Meursault's Journal

[meursault]

Hi everyone,

I'm not sure what I'm going to be doing day to day now, but I think I'm trying to be back.  I was going to post this elsewhere, but it's so long, I thought I better put it in a journal... hope it's not too annoying...

I'll just say sorry for making a mistake regarding the rules.  I thought I was doing what we were supposed to, but apparently not!  I'll take more care in the future.  I'll shut up about that now.

I missed coming here the last few days.

I went to my city's mental health emergency hoping to get into a short term crisis centre.  The cab I took was playing "Everything Is Gonna Be Alright" by Bob Marley, and the cabbie and I were drumming and singing along.  I was crying and whatnot.  The cabbie told me to take care of myself and life was going to get better.

I met with a hostile psychiatrist.  She was very upset about my general refusal to take medication.  I have tried MANY of them in the past, and she kept challenging me asking what dosage, what was the "Trade name", how long I was on them, etc.  I don't think she was too happy when I was able to remember how I was generally on the max recommended dosage, and stayed on several of them for over a year, and in some cases 2-4 years. 

She then started pushing the anti-psychotics, which I refused.  How is it that mental health experts can think numbing out and suppressing the emotional symptoms is a solution to trauma, which is inherently unprocessed/suppressed memories?  She said "clearly your therapist isn't very good, or otherwise you wouldn't be here.  You should find another one"  She said that after I told her my therapist is the only mental health professional I've ever found genuinely helpful.  She told me she was going to keep me in the psych ward until my trial, and if I wouldn't go voluntarily I was going involuntarily (a security guy was stationed outside my door by this point).  I kept saying I needed a few days in the crisis unit.

Eventually the psychiatrist came back and said "So, we're going to have to decide whether to send you to the crisis unit or admit you to the [] ward.  Actually, I've already decided.  You're going to ward.  It's very nice, there are no beds and it's very quiet."

I tried to argue, and the goalposts began to shift against me to get compliance.  Over the next day, through her and different psychiatrists, it went from her saying "You can check yourself out in the morning" to "you can check yourself out after you see a psychiatrist in the morning" to "a psychiatrist MAY be in today, to psychiatrist saying "we will revisit you having outdoor smoking privileges next week on Monday or Tuesday". 

On the upside, I had the whole ward to myself for a day, and the staff weren't condescending, domineering or dismissive.

One white-haired psychiatrist told me that he thought what I was going through was about as hard as anything he's heard.

I saw an "occupational therapist", who had a student with her.  They were both very cute, and I felt broken and damaged and unmanly.  She kept on pushing CBT type stuff on me.  I have no problem with CBT, but it has limitations, and I think I've internalized a great deal of its value over many years of different therapies and groups.  I must have been pretty comical, because they were in stitches a few times.  She tried to deal with what she could about my living arrangement problems, but couldn't.  At one point, there was this exchange:

HER: "Can you stop referring to her as the 'good' therapist?   That implies there are bad therapists."

ME:  "There are.  Over half the therapists out there are terrible.  They really should be doing something else for a living.  You have no idea the number of awful people out there."

HER: "No.  They are still good.  They are just different.  You can't judge their value as therapists."

ME: "Yeah I can.  A lot of therapists suck."

HER:  "No.  You can MAYBE say they are  less effective, but they are still good."

ME:  "I think we're just going to disagree on that.

The whole time I was panicked and dissociative and just disintegrating.  My body was screaming at me.  I think I did pretty good.  When we ended, I said "A psychiatrist is supposed to see me in a bit.  I now know they're 'good', let's cross our fingers that they are 'effective' too!"

We all laughed.  Later she came to say she was leaving for the day, and asked how I was.  I told her I was distraught, and she said she can't tell if I'm joking.  And I said I joke around when I'm nervous, and she intimidates me.  She laughed saying "Awww, you're SCARED of me!"  That was unpleasant.

A guy came in who was talking about how horrible jail is, and how he saw a lot of violence and "more blood than I thought I'd ever see."  A very frail and quiet woman came in, who was drugged up badly.  She was very fearful, but ended up trying to help me do a puzzle, but her brain wasn't working, and she eventually knocked the puzzle off the table.

Finally I had a meeting with another psychiatrist, who came with a team of others, and I was able to articulate how the miscommunication, lack of self-determination, and disempowerment weren't helpful.  I mentioned that I had been in these very rooms 25 years ago, and all I got was drugs and invalidation when I first came for help to deal with my Mom from growing up, so now I am not really interested in more of the same.

