Post Secret never fails to move me. I laugh at some postcards. I get highly creeped out by others. Often, I cry.
When I read the first book, I stopped reading to cry at several of the cards. The one that sticks out most in my mind is one of a woman who put out poison to kill some rats and her dog ate it instead - the card was her apologizing to her dog, who she obviously adored. It broke my heart into a thousand pieces and I sat and cried for her...and with her.
My favorite card of all time is actually the first one in the video below. "Everyone who knew me before 9/11 believes I'm dead."
It moves me in so many directions, I can't even explain how it makes me feel. It's beautiful. It's tragic. It's heartbreaking. It's maddening. It's familiar.
I've sent 3 of my own cards to Post Secret - cards that I think of now and make me feel all those things. How tragic of a secret that was...and how beautiful it felt to set it free. Sending those cards was very theraputic for me. You should set one of your secrets free...you won't believe how it feels handing that card over to the world.
Today, Frank posted a video this week and I wanted to share it here. I cried. Of course.
Post Secret updates every Sunday. Bookmark it. Bloglines it. Something. Just make sure to go back next week when there will be more postcards. Breathe each one in. Let them move you.
*ETA : If you're using bloglines, click through to watch the video. It's worth it. :)
My therapist used the word "breakthrough" with me this week.
I knew what it was the the moment I let it happen, too - it felt like someone had reached into the water I'd been drowning in for 15 years and fished me out. Breakthrough. And I couldn't wait to tell the ol' therapist how strong I'd been.
When I did, she stood up and hugged me. And we laughed. And I drank lots of iced tea so I wouldn't cry.
While I still have issues to work out with that particular aspect of my persona, I still have plenty others. And, in fact, once I was free of the major obstacle, it opened up a floodgate of others that I had no idea where lurking there. Now that I can see the the "why" behind my feelings and actions, it's making me question the motives behind everything I've felt and done.
All my life I've felt a certain way, and I am beginning to understand why. I'm also beginning to see I may have been wrong. And GOD! how I hate to admit I'm wrong.
Where does this leave me, though - the ME I'm supposed to know more intimately than anything else? What if what I've been telling myself for 15, 20, 25 years is a lie? I've been masking certain parts of myself for as long as I can remember - long enough I didn't even know I was masking them. When these parts of myself start figuring out that they're ok...then what?
Shit.
I know this makes little to no sense. I apologize. But what say you therapy babies? Have you had such a breakthrough that it's made you re-evaluate everything you are? Where do you start? Where do you go from here? Where's that iced tea?
I finally (!!!!!) went to see my new therapist today.
Let me tell ya. I don't think there is a single human on the planet that was more meant to be my therapist than this lady. She's a lovely, earthy, older woman with a charming Aussie accent who uses words like "chakra" and "soulness," and says things like "listen to what the universe is telling you."
Oh yeah, and also: "I'm not going to medicate you for now."
Did I mention I love her? Because that whole medication thing was TERRIFYING me.
I came out of the hour-long meeting smiling, and buzzing from my chest with confidence. I drove home in a rush so I could sit here and blog about how great this spark feels. And I'm still abuzz...afire...ashineyandstuff.
Why?
Because she told me something that hit me square in the nuts face. Something so very simple, yet so very profound.
When I told her about my confusion and my lack of drive in things money/security/career-related...and how I don't know what I'm doing...and how I'm so flakey...she said, "and what's wrong with that, dear? That's who you are...and that's ok."
One thing I question myself about...something I've always questioned myself about (even blogged about it) is how I don't want to have all these things that are "the American dream"...a career, a family, stability, insert peg A into hole B. Very few people understand that - really understand that. And when they don't, I feel like the outcast...like I have to fit into that way of life in order to be "normal".
So my whole life has been me trying to figure out how to turn myself into that and because I can't, what the flip is wrong with me?!
Everyone wants something different for themselves, and that's always fine. Why can't my wanting none of that stuff be just as fine?
Well, it can. And it IS.
I just have to keep reminding myself of that. And ignoring everyone else who says I need to be _____.
She did have some issues with my mood swings and said I possibly have....um....something that's between the levels of bi-polar and 'normal.' (I've forgotten now what she said. Heh.) But I'm supposed to track my moods and see what the cycle is like, that way later when I know when the downs occur, I can get a stablizer if I need it.
But anyway.
Yeah.
So, I'm ok. I'm OK.
O.K.
I learned a lot about myself just in this one session...a lot that makes SO much sense. But I'll leave that on the therapist's notepads and not bore you with those gorey details.
Just know I'm doing a-ok (with just a small side order of nutso).
Look out, Bubba. There's a crazy coming to live with you soon.
Me : Hi. I'm Chase. I'm here to meet Mr. Davi......
Counselor : OH MY GOD YOU'RE TOTALLY INSANE AND YOU NEED LOTS OF MEDICATION AND HOLY CRAP DON'T COME AT ME WITH THAT KNIIIIIIIIIIIIFE!! AAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!
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Or something like that.
Everything went just fine. Even though I had to fight back my impulse to pull over and vomit on my way there, I made it to my appointment. And I didn't cry. And he made fun of me because of how many times the word "blog" came out of my mouth.
He's referring me to a psychotherapist (I don't even think I ever said that word before today) and is highly suggesting I get me some anti-depressants. Heh.
So. That's fun.
Even better is that, because I've been so freaky lately and haven't been working much, he said I qualify for some program they offer where, because I'm a poor mutha mutha, I'm getting in to a good therapist and they're only charging me $5 an hour.
FIVE. DOLLARS.
