Why Now? ~ Post 0002
As I said, I have been therapied out. I have seen all manner of therapists, but I have never done regression sessions nor hypnotherapy. I m afraid of both. If I don't know it, I don't need to know it. I think. That's just me.
My session ended yesterday with my therapist asking me, "Why now" What happened?"
I made the appointment two weeks ago. I can't remember what happened or how I felt. I admitted that I was prompted and asked to promise I would make it, so I did.
Once I made the appointment I felt grateful. Had I not had someone that close to me insist, I would have carried on without therapy without feeling that I was doing myself a disservice. I am a great advocate of therapy. I am of the opinion that I know everything there is to know, I am just not doing it right. I am always right, except when I am wrong, and I am never wrong, I say, quoting an anonymous author.
So, yes. I am grateful. However, being as I have told the story so many times, the lines have blurred somewhat; I managed a half-hearted attempt at broad strokes. I was tired. I was still in my speechless phase. So much has happened, There hasn't been time (emotional space-time) to grieve for that which required a mourning period.
I've only recently come back to the self-diagnosis of autism (somewhere on the spectrum), which I had come to in 1997, after searching for an answer to my self since I left school in 1968. My research led me to the right place, but it got deflected by a movie about a bipolar man. I identified with him. I too found myself coming to a grinding halt in the street. I too had days where I thought I could fly. Autism took a back seat.
I began to take medication for my bipolar self and before long added tranquilisers because my doctor then was a woman who was married to a physical abuser (who knew?) and she identified with me. We were both just coping with our lives and medication made the voices that shout at you, shut up. As Dr Gibor Mate says (see YouTube) we don't listen when our bodies say no. It took a little time to acquire the taste for Mate because he speaks very slowly and my mind is on a race track. I had to keep rewinding so I could keep listening. Once I got used to him, his slow talking is actually therapeutic.
For all our addictions to devices and the problems that arise from this, I am grateful also for technology. I grew up back in the day and my pursuits were not received with applause. Psychotherapy was a bit of a thing. If you were in therapy, there was a stigma attached to it, and more so if you were on medication.
I had a friend whose sister was something or other. They put her in the madhouse and drugged her almost to death for most of her life because they didn't know any better. I was seriously against being drugged after having had the unfortunate experience of a nervous breakdown in my twenties. I was thirty-four then and I told my friend that doctors overprescribe. They kept me asleep for five weeks with just enough lucid time to eat my meals and take more medication. Doctors were like Priests back in the day. You didn't argue. Long story short, the sister was taken out of the madhouse and weaned off her drugs and lived on with her sister who never married. It ended well.
Doctors and patients learn together. Most doctors are not on medications. They know what the company tells them and they do their best with trial and error. It is therefore imperative that you get the right stuff. If after a month nothing wonderful happens, go back, try something else. The upside of modern life is that doctors know more. Medicines are better. No one hates you because your mind is a tad other. As long as you can hold it together.
One should not go out with banners to employers and such with that innermost issue you have. Employers still believe people are normal and they want normal. They don't want a someone who is a bit off the wall on a bad day. One has to hold it together.
It is exhausting. I worked as a private secretary, with shorthand as a skill, for years. No one knew I was dyslexic and autistic, and struggling to fit in and, and, and... I worked really hard and I usually did better than I expected. No one knew that walking into an open plan office was as bad as being accosted in the public square.
My history is long. I don't like thinking about it, let alone entering the therapy zone.
So, why now?
I think it is simply because the Universe conspires to grant you the desires of your heart. I have learned about the subconscious mind and how it also has desires and that God in His Heaven hears all our prayers, those we say and those we think and those we don't know we think.
I have reached the emotional equivalent of flatlining. If this was a physical thing, I'd need a jump start.
Love and Light
My session ended yesterday with my therapist asking me, "Why now" What happened?"
I made the appointment two weeks ago. I can't remember what happened or how I felt. I admitted that I was prompted and asked to promise I would make it, so I did.
Once I made the appointment I felt grateful. Had I not had someone that close to me insist, I would have carried on without therapy without feeling that I was doing myself a disservice. I am a great advocate of therapy. I am of the opinion that I know everything there is to know, I am just not doing it right. I am always right, except when I am wrong, and I am never wrong, I say, quoting an anonymous author.
So, yes. I am grateful. However, being as I have told the story so many times, the lines have blurred somewhat; I managed a half-hearted attempt at broad strokes. I was tired. I was still in my speechless phase. So much has happened, There hasn't been time (emotional space-time) to grieve for that which required a mourning period.
I've only recently come back to the self-diagnosis of autism (somewhere on the spectrum), which I had come to in 1997, after searching for an answer to my self since I left school in 1968. My research led me to the right place, but it got deflected by a movie about a bipolar man. I identified with him. I too found myself coming to a grinding halt in the street. I too had days where I thought I could fly. Autism took a back seat.
I began to take medication for my bipolar self and before long added tranquilisers because my doctor then was a woman who was married to a physical abuser (who knew?) and she identified with me. We were both just coping with our lives and medication made the voices that shout at you, shut up. As Dr Gibor Mate says (see YouTube) we don't listen when our bodies say no. It took a little time to acquire the taste for Mate because he speaks very slowly and my mind is on a race track. I had to keep rewinding so I could keep listening. Once I got used to him, his slow talking is actually therapeutic.
For all our addictions to devices and the problems that arise from this, I am grateful also for technology. I grew up back in the day and my pursuits were not received with applause. Psychotherapy was a bit of a thing. If you were in therapy, there was a stigma attached to it, and more so if you were on medication.
I had a friend whose sister was something or other. They put her in the madhouse and drugged her almost to death for most of her life because they didn't know any better. I was seriously against being drugged after having had the unfortunate experience of a nervous breakdown in my twenties. I was thirty-four then and I told my friend that doctors overprescribe. They kept me asleep for five weeks with just enough lucid time to eat my meals and take more medication. Doctors were like Priests back in the day. You didn't argue. Long story short, the sister was taken out of the madhouse and weaned off her drugs and lived on with her sister who never married. It ended well.
Doctors and patients learn together. Most doctors are not on medications. They know what the company tells them and they do their best with trial and error. It is therefore imperative that you get the right stuff. If after a month nothing wonderful happens, go back, try something else. The upside of modern life is that doctors know more. Medicines are better. No one hates you because your mind is a tad other. As long as you can hold it together.
One should not go out with banners to employers and such with that innermost issue you have. Employers still believe people are normal and they want normal. They don't want a someone who is a bit off the wall on a bad day. One has to hold it together.
It is exhausting. I worked as a private secretary, with shorthand as a skill, for years. No one knew I was dyslexic and autistic, and struggling to fit in and, and, and... I worked really hard and I usually did better than I expected. No one knew that walking into an open plan office was as bad as being accosted in the public square.
My history is long. I don't like thinking about it, let alone entering the therapy zone.
So, why now?
I think it is simply because the Universe conspires to grant you the desires of your heart. I have learned about the subconscious mind and how it also has desires and that God in His Heaven hears all our prayers, those we say and those we think and those we don't know we think.
I have reached the emotional equivalent of flatlining. If this was a physical thing, I'd need a jump start.
Love and Light
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