Counseling Saved My Life Twice

The first time I saw a therapist was because I was deeply clinically depressed.  I was in my early thirties and could hardly function.  It was only because of my two young children that I forced myself to get up in the morning and take care of them.  I ended up separating from my husband and eventually divorcing him.  But, I was still depressed.  Now on my own with shared custody of the kids life became better and worse at the same time.

When a person is depressed, it is hard to accomplish anything.  I had stayed at home with my kids to rear them and my husband was the breadwinner.  After leaving him, I got a job as a receptionist and because I shown myself to be smart and capable, "other duties as assigned" became the norm as more and more work became a part of my responsibilities.  I vividly remember sitting at the typewriter messing up an address on an envelope and my anger exploding.  I could no longer deny that I really wasn't doing okay.

I found an LSMW that was part of a Christian organization that charged the hourly fee on a sliding scale.  My charge for each visit was $5.  That should give you an idea of why my salary was making it hard to make ends meet.  I was reassured that religion was not a part of the therapy so I made my first appointment.

I found my way to the church and Elaine's office.  I knocked on the door and a short old lady opened the door, smiled, and asked me to come in.  This woman looked like my grandmother.  How the hell was she supposed to help me?  She ended up being probably the wisest woman I have ever known.

She said that I needed to see her twice a week and then as time went on we could discuss tapering off to once a week and then eventually I wouldn't need to see her at all.  I had no experience with this type of thing so I didn't understand that this meant I was in a serious state.  I agreed to it only thinking about how the $10 a week would impact my finances.

After a few sessions she suggested I go on an antidepressant.  I balked.  I can do this.  I only need to figure it out.  My brain power alone can do this.  Elaine persisted and kept pointing out how the feelings I was expressing and the moments in my life that I shared with her all pointed to me needing to take medication. Plus, if I was able to figure this out why hadn't I already done it?

One very difficult afternoon I finally had to stop denying my need and accept her advice when I saw an image of myself in my head.  I was at the edge of a precipice.  It was very dark and very deep.  I looked down into it and I knew if I let myself fall into it, I would never come back.  I would go crazy and lose myself forever.  I had been holding on to sanity by my fingernails for a while and was doing so because of my children.  I had to admit the will to continue to be strong on my own would not last.

The next visit I had with Elaine, I told her what I saw and that I agreed with her - I needed an antidepressant.  Even in the midst of my emotional pain and barely hanging on, I could see she was relieved.  I can be a stubborn SOB so she had her work cut out for her and this must have given her such satisfaction and solace.  The part of me that could still think straight realized she had been scared for me.

Elaine told me about her supervisor and how she is required to keep him abreast of her clients.  He was a psychiatrist that could write scripts and he would await my call to see him.

Did You Know I Love You?

Did you know I love you?
Did you know I care?
Did you know I love you?
Every little hair.

Did you know I love you?
Each and every night.
Did you know I love you?
Even when we fight.

Did you know I'll love you
When you're old and grey?
Did you know I'll love you?
Just be with me, stay.

Did you know I love you?
My heart is not my own.
Did you know I'll love you?
You'll always be my home.

Timing is Everything

If you regularly read my blog you know that my commute to work takes me about an hour.  I’m going to tell you about this morning’s drive.

Fruitville Road is very long and covers quite a bit of distance.  It starts at the west end of Sarasota where it is a whisper away from the Gulf and runs straight through  to the east end where it almost comes into contact with a different county but doesn’t quite get there.  Each end dead ends into a major road.  Driving West to East, once you cross under I-75 the landscape changes from city to country and the scenery is beautiful.  Wide open fields, cows, donkeys, horses, and goats are all a part of the roadside show.  I fantasize that I live somewhere along the way in a big house set back from the road and my only job for the day is to take care of it and my animals.

This morning was like any other.  I gave Poppy his treat to distract him from me leaving the house; I locked the door, got in my car, and made my way to Fruitville Road.  About 10 minutes later, still on Fruitville in the city of Sarasota, I noticed a school bus in the far right hand lane with its yellow lights flashing.  “That’s odd,” I thought.  In the almost three years I have been making this commute and all of the different times in the morning I have done it, this has never happened.   The bus’ lights change from yellow to red and the “STOP” sign swings out from the bus’ side.  I can now see a little boy running down the sidewalk to the stopped bus.  The little guy was late and the driver was outside of the normal routine to pick him up.  Question resolved.

The bus then cut across all three lanes to the far left turn lane and the incident was forgotten until about a half an hour later.

Once Fruitville Road is no longer a part of the city proper, it goes from straight to winding and changes from six to two lanes.  I had my windows open because after the long and very hot summer it was finally cool enough to do so.  The breeze whipped my hair around as it blew through the car.  I was loving it until I drove around one of the bends and saw a car in my lane coming towards me.  It was passing in a clearly marked no passing section of road.  “Holy fuck,” I said out loud as I gently applied the brakes and started to point the car towards the shoulder.  I looked in my rearview mirror to check on the actions of the driver behind me because I didn’t feel like getting rear-ended, either.   I could see he or she was slowing down, too.  Looking ahead again, I figured that the oncoming car’s driver must have stomped on the gas as it moved like hell passing the vehicle in front and then flew back into its lane. 

