Well, I decided to see what the sertraline did without the beta blockers. I'm a little crabby, but no more than usual. I don't feel like anything is different than my usual mood except for the no panic attack.
I wonder if the sertraline is working at all. I hear they don't work if you aren't broken in that particular way. And I still don't think I am depressed.
I haven't had a panic attack in while now. And I haven't cried in two days. It feels like some kind of record. I feel like I should go pick the scab or something - but I have therapy on Wednesday, so I'm sure I can come up with something.
I have a party this evening. I'll tell you how it goes. But in the meantime, I'm still trying to plow through Mad Men.
Monday, December 31, 2012
Day Twenty Four
I'm pretty sure I didn't do anything at all yesterday except for watch Mad Men, except that I also restocked a vehicle for the Red Cross. And went to breakfast with Shannon. I had a nice chat with Claudia over facebook - I am continually surprised by how quickly we became friends despite meeting the week she was leaving for Rwanda.
And I think there is an alarm going off somewhere in the house.
And I think there is an alarm going off somewhere in the house.
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Day Twenty Three
Spent the day driving home. I'm tired after two days of not sleeping. I think visiting Bakersfield in the winter is better than the summer since for the first time in forever, I do not have a sinus infection.
Good to know.
Also, I'm missing Francis. She's visiting friends. But it is also a lot calmer without her high spirits. So far so good with the guys. I hope they do manage to have some fun this week. I have not seen a letter of transfer or a report card yet. Maybe tomorrow.
Good to know.
Also, I'm missing Francis. She's visiting friends. But it is also a lot calmer without her high spirits. So far so good with the guys. I hope they do manage to have some fun this week. I have not seen a letter of transfer or a report card yet. Maybe tomorrow.
Day Twenty Two
I spent the day in Bakersfield. I hate Bakersfield. It never gets any more palatable for me, but people keep living there that want to see me anyway.
Shannon's grandmother has been in decline, like dementia not like cancer, for about a year now, and around Thanksgiving, she was hospitalized. Since she didn't die, and we already had plans, we didn't go for that holiday, and since I already had plans with my family for Christmas, we didn't go for that holiday either. But we did go down for a day to see her. I like Alice, and I think I like her better with dementia that before, but that may just be me. I don't mind people who are not altogether in this time zone - they are pleasant companions just how they are. Her children are rather annoyed with her, although not as bad now as they were two years ago.
Shannon's mother's people are external indexers and have poor organizational and/or cleaning skills. Mostly I think they just don't care about dirt that much, but the thing is, those are two traits that can be combined with a trauma and create a hoarder. I have been telling Shannon all about hoarding for the last two years since I became fascinated with the disorder. He seemed to have a good time looking around and talking with his family about the family history, and they have a strong genetic external indexing trait.
I, it turns out, found a new thing with the medication. I had a hard time hyper focusing at Anne's house. She collects collections of collections, so there is far more than any one can look at, and usually, I can just see what I want to there. I wouldn't say that it was ever easy, but apparently, part of the ability to do that is grounded in the anxiety response. I got the cognitive dissonance but not the accompanying physical response that lets me stop seeing it. I'm glad we didn't stay very long. Also, the futon mattress is too old and hard now to sleep comfortably on, but it's still rude to get a motel. I'll have to come up with something before we go back for the sleeping - or remember my trazadone.
Shannon's grandmother has been in decline, like dementia not like cancer, for about a year now, and around Thanksgiving, she was hospitalized. Since she didn't die, and we already had plans, we didn't go for that holiday, and since I already had plans with my family for Christmas, we didn't go for that holiday either. But we did go down for a day to see her. I like Alice, and I think I like her better with dementia that before, but that may just be me. I don't mind people who are not altogether in this time zone - they are pleasant companions just how they are. Her children are rather annoyed with her, although not as bad now as they were two years ago.
Shannon's mother's people are external indexers and have poor organizational and/or cleaning skills. Mostly I think they just don't care about dirt that much, but the thing is, those are two traits that can be combined with a trauma and create a hoarder. I have been telling Shannon all about hoarding for the last two years since I became fascinated with the disorder. He seemed to have a good time looking around and talking with his family about the family history, and they have a strong genetic external indexing trait.
I, it turns out, found a new thing with the medication. I had a hard time hyper focusing at Anne's house. She collects collections of collections, so there is far more than any one can look at, and usually, I can just see what I want to there. I wouldn't say that it was ever easy, but apparently, part of the ability to do that is grounded in the anxiety response. I got the cognitive dissonance but not the accompanying physical response that lets me stop seeing it. I'm glad we didn't stay very long. Also, the futon mattress is too old and hard now to sleep comfortably on, but it's still rude to get a motel. I'll have to come up with something before we go back for the sleeping - or remember my trazadone.
Day Twenty One
Yes, I'm catching up three days. I went to Bakersfield and I forgot to bring my laptop. Not even considering trying to blog on my phone - its not that big.
On the drive down, I noticed that I make decisions differently on the medication. For instance, I do math to see if I can pass the other car; is there enough room for the speed that the other driver and myself are going? This is completely new. I started working on not taking other drivers personally when I got to San Francisco, and it has made for a much more pleasant experience, but I hadn't realized just how much a difference the medication makes in that now.
In at least one place in my life, I have successfully transitioned to a state of disinterest - a clinical term that means I'm not taking everything personally or wondering if other drivers will think I am a good person by how I drive. Because honestly, as long as I am not impeding traffic or being reckless, who cares if I pass you or you pass me. We all just want to get off the f'ing I5.
I must say that Shannon, my perpetual passenger, is rather unnerved by my new style of driving. I wonder how I would feel with him driving now? Usually I am totally high strung and freaking out when he drives.
On the drive down, I noticed that I make decisions differently on the medication. For instance, I do math to see if I can pass the other car; is there enough room for the speed that the other driver and myself are going? This is completely new. I started working on not taking other drivers personally when I got to San Francisco, and it has made for a much more pleasant experience, but I hadn't realized just how much a difference the medication makes in that now.
In at least one place in my life, I have successfully transitioned to a state of disinterest - a clinical term that means I'm not taking everything personally or wondering if other drivers will think I am a good person by how I drive. Because honestly, as long as I am not impeding traffic or being reckless, who cares if I pass you or you pass me. We all just want to get off the f'ing I5.
I must say that Shannon, my perpetual passenger, is rather unnerved by my new style of driving. I wonder how I would feel with him driving now? Usually I am totally high strung and freaking out when he drives.
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
Day Twenty
My therapist asked me the last time we met if I was good at politics. I used to think I was, but I'm having doubt. This isn't bad, it's just reassessment.
In the car this morning, Shannon said he was beginning to see how all the ways that I learned to manage my anxiety made me so preternaturally (his word) good at helping other people when they were anxious or in doubt. I figured this out a couple years ago, while in seminary, I think I had just forgotten it.
And, I'm thinking, the hyper-vigilance of other people's discomfort really is one of my super powers, but it is also, like, the opposite of politic.
I am thinking, I need to find the reasons that my committee and even Sara, made the right decision, even if for the wrong reasons, and then find the peace with that. The problem is I was so appalled by the framing of the situation to Sara's advantage that she was doing in the middle of the situation, that it feels like I am letting her version be true if I agree at all.
The problem is that, despite the fact that no one who matters to me (whether the powers (lol, I typed posers) that be matter is another question for another day) agrees with her assessment, I am still afraid it might be true.
In the car this morning, Shannon said he was beginning to see how all the ways that I learned to manage my anxiety made me so preternaturally (his word) good at helping other people when they were anxious or in doubt. I figured this out a couple years ago, while in seminary, I think I had just forgotten it.
And, I'm thinking, the hyper-vigilance of other people's discomfort really is one of my super powers, but it is also, like, the opposite of politic.
I am thinking, I need to find the reasons that my committee and even Sara, made the right decision, even if for the wrong reasons, and then find the peace with that. The problem is I was so appalled by the framing of the situation to Sara's advantage that she was doing in the middle of the situation, that it feels like I am letting her version be true if I agree at all.
The problem is that, despite the fact that no one who matters to me (whether the powers (lol, I typed posers) that be matter is another question for another day) agrees with her assessment, I am still afraid it might be true.
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Day Nineteen
I have survived Christmas. Except for the packing of Francis for her trip to Portland. But she is off drowning in the shower, so except that I need some numbers from her, it's no problem.
We went out to my aunt and uncles house for dinner and some presents. It was a nice and low key afternoon. We watched the mega tv they have - Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. Always fun. Surprised that it was on their tv, I don't often think that we have things in common like britcom.
It was raining on the way out, and I was ok, but it was pouring on the way back, and dark, and so after an hour, I was pretty jumpy. Times sure change, Shannon just looked at me and said, did you take your medication today? And I said, yes, but I forgot to take another beta blocker with me to take for the drive home.
I'm kind on intrigued by how they work. The first few days, I was rather giddy and giggly, but by the end of the week, I was back to myself again. I'm just as likely to get upset about things, but I'm able to let go of it faster. Last night, my aunt asked if I could unwind with a glass of wine, and I said no, it wasn't like that, but what I thought was, not unless I want to be come an alcoholic. I'm a pretty terrible alcoholic in any case, so this is the better option. It makes parties a little more difficult, not for awkwardness, but just because they involve a lot of drinking and at some point, the only way drunks are entertaining is when you are drunk too. But it does guarantee a sober driver. So there is that.
So, the first half of Christmas is done. Now to get Francis off and the Bakersfield party visited, then I can spend a couple of days walking on the beach or something - provided it stops raining for a few minutes.
We went out to my aunt and uncles house for dinner and some presents. It was a nice and low key afternoon. We watched the mega tv they have - Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. Always fun. Surprised that it was on their tv, I don't often think that we have things in common like britcom.
It was raining on the way out, and I was ok, but it was pouring on the way back, and dark, and so after an hour, I was pretty jumpy. Times sure change, Shannon just looked at me and said, did you take your medication today? And I said, yes, but I forgot to take another beta blocker with me to take for the drive home.
I'm kind on intrigued by how they work. The first few days, I was rather giddy and giggly, but by the end of the week, I was back to myself again. I'm just as likely to get upset about things, but I'm able to let go of it faster. Last night, my aunt asked if I could unwind with a glass of wine, and I said no, it wasn't like that, but what I thought was, not unless I want to be come an alcoholic. I'm a pretty terrible alcoholic in any case, so this is the better option. It makes parties a little more difficult, not for awkwardness, but just because they involve a lot of drinking and at some point, the only way drunks are entertaining is when you are drunk too. But it does guarantee a sober driver. So there is that.
So, the first half of Christmas is done. Now to get Francis off and the Bakersfield party visited, then I can spend a couple of days walking on the beach or something - provided it stops raining for a few minutes.
Monday, December 24, 2012
Day Eighteen
Today was a good day. Except for that rotten onion that sent me to Safeway at 3pm on Christmas Eve - yeah, worst idea ever but what are you going to do, I did not have any panic today.
Ok, I admit, I took a beta blocker before my family came over, and I closed the kitchen door after dinner so that I didn't have to listen to "the men" solve all the worlds ills with assault rifles (I only heard part of that conversation, then I closed the door. They might also have had a wonderfully intellectual conversation about increased access to mental health as well, but I sort of doubt it.)
I made a butternut squash soup, and my mom made a clam chowder, Ruyle style, which means potato bacon soup with the occasional chewy bit, sort of like find the king cake, it's a surprise if you find something posing as a clam in it - which is how we like it. I bought 6 bread bowls, because I didn't think everyone would want one, and what am I going to do with a bunch of sourdough mini loaves, but it turns out 6 was still one too many for nine people. Sometimes, I am just too good. Some people ate the bowls, which I also think is weird, but it was Safeway bread, so adequate but not amazing.
