Author / krubesch

Posts by krubesch

I have struggled with PTSD, depression, and anxiety as long as I can remember. I have also recently been diagnosed with Endometriosis and am trying to navigate life with a chronic illness. I hope that this blog helps to destigmatize mental illness and to make others feel less along.
by krubesch

Acknowledgement

“Accept, Acknowledge and Awake.”
-Aditya Ajmera

I haven’t posted a new blog post in about six months.  I’ve written several that I have not published- either I felt like they were not good enough or whatever I had to say was not important.  I think it’s fair to say that I’ve been in a funk for awhile and maybe I just wanted to wallow in it by myself for awhile.   I’ve decided to acknowledge that I really haven’t been taking care of myself lately and maybe this means that I’m ready to do something about it.  I know that if I don’t change some habits soon I’m headed for health complications and more self loathing.

I’ve completely fallen off the healthy food eating bandwagon.  Eating healthy is a huge way to take care of myself and it involves a lot of effort.  In March of 2015 I figured out that my body does not tolerate gluten, dairy, onions, or acidic foods very well.   As you can imagine- a diet free of these foods is a giant expensive pain in the ass.  I’ve always had a complicated relationship with food.  I love the way it tastes, hate what it does to my body. I’ve always joked that just looking a certain foods adds 10lbs to my frame.  Food has been a comfort, a way to celebrate, a way to make me feel better about life’s circumstances.  It’s been easy to justify eating crap because I’ve not been a regular alcohol drinker for a year and a half.  I’ve eliminated a lot of my vices or unhealthy coping skills, so if I want to buy pumpkin cupcakes I’ve let myself.  The pumpkin cupcakes then lead to whatever bread I want to eat, adding chips to my lunch, eating cake and ice cream, to driving through McDonalds.  People say that everything in moderation is fine, but for me moderation leads to indulgence over and over. I seem to do better with all or nothing.  The food makes me feel comforted- for me Mcdonalds was a speacial treat when I was a kid and I think it brings me back to that care free kid feeling.

I’ve had a cold for two weeks, which is rare for me.  I’ve injured my knee, which I know I can’t blame on my food intake, but I can’t help but wonder if my food choices lead to inflamation which made it easier for the knee injury to happen.  I’m watching my hard work disolve as my clothes are becoming tighter and my reflection in the mirror larger.  I also wonder if my dietary changes are an indication of bigger issues beneath the surface. I don’t like myself very much sometimes and I wonder if this just gives me more material to get mad at myself or if I’ve simply just been unable to be kind to myself.  Maybe food is something to obssess about so I don’t have to deal with harder things.

Taking care of Patrick has gotten harder and weighs a lot more on my emotions.  I think that’s part of the reason I’ve been just eating what I want in the moment.  It’s hard to sit with someone who is wasting away before your eyes.  To have to check to see if he’s still breathing. So much has changed in a year and it’s hard to remeber now that it was only six months ago that he was still able to be by himself and was walking and eating mostly unassisted.  Yesterday he was almost comatose. I often feel like I am just talking out loud to myself.   No interaction at all, he was either sleeping or just staring off into space.  Feeding him was not going to happen because he woudn’t open his mouth.  I can’t help but wonder if he has any quality of life left.  If he’s even aware of his quality of life.  My heart starts to break just by writing about him.

I can tell a correlation between the foods I eat and my depression.  Shitty food makes me feel good in the moment, but then I feel shame, guilt, and just gross afterwards.  I’m already fighting against genetics- the short, broad shoulder and stout kind.

I’ve got to find the drive, gumption? whatever to get back in line and make the effort to eat better foods.  I’m just not sure where to find it.  I’ve started a new medication- after two years of being back on medication I have not found the right cocktail yet.  Out with Prozac and Buspar and onto Brintallix.  I’ve started to wonder if there is a medication that’s benefits will out weigh the side effects.  Maybe Brintallix is the key.  I’ve been on it for two days and I have noticed a pep in my step.  Hopefully that’s not my imagination and this medication ends up being helpfull.

by krubesch

5 Girls and Counting

“Religion has the capacity to silence critical thinking and create blindness in entire groups of people. It can infect the minds of followers so completely as to allow the most egregious sexual acts against children and others to go unchallenged for centuries.”
Darrel Ray, Sex & God: How Religion Distorts Sexuality

