Wednesday, June 19, 2013

Hoarding and Possibly the Start of Something.

First off, a little confession.  I'm a paper hoarder. I admit it. As much as I need order in my home to have order in my brain, and as much as I hate clutter and knick knacks, I am a complete and total paper hoarder, and have been since I was a child. I still have every poem/story I ever wrote and every drawing and art project from my childhood. I have scrap pieces of paper that contain nothing more than thoughts or ideas or book titles. Once I had my son the obsession extended on to his paper as well. I notice it most at this time of year. School is about to end for the summer and I'm staring at that pile of school papers sitting in his basket in the corner wondering what to do with them all. I start off with very good intentions. I'll only save the best. The cutest. The most sentimental. Somewhere during the sorting process I realize I can't get rid of any of it. None. Just. Can't. Do it. Usually what I do is pack them up in a box and label it something like..."Jack, 3rd Grade."...and off to a closet or basement it goes. Not sure why this is, but I'm pretty sure it's not going to change, and my son now has developed an attachment to his papers as well. We just love 'em. Confession complete.

Moving second therapy session is complete. I feel slightly more optimistic this week than I did last week, and have some thought exercises to keep my brain busy and a recommended book to read. Mostly, though, I'm relieved because the hard part is over. Or what I consider the hard part. The messy, complicated, dark and dreary, dreaded past.  I'm sure it will be revisited, but the overview is over. Where I fit in my family and where I came from and how it all is now. It's a series of bumpy and winding roads in my brain. Roads with no stop signs. They just go on and on and on, one running right into the next. For me it's hard to explain. Even harder when I see the looks after each messy fact and detail. I usually just want to stop, but I didn't. I kept it pretty factual and brief so he could at least get a visual map of the maze that has been my life. For the most part, I think I did pretty well, only I laughed through the whole thing. I tried not to, and I wasn't laughing because I thought it was funny. Maybe it's just nervous laughter. Maybe it's "I know how ridiculous this all sounds' laughter. Or maybe it's that cross wiring thing I mentioned before. If he noticed, and I'm sure he did, he said nothing. Thank god.

Perhaps because my thoughts are so visual, I feel as though this whole therapy thing is a painting. Today we got the background filled in with muted colors and  quick broad strokes.  Next we get to work on the important parts. The details. The fine points.  All of the things that are up front and in focus. Sort of. In any case, it feels kind of good.

During my brief and factual outline of the "Life of Hope", he was able to pick up on my inability to connect with people. Most people. Not a huge eye opener for me, of course, because I kind of already knew that.  But the fact that he was able to get it from the words I was saying gave me a little boost, maybe?  Belief?  Belief that maybe someone can see me, after all.  I wanted to say..."yes, that's it exactly! A connection hardly ever happens, so on the rare occasion that it does, I don't want anything to change. I don't want to lose it!"  I didn't say that though. I did say that my inability to connect somehow extends to my own life though. When I talk about my childhood (laughing or not) I feel very little emotion. While I know my past has had an effect on me, when I go over it piece by piece, it's as if I'm describing a movie I once saw. I can tell you about the characters and the scenes and the events, but it's as if it all happened to someone else and I was simply an observer. The emotions only come when I place my own son in the role of the child. When I imagine any of it happening to him, I can then feel just how wrong it all was.

Next on the agenda, is to stop thinking about all of that, and to refocus. Along with manipulating my own thoughts, and reading, I've given myself another project to work on. I'm going to take some time away from everything and everyone else, each day for a week and do something I enjoy. Sounds simple. It won't be. First of all I have to identify what the hell it is I still enjoy. I'm going to start that now.

Hope, who is also going to attempt to slowwwww down. 


  1. This is great news! I had posted a comment on your last blog, but it didn't take. I'm proud of you for taking the first, scary step, and then even another after that. It gets better with time, and the exercises, while difficult, aren't impossible. I noticed that mine were helping when I went to the dentist and was able to easily and without much thought control the panic. Seriously control it. And the dentist was really the last thing on my list to conquer. Here's to moving forward, inch by inch, at a slower pace. I figure that once I slow down, the world will slow down with me. At least my world, anyway. See you soon. It's time to float, woman. :)

  2. I feel like such a grown up, taking charge of my life and shit. ;) I think Friday is going to be nice. Not sure the water is yet, but if you want to I'm in. Slowwwwing down.