I have to say, I should have been medicating to spend time with my family years ago. Most of us seem to be on something these days, and at 40, I'm the youngest sitting in the kitchen, but maybe the fact that we are all medicating our anxiety is what makes it easier to get along without being weird. Who knows. We definitely have anxiety running strong in the genes. That is for sure.
My family all like my house, they like how it's old and charming and reminds them of grandma's house, which is exactly why I like it. I wish we could buy this house, but I'm guessing that my landlady will die before I save up enough money to be able to do so, also my kids probably wouldn't want it. I'll probably wind up in Portland again when I am old, but I sure am not looking forward to that today.
That sleep aid seems to be kicking in because I feel I am babbling more than usual. I'll report back on Christmas tomorrow - at Christmas, go figure.
Ok, I admit, I took a beta blocker before my family came over, and I closed the kitchen door after dinner so that I didn't have to listen to "the men" solve all the worlds ills with assault rifles (I only heard part of that conversation, then I closed the door. They might also have had a wonderfully intellectual conversation about increased access to mental health as well, but I sort of doubt it.)
I made a butternut squash soup, and my mom made a clam chowder, Ruyle style, which means potato bacon soup with the occasional chewy bit, sort of like find the king cake, it's a surprise if you find something posing as a clam in it - which is how we like it. I bought 6 bread bowls, because I didn't think everyone would want one, and what am I going to do with a bunch of sourdough mini loaves, but it turns out 6 was still one too many for nine people. Sometimes, I am just too good. Some people ate the bowls, which I also think is weird, but it was Safeway bread, so adequate but not amazing.
I have to say, I should have been medicating to spend time with my family years ago. Most of us seem to be on something these days, and at 40, I'm the youngest sitting in the kitchen, but maybe the fact that we are all medicating our anxiety is what makes it easier to get along without being weird. Who knows. We definitely have anxiety running strong in the genes. That is for sure.
My family all like my house, they like how it's old and charming and reminds them of grandma's house, which is exactly why I like it. I wish we could buy this house, but I'm guessing that my landlady will die before I save up enough money to be able to do so, also my kids probably wouldn't want it. I'll probably wind up in Portland again when I am old, but I sure am not looking forward to that today.
That sleep aid seems to be kicking in because I feel I am babbling more than usual. I'll report back on Christmas tomorrow - at Christmas, go figure.
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Day Seventeen
I went out into the shopping swarm yesterday. I took Francis with me, she did a lot better than I did with the chaos. I got the last couple of things that I needed, but was kind of a mess by the end - shaking a little and dropping things. Frustration, and at a level I rarely used to feel.
Shannon took me out to dinner and dessert. We had a pretty good talk afterwards - maybe just maybe he got an understanding of the work I do around racism. Like I said, it was a good talk, and he finally stopped arguing and started thinking. In a month or so, we will hear the outcome of that. I look forward to it.
He and I talked a little bit about what happened at St Gregory's in November. He didn't get the difference between St Francis in the summer and St Gregory. Sadly, the difference is cover bands and Coltrain. When you are criticizing really bad performances, it's easy to keep your distance from what it is supposed to do. Shannon pointed out, again, that the church has an allergic response to me - they don't want someone who can start a church, too scary. It explains Emily, too, so maybe it's true. I honestly don't think I want to start my own church, however.
The thing that I will have to do is find a way to frame the story which is true but not painful. The true is too painful, and strangely technical. It's been interesting talking to my therapist and not getting bogged down in the technical language. This ability is actually something I am pretty proud of, something I worked hard on, not getting irrelevant. So, yeah, that probably is part of the allergic response.
Then, late last night, as I was rolling over on the couch to sleep. I'm sleeping on the couch because I am staying up until 2am watching Flashpoint - it is rare to find a new procedural that I like. Anyway, there is this intermittent sound that starts like an airplane overhead, which we are not on the flight path, and it's 2am. Then becomes this moaning, wheezing sort of noise. I narrow it down to the front stairs up to the house, which has a furnace vent next to it, but the furnace downstairs is not on. Finally, I start to wonder if the noise is actually in my head, so I go to the bedroom and wake Shannon up and ask him to do that man with a baseball bat thing. He bolts right up, we wander around the house a few times, and he opens the front door, which I was too scared to do. Then, after a few minutes, he goes downstairs and turns around and we discover the noise. The next door ventilation fan for the fireplace is catching the wind and making a horrible noise. And what can I even do about it - no one lives there. I think the wind was coming from a different direction last night.
I was glad to discover that I had not acquired a side effect not listed in the pharmacy papers. And now, it is storming and storming and storming outside. Pretty soon, I'm going to have to clean up the living room and get back to the laundry. We sure have a lot of laundry around here, although it has been my experience that there is always more laundry when it doesn't have to go to the laundry mat. Sigh. Maybe it would have been better if I had been doing laundry at all the last couple of weeks.
Shannon took me out to dinner and dessert. We had a pretty good talk afterwards - maybe just maybe he got an understanding of the work I do around racism. Like I said, it was a good talk, and he finally stopped arguing and started thinking. In a month or so, we will hear the outcome of that. I look forward to it.
He and I talked a little bit about what happened at St Gregory's in November. He didn't get the difference between St Francis in the summer and St Gregory. Sadly, the difference is cover bands and Coltrain. When you are criticizing really bad performances, it's easy to keep your distance from what it is supposed to do. Shannon pointed out, again, that the church has an allergic response to me - they don't want someone who can start a church, too scary. It explains Emily, too, so maybe it's true. I honestly don't think I want to start my own church, however.
The thing that I will have to do is find a way to frame the story which is true but not painful. The true is too painful, and strangely technical. It's been interesting talking to my therapist and not getting bogged down in the technical language. This ability is actually something I am pretty proud of, something I worked hard on, not getting irrelevant. So, yeah, that probably is part of the allergic response.
Then, late last night, as I was rolling over on the couch to sleep. I'm sleeping on the couch because I am staying up until 2am watching Flashpoint - it is rare to find a new procedural that I like. Anyway, there is this intermittent sound that starts like an airplane overhead, which we are not on the flight path, and it's 2am. Then becomes this moaning, wheezing sort of noise. I narrow it down to the front stairs up to the house, which has a furnace vent next to it, but the furnace downstairs is not on. Finally, I start to wonder if the noise is actually in my head, so I go to the bedroom and wake Shannon up and ask him to do that man with a baseball bat thing. He bolts right up, we wander around the house a few times, and he opens the front door, which I was too scared to do. Then, after a few minutes, he goes downstairs and turns around and we discover the noise. The next door ventilation fan for the fireplace is catching the wind and making a horrible noise. And what can I even do about it - no one lives there. I think the wind was coming from a different direction last night.
I was glad to discover that I had not acquired a side effect not listed in the pharmacy papers. And now, it is storming and storming and storming outside. Pretty soon, I'm going to have to clean up the living room and get back to the laundry. We sure have a lot of laundry around here, although it has been my experience that there is always more laundry when it doesn't have to go to the laundry mat. Sigh. Maybe it would have been better if I had been doing laundry at all the last couple of weeks.
Saturday, December 22, 2012
Day Sixteen
Spent yesterday hanging out with the kids. We started cleaning house, including cleaning both their rooms. The generational divide between by myself and with my posse is really evident in our house. We got a ton of stuff done by working together which we can't seem to do with the divide and conquer method that seems more efficient on paper.
Shannon and I went and bought my Christmas present last night. I will let it be a surprise for my blog.
Also, I got invited to an all night rave/party thing, but it was in a church building, and I decided I wasn't ready to walk into a church yet, even if it was just for a non church party. And I sort of wondered if it wasn't decommissioned since its the weekend before Christmas, and that is usually sort of busy for churches. The meds are giving me a nice distance from the lead weight in my chest. I still feel it, but I can just look at it, decide I don't want to think about it, and go do something else.
I'm also totally working one day behind on this blog. I think the title sequence is probably getting confusing, but it helps me remember in a way that looking at the date doesn't.
Today is going to be house cleaning and finishing up the shopping. Just in case you wanted a preview of tomorrows or this evenings post.
Shannon and I went and bought my Christmas present last night. I will let it be a surprise for my blog.
Also, I got invited to an all night rave/party thing, but it was in a church building, and I decided I wasn't ready to walk into a church yet, even if it was just for a non church party. And I sort of wondered if it wasn't decommissioned since its the weekend before Christmas, and that is usually sort of busy for churches. The meds are giving me a nice distance from the lead weight in my chest. I still feel it, but I can just look at it, decide I don't want to think about it, and go do something else.
I'm also totally working one day behind on this blog. I think the title sequence is probably getting confusing, but it helps me remember in a way that looking at the date doesn't.
Today is going to be house cleaning and finishing up the shopping. Just in case you wanted a preview of tomorrows or this evenings post.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Day Fifteen
Therapy went well yesterday. I think what I am trying to do is to see a way forward, which is a gaping whole of dispair right now. I can't see a way forward. I can't see how to explain the last seven years of my life without it seeming like I did something wrong, like I wasn't qualified, that I wasn't broken.
I don't think this had actually occurred to me yet, since I've been pretty heavily suppressing the whole mess in a desperate attempt to hang on to my self esteem and respect. I don't think that has been bad, but it has to be worked through regardless.
The therapist has been pretty helpful, I'm not sure he thinks that he is, but helping me relate this through my social anxiety. I'm not ready to do it today, but soon, maybe after I get the Christmas done, I think I can go through my super power book, it is bound to be better than re-reading emails and letters that people who don't like me wrote.
I don't think I feel like I need to rewrite my story. I guess I need to find the political way of saying, hey, sometimes you lose the personality contest called church. And, I'm still going to have to do some exposure therapy so I can go to church again. And I'm still going to have to figure out what relationship I want to have with church.
But today, the meds and the session were enough to let me go Christmas shopping, even though by lunchtime, it was getting crazy in the mall. Hopefully, I am done with the mall, and one more trip to the grocery store should do it. I should figure out what I need for my family to come over on Christmas Eve. I kind of hate holidays. Ugh. This was definitely some of the draw of priesting, no more family holidays because they are work days. Oh well.
I don't think this had actually occurred to me yet, since I've been pretty heavily suppressing the whole mess in a desperate attempt to hang on to my self esteem and respect. I don't think that has been bad, but it has to be worked through regardless.
The therapist has been pretty helpful, I'm not sure he thinks that he is, but helping me relate this through my social anxiety. I'm not ready to do it today, but soon, maybe after I get the Christmas done, I think I can go through my super power book, it is bound to be better than re-reading emails and letters that people who don't like me wrote.
I don't think I feel like I need to rewrite my story. I guess I need to find the political way of saying, hey, sometimes you lose the personality contest called church. And, I'm still going to have to do some exposure therapy so I can go to church again. And I'm still going to have to figure out what relationship I want to have with church.
But today, the meds and the session were enough to let me go Christmas shopping, even though by lunchtime, it was getting crazy in the mall. Hopefully, I am done with the mall, and one more trip to the grocery store should do it. I should figure out what I need for my family to come over on Christmas Eve. I kind of hate holidays. Ugh. This was definitely some of the draw of priesting, no more family holidays because they are work days. Oh well.
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Day Fourteen
I wonder if the lesson in all this is that not everyone is going to like you, so go make some enemies.
hmmm
hmmm
Day Thirteen
Yes, I missed yesterday. I spent the day with the middle school moms being taken to lunch by the parent liaison. It was a lot of fun, and more than made up for the 2 1/2 hours I spent driving people around in rush hour. Then, there was a possible shelter opening yesterday and my family lost their minds - as usual.