Every now and then I have bouts of insomnia even with my sleeping pills. Last night was one of those nights.  Sometimes my brain gets going around and around in circles until I’ve realized I’ve been lying in bed for hours.  I could not stop thinking about the latest Duggar scandal.  It was not Josh who weighed heavily on my mind, but his sisters and anyone else he might have hurt.  I’m also troubled by the people who have rallied around Josh and those who say it was only molestation, implying that it’s really no big deal.  Josh may be the only one who truly knows what happened since some of his intrusive behavior occurred while his victims were sleeping.  In my opinion any kind of unwanted sexual activity is a big deal regardless of the details.  I also take some issue with those who believe that Josh is not responsible for his actions because he was 14 years old at the time.   I think that is definitely old enough to know that he was doing something wrong, even if he did not have a full understanding of the magnitude of his actions.  The thing is that the girl’s that he molested were much younger and will be forever affected by his decisions even if he is able to move on and forget.

I never thought I would have much in common with these fundamental christians who are everything I’ve tried to get away from, but low and behold even a liberal lesbian can have a shared experience with a right-wing fundamentalist.   There are several differences in which our experiences are different.  My perpetrator was not a family member, but a friend of the family.  I did not have to live with him and wonder when he would strike next. That is a complication I thankfully did not have to experience.  I can’t imagine the complexities of my perpetrator being a member of my family.  My heart goes out to his sisters who were most likely silenced and who are probably dealing with some very intense emotions at this time.

I was sexually assaulted at a church playground by a 13-year-old boy (who I knew, similar to most victims) when I was 4 years old and grew up in a pretty strict Christian household.  I know what it’s like to not be able to reconcile who I was and my experiences with the religious teachings happening around me.   I know what it’s like to still be dealing with the aftermath 29 years after the event and to know that I probably will for the rest of my life.  It’s something that I can’t seem to escape and reading stories about other’s similar experiences affects me on a deep level.  I know what it’s like to feel uncomfortable and angry when someone makes a rape joke, uses rape as a verb when it’s not appropriate, and when there are false accusations like the story from Rolling Stone Magazine.  My thoughts will be with those girls for a while.

Statistics from RAIIN.org

44% of victims are under the age of 18

68% of sexual assaults are not reported to the police

Approximately 4/5 assaults are committed by someone known to the victim

by krubesch

Walls Falling Down

The best way to find yourself, is to lose yourself in the service of others.

-Ghandi

For those of you who don’t know, there seems to be an unwritten rule in healthcare (maybe it’s written somewhere) to keep patients at a distance.  You are supposed to follow OSHA guidelines, assist the patient to the best of your ability, to have empathy, but not let that empathy have a profound effect on your personal/ mental health.  Basically to not let emotions and feelings play into the relationship you have with your patient.  I’ve worked in the health care industry for the past seven years and I’ve been really good at this unwritten code.  That is until now.  I am currently a caregiver for a man who has Lewy Body Dementia and he’s completely undone the armour I thought I had in place at the beginning of this job.

I knew I would be great at this job because I have (at this point HAD is a better word) a great poker face and the ability to push my feelings, thoughts, and emotions away.  I’ve been told that people often think I don’t like them because of my cool, collected demeanor.  I just don’t show a lot of emotion one way or another.  When I began caregiving for Patrick in September I thought that I could handle watching him decline into the shadow of LBD.  I didn’t know him before he was in the midst of his battle so I didn’t have the memories of “old Patrick” to tug on my heart-strings.  What I didn’t count on was how I would develop a friendship with Patrick and I would/do feel my heart-break little by little as this disease takes him further away from himself and his loved ones.

I spend more time with Patrick in a week than I do with my wife, so it’s funny that it’s surprising to me of how well I feel like I know him.  I can anticipate his needs and can tell how our day is going to go simply by how our morning starts.  I know that we will be able to communicate and joke around more according to how long he stays in bed.  If I get to the house and he’s pulled out all his shirts, socks, and underwear I know we are both in for one hell of a day.  If he naps throughout the day, I know he’s going to be less restless and comprehend more of what is happening around him.