SECONDARY PSYCH WORKER:  Why don't you tell us about it now?

ME: "No.

SECONDARY PSYCH WORKER: Just give us the gist.

ME: No.

They sent me in a cab to the crisis unit, and I spent the last few days there, and calmed down considerably.  There was a man there I saw last time I was in, and an elderly woman came part way through my stay whom I befriended and hung around with on my last stay.  The frail fearful woman from the ward came along at some point, and she told me I was the only person who was ever nice to her, and she asked if she could live with me.  I felt really sad about that.  I hope she gets some help.  She cried a lot.  A couple of friends visited.

I got out today at ten.  I went to my house that I'm renovating.  It is SOOOO stressful.  I  HAVE TO work on it, and get it ready before winter and before my trial (in 8 weeks!!!) but just immediately fragmented and was in a disintegrated trauma state by 1230, after my Mom showed up (I can't drive so she has the power to be super invasive when picking me up material).  She started standing there and telling me how what I was doing was wrong, and I quickly fell to pieces.  An hour earlier, I was "Grimly determined" and confident.  I HAVE to move out of where I am now end of October.  I HAVE to have that house livable by winter.  I HAVE to get the court's permission to move.  I HAVE to be home for a curfew every night.  I HAVE to relive the trauma of the night I was trapped under my Dad's body in court.  I HAVE to start going to my lawyer's to relive that nigh again and again.  I HAVE to deal with my Mom all the time, and be under her control.  I HAVE to face the possibility of jail, where I will be trapped in again! and am sure I'll be victimized badly, or maybe house arrest, where I will face that terror of agoraphobia and social phobia again that I still work on daily after over 20 years, and the loneliness and isolation and self-hatred and fear of people.  I'm not weak, but I'm completely crippled with trauma and anxiety.  That's my next two months.  And I'm so utterly powerless in almost every aspect of my life!  And the flashbacks, emotional and regular, are terrible.  I'm being triggered by something every hour, it seems.

I'm now back in my crappy apartment, with sporadic running water and a caved in ceiling, in bad shape but feeling determined.  I have so much on my plate, and am absolutely terrified and being triggered and hammered into a terrified dissociative state with this trial stuff coming up.  I had signed up for an 8 week mindfulness program a couple of months ago, and started that a couple of days ago.  I have to somehow shrink this all down to just living moment by moment, but I don't really have the skills for that.  I still think I haven't found my feet since that EMDR guy.  Maybe I won't now.  Before the accident with my Dad, my life really wasn't full of drama and these extreme shifts and whatnot.  I wish it would stop.  It's been worse since a woman I know got mad at me when I told her I didn't want to know her any more and called the cops saying I had guns three years ago.  I didn't, but got evicted, and am now controlled in my living arrangements.   Before then, in 41 years, I had lived a total of 7 places.  I've lived in about as many since then.  The legal system just keeps stability from being possible at all.  I haven't even had the trial yet.  This shock trauma PTSD on top of the developmental trauma c-PTSD is really doing a number on me. The legal stuff alone fills the criteria necessary for causing PTSD. 

That was VERY long and I'm sorry.  I hope I didn't worry anyone by leaving, and if I did, I'm sorry about that.  I missed my c-PTSD peeps!   Sorry for running away, and I hope I'm welcome back.  Here, with my therapist, and with one friend are the only times I feel like I matter at all and am actually a human being.  The only times I feel like I can relax, even a little.  I missed you all!

So..... That was my week...  How was yours?

Meursault

[meursault]

TRIGGER WARNING


I wrote a poem a few days ago too, and thought I'd share t:

Get Out While You Can

When little Cindy Space-Girl
went off to Outer Space,
She left behind the horror
of all she could not face.
She knew at least that out there
in the emptiness and black
No-one could come find her -
She'd not be coming back.

Her friend, young Marty Stay-At-Home,
trapped with mum and dad
Was locked within the cellar –
They said he had been bad.
So he pounded and he hollered
and screamed to be released,
But dad was drunk and missing,
and mum became deceased.

He cried within the darkness
and lived upon the bugs
And dreamed of flying rockets
to Cindy and her hugs.
His fingernails were missing
or torn upon the brick,
His body white and shrivelled,
his mind had become sick.

Lost in fearful blindness,
stars popped in his eyes.
His mind became so dodgy,
he thought he saw the skies.
He tripped upon a gas can
left hidden in the dark,
And thought "Here is a rocket!
And I can make a spark!"