I have done something wrong in my life that my family acts like the apocalypse is immanent whenever I have something to do that happens when they are home.
Perhaps I'll talk to my therapist about it this morning - but I need to go brush my teeth before that happens, or he won't want to see me at all.
I have done something wrong in my life that my family acts like the apocalypse is immanent whenever I have something to do that happens when they are home.
Perhaps I'll talk to my therapist about it this morning - but I need to go brush my teeth before that happens, or he won't want to see me at all.
Monday, December 17, 2012
Day Twelve
So last night, I got ahead of myself apparently, and looked at the letter from The Thursday Meeting. This was a big mistake. I dreamed of that meeting all night, such as the sleep from such things is, and I was completely distracted in the morning and driving by reliving the whole mess again.
This is classic intrusive memories. Awesome. I suppose we won't get to it this Wednesday, but eventually, my therapist can sort out if I have PTSD or a phobia. I don't actually know enough about phobias to know how they are different. Lucky for me I took that theology of trauma class in seminary so I have several medical texts on PTSD.
Effectively, this means that today is shot. I've spent the morning in bed, watching Criminal Minds, which is ok, it's just another crime show. I think it has distracted my mind enough to do something today, but not what I had planned. Basically, I need not bother cooking on these days, I just burn everything, like the bacon this morning. But I'm hungry now, so I need to find something to eat. Hopefully without cooking.
This is classic intrusive memories. Awesome. I suppose we won't get to it this Wednesday, but eventually, my therapist can sort out if I have PTSD or a phobia. I don't actually know enough about phobias to know how they are different. Lucky for me I took that theology of trauma class in seminary so I have several medical texts on PTSD.
Effectively, this means that today is shot. I've spent the morning in bed, watching Criminal Minds, which is ok, it's just another crime show. I think it has distracted my mind enough to do something today, but not what I had planned. Basically, I need not bother cooking on these days, I just burn everything, like the bacon this morning. But I'm hungry now, so I need to find something to eat. Hopefully without cooking.
Sunday, December 16, 2012
Day Eleven
I slept all the way through the night last night. With no medication, not even melatonin. And I slept until 8am. Of course, then I sort of pissed away the entire day, but, you know, sometimes that's what you do.
Tabitha called this evening. It was good to talk to her. She told me about her dad, and his experience as an Episcopal priest. It ran afoul in Vancouver, WA with a death threat from a parishioner and a heart attack. He isn't a priest anymore, needless to say, but she was telling me that he is a pretty emphatic atheist now, too.
Here's the thing, though. I'm not an atheist, according to my spellchecker, I can't even spell it. If anything, the fact that I don't confuse the church with God in the slightest was perhaps one of my problems. To be fair, I have no idea what my theological or pastoral problems might have been, the letter I got from my committee was about my personal problems, particularly, about the very things I spoke to them about right at the beginning about their asinine process.
I am thinking about posting that letter here, but even though I looked at it - the first time since I got it, it still just pisses me off. The medication is working, though, that is for sure. Because I'm actually not curled up in a ball of pain. I suppose that I will eventually need to do something about this, but right now, I think instead I will go back to this movie that I am watching, it is starting, finally, to get interesting.
Perhaps in the future, I will post it, and all the emails and the rest that I got which were also pretty hurtful. I'm not sure it it will help me, but I know that I no longer care if it will hurt anyone else. Medication is helpful in this at least.
Tabitha called this evening. It was good to talk to her. She told me about her dad, and his experience as an Episcopal priest. It ran afoul in Vancouver, WA with a death threat from a parishioner and a heart attack. He isn't a priest anymore, needless to say, but she was telling me that he is a pretty emphatic atheist now, too.
Here's the thing, though. I'm not an atheist, according to my spellchecker, I can't even spell it. If anything, the fact that I don't confuse the church with God in the slightest was perhaps one of my problems. To be fair, I have no idea what my theological or pastoral problems might have been, the letter I got from my committee was about my personal problems, particularly, about the very things I spoke to them about right at the beginning about their asinine process.
I am thinking about posting that letter here, but even though I looked at it - the first time since I got it, it still just pisses me off. The medication is working, though, that is for sure. Because I'm actually not curled up in a ball of pain. I suppose that I will eventually need to do something about this, but right now, I think instead I will go back to this movie that I am watching, it is starting, finally, to get interesting.
Perhaps in the future, I will post it, and all the emails and the rest that I got which were also pretty hurtful. I'm not sure it it will help me, but I know that I no longer care if it will hurt anyone else. Medication is helpful in this at least.
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Day Ten
Had the most bizarre dream last night.
Was at an alumni thing at CDSP. My phone was wrapped in foil - yes, I said foil, and I unwrapped it and wrapped the foil around my wrists so that I could text Shannon about this blow hard on the board that was talking about taking out all the faucets in the school and replacing them with some fancy French imported water. And when I discovered this was all so that they didn't have to pay taxes on the money I asked why they couldn't pay back my student loans, since that was the money they were trying not to pay taxes on anyway. And then I tried to strangle him but his neck was too fat.
And there was this whole other bit woven in with seeing Kay again and knit bacon, which became knit ham pot holders. I'm in the market for some dark pink, light pink, cream variegated yarn so I can make some ham pot holders now. It needs to be cotton, not acrylic so it doesn't melt.
I'm doubling my sertraline (aka Zoloft) today. Keeping the beta blockers the same, and took a melatonin last night. I think I know exactly when it wears off, because Shannon keeps waking me up with his snoring. I can't decide if after 17 years, I am more sensitive or he is getting worse. I asked him to go to the sleep clinic for my Christmas present, and then I went out to sleep on the couch. Maybe I should just ask for a new couch for Christmas, I need one of those anyway.
Was at an alumni thing at CDSP. My phone was wrapped in foil - yes, I said foil, and I unwrapped it and wrapped the foil around my wrists so that I could text Shannon about this blow hard on the board that was talking about taking out all the faucets in the school and replacing them with some fancy French imported water. And when I discovered this was all so that they didn't have to pay taxes on the money I asked why they couldn't pay back my student loans, since that was the money they were trying not to pay taxes on anyway. And then I tried to strangle him but his neck was too fat.
And there was this whole other bit woven in with seeing Kay again and knit bacon, which became knit ham pot holders. I'm in the market for some dark pink, light pink, cream variegated yarn so I can make some ham pot holders now. It needs to be cotton, not acrylic so it doesn't melt.
I'm doubling my sertraline (aka Zoloft) today. Keeping the beta blockers the same, and took a melatonin last night. I think I know exactly when it wears off, because Shannon keeps waking me up with his snoring. I can't decide if after 17 years, I am more sensitive or he is getting worse. I asked him to go to the sleep clinic for my Christmas present, and then I went out to sleep on the couch. Maybe I should just ask for a new couch for Christmas, I need one of those anyway.
Day Nine
I missed posting yesterday.
I slept most of the day, some time in the afternoon heard about the school shooting, was glad I slept through most of the day, and am glad for my medication, which means I can skim my facebook without freaking out. Honestly, I think I used up all my freaking out about shootings two days earlier with Clackams Town Center.
Francis had a birthday yesterday. She is 15 and already trying to figure out where the time has gone and why it is so hard to get friends to hang out here in San Francisco.
I will post today later, and now I need to take the dog out before he pees on the floor.
I slept most of the day, some time in the afternoon heard about the school shooting, was glad I slept through most of the day, and am glad for my medication, which means I can skim my facebook without freaking out. Honestly, I think I used up all my freaking out about shootings two days earlier with Clackams Town Center.
Francis had a birthday yesterday. She is 15 and already trying to figure out where the time has gone and why it is so hard to get friends to hang out here in San Francisco.
I will post today later, and now I need to take the dog out before he pees on the floor.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Day Eight
Today was an incredible slow and ordinary day. I'm glad, because I've totally needed one of those.
Of course, this is because we are going to the midnight showing of The Hobbit for Francis' birthday. I've been attempting to sleep all day so I could be up all night. And, enough of this week is past that my mind finally let me. Simon actually came home from school and walked through the living room and I didn't even hear him.
Speaking of Simon, he had a music concert this morning at school. He is finally coming into his own and wanted me to come, and wanted me to record the concert. I recorded a Justin Beiber song and an Adele song. There was some drama when he traded keyboards with his best friend and he was afraid I couldn't see him anymore. His best friend is half his height, almost literally, and since his mom came also, we were all quite proud of Simon for switching so that we could see at least the top of his head. Simon was pissed because of some horse trading that fell through in all that but came around eventually.
I've managed to stop being all twitchy about Clackamas. I did take another beta blocker for the movie tonight, but we will see if going to the mall and a big movie opening makes me jumpy. I also put a bunch of my church friends back into my facebook feed. You know, the 6 or so I didn't unfriend last week. And I am still not even thinking about going to church this holiday season, so that seems ok. I did see a Blue Christmas service advert in my fb feed, but I think I won't be going to one of those either. And I saw that two classmates are being ordained really soon, and I know the medication is carrying me on that one, because I just scrolled past and let it go. They aren't happening in town, and I unfriended both of them last week, so hopefully I won't hear too much more about it.
I would say today was a successful day of avoidance, a la that hilarious roku advert that I have heard on the radion. I slept through a lot of hulu today. And tomorrow, we celebrate 15 years of parenthood with no arrests. Turns out, that has been a little harder than I thought it would be 15 years ago. JK, Francis.
Of course, this is because we are going to the midnight showing of The Hobbit for Francis' birthday. I've been attempting to sleep all day so I could be up all night. And, enough of this week is past that my mind finally let me. Simon actually came home from school and walked through the living room and I didn't even hear him.
Speaking of Simon, he had a music concert this morning at school. He is finally coming into his own and wanted me to come, and wanted me to record the concert. I recorded a Justin Beiber song and an Adele song. There was some drama when he traded keyboards with his best friend and he was afraid I couldn't see him anymore. His best friend is half his height, almost literally, and since his mom came also, we were all quite proud of Simon for switching so that we could see at least the top of his head. Simon was pissed because of some horse trading that fell through in all that but came around eventually.
I've managed to stop being all twitchy about Clackamas. I did take another beta blocker for the movie tonight, but we will see if going to the mall and a big movie opening makes me jumpy. I also put a bunch of my church friends back into my facebook feed. You know, the 6 or so I didn't unfriend last week. And I am still not even thinking about going to church this holiday season, so that seems ok. I did see a Blue Christmas service advert in my fb feed, but I think I won't be going to one of those either. And I saw that two classmates are being ordained really soon, and I know the medication is carrying me on that one, because I just scrolled past and let it go. They aren't happening in town, and I unfriended both of them last week, so hopefully I won't hear too much more about it.
I would say today was a successful day of avoidance, a la that hilarious roku advert that I have heard on the radion. I slept through a lot of hulu today. And tomorrow, we celebrate 15 years of parenthood with no arrests. Turns out, that has been a little harder than I thought it would be 15 years ago. JK, Francis.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Day Seven
This has been the longest week of my life. I'm just staring at the day seven and thinking, really, and, damn I am so tired.
Last night I could not sleep. I scheduled another therapy appointment today, except the card said the 17th and the computer when I got to registration actually said the 19th, so we were all out of sorts on Monday. The problem being that I was up half the night worried about what I had to talk to my therapist about two days later. The meds haven't had time to do much, and frankly, all I am doing right now is getting through this week. Maybe getting through December, too, but mostly just this week.
