st ends

Be Fri

So I think everyone has heard about my "therapist-week-from-hell" week. Zach and I are no longer seeing our couple's counselor and I hope to never have to deal with that grief counselor again. Like Nancy in regard to her classes and profs., I don't know how much I am "allowed" to say here. All I know is that my confidence in how I've been living my life was shaken to the core. I felt like I'd been trampled upon and left, battered and alone in a dark forest, to the wolves. Where did all the compassion go? So how do I regain my strength and patch my battered soul? I've decided that the answer to that is through my friends. Janet keeps telling me what wonderful friends I have and to use them, call them,talk to them, and cash in on my friendships, so to speak. She tells me that she has to tell some of her clients NOT to call their friends, because they attract people who are not good for them. Good friends say something about who you are. I can't thank my friends enough. Nancy, Jenni, Annie and Liz, I can't thank all of you enough.

Better

I'm feeling SO much better tonight. I talked to Nancy yesterday and Jenni and Annie today. All those I reached out to extended their love back toward me. **I should make note of this for future reference.** It's not that I ever doubted it, but rather that I didn't feel what I had to say was worth talking about. I suppose I doubted myself more than anything. Last night was rough going. I didn't get to sleep until after 1:00 a.m., and I was thinking all those terrible thoughts that only come at that time of night, when the world feels like it's ending and there's no point to going to sleep becuase that just means waking up again the next morning. By this morning I was feeling better, though.
I'll post more later. Have a good Thursday everyone!

How do I trust myself?

Do you often get the feeling that there is some better way to be living your life? That somehow we're just deceiving others with false pretense? Lately that's how I've been feeling. I have been "cheating" at life. I'm not really living, but pretending to do so. I have little tricks, habits, obsessions and addictions that dictate my life. It's not real. I often don't know who's in charge-me or my obsessions. Can the two actually be separated?
I'm not happy with my coping mechanisms. I resort to old habits, like weighing myself too much, trying to control what I eat, creating lists of things to do in my mind, cleaning when nothing is dirty, and cutting myself. Where the hell did that last one come from? I am an intelligent person and I feel like I should know better, but I get to a point where I just don't care. It's a form of self punishment. If I keep it a secret, then I start to go crazy. If I tell people, I feel crazy and stupid. I hate that I don't tell Zach these things, and then I feel like if I can't talk to him about it then I shouldn't talk to anyone about it. Ultimately it's me that I'm hurting and deceiving, but somehow that doesn't resonate with me. I don't feel like I'm important enough to acknowledge the hurt. Then nothing feels important anymore. There are so many people in this world. How can they all be significant?
I just don't know how to deal with this-the feelings of insignificance and the stresses of life. I think I'm dealing with it just fine, and then I feel hopeless. I am staring destruction in the face, what looks like a shattered image of myself, and I don't know what's real.

The importance of accuracy in diagnosing penile disfunction

It's almost 1:00 p.m., Zach has left for work and I still haven't changed out of my pajamas. I've gotten a lot done though. I cooked all morning-cookies and a big pot of chili; this in addition to the mac 'n cheese and the mushroom noodle casserole I made this weekend from the Moosewood Cookbook. I don't know what's prompted me to do all this cooking. It could be because I actually have the time to cook. For a while I didn't feel like preparing anything more complicated than a bowl of cereal and a peanut butter sandwich. I'm starting to enjoy this time to myself. I haven't thought once about the course I had been teaching since I resigned. I've been reading lots, watching movies and listening to music and, from time to time, picking fights with Zach. Right before he left this afternoon he said he thought he might have a bladder infection. I said that it would be really painful while urinating and that there might be blood. He disagreed with me. He said either way it's still an irritation. I said that that's not the same as an infection. I know I was being a twit, but I am the type of person who insists on using medical terms properly. Some things just can't be thrown around lightly. Maybe it has to do with my sister's sickness and the need for an accurate diagnosis. At any rate, I don't think he has an infection, but, then again, Zach's threshold for pain might be different from mine, greater than mine.
But somehow I don't think so.

March 5, 2005

Today would have been Ashley's 25th birthday. I keep trying to think of something commemorative, exciting or crazy to do, but I don't like any ideas I come up with. Instead I'll probably just remember it is her birthday and go have a drink with Zach, Liz and Jay tonight. According to Buddhist belief, the spirit wanders the earth for 49 days after death. Sometime between last night and this morning would have marked 49 days since Ashley's death.