He sat upon the gas can,
and counted "three-two-one"
He put a spark within it
and shot toward the sun.
The gas can danced and wavered,
surrounding him with fire,
But all the while young Marty smiled
and thought that he flew higher.

So while Cindy made her hopeful way
to freedom in a dash,
Marty found another way
by turning into ash.

[movementforthebetter]

Meursault!!!

Welcome back! I missed you.

What a story! My heart goes out to you - I can't even find the right adjective to put in front of story.

Singing Every Little Thing Is Gonna Be Alright with the cab driver is such a complex and beautiful moment of human connection. Everything that came after sounds like a nightmare. I'm so glad you are out of the ward.

[Three Roses]

YOU'RE BACK! YAY!


You were definitely missed!

So sorry about the nightmare you recently went thru!

I'm so glad you are here again. I think you're one of the bravest, kindest people I know, and I've missed your insights.

[radical]

So..... That was my week...  How was yours?  lol!

You think you've had an eventful week,Meursault?  *, my computer charger doesn't work, I'm having a dispute with the company, and it's rained and rained, and I've just discovered my WOF is overdue!

Seriously, you are a legend with what you've been going through, your strength is inspiring.  But it must have been so hard and I'm sure it still is.  I do feel for you.

So glad you are back and safe (a relative term I know)

[Kizzie]

I'll just say sorry for making a mistake regarding the rules.  I thought I was doing what we were supposed to, but apparently not!  I'll take more care in the future.  I'll shut up about that now.

Welcome back Meursault and please know that you did nothing wrong, it was the guideline that was not overly clear and things got out of hand in terms of moderating.  That has been addressed and we are going to revisit the offensive language guideline as a community once a bit more time has passed and see if we can decide collectively what it should look like.  I hope you'll weigh in! 

Moving forward today though, I am sending you many and lots of support, not a great week or two for you, but hopefully it will bring some small measure of comfort to know you were missed and members were thinking about you.

[mourningdove]

WB, Meursault!

[sanmagic7]

oh, meursault, i'm sooooo glad you made it back.  i've missed you a lot.  you helped bring a ray of sunshine into my life just by being back.

dang, what a nightmare!  your strength in the face of those oppressive 'professionals' is inspiring.  well done standing up to them and speaking the truth!  i completely agree with you about the therapists - some of them are much worse than 'just not as effective'.  have they never heard of therapists without ethics, boundaries, or who have done actual emotional harm to clients?  you were strong and brave and inspirational.  i just finished writing about speaking my truth, and here you are, talking about just that.  you've given me strength for that, and i thank you.

welcome back.  hang tough, i'm hangin' right beside you.

[meursault]

I'm glad I'm back.  I'm feeling pretty alone in life.  I'm glad we have each other here!

Radical:  That sounds like a terrible calamity!!!  Rain AND a broken charger!  What's WOF?

I'm going to vent a bit.....  I'm not sure about this stuff, so I better put a TRIGGER WARNING here:

I'm feeling like I'm in a war.  A friend texted today asking how I'm doing, and I just responded:  "It's like I'm raving in the trenches, artillery shells bursting all around."

I'm feeling fairly determined, but just amped up completely.  It's not going away, and I think it will stay until at least the trial.  It's like my body is SCREAMING at me constantly.  My brain is just this fragmented wild animal, extreme in every reaction and catastrophizing about everything.  It took me five minutes to figure out how to start my toaster oven today.  My brain is just being hammered by this constantly.

My life feels completely out of my control.  Anybody can hurt me or damage me and I have no way to defend myself.  This legal system just keeps tearing me further apart.  When my Dad died, I was doing pretty good.  I had given up on anyone ever loving me, but I was functional. I had many interests, I worked productively and successfully, I lived in the same place for years.  As soon as he died, I think I had probably over a hundred people tell me they would gladly go to court as character witnesses for me.  Now I don't work, am on the verge of homelessness or jail, have virtually no friends.

Six years of just being pinned in and powerless to move on and process the trauma of it, and every time ANYTHING legal or police related happens around me, including news, the wound is just opened again.  I'm being pinned down and forcibly made to stay in this horrible trauma from my Dad's death, over and over.  The legal stuff ALONE fulfills all the criteria for causing PTSD.

My body doesn't feel real any more, the life I'm forced to live is insane.  It feels like every cell of my body could explode.  It feels like my limbs and the rest of my body could just fall off and the whole structure of my body could just disintegrate and collapse.