For instance, today has been a challenge.  Patrick tried to get up and dressed several times throughout the night and I can definitely tell he did not have a restful night.  There are no jokes, words I can’t understand and body movements have been difficult for him.  A big indicator that we were in for a challenging day was that I had to bend his knees for him to sit down and pants were extremely difficult to get onto his body.  He usually spends these kind of days watching hours of cowboys on the tv and is not interested in leaving the house or doing other things around the house.  He’s taught me that I need to go with the flow instead of having our days together planned.  He’s teaching me to be less rigid and more in the moment.  Days like today make my heart ache for him. I know that if I had these kinds of days I would be in the throes of a deep depression.  This ease and openness I have with him is only going to make me hurt more when he’s gone, but it would also make me feel less alive while he’s still in my life.

I think the face of healthcare could change if providers, managers, and staff weren’t as concerned about volume as they were quality.  Every practice I’ve worked with has had their goal be to maximize the amount of patients that they see.  I wonder what our health as a society would look at if we were more concerned about maximizing the quality of our care and establishing an actual relationship with our patients. I know that I am able to take better care of Patrick through establishing a relationship with him instead of treating him like a stranger or looking at this situation simply as a source of income.

For more info about Lewy Body Dementia www.lbda.org

by krubesch

What Goes Up, Must Come Down

I don’t want to wait anymore I’m tired of looking for answers
Take me some place where there’s music and there’s laughter
I don’t know if I’m scared of dying but I’m scared of living too fast, too slow
Regret, remorse, hold on, oh no I’ve got to go
There’s no starting over, no new beginnings, time races on
And you’ve just gotta keep on keeping on
Gotta keep on going, looking straight out on the road
Can’t worry ’bout what’s behind you or what’s coming for you further up the road
I try not to hold on to what is gone, I try to do right what is wrong
I try to keep on keeping on
Yeah I just keep on keeping on

First Aid Kit – My Silver Lining Lyrics | MetroLyrics

 Klara Maria and Johanna Kasja Soederberg

I guess this was bound to happen.  From experience I should have known that when I start to feel good and happy I inevitably come back to reality because what goes up must come down.  I knew getting a new job was not going to fix me, however it made me feel great for a while and it helped fuel the illusion that my previous job was the source of all my problems.  In theory I know I can’t run away from myself, but making changes is about making your life better, right?  I’ve made my everyday circumstances infinitely better, but it looks like I am the common denominator.  It’s hard to tell if my recent withdrawal from friends and family is due to getting on Prozac and coming off of Zoloft or if the honeymoon is over and I have realized I still have my pain in the ass friend, Depression.  I wish mental health was easier to diagnose and separate factors that affect it so that I could know exactly how I need to fix myself.  Maybe it’s just winter. It’s been dreary and cold in Atlanta (minus a crazy week of sunshine and warmth) and I’ve found myself wanting to hibernate.

I keep myself crazy busy or I crash and relax. Relaxing works for about an hour and then I start to feel like a lazy slob and the inner critic starts to come out.  I can’t win. I know that keeping myself so busy is causing problems, but relaxing turns me into a zombie.  This is so fucked up.  Therapy has been hard, but I know it has to get harder because we are still just skating the surface.  I go from being so very hopeful to being hopeless in the period of 24 hours.  Sometimes I feel like no one gets me, but I’ve created that scenario because I don’t want anyone to get too close.  I feel like my emotions do a push and pull constantly and I wonder if that’s part of the reason why I am tired all of the time.  This need to over analyze everything is all-consuming and I want to know if I am tired because of The Elimination Diet, my medicine, introvert-ism, or the struggle of emotions and relationships.  It’s like I really need to know the cause of each issue or symptom so that I can understand why it’s a part of me. I know that everything intersects and what I want to know is an impossible feat.

I can tell that my diet is teetering on the line of doing something healthy for myself and disordered eating. I’ve had bouts of anorexia in high school and college and my all or nothing attitude is rearing its head in the food department again.  I told my therapist that this diet was not going to be too difficult because once I decide to do something, I do it.  It’s like I have just as much to prove to myself as everyone else.