Now I was talking to myself.  “Well.  That was exciting!”  I pulled back into my lane and sped back up to the 55 mph speed limit.  Mind you, as hair raising as it was, it took seconds to take place.  Once again I checked to see what the car behind me was doing. Apparently they were more effected than I at the prospect of a head-on collision because it took them much longer to move from the shoulder of the road back into our lane.  Even when they accomplished that, they were driving much slower. 

Now I ask you - what if that little boy wasn’t late for the bus?  What if the school bus driver thought too bad so sad and decided to teach the boy a lesson about being on time and not make an extra stop to pick him up?  That probably ate up the same amount of time it took for the crazy driver to successfully complete the illegal pass without taking someone’s life.

Once again I and those around me were saved from something that could have ended up badly.   I bow my head and thank the Universe. Timing is everything or is it Karma at work?  Some would say it was a wonderful gift of coincidence.  Others would give God the credit. 

To quote the song written by Pete Seeger and sung by The Byrds "Turn! Turn! Turn! (to Everything There Is a Season)" which is based upon a passage from the Book of Ecclesiastes:

To everything - turn, turn, turn

There is a season - turn, turn, turn

And a time to every purpose under heaven

A time to be born, a time to die

A time to plant, a time to reap

A time to kill, a time to heal

A time to laugh, a time to weep

I think it simply was not time for it to happen.  

New but comfortable

I've started to carry a  little notebook (3.5" x 7") with me.  It is 1/2" thick and fits in my purse.  It closes with a magnetic clasp and I got it on clearance at Tuesday Morning.   I love its size, its shape, and how it feels in my hands.  Because the pages are sewn together at the spine, it lies flat when opened.  Here is a picture of it:

My little notebook

I am keeping it near me at all times so that when I have an ah-ha moment I can write it down.  I also am using it to write some pretty personal stuff, which is better than keeping it inside.

I went to my first Book Club meeting this past Saturday.  It was fun!  I was among a bunch of people that were like me and this introvert was comfortable.  I left feeling energized instead of drained and that is unusual and exciting.  When I got home, I immediately ordered off of Amazon the next two month's books.  I didn't do it prior to the morning's meeting because I wasn't sure I would like it and want to return.  The October meeting is on my birthday.  A gift to myself.

I wasn't the only newbie there.  The majority of people attending were new to the group.  I paid my $5 annual dues on faith that it wouldn't be wasted and if so, oh well.  The group was composed of 2 men and 15 women.  One of the men who came in late and I think just did it on a whim because I caught him peeping at us from the conference room door window, was well spoken and had good points even though he hadn't read the book.  The women were interesting and thoughtfully expressed themselves and their points of view.

It was refreshing to discuss opinions without arguing which one was right or wrong.  The leader of the group kept us all on point and it made reading the awful book selection worth it.  It also showed me that I am track.  I always loved reading (Thank you to Lucille Stark my 1st grade teacher) and so do the others in the group.  It was like I was with my own kind.  I don't care if that sounds weird because it is the truth.  I am an egghead, coo coo kachoo.

  

Finishing this is like trying to get the last bit of gum out of my hair

At first it was a bright shiny pack of gum and I thought how wonderful!  I wanted to try each flavor and took my time unwrapping each stick.  With excitement and anticipation I opened my mouth welcoming each new delight not spitting out the old.  

Eventually I had a huge wad of gum in my mouth that, as time went on, became harder and harder to chew.  Then the taste that initially was so special started to fade away until I grew to dislike the taste of the mass in my mouth. 

I could no longer talk around all of the sticks of gum in my mouth so I opened wide and pulled the lump out.  My jaw hurt but having the space back in my mouth was glorious.  I rested.

I flicked the ball of goo into the trash can but some of it stuck to my fingers.  I worked hard to get it off and when I swiped at the sweat on my forehead some of it stuck to my bangs. 

I rubbed and rubbed and worked at the gum on my fingertips until each little fragment was in the trash.  I looked in the mirror searching out the last bits stuck in my hair.  With a gob of peanut butter I worked on loosing the final speck of gum.  When it finally detached from me, holding it in my fingers I stared at it remembering how good it tasted when I first popped it in my mouth and how glad I now was to finally be rid of it. 

I flicked that in the garbage, too, and turned on the kitchen faucet to wash my hands of you.

Go Play Outside

My neighborhood may be the home of the working poor, drug dealers, and people just trying to make it through life but tonight I had a smile on my face because I live here.  It is also proof that time presses on whether we like it or are ready for it.

A retired policeman used to live kitty corner to me on the right.  I noticed what I surmised to be home healthcare workers come and go.  Then I saw what looked like family members buzzing about the house and his yard and figured the old man either died or they moved him to a nursing home or hospice.  Eventually younger people moved in and I lost track of who was permanent and who was transient.  After a few months I saw regulars and they included children.