Today, Shannon came to wake me up on the couch, where I retired at 4am and apparently fell asleep at some point. And without even opening my eyes I said clear as day - I hate my life. I'm not sure if I actually hate my life but I certainly hate 6am. And I hate my brain that talks and talks and talks to itself all night. The meds are giving me crazy dreams, too, which Francis assured me they would. What she failed to tell me is that I would be unable to tell if I was awake or dreaming, but maybe she can't tell, not everyone can.
Because I am married to the most amazing man on earth, Shannon got the kids off to school today and let me sleep all morning until I had to go to that therapy appointment I didn't have. I went to lunch with him, came home, took another beta blocker just to get through the evening, which helped, and went to school.
Tonight was family night at the middle school. I had plans to register lots of parents for the ptsa, but me, Maua, and pretty much every parent that came into the parent resource room looked like they just needed a hug, so basically, we just gave everyone cake and coffee and a chair. December is just too much. I do as little as possible in December, I stopped making a Christmas production years ago and it still overwhelms. I'm glad this end of semester thing is over, though. I think that I will just do planning for January PTSA stuff for the rest of December and no more stressing out on this stuff. We are going to form the ptsa, so it's not like me needing more meds to not have a panic attack at the school is going to help anything.
I've decided that the therapists are probably right that I have general anxiety but don't know all the parts of it. I think I didn't used to but I've been pushed over the edge. There was a shooting at Clackamas Town Center yesterday. All my people are safe. One of the dead is the father of someone I knows aunts students, so enough space that I'm not knowing them. But one was a 15 year old girl, and I spent yesterday in a mall, and tomorrow we are going to the midnight showing of the hobbit at another mall, and I'm a little sketchy on the malls right now. I'm not usually this way, and maybe it's normal. I don't know. Last year, I moved near the Lloyd Center even though there had been a fatal shooting less than a year earlier. Maybe I'm less weirded out by gang shooting, which are usually pretty random, than I am the random young males but I don't know. I do know that I don't remember being so freaked out about a mall shooting before this. I'm trying to check the news twice a day for unfolding information but not sit on twitter listening to the nonsense. I can't seems to get the movie image of Christmas music and jason masks out of my mind.
Last night I could not sleep. I scheduled another therapy appointment today, except the card said the 17th and the computer when I got to registration actually said the 19th, so we were all out of sorts on Monday. The problem being that I was up half the night worried about what I had to talk to my therapist about two days later. The meds haven't had time to do much, and frankly, all I am doing right now is getting through this week. Maybe getting through December, too, but mostly just this week.
Today, Shannon came to wake me up on the couch, where I retired at 4am and apparently fell asleep at some point. And without even opening my eyes I said clear as day - I hate my life. I'm not sure if I actually hate my life but I certainly hate 6am. And I hate my brain that talks and talks and talks to itself all night. The meds are giving me crazy dreams, too, which Francis assured me they would. What she failed to tell me is that I would be unable to tell if I was awake or dreaming, but maybe she can't tell, not everyone can.
Because I am married to the most amazing man on earth, Shannon got the kids off to school today and let me sleep all morning until I had to go to that therapy appointment I didn't have. I went to lunch with him, came home, took another beta blocker just to get through the evening, which helped, and went to school.
Tonight was family night at the middle school. I had plans to register lots of parents for the ptsa, but me, Maua, and pretty much every parent that came into the parent resource room looked like they just needed a hug, so basically, we just gave everyone cake and coffee and a chair. December is just too much. I do as little as possible in December, I stopped making a Christmas production years ago and it still overwhelms. I'm glad this end of semester thing is over, though. I think that I will just do planning for January PTSA stuff for the rest of December and no more stressing out on this stuff. We are going to form the ptsa, so it's not like me needing more meds to not have a panic attack at the school is going to help anything.
I've decided that the therapists are probably right that I have general anxiety but don't know all the parts of it. I think I didn't used to but I've been pushed over the edge. There was a shooting at Clackamas Town Center yesterday. All my people are safe. One of the dead is the father of someone I knows aunts students, so enough space that I'm not knowing them. But one was a 15 year old girl, and I spent yesterday in a mall, and tomorrow we are going to the midnight showing of the hobbit at another mall, and I'm a little sketchy on the malls right now. I'm not usually this way, and maybe it's normal. I don't know. Last year, I moved near the Lloyd Center even though there had been a fatal shooting less than a year earlier. Maybe I'm less weirded out by gang shooting, which are usually pretty random, than I am the random young males but I don't know. I do know that I don't remember being so freaked out about a mall shooting before this. I'm trying to check the news twice a day for unfolding information but not sit on twitter listening to the nonsense. I can't seems to get the movie image of Christmas music and jason masks out of my mind.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Day Six
Well, I am starting to crawl out of the hole. This would be entirely due to chemical intervention. I am not even ready to consider going sober. But I am actually able to answer the phone - thanks for calling every other day until I picked up Lisa. You are da bomb.
Since Lisa called, and I had my headset and was driving anyway, I took her call. I was able to talk about what is going on, but I nearly cried. I didn't, thank you beta blockers, but getting through December is going to be about as much as I can do, I think. I've still unfriended practically every church friend I had and most of the rest of them are off my wall. I figure, if they are actually my friend, as in, we actually talk at some point in the future, I can just re-friend them. If they have a problem with it, well, they aren't my friend anyway.
I went to the mall today. I had to take my laptop to the Genius Bar because I popped a key off. Turns out, I over use my right arrow key and I wore it out. I was late, and missed my appointment but they took my laptop and fixed it anyway. It took 5 minutes. I'd have come back, since I did in fact miss my appointment, despite being in the mall half hour early.
I was buying a ceramic flat iron. Merry Christmas to me, I need to make sure Shannon hasn't bought those boots I wanted, because the flat iron was pretty spendy. Although it my hair stays curled all night at this party tonight, it was totally worth it. The girl who sold me the flat iron was absolutely adorable and Portugese, or Israeli. I'm a little confused on this, but she was so fun. She said something interesting to me. She said, you are not hard, it is nice. And I worked retail when I was her age, so I know exactly what she means. I have met a lot of hard people in this life - people who confuse good boundaries with douche like behavior. Something I never wanted to be was hard. Being right has just never been the most important thing to me. Nor being successful, nor being unhurt. I want to be hurt by people, I mean, no one really wants to be hurt, but I never wanted to be so closed to people that they couldn't hurt me. I don't think you can truly love people if they can't hurt you.
I was a little concerned that the medication would make me a bit of an automaton. But this doesn't seem to be the case, at least not where I am with the meds. This is one reason I didn't consider them before. I think it was a good idea to work the skills base first, and maybe I would have ended up on them eventually in any case, but I certainly didn't see this anxiety-meets-grief panic attack coming. So, you know, maybe I won't lose my super power. I'd be ok with losing the crying all the time part of it, but maybe I won't lose the ability to receive, amplify, and return the collective mood of a room back to itself. But maybe I can have a little help not taking this too much on myself. If I can find it, I'll write some other day about what I learned from Caroline Myss this summer. I got a lot to chew on, a lot to use to reframe, listening to her talks this summer. Maybe the bit where I can choose how long to grieve wasn't totally accurate, because it seems I either have some more grieving, or maybe some totally righteous anger to deal with still. I definitely am not done with the anxiety around institutions.
Well, I have a party tonight. I'm going to go play with the flat iron and borrow my daughter's makeup. I should probably buy and wear my own one of these days.
Since Lisa called, and I had my headset and was driving anyway, I took her call. I was able to talk about what is going on, but I nearly cried. I didn't, thank you beta blockers, but getting through December is going to be about as much as I can do, I think. I've still unfriended practically every church friend I had and most of the rest of them are off my wall. I figure, if they are actually my friend, as in, we actually talk at some point in the future, I can just re-friend them. If they have a problem with it, well, they aren't my friend anyway.
I went to the mall today. I had to take my laptop to the Genius Bar because I popped a key off. Turns out, I over use my right arrow key and I wore it out. I was late, and missed my appointment but they took my laptop and fixed it anyway. It took 5 minutes. I'd have come back, since I did in fact miss my appointment, despite being in the mall half hour early.
I was buying a ceramic flat iron. Merry Christmas to me, I need to make sure Shannon hasn't bought those boots I wanted, because the flat iron was pretty spendy. Although it my hair stays curled all night at this party tonight, it was totally worth it. The girl who sold me the flat iron was absolutely adorable and Portugese, or Israeli. I'm a little confused on this, but she was so fun. She said something interesting to me. She said, you are not hard, it is nice. And I worked retail when I was her age, so I know exactly what she means. I have met a lot of hard people in this life - people who confuse good boundaries with douche like behavior. Something I never wanted to be was hard. Being right has just never been the most important thing to me. Nor being successful, nor being unhurt. I want to be hurt by people, I mean, no one really wants to be hurt, but I never wanted to be so closed to people that they couldn't hurt me. I don't think you can truly love people if they can't hurt you.
I was a little concerned that the medication would make me a bit of an automaton. But this doesn't seem to be the case, at least not where I am with the meds. This is one reason I didn't consider them before. I think it was a good idea to work the skills base first, and maybe I would have ended up on them eventually in any case, but I certainly didn't see this anxiety-meets-grief panic attack coming. So, you know, maybe I won't lose my super power. I'd be ok with losing the crying all the time part of it, but maybe I won't lose the ability to receive, amplify, and return the collective mood of a room back to itself. But maybe I can have a little help not taking this too much on myself. If I can find it, I'll write some other day about what I learned from Caroline Myss this summer. I got a lot to chew on, a lot to use to reframe, listening to her talks this summer. Maybe the bit where I can choose how long to grieve wasn't totally accurate, because it seems I either have some more grieving, or maybe some totally righteous anger to deal with still. I definitely am not done with the anxiety around institutions.
Well, I have a party tonight. I'm going to go play with the flat iron and borrow my daughter's makeup. I should probably buy and wear my own one of these days.
Monday, December 10, 2012
Day Five
So, when I first took the beta blocker, I wondered if I would still be able to feel stuff. I wondered if I'd be able to cry, you know, if I wanted to. This is my superpower, being able to cry at will, and also to be unnaturally attuned to other people's moods. I wondered if I would feel like a sociopath without the excessive attention to everyone else.
Well, no problem there. I had such an ordinary day for me that I kind of wonder if that microscopic pill didn't land on the floor and I didn't even notice I didn't take it.
I guess we will see tomorrow. But, seriously, I cried about a normal amount today, which is a ridiculous amount, I'm sure. I got completely frustrated by the attendance policy for SFUSD. I swear, they do everything in their power to make everyone who possibly can, put their kids in private school. I did get things sorted out so that my daughter won't actually fail half her freshman year, but still, you would think that if they cared so much if I sent a note they would either make it easier for me, or they would let me know before I got a truancy notice with 3 times the number of absences that will get us a hearing. Dumb, stupid, shit. This is actually her second truancy notice, her first one was in kindergarten. We went out of town for a wedding, which isn't a good enough reason to miss school. We went anyway. We've gotten a lot more out of the wedding than we did out of kindergarten.
I also cried to an episode of Law and Order: SVU. I can't decide if I am a sucker for Patricia Arquette or if it was because there was a priest with a significant role, and not as a pedophile. The reason I think I took the beta blockers is there is this heaviness in my chest that I don't recognize. Since I'm taking heart medication, I find this either ironic or troubling. My arm isn't numb, though, so I'm going to chance it.
I also met with my therapist again. He is still really confused by the whole ordination process thing. I got the distinct impression that he found people putting themselves in the position of working so hard for something so arbitrary to be a little clinical, if you know what I mean. And I know that he has no idea what needs or desires or whatever I was fulfilling but he is sure that I will be able to find something else, even if I have to have different training. This makes me feel a little strange - not necessarily because I disagree, because I have already found more than enough to do with most of my job skills, but because it means I am moving out of one language and into another.