 It’s funny because the people I feel like I have to prove myself to are either dead or not in my life anymore. I guess in a way the person I’m really trying to get approval from is myself. I’ve had a lot of dreams lately with my dad and my half-sister in them which is weird because they haven’t made appearances in my dreams in a really long time.  I’m not sure what this means. I guess maybe it’s my minds way of letting me know that I need to start dealing with these broken and unresolved relationships. I’ve pretty much been estranged from my sister for give or take 14 years.  It’s a complicated and painful relationship. One that I don’t think will ever change.  I just need to somehow let it go and move on.  I’m not sure why my father had five children when he couldn’t really be a father to any of us.  Since he was straight I guess he didn’t have to contemplate the pros and cons of bring a life into the world, much less five.  As lesbians who can’t just accidentally have children, we’ve very consciously had to think about if we can afford and emotionally support a child and if it’s the best decision for our family.

I told Leah last night that she was going to have to be patient with me. I can feel a storm brewing and I’ve seen the oh so familiar signs of depression sneaking up on me.  I know that when I neglect grooming such as clipping my nails, shaving, and jewelry and makeup I’m not feeling that great.  Don’t get me wrong, I shower every day, sometimes twice. We will all know I am in deep shit when I stop bathing!  I’ve also lost interest in reading, watching tv, and other activities that I enjoy.  I’m forcing myself to at least walk the dogs daily and play soccer once a week.  I’ve stopped trying to make plans with friends and just let Leah be in charge of our fun time.  Talking on the phone sounds like an impossible task at the moment. It just feels draining.

What I don’t know if this is just a temporary gloomy phase or if it’s going to be another 6-9 months of this.  That’s always the question on my mind when I start to feel sad. Whether it’s justified sadness or if I need to pull out all the stops to prevent myself from “going there.” I think that’s why I’ve avoided my feelings for so long, I am afraid they are going to be so big and all consuming.  Like they will swallow me whole and there will just be a shell of myself left.

by krubesch

Full Circle

“Courage doesn’t happen when you have all the answers. It happens when you are ready to face the questions you have been avoiding your whole life.”
Shannon L. Alder

I broke up with therapist number two.  It just didn’t feel right and I had a sense of dread before therapy sessions, which is not normally the case.  The good news is that I have found someone I really like.  Under different circumstances I think we would be friends.  I feel that familiar pull with her of wanting to open Pandora’s box and wondering if it’s worth it or if that’s even necessary.  I spend so much time minimizing my feelings that I don’t think I know what’s even there.  I’m afraid that we are probably going to be able to do some serious work together. I’m afraid because I know its going to be arduous and difficult.  It feels like a looming probability that I know needs to happen, but I’m not sure if it’s going to be manageable.

We’ve come full circle back to my favorite skills: Nonjudgementally, One-Mindfully, and Effectively in my DBT class.  This week I’ve tried to be very aware when I’m using my skills.  I think these are my favorite because they are so familiar.  I definitely have become intimate with Nonjudgementally.  I direct judgement at myself everyday and I’m becoming increasingly aware of how often.  The first time I ever practiced this skill it was devastating to realize how little self compassion I have.  Now I’m realizing that I’m starting to be able to notice that inner critic and side step the judgement.  For instance, on Tuesday I was taking my dog Penny for her second walk of the day and I really wanted to do interval training with her, but my stomach hurt.  Instead of pushing through it or berating myself because I wasn’t running I noticed that I could either be an asshole to myself or just be glad that I’m able to take Penny for a walk.  This is pretty huge because I’m a grin and bear it kind of girl.

I didn’t have many choices growing up.  Things were decided for me: what I could watch, eat, listen to, say ect.  I think this made me seem easy-going to a lot of people later on in my teenage years and twenties.  What may have looked like a laid back personality was really me just going with the flow because I didn’t think my opinions mattered or were important. Or that I even had any.  I’m realizing now that I have choices and my voice deserves to be heard.  This may be bad news for my wife!

To be intentional about the skill One-Mindfully, I’ve been driving to work without music, talking on the phone, or eating.  Just focusing on my driving. That’s 15-30 minutes a day.  It feels so un-natural and difficult.  I guess I never realized how much I use music as a distraction.  When I first started therapy a year ago my therapist told me that I should practice mindfulness so that we could determine what thoughts keep popping up for me and those are the things we would need to work on.  Well it’s taken a year for me to be able to even entertain that possibility. This week I’ve gotten a lot of clarity on the thoughts I keep at bay.  I’m not surprised by the thoughts that have come up and I know why I keep so busy and distracted from myself.  The thing is that they are painful and I’m not sure if thinking about them and processing them will be helpful or just make me spiral back into my dark hole.  They also involve people who are either dead or who I’m estranged from.