And my Mom has so much power over me.... AGAIN...  *, my lawyer finally emailed to set up an appointment, and asked for my Mom to be there too!!!  The most vicious human I've ever met, who threatened the worst stuff imaginable, graphically, almost daily as a kid, and somehow, everybody thinks it is normal how she should have some control over me again.

Life is so hard.  I wish someone could just love me and hold me and make this all go away.  I'm so terrified of being trapped in jail, and all the victimization that will happen to me.

My Dad wasn't great, and was pretty abusive as well, but I really miss him.   I can't seem to connect to any memories of him, though.  Everything just funnels violently into the hour I spent struggling to keep from drowning under his body in the dark.  Trapped and powerless.  Ugh.  It never ended.  The  justice system just keeps it going.  And every week, there is some news article about some assault, or a pedophile, or some career gang member etc who get jail sentences less than I've already had to serve under basically house arrest due to curfew.

The learned helplessness, terror, re-traumatization, continued traumatization, vulnerability, and relentless destruction of ME and my life just continues.  Six and a half years, almost, and I am still pinned in and trapped by it all.  I am being treated like I'm garbage by the whole world, not just my Mom and sisters now.  I'm so completely debased and powerless and subhuman.  I want a life!

Anyhow, just needed to vent some of this.  A quarter of my adult life just forced to remain in the same spot, unable to grow and build, just waiting with a threat over my head, and no real control over my own life.

Meursault

[radical]

I really hope venting helps, if anyone has earned the right to rant, you have Meursault.

This is such an awful place to be in so many ways, but please hang in there and be kind to yourself on behalf of all of us here at this forum who wish we could help, cook you a meal, hold your hand, listen to you, give you a hug.  That's a whole lot of caring that we need you to pass onto the boys on our behalves.  It's so hard to do when your body and mind is screaming in pain. I don't underestimate it.  Any little bit of kindness is good.

Do you have any physical outlet to burn off some cortisol?  Walking, swimming, yoga, stretching, handstands, I don't know how you like to move and shake it out a bit.

The other thing I wanted to say is when you say that you can't connect to any memories of your father, I relate to that.  There seems to be a trauma switch.  I've never heard anyone else talk about this, but it has happened to me in relation to a number of people who were important to me.  I can't access the feelings and can barely remember.  I wish I had control over this.

anyway, hang in there

[sanmagic7]

dear meursault, my heart aches for you and rages at the fact that there's nothing i can do to help you except let you know that i'm here for you.  i'm just glad that you have this place for venting.  it's always helped me to be able to know that there's somewhere that will take the crapola from me and keep it for me so that i don't have to carry it around.  this forum may not be able to take it all from you, but hopefully even some little piece of it will drop off this horrible burden you're carrying.  i'm hangin' right next to you.  you are so strong, you inspire me to keep hangin' in.  thank you.

[meursault]

Thanks, everyone, for the well wishes.

Meursault

[Sandstone]

    meursalt

[meursault]

Feeling very scared and alone today.  I have an appointment with my lawyer tomorrow.  I haven't seen him in ages.  I have been puking and shaking all day.  Waves of dissociation.  My brain is just stunned and empty while my body is screaming.  Hate this so much.  I wish it would go away.

Contacted a guy who was very helpful a few years ago.  He used to be a cop, but despite that, he's been pretty important to me.  He's on vacation, but we're going to grab a coffee when he gets back.

Good therapist and I have an arrangement that I can email on Sundays and she'll respond on Mondays.  Feel slighty better since she responded, but slightly better is still terrible.  Self-destructiveness isn't super loud.  Ran into guy who owns the gym I was going to and he showed a lot of compassion about this all.  Like most people, he's pretty shocked and disgusted this is even happening.  It was kind of good though, most people tell me I am a really kind and caring person, and he was saying that too.  It makes all this debasement and vilification I'm otherwise getting slightly less biting.

I'm totally dissociative right now, so I can't even read back what I just wrote to see if it makes sense.  Sorry if it's just raving.  Time to throw up again!

Meursault

[Three Roses]

I'm so sorry to hear what you're going through! Virtual hugs are all I have to give in the way of comfort, so here goes ...

A person's worth is not determined by their actions. It exists apart from them. Things we've been through, how we've reacted, do not determine our worth. We are all just travelers here, moving through this plane, some would say to the next.

You have been told for so long that you are worthless. You are not, you have been lied to. You are not any worse than anyone you see, walking down the street, sitting in cafes, going about their business every day.

You are valuable! I'm so glad you are here to share your wisdom and insights with me/us. If such a place as this must exist, I'm glad we've all found it and are journeying through this together.