In other therapy news, he was really interested in some more of my background. I kinda blew over the serial monogamy and alcoholism. Probably, this will come up again. I wonder if this is going to be like that time I went to a chiropractor and he was so concerned that I'd been in a major car accident that he couldn't believe that the two years of weekly chiropractic I had at the time would have fixed the problem and the 35 pound baby I was carrying hanging off one shoulder for years wasn't and the man nearly broke my spine but didn't do a damn thing for my shoulder. Idiot. But I wonder if the therapist is going to be really concerned with the childhood issues. I don't know. I'm sort of over my childhood - it was fun while it lasted, the working through it in ACOA, not actually the childhood, but I'm not particularly interested or avoiding it in any anxious or desperate way. Or maybe I am, what do I know anyway.
I know that I wasn't unsuited to the ministry because I'm a narcissist. I sure know that. I guess it is an open question still if I am unsuited because I am not politic enough. Probably. Ever since THE THURSDAY MEETING, I have been pretty sure that I don't ever want to be that politic. I am sure that I have hurt people in this life, and that I have hurt people I don't even know about - but I am absolutely positive that I haven't hurt as many people as I have cleaned up from the mess Sara leaves behind.
Well, no problem there. I had such an ordinary day for me that I kind of wonder if that microscopic pill didn't land on the floor and I didn't even notice I didn't take it.
I guess we will see tomorrow. But, seriously, I cried about a normal amount today, which is a ridiculous amount, I'm sure. I got completely frustrated by the attendance policy for SFUSD. I swear, they do everything in their power to make everyone who possibly can, put their kids in private school. I did get things sorted out so that my daughter won't actually fail half her freshman year, but still, you would think that if they cared so much if I sent a note they would either make it easier for me, or they would let me know before I got a truancy notice with 3 times the number of absences that will get us a hearing. Dumb, stupid, shit. This is actually her second truancy notice, her first one was in kindergarten. We went out of town for a wedding, which isn't a good enough reason to miss school. We went anyway. We've gotten a lot more out of the wedding than we did out of kindergarten.
I also cried to an episode of Law and Order: SVU. I can't decide if I am a sucker for Patricia Arquette or if it was because there was a priest with a significant role, and not as a pedophile. The reason I think I took the beta blockers is there is this heaviness in my chest that I don't recognize. Since I'm taking heart medication, I find this either ironic or troubling. My arm isn't numb, though, so I'm going to chance it.
I also met with my therapist again. He is still really confused by the whole ordination process thing. I got the distinct impression that he found people putting themselves in the position of working so hard for something so arbitrary to be a little clinical, if you know what I mean. And I know that he has no idea what needs or desires or whatever I was fulfilling but he is sure that I will be able to find something else, even if I have to have different training. This makes me feel a little strange - not necessarily because I disagree, because I have already found more than enough to do with most of my job skills, but because it means I am moving out of one language and into another.
In other therapy news, he was really interested in some more of my background. I kinda blew over the serial monogamy and alcoholism. Probably, this will come up again. I wonder if this is going to be like that time I went to a chiropractor and he was so concerned that I'd been in a major car accident that he couldn't believe that the two years of weekly chiropractic I had at the time would have fixed the problem and the 35 pound baby I was carrying hanging off one shoulder for years wasn't and the man nearly broke my spine but didn't do a damn thing for my shoulder. Idiot. But I wonder if the therapist is going to be really concerned with the childhood issues. I don't know. I'm sort of over my childhood - it was fun while it lasted, the working through it in ACOA, not actually the childhood, but I'm not particularly interested or avoiding it in any anxious or desperate way. Or maybe I am, what do I know anyway.
I know that I wasn't unsuited to the ministry because I'm a narcissist. I sure know that. I guess it is an open question still if I am unsuited because I am not politic enough. Probably. Ever since THE THURSDAY MEETING, I have been pretty sure that I don't ever want to be that politic. I am sure that I have hurt people in this life, and that I have hurt people I don't even know about - but I am absolutely positive that I haven't hurt as many people as I have cleaned up from the mess Sara leaves behind.
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Day Four
Last night we went to a party. Dude, I haven't stayed out until 3am in a long time. And I'm going to do it twice this week - Hobbit opening night for Francis' 15th birthday. I think I'm too tired to need the sleeping pills after all, but it is nice to have them.
Took another beta blocker this morning. Yesterday was a totally functional Saturday, which really means I only got 25% of what I wanted, done. Today, about the same. I never get as much done on the weekend as I want. But the lazy days are pretty important, too.
Of course, I drove past a lot of churches with bells and people walking in. None of them were Episcopal, so it seems to have been just fine.
I did find myself several times today replaying last spring and the arguments in my head. I don't readily see what type of thoughts they are, so I think this is going to take awhile. Perhaps I do have general anxiety disorder, just that I am not highly suggestible. Probably, I am just more subtle and clever about talking shit to myself.
What I did notice, I was able to tell a story to someone last night that I have only ever been able to tell two other people - ever. I'm not typing it in here, because it's someone else's story and more intense than is really appropriate here. I don't even know if it is relevant to this particular thing I'm working on. But the point being, it's been this huge traumatic thing for nearly 20 years, and I could talk about it without crying.
I'm really perplexed by the not crying all the time. I wonder if if this is how everyone else feels all the time. I wonder if I even can cry on these things. And I wonder about my emotional eating - sometimes I eat a lot and sometimes I stop, it just depends. So, I wonder what this will do. The side effects are certainly leaning towards a weight loss plan.
Took another beta blocker this morning. Yesterday was a totally functional Saturday, which really means I only got 25% of what I wanted, done. Today, about the same. I never get as much done on the weekend as I want. But the lazy days are pretty important, too.
Of course, I drove past a lot of churches with bells and people walking in. None of them were Episcopal, so it seems to have been just fine.
I did find myself several times today replaying last spring and the arguments in my head. I don't readily see what type of thoughts they are, so I think this is going to take awhile. Perhaps I do have general anxiety disorder, just that I am not highly suggestible. Probably, I am just more subtle and clever about talking shit to myself.
What I did notice, I was able to tell a story to someone last night that I have only ever been able to tell two other people - ever. I'm not typing it in here, because it's someone else's story and more intense than is really appropriate here. I don't even know if it is relevant to this particular thing I'm working on. But the point being, it's been this huge traumatic thing for nearly 20 years, and I could talk about it without crying.
I'm really perplexed by the not crying all the time. I wonder if if this is how everyone else feels all the time. I wonder if I even can cry on these things. And I wonder about my emotional eating - sometimes I eat a lot and sometimes I stop, it just depends. So, I wonder what this will do. The side effects are certainly leaning towards a weight loss plan.
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Day Three
Well, I didn't try the sleeping pills last night because I fell asleep while meditating with my daughter, and she fell asleep too, and I didn't want to wake her up so I laid there mostly awake all night.
This morning, I made breakfast and took a beta blocker. Wow. Let's just sum it up by saying I love you, I really do, but I can't feel you at all. And when you hurt my feelings, I can say, right out loud without pausing to push down the tears, hey, that hurt my feelings. Because I can't even feel my tears. I rode in the backseat on the freeway and I didn't even bite my nails or jump or anything - unfortunately, I still got carsick, but hey, I'm not ticking like a clock while looking for a bucket.
Is this what other people feel like all the time?
My husband fears I might become a sociopath, or that this in fact does make me a sociopath, but I think a moral compass is something more than just your adrenal glands burning out - and I have both philosophy and theology degrees to back me up on this. In fact, I could probably even look at a theology book without crushing despair and get some theologians to back me up.
I can't actually say that for sure, though, because I am still giving myself permission to stay as far away as I want from church and religion. And it occurs to me that without the weighty dread, I may not be able to find the AT's that are the problem, but I will probably be able to finally seek out a spiritual director who can help me out with them.
And, again, can I just say what a completely bizarre feeling it is to jump and catch your breath when something scares you, but not have the emotional surge that goes with it. It is a huge relief after the last 3 weeks. Heck, I may not even need the sleeping pills. We will just see how I feel about it when I go to bed tonight.
This morning, I made breakfast and took a beta blocker. Wow. Let's just sum it up by saying I love you, I really do, but I can't feel you at all. And when you hurt my feelings, I can say, right out loud without pausing to push down the tears, hey, that hurt my feelings. Because I can't even feel my tears. I rode in the backseat on the freeway and I didn't even bite my nails or jump or anything - unfortunately, I still got carsick, but hey, I'm not ticking like a clock while looking for a bucket.
Is this what other people feel like all the time?
My husband fears I might become a sociopath, or that this in fact does make me a sociopath, but I think a moral compass is something more than just your adrenal glands burning out - and I have both philosophy and theology degrees to back me up on this. In fact, I could probably even look at a theology book without crushing despair and get some theologians to back me up.
I can't actually say that for sure, though, because I am still giving myself permission to stay as far away as I want from church and religion. And it occurs to me that without the weighty dread, I may not be able to find the AT's that are the problem, but I will probably be able to finally seek out a spiritual director who can help me out with them.
And, again, can I just say what a completely bizarre feeling it is to jump and catch your breath when something scares you, but not have the emotional surge that goes with it. It is a huge relief after the last 3 weeks. Heck, I may not even need the sleeping pills. We will just see how I feel about it when I go to bed tonight.
Friday, December 7, 2012
Day Two
So day two was mostly spent with the prescribing therapist. After the ridiculous amount of time it took to get to the doctors office at all because some idiot thought planting succulents in the 1 foot margin between lanes of traffic on 19th was going to impact global warming. Keep dreaming San Francisco.
The advice nurse yesterday said I would like this psychiatrist because she was professional. I thought, that is a weird thing to say, I would hope all psychiatrists would be professional - I mean, they are going to mess with my brain chemistry, but I am agitated enough that I'm game. And it turns out, I think I know what she meant. I watched the psychiatrists and psychologists come out to the waiting room for patients and so many of them were so casually and comfortably dressed. My doctor had on a suit. That gave me more confidence than the woman in head to toe purple tie dye, with purple crocs. And yes, she was a therapist, the person sitting next to me got up and went with her when she called their name.
So, this managed to be a 50 minute appointment, and I am pretty sure that the details are still a little unclear but we managed. It turns out there is not a drug that cures "I am crawling out of my skin" and "practically crashing the car when the phone rings" but we decided, as they often do, that the stuff that is technically for depression will work for anxiety. And I now have 3 prescriptions. Interestingly, all three of them mess with my serotonin, and one of them says to watch for serotonin syndrome if I am taking multiple serotonin drugs. Two are for getting me settled down while the third starts to take effect. Nothing like jumping in with both feet, I suppose. As long as I don't wind up in emergency. But, she was wearing a suit, and this is a usual combination for her to prescribe, so, I'll trust the suit.
Tonight I will take the sleeping one, and see how that helps. If I don't like it, I don't have to take it, and the melatonin seems to have worked ok last night, so I might just stick with that if this new thing makes my mouth taste like vomit in the morning. It turns out that I've got to be really, really desperate before I am willing to wake up with vomit mouth, which I did when I took a muscle relaxer to slow up that migraine I gave myself the day before yesterday.
Last night was actually quite fine. First, I let myself not talk to anyone about anything I didn't want to, and I let myself not think about anything I didn't want to think about. Second, I went to a chapter wide logistics meeting for the Red Cross. And I got to hang with the guys and no one cares if I feel all weepy, so consequently, I don't get all weepy. And I get to talk systems, which just makes me happy all over. And I totally abandoned my people to their own devices and I was gone for 5 1/2 hours, 2.5 of which was spent in traffic. Not awesome, but I did try to leave San Francisco at rush hour.