For the Effectively skill, it’s shown up way less intentionally.  My new therapist asked me my goals yesterday and one of them is to develop self compassion.  I’ve been effective in identifying a goal, but I have no clue on how to achieve that goal. I guess I’ve completed the first step in breaking up with a therapist that was not a good fit and continuing to find the right one.  I’m doing my homework and attending my sessions. I guess that’s a step in the right direction.  I wish things would just move faster.  I tend to approach my mental health like I do everything else: get ir done. unfortunately that attitude isn’t going to speed things along or resolve why I don’t have self compassion.  Unfortunately I’m going to have to be willing to dig through a lot of shit and be okay with things taking time.

by krubesch

Embracing My Inner Woo

BE OK

WRITTEN BY
INGRID MICHAELSON

i just want to be ok, be ok, be ok
i just want to be ok today
i just want to be ok, be ok, be ok
i just want to be ok today

i just want to feel today, feel today, feel today
i just want to feel something today
i just want to feel today, feel today, feel today
i just want to feel something today

open me up and you will see
i’m a gallery of broken hearts
i’m beyond repair, let me be
and give me back my broken parts

i just want to know today, know today, know today
i just want to know something today
i just want to know today, know today, know today
know that maybe i will be ok

open me up and you will see
i’m a gallery of broken hearts
i’m beyond repair, let me be
and give me back my broken parts

just give me back my pieces
just give them back to me please
just give me back my pieces
and let me hold my broken parts

i just want to be ok, be ok, be ok
i just want to be ok today
i just want to be ok, be ok, be ok
i just want to be ok today

i just want to feel today, feel today, feel today
i just want to feel something today
i just want to know today, know today, know today
know that maybe i will be ok
know that maybe i will be ok
know that maybe i will be ok

2015 is going to be the year that I embrace my inner woo.  You may be asking yourself, “what the hell does that mean?”  Well, it means that I’m going the holistic energy healing, organic elimination, mindfulness route.  Western medicine has not mended all my wounds and something has got to give.  My realistic- by the book personality is shifting and I’m embracing it.  When I told my Gastroenterologist that I’ve still been having sore throats, burps, and chest pain on 40mg of Prevacid she told me I need to start taking 80mg. At first I thought thats great, medicine is the answer. http://www.drugs.com lists the following side effects for Pantoprazole: abdominal or stomach pain, absence of or decrease in body movements, blindness, blistering, peeling, or loosening of the skin, bloating, bloody or cloudy urine, bloody, black, or tarry stools, blurred vision, chills, clay-colored stools, constipation, continuous ringing or buzzing or other unexplained noise in the ears, cough,dark-colored urine, decreased vision….and the list goes on. Needless to say I usually get side effects these days, so it’s very important reading material.  I did some research and my wife pointed out that we’ve simply been treating my problems, not doing anything to heal my gut.

 I’ve started The Elimination Diet in hopes that maybe I have some intolerances that are causing my GERD and stomach pain. This means that for the next two months I am not eating gluten, dairy, eggs, red meat, night shades, caffeine, sugar, citris fruit, tomatoes, chocolate or alcohol.  My beverage choices the days are water or coconut water.  As of right now, I have not had any GERD symptoms since I was eating all the things I have eliminated.  When I decided to do this I thought that I was simply starting a new diet, but I think a new lifestyle may be emerging.

I’ve also been seeing this amazing massage therapist who also does Visceral Manipulation Techniques, Cranio Sacral Therapy, and Myofascial Release among other techniques.  I was very skeptical at first and I would not believe that these techniques could help my depression, anxiety, and gut issues if I was not experiencing it first hand.  She has absolutely changed my life.  I came in yesterday and let her know that I think I am developing TMJ, my left shoulder is in pain (chronic at this point), and I told her about my diet change.  I really did not think that all of my issues were related, but sure enough I felt like a different person when I left yesterday.  What we’ve concluded from our time together is that because I’ve been pushing feelings and trauma away most of my life, my body is taking on what I have not dealt with emotionally. Yup, that’s right my left shoulder hurts because my heart hurts. That’s intense.  Nothing else has given me the results I’m seeing: talk therapy, massages, excercise, or medicine.  It’s come down to moving energy through my body because I have blockages that create pain.