!!!!!!!
I can't even get a good meal for $5 and I'm getting an hour of therapy for that amount!?
I just need to stop working altogether - things are cheaper! YAY! No more work for meeeeeeee!
(Just kidding, Shellie....get your finger off the trigger.)
Anyway. That's that.
I can stop talking about it so much now, and get back to the important issues and hard-hitting journalism. Like yesterday. With the twisty-ties.
Before my truck got squished, it had one little issue. When I would first start it, it would idle really high, revving its engine until it sounded like it was going to take off on its own and plow through whatever was in its way. It was overly excited, I guess...it just wanted to go and go and go.
Of course, when I would take it in to to the shop, it didn't make a peep. It never once acted for the mechanics the way it did when I had it. Much like when I take a sick pet to the vet, the truck was miraculously healed once it reached the shop. The shop guys were always doing the 'yeaaaah, ok, maybe next time' thing.
And so it goes with my brain.
Wednesday began my brain's revving....it's own going and going and going and feeling like it was going to burst out of my skull through every orifice and flop around fish-like on the floor.
Today? I feel decent. Not 100%, but more like a human than I've felt in about a week. I actually got up, got dressed, and went to work. (!!!)
By myself.
Without crying.
And when people ask me how I'm doing today, I can say "I'm doing ok" and mean it.
So by tomorrow when I meet with the counselor guy? I'll probably be all perfect and full of glee and make him say, "umm...why are you here, again. lady?" When I try to go into the "but I thought I had a brain tumor!" spiel, I'll probably get an, "umm, yeaaaaaah, maybe next time."
Which is ok, I suppose, I'd rather show up and tell him how I used to feel rather than not be able to make it out the door in the first place.
.....
But on to more important things.
Seriously. Who actually puts the twisty-tie back on the bread? I hate that little useless piece of trash. If you spin the bread around and tuck the plastic underneath it, it seals it JUST fine, thankyouverymuch.
First, I wanted to thank everyone who has commented/emailed/called. I didn't want to respond in comments, because there are only so many ways I can say THANK YOU. And I can't say it enough - it means the world that so many people care that my brain is melting. *mwah* I love you all.
And, for everyone who was surprised that I called for help so soon : this has been an ongoing thing for me. I've known I needed help for a long time, but always pretended it wasn't there until I felt better. I finally asked for help because, how I felt on Thursday? It scared the living shit out of me. I knew I had to.
With that said...
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When I was 14, I went on a family vacation to Florida, where I had to share a hotel room with my parents. The first morning, my step mother asked me what I'd been laughing at the night before - I had no idea what she was talking about. Apparently, I'd woken her several times though the night laughing out loud.
That was the first of many, many times people have told me I've awoken them cracking myself up. And I often wake myself doing the same thing, though rare is it that I remember what exactly it was that made me start.
Even while I'm asleep, I find something to laugh at myself about. Why would it be any different when my brain is so obviously falling out of my head?
So I thought I'd share a few of the things that I've recently thought/done that make me realize...um, yeah...hi, I'm nutso.
Yesterday, after cleaning the pool and feeling like I was going to pass out, I laid down on the ground and cried. And then promptly fell asleep - on the concrete - until Shellie came looking for me.
In trying to go to work today (because I felt a little better this morning!), after putting it off for 2 hours, I got into the car and then couldn't make myself put it in gear. I sat in the car and cried for about 20 minutes because I couldn't just GO. Then I realized how stupid that sounded, so I went.
I made it about 3 miles before turning around, going to pick up Shellie, and making her go to work with me so I could do it. (My poor Shellie.)
Lying in bed last night and having a bit of a freak out moment, thought to myself what if I have a brain tumor and I'm going to die? Oh my god, I can totally FEEL a brain tumor in my head! I AM gonna die!
In order to quell my brain tumor thoughts, I turned on the tv. I watched, on purpose, Overboard with Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell. And I enjoyed it.
A friend of Shellie's (hi Stacy!) read my blog yesterday and gave me some contact information for the local mental health association. I finally grew a pair at 2pm and called them. That's got to be the strangest phone call I've ever had to make ("um, hi, I was told to call you guys because...um...I think I'm depressed" insert crying here "and I...um...need to talk to someone...or something...because I'm sad").
It sounds so stupid, so contrived, so trivial. I'm sure everyone says that if they feel this way, but I can't articulate how I feel other than "I don't know" and "I just can't stop being sad."
Oh yeah, and also, "whaaaaaa!"
I tried to use my "thick blanket" analogy for the guy, but it doesn't come out right when I say it aloud. I should have just given the guy my URL and sobbed "read.blog.sad.whaa."
BUT. I made an appointment for Tuesday morning to talk to a counselor. (Which, in itself, makes me want to throw up repeatedly, thankyouverymuch.)
I keep being told that someone spiked my punch at BlogHer and turned me into a blubbering idiot. Who was it, dammit??
*eyeballs Karl*
Also, I wanted to make the Shellie/Texas thing clear(er) while I'm at it.
We didn't decide she was staying in Oklahoma because of my issues (though I'm sure she's glad she doesn't have to hear me whine for awhile...heh). She has a great job with a great company - and she's moving up that ladder quickly.
It makes much more sense for her to stay here and finish school and keep her killer job rather than move to Texas, have to wait a year to start school (not living there at least a year would add nearly $10,000 to her tuition), and then having to start from the bottom at another company.
Just wanted to clear that up. Will it be hard? Yes. Will it save us or destroy us? We honestly don't know. But we both know this is best for the both of us...and we're both very positive on the outcome.