I count today a win. Except for the 50 minutes spent sobbing in the psychiatrists office, I only burst into tears 3 times. Well, it's 2:30 in the afternoon, so I suppose there is still time, but really, the shaking has stopped and although my hair is still making my skin crawl, at least I'm not considering shaving it off anymore. ( I did this in college. Some girls look totally hot with really short hair, I am not some girl who looks hot with really short hair. And I hate the 3 years of grow out that it takes to have long hair again. Even when I am not twitching with anxiety and panic, I can't stand hair in my face, and I actually will still chew on my hair like a grade schooler without even knowing. I'm 40 now. If I can't quit, I can at least be old enough to stay out of those situations.)
Goal for tomorrow. Taking the beta blocker one, and seeing if I get too dizzy to drive, which, if that is the case, will put them right out of the running, and then, probably I won't need to worry too much about serotonin syndrome.
Goal for tomorrow. Taking the beta blocker one, and seeing if I get too dizzy to drive, which, if that is the case, will put them right out of the running, and then, probably I won't need to worry too much about serotonin syndrome.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Day One
It's not really day one, it's more like day 17. But if knowledge is power, then today is the first power day. Still, you may wish to be brought up to speed on what the hell is going on, or even what happened 17 days ago.
I went to church.
Which isn't actually that remarkable for me. In fact, what is more remarkable, but not surprising is not going to church for the last 6 months. And what scared the hell out of me, although I didn't know until yesterday, is that I've been coming unglued for the last 2.5 weeks. Like, skin crawling, don't touch me, can't sleep, weep copiously several times a day, freaking out at work unglued. And then doing all the things I learned and that have always worked before in order to manage my social anxiety disorder.
And nothing. Just nothing.
So, screw this, I've got insurance and low copays, I'll go see a therapist. It is definitely something I don't have a handle on, and that whole be strong thing is for shit. It is not working. And there is no point. I've learned a lot about the intersection between willpower and biology, and the willpower is losing.
I tell the therapist as briefly as possible about the last 7 years, particularly the bit where it all flushes down the toilet because I make the skin crawl on one person (and I must because otherwise, she really is a sociopath) and another group of people are at best practicing benign neglect. To which the therapist, like every other person I have told, says, that fucking sucks. (Ok, he didn't say fuck, but the look on his face did, for sure.)
And then tells me that what I am describing, especially since I am doing all the anxiety management tools I have learned and they are not working, is that it sounds like a phobia. And that he doesn't want to tell me how to feel, but could I describe how I feel as angry, perhaps. And I look him straight in the eye and say, well, I'm not screaming or throwing things (which my husband will say is totally untrue - since I have thrown a few things at him recently, and my aim is perfect when I actually am angry, although I am not angry at him) and anyway, that is all I know about angry.
So, I blamed my mother for that. Because when the voice in my head says "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it at all" it is totally in her voice. Or maybe her mother's - it's definitely something my grandmother would have said, and it is totally in a "mom" voice no matter what. And I do know that to this avery moment, I cannot walk up to someone and say - "I hate you, you totally fucked me up and hurt my feelings and I think you are a complete douche. Go die." (My daughter can do that - and while I think it makes her a bit of a bully, I am totally proud that she can, and I will tell her to be judicious with it, but I won't ever tell her to stop.) Furthermore, I did a lot of work in the last couple of years learning to not talk shit about people behind their back and to assume they are doing the best they can and other DBT (this is dialectical behavior therapy - I talk about therapy a lot, I found it totally useful and helpful and I highly recommend it to anyone - maybe not the talk about your victimization stuff, but the only type Kaiser will pay for, i.e. the tools, skills, drugs to be better already dammit. I'm all for that.)
Anyway, the result of all this is that maybe I do have a lot of anger but I'm really lacking the outlet for my own. The therapist actually said to me, "anger is about injustice and this seems pretty unjust to me." I do a lot of social justice stuff, I do a lot with power and privilege of white people, and especially the injustice of the church, but I totally missed putting myself and my situation in those terms. Yeah, me.
This is what happened yesterday. The very nice therapist told me the unkind truth, which is that I actually need the amygdala and the cortisol and my whole frontal lobe, in fact, and so there really isn't any medication that is going to make a phobia go away. But he gave me a nice form to fill out to record my AT's when I am feeling distressed. I haven't even written any down on the paper yet, because I realized while driving the kids to school, every time I thought about church, or my friends from church, or passages from the bible or lines out of the prayer book - I got agitated and started to cry.
Awesome. I am allergic to church. Yesterday, even though I gave myself a migraine, I thought, it can't be that bad. But it can be that bad. This morning, I decided, yes, it can be that bad, and screw that - I'm going to blog all this and make my own book, and go around, someday, when I can go into a church again (because I'm freaking out right now just typing that I might go into a church), I'm going to do a tour and talk to church people about how they totally make people allergic to church. People stop coming to church not because it's boring but because they are actually physically ill. It puts a whole new perspective on every person I ever talked to who was sitting in the back of a church crying through the service. Now that I am one, I can see even more the places where I might have inflicted church damage on someone else.
It might seem that this is an easy fix. I mean, plenty of people go through life without ever stepping into a church and are leading happy, productive, meaning laden lives. So, I could just never go to church and be fine. Right? Wrong. You see, I was planning to be a priest, and I've been totally engrossed for the last 7 years in church business. I even spent 3 years in seminary, studying. The form of my days and the thoughts in my head are all organized around church. Imagine being allergic to your job, or English. Because it feels like being allergic to English. All the words and the metaphors in my head are church words. And I can't help but run into them. When I think about wanting to talk to someone, a friend or whatever, better than half the time, it's someone I know from church. Now, I have a really excellent group of friends that don't have anything to do with church, so I'm not completely destitute in the relationshop department, but they also don't get what I mean when I say, I'm allergic to my own self because for them, it's probably like smoking - for me, it's more like overeating. Some things you can't just quit because, like breathing, it's not optional. I don't mind that my head is full of theology, but if it's going to be in there, we are going to have to find a way to live together.
A lot of my church friends, for the last several months, have been really worried about my relationship with God. And really, that is what church is supposed to be all about, people having a relationship and creating meaning around the idea and the presence of God. Well, God and I are doing just fine - except for that problem that a lot of the language and stuff that I use to interact with God are church things - like the Bible and Communion and the Prayer Book. But I don't confuse God with the church or the stuff that churches use ritually. That stuff is real and important precisely because people are not God and you gotta find something besides getting stoned to get the feeling that God is real. So, for the people who worry about that - I never felt abandoned by God when the people who should have had my back failed to speak up, and the committee failed to set clear parameters, and made shit up as they went along and didn't tell anyone, and then didn't know what he hell happened when they let the priest change the rules, and start spinning the story while doing it. I felt, I feel pretty abandoned by those people, and I even feel a bit abandoned by the part of my own self that can't stand up and make a fuss over my own justice. Ok, I feel a lot abandoned by that part of me. But I'm good with God. We hang out in other places, that aren't church buildings and with other groups of people, that don't use the words that I'm freaking out over. (I think I am starting to get a feel for why people change denominations, though.)
That's it. That is where I am on Day One. Well, that and I got some recommendations for sleep aids from the nurse practitioner and made an appointment to talk to a med management psychiatrist tomorrow, because as long as I can still have the thoughts, so I can find them, I'd like a little distance from them, so I can start creating an exposure therapy (ET, this means in short, things that I think won't freak me out too bad, but that I can do to overcome the panic. It's CBT, cognitive behavioral therapy, and it totally works. And it is this that I imagine is going to be the most ridiculously hilarious part of all this. Thank God, who totally has my back on this, that the church I totally had a panic attack in is the only one I can imagine would be down with helping me do exposure therapy to get over the phobia.)
Life is too strange to not have a God. Seriously. I can't say I recommend church these days, but I can totally recommend a God.
I went to church.
Which isn't actually that remarkable for me. In fact, what is more remarkable, but not surprising is not going to church for the last 6 months. And what scared the hell out of me, although I didn't know until yesterday, is that I've been coming unglued for the last 2.5 weeks. Like, skin crawling, don't touch me, can't sleep, weep copiously several times a day, freaking out at work unglued. And then doing all the things I learned and that have always worked before in order to manage my social anxiety disorder.
And nothing. Just nothing.
So, screw this, I've got insurance and low copays, I'll go see a therapist. It is definitely something I don't have a handle on, and that whole be strong thing is for shit. It is not working. And there is no point. I've learned a lot about the intersection between willpower and biology, and the willpower is losing.
I tell the therapist as briefly as possible about the last 7 years, particularly the bit where it all flushes down the toilet because I make the skin crawl on one person (and I must because otherwise, she really is a sociopath) and another group of people are at best practicing benign neglect. To which the therapist, like every other person I have told, says, that fucking sucks. (Ok, he didn't say fuck, but the look on his face did, for sure.)
And then tells me that what I am describing, especially since I am doing all the anxiety management tools I have learned and they are not working, is that it sounds like a phobia. And that he doesn't want to tell me how to feel, but could I describe how I feel as angry, perhaps. And I look him straight in the eye and say, well, I'm not screaming or throwing things (which my husband will say is totally untrue - since I have thrown a few things at him recently, and my aim is perfect when I actually am angry, although I am not angry at him) and anyway, that is all I know about angry.
So, I blamed my mother for that. Because when the voice in my head says "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it at all" it is totally in her voice. Or maybe her mother's - it's definitely something my grandmother would have said, and it is totally in a "mom" voice no matter what. And I do know that to this avery moment, I cannot walk up to someone and say - "I hate you, you totally fucked me up and hurt my feelings and I think you are a complete douche. Go die." (My daughter can do that - and while I think it makes her a bit of a bully, I am totally proud that she can, and I will tell her to be judicious with it, but I won't ever tell her to stop.) Furthermore, I did a lot of work in the last couple of years learning to not talk shit about people behind their back and to assume they are doing the best they can and other DBT (this is dialectical behavior therapy - I talk about therapy a lot, I found it totally useful and helpful and I highly recommend it to anyone - maybe not the talk about your victimization stuff, but the only type Kaiser will pay for, i.e. the tools, skills, drugs to be better already dammit. I'm all for that.)
Anyway, the result of all this is that maybe I do have a lot of anger but I'm really lacking the outlet for my own. The therapist actually said to me, "anger is about injustice and this seems pretty unjust to me." I do a lot of social justice stuff, I do a lot with power and privilege of white people, and especially the injustice of the church, but I totally missed putting myself and my situation in those terms. Yeah, me.
This is what happened yesterday. The very nice therapist told me the unkind truth, which is that I actually need the amygdala and the cortisol and my whole frontal lobe, in fact, and so there really isn't any medication that is going to make a phobia go away. But he gave me a nice form to fill out to record my AT's when I am feeling distressed. I haven't even written any down on the paper yet, because I realized while driving the kids to school, every time I thought about church, or my friends from church, or passages from the bible or lines out of the prayer book - I got agitated and started to cry.
Awesome. I am allergic to church. Yesterday, even though I gave myself a migraine, I thought, it can't be that bad. But it can be that bad. This morning, I decided, yes, it can be that bad, and screw that - I'm going to blog all this and make my own book, and go around, someday, when I can go into a church again (because I'm freaking out right now just typing that I might go into a church), I'm going to do a tour and talk to church people about how they totally make people allergic to church. People stop coming to church not because it's boring but because they are actually physically ill. It puts a whole new perspective on every person I ever talked to who was sitting in the back of a church crying through the service. Now that I am one, I can see even more the places where I might have inflicted church damage on someone else.