I think it’s appropriate that my love and I rang in the New Year making our vision boards. This year we were very intentional because we half assed it last year and well 2014 was not the best for us.  Here’s to hoping that 2015 has many great things in store for us all.

Cheers!

by krubesch

A 2015 Promise For Leelah Alcorn, And For All “Different” Young People Who Never Made It Here

This is an awesome blog!

john pavlovitz

LeelahEdit
Leelah Alcorn never got to see 2015.

It was stolen from her.

This fresh, pristine moment in time that you’re experiencing right now, with all of its newness and possibility and promise? It’s one she didn’t have the chance to stand expectantly in.

The statistics will say that she left of own accord, choosing to depart prematurely, opting out of life.

On paper, she’ll look just like another number; one more depressed, confused, impulsive teen who in a moment of recklessness and emotion, simply took the easy way out.

We know differently.

We know that she lived for far too long with the kind of pain that a young heart should never, ever carry.

We know that her fragile will, finally broke beneath the weight of cruel jokes, and misguided religion, and fear, and silence, and hatred.

We know that she was a she, and that the world refused to really see her.

View original post 396 more words

by krubesch

The Dating Game

“Be Here Now”

Ray Lamontagne

Don’t let your mind get weary and confused
Your will be still, don’t try
Don’t let your heart get heavy child
Inside you there’s a strength that lies
Don’t let your soul get lonely child
It’s only time, it will go by
Don’t look for love in faces, places
It’s in you, that’s where you’ll find kindness
Be here now, here now
Be here now, here now
Don’t lose your faith in me
And I will try not to lose faith in you
Don’t put your trust in walls
‘Cause walls will only crush you when they fall

