home

Hello from the outside
At least I can say that I’ve tried to tell you
I’m sorry, for breaking your heart
But it don’t matter, it clearly doesn’t tear you apart anymore

How My Emotional Baggage is Affecting My Marriage

IMG_2772

We all have it – emotional baggage. If you don’t, you’re all of 3 years old and I have no idea how you are reading this, but kudos to you. I’ve had a lot of ups and downs in my life – mostly ups – but somehow the downs are really doing a number on my livelihood as of late. I think they have been for many years, but I wasn’t self aware enough to realize or address it. At the ripe age of forty, I am now ready to tackle the demons that have plagued most all of my relationships since I was a teenager.

Pan over to Husband #2. The man has put up with more from me in the past four years than most people have to deal with in a lifetime. I don’t want to say I’m “mental” because a) that’s not correct and b) that sounds derogatory and it’s not. I have issues, plain and simple. Issues that have turned me into a teeth-clenching, eye-rolling, tightwad to him at home, yet a sugary sweet, nurturing angel to anyone outside of that. Don’t get me wrong, he’s no angel either. He has genuine things that I think would bother even the most zen of people. But he still gets a lot more Snippy Sherri than he should and he’s been so understanding and loving through all I’ve dished out. Add to that my lack of affection, wanting to be touched, or do anything but lie in bed by myself and watch TV when we’re at home and you have a marriage made in heaven. He deserves a medal.

The past year or so I’ve started to feel stronger negative emotions than I have before. Anything remotely sad on TV, or a fleeting moment from a past, failed relationship, sends me into a whirlwind of emotions including sobbing uncontrollably (and inconsolably), hiding in the bathroom so Husband doesn’t see, driving in my car for hours on end from wistfulness, and parking to watch trains for hours, wanting to jump on one and just start over new somewhere else. Any trigger will send me into a fit of racking sobs where my heart feels like someone close to me has died. I can cry for hours with no idea WHY I am crying or for so long. That itself is enough to make me feel quite unhinged in the head. Keep in mind this is all away from work, too. When I’m at work, I’m professional, funny, completely grounded Sherri who gets the job done and well!

I’ve known I wanted to talk to someone outside of my comfort zone for a while. I’ve been to therapy before and while I firmly believe in it and talking things out, it’s never been terribly effective for me in helping me feel better. But, I know it can never hurt so I made an appointment with a therapist that a friend recommended. Always hesitant to talk about myself (I would much rather hear all about you), I went in trepidatiously. I stared out the window, not making eye contact, during our hour-long chat about my past, my present, and my fear of the future. With the therapist’s blessing, I left knowing I could come back to her if I wanted or try another therapist if I felt like she wasn’t a good fit. Her last words to me that day were, “I think you are someone who tries so hard to be happy, always putting on a smile and cheering people on, and you’re dying on the inside.” I immediately burst into tears with overwhelming relief that she was able to put it into words what I hadn’t been able to and what I was feeling. One thing she did want me to do, no matter who I saw, was to visit one of their in-house psychiatrists to talk about my current medication and see if any changes were needed or recommended.

I’ve been on Zoloft for anxiety for the past 5 years, prescribed by my general physician. While I adore my GP to pieces, I was glad to visit an actual specialist in mind and medicine matters. I had to fill out the equivalent of an autobiography for this new doctor and the meeting went well. Telling myself I would not cry at this meeting simply talking about my medication, I teared up and let it flow about twenty minutes in. I didn’t know if I was depressed, anxious, or something else, but I knew I was something. She noted some symptoms of depression, but nothing major there (which I’m extremely grateful for because I know how hard living with that can be) and she attributed most of my outbursts and mood swings to anxiety. I was befuddled. “Why am I crying all the time over everything if I’m not full-on depressed?” She said, “Anxiety can manifest itself in many ways, including bouts of crying and sadness.” What? WHAT? How come no one told me that before now? Oh, because I never talked to anyone about it before now. Go me!

We’re changing my medication. In fact, I started the new medication over the weekend, having weaned myself down from my Zoloft the past week and continuing to do so over the next two weeks. She is confident we will have turned a corner when I go back in five weeks, even though my prescription may still need tweaking. Yesterday was the first day the new medicine was in my system and I could tell. She warned me about common side effects and boy, was she right! I didn’t feel well most of the day, but today seems to be better so I’m extremely thankful.

I also had my second session with Therapist this past week. She was more amazing than the first time and we focused on an event in my past that apparently I was still very hung up on (I had no idea). I sobbed the entire hour in her office, going through an activity to help let that part of my past go. To say it worked is an understatement; I felt drained and like an 18-wheeler hit me after I left and for the next few days. I was despondent, out of sorts, and generally numb. I really had no idea why until I woke up on Friday and felt completely renewed. I wasn’t sure if it was weaning off my old medication or the therapy session, but I felt like a huge weight was gone – it was a breakthrough. I felt truly happy when I smiled at my husband that morning and he saw it – legitimately saw it. Things I have had panic attacks about for the last twenty years were just ‘meh’ to me now. I intentionally thought about them Friday morning and had such a different reaction that wasn’t negative at all. A warm sensation filled my body and I was immediately at peace with this fear. I was elated!

I am not sure what the future holds and I don’t know how this new medication will work, but one thing is for sure: I’ve felt better and more alive and myself than I have in a long time. Sunshiny Sherri, not Snippy Sherri. All that to say this, if you are feeling alone, crazy, or just out of sorts, talk to someone. If money is keeping you from seeking help, there are plenty of resources like Oasis Counseling, Impact Counseling, Covenant Counseling, and others that offer free or affordable counseling. You don’t have to hide in the bathroom or in your head. Take the first step and just reach out, even if it’s just to a friend – chances are they have been in your shoes or know someone who has and can empathize and even recommend someone they know. And, no matter what, you can always talk to me at sherri (at) yougotrossed (dot) com.