A man in an electric wheelchair used to live kitty corner to me on the left in the front apartment of a house that had been divided up.  I hadn't seen him around in awhile then one morning when I was taking Poppy out I saw the landlord and some other folks taking things from in the apartment and putting them in the front yard to sell.  The landlord told me the man was very sick and in hospice with no prognosis of recovery.  Soon after new tenants moved in and they included children.

Now there are 5 to 6 kids all around 5 to 7 years old living across the street and they play outside together.  Tonight I heard different little voices counting backwards from 10 down to 0 and I figured they were probably playing Hide and Seek.  It made me smile to think that they were enjoying the same game that kids have played forever but now less and less since technology has advanced and become integrated into our lives.  I heard my childhood in their loud voices as they bickered with each other and yet kept counting and playing.  I am sure they don't have their own computers or cell phones.  They have each other and their imaginations, just as I and my friends had.  They don't have play dates.  They just walk down the street and knock on the door or join the kids already outside.  Occasionally one of the parents will step outside and look to make sure everyone is accounted for.  I know all of this because I walk Poppy.

It has been a long time since I have heard children playing childhood games outside in a neighborhood and damn if felt good.  My heart is a little happier because of it.

Musings, not necessarily amusing

I know this picture is lacking but bear with me.  These two are sold together in one package and I have to admit I was drawn to it because of the little bitty sidekick that handily fits in my purse.  I am also attracted to them because they look like teeth.  No, they aren't floating in mid air.  I took the pic on a glass topped table.  Please note the window display on the back of the large container of dental floss.  It is so that you are able to see when you are in danger of running out and it is time to go to the store to buy more dental floss.  Do you think I utilize this wonderfully helpful concept the package maker devised or do you think I ran out of dental floss tonight?  If I ran out of floss tonight then how did I take this pic?  Brand new package I bought and then stored for such an occasion, suck-ah!

Now that I have that out of the way, I want to know if people who need people are the luckiest people in the world then what about people who don't need people?  The lone wolves.  The ones that find neediness about as comfortable as wearing one of those itchy wool sweaters that you swear if you had to you would rip it off of your body even in public just to find relief from the hell it creates.

Lastly, do you ever find the conversation you have in your head is more entertaining than the one you are having with an actual person?

Are you ready to get out of my head now and go back to yours?

Whose Fault is it Anyway?

While at the beach this morning I noticed two paddle boarders in the distance.  A man and a woman.  I wondered again if I could do that.  It looks like fun.  After a while they took a break and walked their boards along the coastline on their way back to their starting point.  While lying on my towel, I heard a piece of their conversation.

Woman: "I used to think people were inherently good and now I don't believe it."

Man: "I think it was Aristotle and someone else who said, 'Does man corrupt society or does society corrupt man?' I think Aristotle said that and then someone else," he repeated.

It was quiet for 1/2 a minute as they passed by and then:

Man: "You have to look at the animal kingdom for the answer."

I no longer could hear their conversation and they got back on their boards and paddled away.

I started to think about what the man had said about the animal kingdom and in order to draw a conclusion to the argument one must look there for the answer.  I disagree.

There is no corruption in the animal kingdom.  The animals just are.  They are themselves.  A big cat doesn't debate chasing down a gazelle for a meal.  It isn't right or wrong.  The cat doesn't feel regret or remorse for his actions.  The cat's thought processes are limited to survival and procreation.

Man understands the concepts of good and evil.  Man understands what it is to inflict pain.  I don't deny animals feelings but they are basic.  The idea that we should look to them and how they live in  order to decide whether man corrupts society or does society corrupt man is flawed.

In order for society to be corrupted it would have, at some point, been without corruption first.  How would society become corrupt?  Man.  Man is capable of manipulating his surroundings for better or worse.  It is instinctive and man chooses how to act, how to behave, and what to produce.  Just as a baby automatically reaches for his parent for protection and love, so is man's sense of right and wrong, unless one is a psychopath but that is an aberration from the norm so not a part of this argument.  Man's decisions shape society.  What happens next is up for grabs.  Do I want to pick a flower to give someone joy or pick a fight to ruin someone's day?

We are the cause.  Society is a reflection of our decisions - corrupt or clean.

Drunk Bees

Apparently wasps and bees get drunk.  I recently tried helping two bees, at least I think they were two different bees as these were two different walks but how would I know?  Both had been on their backs, their little legs and wings were frantically working to turn them right side up but they just couldn't do it.   Once turned over, the first once I happened upon walked with no problem so I moved on.  On my next walk, after being helped to his feet, the second one I found wobbled about for a few seconds and landed on his back once again.  I gave up on him.  He needed to sober up.

I've tried being a friend to human alcoholics, too.  I didn't grow up with alcoholism in my family but apparently other forms of abuse create the same results.  I like to think I've grown, learned, and broken the pattern that held me captive.  I haven't lost empathy or sympathy.  What I've lost is the need to become embroiled.  

Off to the beach for some water therapy and then I have my massage with Eric later this afternoon.  Not everything in my life is perfect, but it is pretty damn good.

One more thing.  I like to think that being cynical and realistic is not the same as being pessimistic.  Just something that has been on my mind.  I'm also out of bread.