Be here now, here now
Be here now, here now

The process of finding a new therapist feels a lot like dating.  I’ve googled countless names, tried to find pictures on Facebook, stalked to see what other people are saying about them (reviews), and worried about who’s going to make the first move.   Will she start our sessions by talking to me first? I don’t work well with therapists that just sit down and expect me to make the first move.  I’m not even sure what the hell I need to talk about, isn’t that why I am paying her?  The difference here is that she’s not going to buy me dinner before I have to reveal who I truly am.  I don’t get to learn about her before I have to talk about some of the hardest moments in my life.  There’s no flirting or witty banter to make me feel more at ease. I’m also alone in a room with this person I just met and all her attention is focused on me.  That’s what makes me feel the most vulnerable. There are no distractions and I have nowhere to hide.
Then there’s what you wear to the first session. I make sure I’m not in sweatpants (I’m not that depressed!), but I can’t look too nice because then she’ll think that I’m putting on a front.  Dark clothes make therapists think that I am in the depths of despair, but I don’t feel like wearing bright colors.  I also have to time my arrival because I’m the first appointment of her day.  If I get there too early I look desperate and being late is not an option.  What if I get lost?  What if she’s incredibly thin and I have to talk about my body issues? I hate talking to skinny people about how I’m a short stocky linebacker. Or chub rub.  If you don’t deal with chub rub then we just shouldn’t talk at all.
At least I don’t have to worry about any awkward kisses or hugs. That’s how meeting a therapist is better than dating.  I do however have to worry about what base we will get to- will we talk about my past experiences and sum up all my issues in 50 minutes? Or will we have to talk about my thoughts and feelings? There’s definitely a third or fourth session waiting period for that.  I have to decide if I like her first and if it’s worth the effort.
Like bad dates, I’ve had my fair share of shitty appointments.  There was the therapist that twisted my words.  She asked me, “is anyone else in your family gay or an alcoholic?” I had simply stated that I was questioning my sexuality and had not determined if I was gay or not!  I also was a college student who drank socially, maybe slightly excessive, but I was not an alcoholic!  She also kept her hair pulled back over her glasses, hiding her ears and it bothered me throughout the entire session. I remember looking at the clock on the wall and being dismayed that we were only 10 minutes into the session.  The longest 50 minutes ever.
There are also deal breakers: the therapist who wanted me to pray with her and talk about my relationship with God.  I should have known that my mother would have helped me find a Christian therapist.  I have cross cringe.  Yes, that’s correct. Some of my issues stem from being raised in a conservative Presbyterian church, so needless to say I don’t want to pray or talk about God in therapy. Period.
There was this awesome therapist that I was actually excited to work with and then I realized that she was not in network with my specific insurance plan.  Talk about being left with the check.  My favorite psychiatrist was a holocaust survivor.  A short adorable jewish man who would try to set me up with his children. He even asked me,  “boys or girls?” before I knew that I would be asking myself the same question years later. I loved his German accent and his photography hobby. He passed away several years ago.
In college I saw someone on campus that I really liked.  Right about the time I started actually talking (I shot the shit in therapy for give or take 15 years) I was told that I had exceeded my allotted sessions and that I would have to find someone off campus. That’s totally easy to do when you don’t have a car and hate talking to people you don’t know.
Breakups with therapists are similar to a breakup with a partner.  I recently broke up with my therapist.  It was the long distance that was killing the relationship. Driving to Alpharetta from Decatur to be there for an appointment at 4pm took up most of the day.  Traffic starts to get bad at 3pm so the latest I could leave Decatur is 2:45pm and that’s pushing it.  Then the hour and a half to two hours sitting in traffic on my way home is almost unbearable.  The absurd amount of traffic combined with sitting alone with my thoughts from our session was a sure way to make sure I arrived home in a touchy or horrendous mood.  Finding the right words to breakup with the person who knows you in a way no one else really does is difficult.  I found myself using the phrase “it’s not you. it’s me. I just can’t stand the commute.” How cliché is that? I worried that I might be hurting her feelings and then I realized that there will be many other patients after me.  I’m simply a year-long blip on her radar.  Once I told her, she wanted to talk about how the past year has gone from my point of view and then I listened to her tell me how I’ve enriched her life.  That’s the most uncomfortable for me.  I get extremely uncomfortable when I’m paid complements or shown special kindness.  It would be easier to accept criticism.
A couple of days after our last session I start to freak out. I wonder if I’ve made a mistake or what if she’s the only person I feel comfortable trusting?  Even though she felt that I did not truly trust her.   Deep down I also know that I’ve been holding back with her. Tip toeing with the caution I use in any situation where I feel vulnerable.  I know that introducing myself to her and re hashing the intimate details of my life may make me feel worse before I start to feel better.  I hate the sympathy looks when I talk about my abusive father or knowing more than I ever cared to about sex at the age of four.  Just don’t feel sorry for me. It is what it is.  Then I start to wonder if I’m just hopeless.  A lost cause.  I’ve been depressed most of my life, what’s another 30 or 50 years? (I think early 80’s is a good age for me to meet the man upstairs).  I remember that the health problems are the real clencher.  They are the reason I’m going to keep putting myself out there and risk being vulnerable.
by krubesch

Empty

“Empty”

She lifts her skirt up to her knees
Walks through the garden rows with her bare feet, laughing
And I never learned to count my blessings
I choose instead to dwell in my disasters

Walk on down the hill
Through grass grown tall and brown
And still it’s hard somehow to let go of my pain
On past the busted back
of that old and rusted Cadillac
That sinks into this field collecting rain

Will I always feel this way ‒
So empty, so estranged?

And of these cut-throat busted sunsets,
these cold and damp white mornings
I have grown weary
If through my cracked and dusted dime-store lips
I spoke these words out loud would no one hear me?

Will I always feel this way
So empty, so estranged?

Well, I looked my demons in the eyes
laid bare my chest, said “Do your best, destroy me.
You see, I’ve been to hell and back so many times,
I must admit you kind of bore me.”
There’s a lot of things that can kill a man
There’s a lot of ways to die
Yes, and some already dead that walk beside me
There’s a lot of things I don’t understand
Why so many people lie
Well, it’s the hurt I hide that fuels the fires inside me

Will I always feel this way
So empty, so estranged?

Ray Lamantagne

I have two states of being: 1. full steam ahead and 2. done.  There is nothing in between.  I seem to keep going until I’ve exhausted myself and then I have to build up my energy again by being almost completely lethargic.  This lethargy then brings me full circle to depression and then it starts all over again.  I’m noticing lately that the full steam ahead is taking a lot more effort and is happening less frequently than in the past. I never thought that I was a person who was addicted to anything.  I’ve always been able to quit things cold turkey.  I tried smoking cigarettes in college and it didn’t take.  What I’m realizing now is that my addiction isn’t related to one thing, it’s whatever I use to help me escape from myself.  I am addicted to staying busy and whatever vice at the moment takes me away from this emptiness.