It might seem that this is an easy fix. I mean, plenty of people go through life without ever stepping into a church and are leading happy, productive, meaning laden lives. So, I could just never go to church and be fine. Right? Wrong. You see, I was planning to be a priest, and I've been totally engrossed for the last 7 years in church business. I even spent 3 years in seminary, studying. The form of my days and the thoughts in my head are all organized around church. Imagine being allergic to your job, or English. Because it feels like being allergic to English. All the words and the metaphors in my head are church words. And I can't help but run into them. When I think about wanting to talk to someone, a friend or whatever, better than half the time, it's someone I know from church. Now, I have a really excellent group of friends that don't have anything to do with church, so I'm not completely destitute in the relationshop department, but they also don't get what I mean when I say, I'm allergic to my own self because for them, it's probably like smoking - for me, it's more like overeating. Some things you can't just quit because, like breathing, it's not optional. I don't mind that my head is full of theology, but if it's going to be in there, we are going to have to find a way to live together.
A lot of my church friends, for the last several months, have been really worried about my relationship with God. And really, that is what church is supposed to be all about, people having a relationship and creating meaning around the idea and the presence of God. Well, God and I are doing just fine - except for that problem that a lot of the language and stuff that I use to interact with God are church things - like the Bible and Communion and the Prayer Book. But I don't confuse God with the church or the stuff that churches use ritually. That stuff is real and important precisely because people are not God and you gotta find something besides getting stoned to get the feeling that God is real. So, for the people who worry about that - I never felt abandoned by God when the people who should have had my back failed to speak up, and the committee failed to set clear parameters, and made shit up as they went along and didn't tell anyone, and then didn't know what he hell happened when they let the priest change the rules, and start spinning the story while doing it. I felt, I feel pretty abandoned by those people, and I even feel a bit abandoned by the part of my own self that can't stand up and make a fuss over my own justice. Ok, I feel a lot abandoned by that part of me. But I'm good with God. We hang out in other places, that aren't church buildings and with other groups of people, that don't use the words that I'm freaking out over. (I think I am starting to get a feel for why people change denominations, though.)
That's it. That is where I am on Day One. Well, that and I got some recommendations for sleep aids from the nurse practitioner and made an appointment to talk to a med management psychiatrist tomorrow, because as long as I can still have the thoughts, so I can find them, I'd like a little distance from them, so I can start creating an exposure therapy (ET, this means in short, things that I think won't freak me out too bad, but that I can do to overcome the panic. It's CBT, cognitive behavioral therapy, and it totally works. And it is this that I imagine is going to be the most ridiculously hilarious part of all this. Thank God, who totally has my back on this, that the church I totally had a panic attack in is the only one I can imagine would be down with helping me do exposure therapy to get over the phobia.)
Life is too strange to not have a God. Seriously. I can't say I recommend church these days, but I can totally recommend a God.
Monday, May 28, 2012
Money on the Table
I went to lunch with a friend today and we, as usual, ranged through any number of topics in the church. One that we covered was the trendy option of leaving the offering plates on the altar during the eucharistic prayers.
And I think this is wrong. Not because the money is not a offering to God, it is, but because it is in fact of a different kind than the bread and the wine. With the bread and the wine, we are offering something to God, who transforms it immediately into something different for our immediate use. The gifts come in, the gifts go out, in what can and ought to be a beautiful and seamless stream of grace.
We come to the rail and are given back the bread and the wine. I have yet to be handed a quarter.
I suppose for me, it just feels a little too much like brunch, as though, perhaps, God is our waiter. It comes back, I think to my problem with ritual.
And I think this is wrong. Not because the money is not a offering to God, it is, but because it is in fact of a different kind than the bread and the wine. With the bread and the wine, we are offering something to God, who transforms it immediately into something different for our immediate use. The gifts come in, the gifts go out, in what can and ought to be a beautiful and seamless stream of grace.
We come to the rail and are given back the bread and the wine. I have yet to be handed a quarter.
I suppose for me, it just feels a little too much like brunch, as though, perhaps, God is our waiter. It comes back, I think to my problem with ritual.
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Got Ritual?
"Got Ritual?" is a pretty clever catch phrase. I've seen it used in a wide variety of contexts, church and otherwise. It appeals, I think, to our sense of relevance. We feel sort of hip to ironically reference a popular commercial.
But to what purpose? The 'Got Milk" campaign is older than my marriage, so it's hardly fresh - no offense Dairy Council. And more importantly, if doesn't say anything about ritual, it just asks if you have one. Since a ritual is hardly more than a habit with style, I expect most people have plenty of ritual.
Now, there is a new advertisement that I absolutely love that references ritual. And the beer isn't bad, either.
"Good to know there is a ritual, so when you come across it, you can enjoy it properly." Spoken, of course, with a contested accent.
What I really like about this ad campaign, and in particular what it says about ritual, is that unless you know it is a ritual, it's just some weird bartender showing off for a pretty face.
What I really wonder is why we think that ANY ritual is identifiable, or definable, by our mere presence at it's performance?
Friday, May 4, 2012
Tit for Tat
I'm reading Pareto's little monograph called New Theory of Economics, or something like that. And I am struck not so much by the Pareto principle (aka the 80-20 rule) as I am by his disgruntlement that people don't get his point - to wit, that it is a different thing to reason from scientific, aka, mathematical principles than it is to reason from what he calls art, aka, philosophy.
He is writing at the turn of the 20th century, and what I seem to be reading is a fairly concise explication of the modernist conception of specialization. What I notice is that he isn't saying that morality has no place in economics. Or vice versa. He is saying that they specialize in different places. And he is trying to say that figuring out the most objective truth we can, about how things actually work, is a separate endeavor from what to do with that knowledge. But he isn't saying that one or the other is more valid. And I don't believe he is saying that there isn't a place where those two fields intersect (I'm not done reading it quite yet, so here begins my speculation.)
It seems obvious to me that the place these intersect ought to be the public sphere, the place of public discourse, but what I mostly notice, in whatever is passing for the public sphere these days, is that we are arguing one specialty against the other.
And one side can yell "how" all they want. And another side can yell "why" all they want. But as long as the how and the why can't talk to each other, we are never going to figure out the "who," the "what," or the "when."
He is writing at the turn of the 20th century, and what I seem to be reading is a fairly concise explication of the modernist conception of specialization. What I notice is that he isn't saying that morality has no place in economics. Or vice versa. He is saying that they specialize in different places. And he is trying to say that figuring out the most objective truth we can, about how things actually work, is a separate endeavor from what to do with that knowledge. But he isn't saying that one or the other is more valid. And I don't believe he is saying that there isn't a place where those two fields intersect (I'm not done reading it quite yet, so here begins my speculation.)
It seems obvious to me that the place these intersect ought to be the public sphere, the place of public discourse, but what I mostly notice, in whatever is passing for the public sphere these days, is that we are arguing one specialty against the other.
And one side can yell "how" all they want. And another side can yell "why" all they want. But as long as the how and the why can't talk to each other, we are never going to figure out the "who," the "what," or the "when."
Friday, April 6, 2012
Good Friday Refection
What are you leaving at the Cross this year?
I'm leaving ordination at the cross this year. I'm not leaving my ministry, I'm not leaving God, I'm not even leaving the church, but I am leaving all the ways that I know my ministry would be a more complete blessing with the authority to offer the sacraments.
Yesterday, I was so angry with my committee and rector for not waiting until after Easter to tell me that they so thoroughly cannot hear any ministry that it's not even worth finishing our allotted time together. Why couldn't I have one more, possibly illusional, experience of the resurrection with the parish that has invested so much to nurture the priesthood that is in me?
Today, I am grateful. Grateful that I don't have to carry that renunciation and repudiation with me for a whole year. Grateful that I live in a city with more than one church that celebrates the Triduum, so that I can carry this cross to the Cross and lay it down.
If anything in this process can be called 'the saddest thing,' I think it is that they seemed to be looking for companionship in a fearfulness that they could not name and so were unable to hear that right now, for the first time in my life, I am imagining, no, I am living into what my ministry can be when lived out of the full promise of the Gospel. I'm sorry that they could not hear that but certainly not enough to throw it away and crawl back into the fear.
The fearless promise of the Gospel is not a place without pain, without mistakes, without an uncertain future. It is a place where pain, mistakes, and uncertainty do not have the final word.
And so this night, I will lay down my cross, this thing so unaffectionately known as The Process, and I will take up the Cross of Jesus, because that yoke is easy and that burden is light.
I'm leaving ordination at the cross this year. I'm not leaving my ministry, I'm not leaving God, I'm not even leaving the church, but I am leaving all the ways that I know my ministry would be a more complete blessing with the authority to offer the sacraments.
Yesterday, I was so angry with my committee and rector for not waiting until after Easter to tell me that they so thoroughly cannot hear any ministry that it's not even worth finishing our allotted time together. Why couldn't I have one more, possibly illusional, experience of the resurrection with the parish that has invested so much to nurture the priesthood that is in me?
Today, I am grateful. Grateful that I don't have to carry that renunciation and repudiation with me for a whole year. Grateful that I live in a city with more than one church that celebrates the Triduum, so that I can carry this cross to the Cross and lay it down.
If anything in this process can be called 'the saddest thing,' I think it is that they seemed to be looking for companionship in a fearfulness that they could not name and so were unable to hear that right now, for the first time in my life, I am imagining, no, I am living into what my ministry can be when lived out of the full promise of the Gospel. I'm sorry that they could not hear that but certainly not enough to throw it away and crawl back into the fear.
The fearless promise of the Gospel is not a place without pain, without mistakes, without an uncertain future. It is a place where pain, mistakes, and uncertainty do not have the final word.
And so this night, I will lay down my cross, this thing so unaffectionately known as The Process, and I will take up the Cross of Jesus, because that yoke is easy and that burden is light.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
April 3, 2012
Obliviousness confirmed.
Good morning, Heather,
Ages ago in my own planning I was hoping you'ld preach on the Sunday
after Easter, but I'm not sure I ever actually asked! Is that
something you'ld like to do?
Blessings,
---
Reply
---,
Thank you for your offer, I do enjoy preaching and it is a vital part
of my ministry. However, I will be in Corvallis the day before with
the Commission to End Racism. I am also unsure how I would really be
able to preach an Easter message to the community of --- at
this time.
heather
Reply
Dear Heather,
Good morning, Heather,
Ages ago in my own planning I was hoping you'ld preach on the Sunday
after Easter, but I'm not sure I ever actually asked! Is that
something you'ld like to do?
Blessings,
---
Reply
---,
Thank you for your offer, I do enjoy preaching and it is a vital part
of my ministry. However, I will be in Corvallis the day before with
the Commission to End Racism. I am also unsure how I would really be
able to preach an Easter message to the community of --- at
this time.
heather
Reply
Dear Heather,
Thanks for your email about preaching. I am writing because I would like to keep in communication with you, and I'm guessing email is the least uncomfortable way for you to communicate with me during this time. It felt good to serve with you this past Sunday and I hope it was okay for you.
I have done a little tiny bit of research in the past week on social anxiety as you described it last Thursday in our meeting, and from the little bit I've learned I can only imagine how hard it might be to be in some kind of normal relationship with someone in my position at ---. How can I be helpful?
Assuming the answer to that question is not: "Stay away from me and don't ever approach me again!" I would love it if you would send me some spring and summer dates when you might like to preach so I can plug a couple of them in moving forward.