From January 2014-May 2014 it was alcohol. I had a love affair with red red wine, so much in fact that I was afraid I was becoming an alcoholic.  I’ve been sober since May, with maybe 3 beers or ciders total since then to now.  It was almost magical how that liquid created a courageous, calmer, funnier Katie.  I used this liquid courage in almost every social event to ending up drinking by myself because I wanted an escape from myself. I also used to erase the awfulness of my day or to banish a very difficult therapy session.  I had forgotten that just as fast as the wine made me more fun to be around, it also unleashed dark brooding sad Katie.  It was a toss-up to which guest would make an appearance at my house when I would be 3/4 of the way finished with my Argentinian Malbec.   After I made an asshole appearance one evening at my house, my wife kindly asked me if I would consider not drinking for a while.  It’s funny how it was her request that turned me around, not the fact that drinking to excess and taking xanax on a nightly basis could kill me.  My attitude was que sera, sera.

Since my breakup with red wine, I have not really missed alcohol except over Thanksgiving and today.  I have used alcohol as a coping tool to get through the holidays as long as it was legal for me to drink (and maybe a few years before that too).  This is the first holiday season that I have not had my liquid courage.  It’s been pretty difficult.  Someone asked me, “why I don’t just drink one glass to take the edge off?”  It’s not the alcohol that I’m afraid of.  I’m afraid of that feeling as much as I crave the escape.  I’d rather feel empty and aware of the world around me and the feelings that come with that awareness.  I know that with the first taste of that escape, I might never come back.

The absence of the possibility of escape is weighing on my mind today because I’m also a foodie.  I love flavors and smells.  I love it when I find a unique taste combination and get to share it with my wife.  Today it’s crossed my mind that maybe I just traded alcohol for food.  The healthier I get the harder it’s been to dissociate and I think I’ve been grabbing onto whatever I can.

  • Bill Cosby is a rapist? where the hell is the chocolate?!
  • Some dude has decided that Ferguson was caused because of feminism…I’ll take chocolate covered bacon while reading that article.
  • Mississippi beats Georgia in marriage equality…time to go to Taqueria del Sol for a veggie taco add slaw and a fried chicken taco.  Add an order of guac and chips.
  • My favorite show now has a character that was raped as a child and thinks it’s her fault….I want a milk shake and I don’t care that it’s served with a side of Christian hate (Chik-fil-a will only do at a time like this).

My Gastroenterologist told me today that it sounds like I am having some severe symptoms of reflux and I have to go back on a bland diet and start taking my prescription twice a day.  I also was told that if I lost 10-15lbs I might have fewer symptoms.  Not like I haven’t been trying to lose weight since I could stand tall enough to look in a mirror.  I’ve been in a funk since I received this news.  All I’ve wanted to eat today are things that contain acid. I told my wife that my only two vices that were left were food and shopping.  I can’t really afford either right now and it seems pretty dismal (first world problems, I know).

Maybe this is my body’s way of telling me that I need to really deal with my shit.  Obviously making myself crazy busy, obsessing about the problems of our country, drinking, and now food have slowly created different health problems when I’m using them to hide this mess of jumbled feelings and hidden memories that stay pushed down inside me.   I guess this holiday season I get to deal with my demons.

by krubesch

Ferguson, Immigration, LGBT Rights, And The Destructive Myth Of ‘Them’

john pavlovitz

WindowFear

Thank God for Them.

Whenever we’re in a fight, we need a clear enemy, and we need it fast.

There’s something about human nature that craves separation in times of conflict.

It’s a deep-rooted self-preservation that drives us to divide.

We so often find ourselves in the overwhelming mess of human dysfunction, and it all hits the fan like it has again this week; but instead of trying to truly understand what’s really happening before responding, rather than wrestling with the complex and the nuanced and the elusive; we simply look for an easy villain to condemn and remove.

Enter, Them.

Side-stepping the bulky, cumbersome, time-consuming tasks of wading through layers of history and culture and experience, and of uncovering the hidden heart of the current struggle, we move immediately to building the walls, drawing out the boundaries, and finding the lines with which can mark off the Good and the Bad people.

We rush to identify the clearly visible characteristics of those who will define Us, and…

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