The other thing on my mind is that --- is doing "pop-up liturgy" at --- in the Chapel on Wednesday during Easter Season and I hope you'll be back among us and be part of that. (It seems you're very close to being done with your Wednesday evening class.) I will probably be there most Wednesdays but probably not all Wednesdays and I would be delighted if you would be K--- "--- point person" once you're available. It would be helpful to me, of course, but I'm asking primarily because I hope it would be fun for you to be part of that liturgy.
Faithfully,
---
Reply
(I did not reply)
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Ember Day Letter Four
Dear Bishop ---,
I do apologize that this letter finds you a week late. I am sad to
report that my husband fell ice skating and broke his wrist. Last week
was fairly consumed with putting him back together, including a
surgery on Thursday. If I had written, it would likely have been a
list of appointments and medication schedules. Hardly the stuff of my
spiritual life, but spiritually enlightening and fruitful all the
same.
I have been occupied recently, well, I have realized recently, that I
have long been occupied with the distinction between being in Christ
and doing for Christ. I quite like being a do-er, not the least of
which, it keeps me to busy to reflect deeply on being. Over and over,
this lesson has been handed to me, and I’ve been through a whole range
of responses to it; fear, withdrawal, confusion, tears, anger,
frustration, even a little boredom. Until I finally quit fighting
against it, and made the bold and vocal claim, “I am going to stay
right here until I learn this (expletive deleted) lesson. What,
already!?” And like pregnancy, when you finally give up, a baby is
born.
So I find myself sorting out what it means to be in a state of grace
without doing anything about it. I find over and over and over again,
that I have been seeking human approval because it is so much easier
to find and so much more in concordance with the need for instant
gratification and the motto, “don’t just stand there, do something”
than to be, warts and all, in a state of grace and humility and love,
with the universal Word. I spent January very intentionally letting go
of anything that felt like an obligation, anything that felt like I
was doing because I thought someone expected it of me, or that it
would make me appear a better Christian. This made for an interesting
meeting with my discernment committee when they asked me about my
spiritual practices. I can say that it was probably the least expected
to approach that topic, and at the end of an amazingly fruitful
conversation, I know that they are looking at practices and habits of
approaching God in a new way as well. It was a glimpse, for me, of
what it will look like to act out of a state of being.
In February, I met with my spiritual director and as we talked about
how this practice was going, I discovered the beginning of longing.
Never before have I understood this thing that mystics speak of. I
thought it was like cheeseburgers, perhaps, but it is something that
words do fail me in describing, and I know this because I had to pull
out Aristotle’s accidents and Plato’s cave (which means I owe my
undergrad alma mater fifty dollars) just to begin to think about it.
And this has replaced a Lenten practice this year. Because for my
whole life, my shadows have been between me and God. And they are
still with me, still part of me, but for right now, they are behind me
as I face the Holy. Just right now, the desert looks bright and
welcoming, and as much as I am drawn to the liturgical calendar as a
means of ordering my life, it’s just not lining up with the larger
story of my life right now. I’m not feeling penitent. For once, I’m
not feeling any suffering or sinfulness. My redemption, my
resurrection, has always been something that I have been able to
identify retroactively. I can see places in my life that have been
redeemed, but never before have I sat in that process, watched for
that evolution of being in me, rather than seen the fruits of Christ’s
labor after the fact. I am looking forward to Holy Week and Easter. I
am curious to see what that week looks like from the inside.
Blessings,
heather lee
Reply
Dear Heather: Thank you for your good Ember Day letter. it is interesting to have a few letters from those who have finished their studies and are still in process. You have certainly been walking with God of late and listening to the spirit in your discernment. To imagine stopping doing what is expected and what gets you good marks is a healthy and yet challenging process. I pray it bears fruit.
I am sorry to hear of your husband's fall. --- fell a few years ago in Minnesota on literally the last patch of ice left from a long winter. it was a very challenging time for her and for those around her! I pray his healing is quick and full.
I'd like to hear just a bit more about the discernment committee, how long have you been working with them? remind me of the church context, and how long do you suspect this process to continue.
for those who are doers and who find being challenging it is good to sit and read. Parker Palmer has a short book on the active life which is helpful; if you have not had time to read it yet you might. I am sure your spiritual director can continue to offer good advice as your journey with this being quest. I pray it bears good fruit.
While I have not given birth, I did appreciate your analogy with letting go and giving birth. great image. thanks.
Grace and peace to you this lent.
Reply
Dear Bishop ---,
I wanted to give you a little update on my discernment committee. As
for the general structure, I have attached the outline that was given
to me. At each meeting, we discuss a variety of questions that relate
to the general topic. It's not very involved, mostly a list of dates
and topics. I also meet with individual members of the committee from
time to time.
We are also a bit off topic since we have missed two meetings. For
instance, we met today and spoke on the sacraments. Also, some on
conflict and church growth.
After today's meeting, the committee will consider wether and how long
we might continue to meet, and the head of the committee, ---,
and my companion, ---, will meet with --- to discuss
areas for further work and get back to me, in a week or two, I
believe. I let --- know that she could email you directly and she
may do that at some point in the near future.
I believe that the meetings are going well. I certainly like to talk
about my current understandings. I find that it helps synthesize
things I learned (and more importantly, unlearned) in seminary, and
helps me see places that need clarification in my own mind. For
instance, I need to go find out more about ember day letters, in
particular, how they got attached to seminarians. ;)
Blessings,
heather lee
Attached Document
Friends,
We will be meeting on Sunday, March 16 as we continue assisting in the discernment process of our aspirants. We will again meet at --- and my home.
Since we were not able to meet last month, I elected to have us focus on the aspect of the priest’s role with the sacraments. In addition, this may be a time to also bring questions that you more specifically have for each aspirant as you have been getting to know them over these past months.
Our schedule will be as follows below. The Committee Members will also have a potluck dinner together. --- and I will provide a main dish and beverages. If people can identify what they would like to bring: salad, side dish, bread, desert, additional wine or other beverage, that will help us all in planning.
03/19/12: Focus: Sacraments and other questions
3:00 – 3:15 Committee meets
3:15 – 4:00 Committee meets with ---
4:00 – 4:15 Committee debriefs
4:15 – 5:00 Committee meets with ---
5:00 – 7:00ish Committee has dinner and discussion
Again, thanks to our aspirants as they use this process and thanks to all who are serving on the committee in this important work.
Friday, March 30, 2012
March 30, 2012
---,
Thank you very much for all of the time and prayerfulness you have
committed in building a discernment committee at ---.
I have been reflecting on your offer to ask some people on the
committee to continue working with me, and I feel that this offer may
have been generously made out of your vocation as a therapist. While I
am certain that I do not know exactly what you are offering, and it is
of course, something that we would explore together, I am not sure
that it is within the scope of a discernment committee to do this
work. I do have a therapist, and I have a fairly comprehensive team of
people who are engaged in the therapeutic and spiritual work that I am
doing at this time.
Again, I thank you for the time and especially for the feedback that
you have given me. I very much appreciate your willingness to write up
a summary for me. I have forwarded it to --- as you have
requested.
Blessings,
Reply
Hey Heather,
Thanks for your thoughts on looking at "next steps." Your comments are
right on point. Perhaps after Easter we can have coffee and discuss what,
if anything, in a formal sense could be of value and if not, simply affirm
that recognition at this time.
Will see you soon and take care,
Thursday, March 29, 2012
March 29, 2012
March 29, 2012
Dear Heather,
First, thank you for your courage in entering the discernment process at ---. The entire committee recognizes what a courageous step that is and we applaud you for taking it. We also feel privileged to be part of this very important process.
Today was a difficult but also helpful meeting. ---, --- and myself appreciated your more open presentation and willingness to take in, consider, and honestly engage with the committee’s comments and observations, as painful as some of them were. As agreed, I want to give you a summary of observations from the committee. The following three areas are a summation of the committee’s concerns.
Need more insight into your reflection process about your own story: As a committee we have heard you discuss your story in general terms. However, we do not have a real sense about how you are currently processing your own story. Questions that seem relevant include: What have your observed and experienced in leaving one tradition and making a home in a new tradition? What do you bring with you that is joyful or grounding? What do you bring that is painful and hurtful? How do you currently understand your own story? Where are areas of ongoing struggle, pain or grief? Where and with whom are you working through and increasing your understanding of your story? Can you identify areas that are still so tender that discussing them brings up deep spiritual and emotional feelings and experiences? Where are the places and who are the people who can be present to you in these places?
Our observation is that you struggle to engage with questions that clearly are difficult to engage and answer, but are absolutely necessary in this process. We have observed a pattern of talking around questions and issues instead of engaging with the questions or issues in a more forthright, exploratory manner. At times, it seems as if you are somewhat irritated or annoyed about the questions. None of us feel there is anything personal about it, but it seems you experience the questions themselves as an affront. It feels to us that it has been difficult for you to let us know what is really going on with you.
Conflation of embracing the Episcopal Tradition and call to the priesthood: We have not heard a straightforward response to the question of “why do you believe you have been called to the priesthood?” It has never really been answered. There have been comments about others thinking you should consider the priesthood but we have struggled to hear you describe your call specifically to the priesthood. You have more clearly described aspects of your spiritual experience in moving toward the Episcopal tradition, but it has been very unclear how you have experienced a call to the priesthood. The committee wonders if your experience of finding authentic spiritual life in the Episcopal tradition has been prematurely conflated with having a call to the priesthood. Clearly you have a great love for the Episcopal tradition and your three years in seminary are a testament to your desire to want to engage and imbibe that tradition and serve in the Church. However, at this juncture in the discernment process your specific call to the priesthood is not clear to anyone on the committee.
Current parish involvement: We have not heard much information about what you are doing in the parish at this time and what you are learning and discerning with your work in the parish. We are not sure if you are shadowing or working with --- or in what areas of ministry you are involved or whether there are areas where you feel called to go deeper. It was encouraging to hear about your current thinking in regard to JOIN at the last meeting. However, the overall lack of information or observations or stories about how you are currently involved in the parish setting leaves us with an unclear picture about what is going on.
At this time, we do not discern that you have a call to the priesthood. We are not saying you do not have this call, but we are saying we do not bear witness to that call at this time. We value and honor your engagement with the Anglican tradition and how it continues to be a tremendous source of life and love for you. However, we do believe that additional work is necessary in the areas we have identified above in order for you to discover and joyfully live into the Christian ministry to which God calls you.
**************************************************************
In our meeting today, we appreciated you providing a much more in depth understanding of current issues in which you are engaging. In particular, the work you are doing in addressing your social anxiety issues. We also appreciated your statement that you are willing to serve in other capacities than the priesthood and do feel like more discernment would be beneficial. We support your plan to meet with --- and possibly continue to meet with at least some, if not all, of the discernment team as you continue to work on identifying, processing and telling your story.
As you know better than anyone, your process to this point has been complicated and fraught with disappointment. We do not want to add to that. But we want to be honest and straightforward about what we have discerned at this juncture and hope it will truly be useful to you. As we said today, we will leave it to you to share this letter with others. However, we believe it would be good for you to share it--or at least a summation of its contents--with the ---. Please let --- know if you would like to do this or if you would like her to.
Faithfully,
--- Discernment Committee:
comment I received as summary:
"we put you in an unsafe environment, and are concerned that you have
not been free and open about your internal life. also, having
systematically cut you out of parish responsibilities, we are
concerned that you are not participating in parish life."
wow.
comment I received as summary:
"we put you in an unsafe environment, and are concerned that you have
not been free and open about your internal life. also, having
systematically cut you out of parish responsibilities, we are
concerned that you are not participating in parish life."
wow.
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