Picking at the seal

You know those sticky tabs that seal things shut? Well that’s the therapy stage I feel I am in right now. And I don’t like it. I don’t like it because I have to face my own ugliness buried deep under the “do everything perfectly for —- (insert boss, husband, daughter, mother)” sand dune I have lived under for as long as I can remember. And the really scary part is we haven’t even peeled the seal all the way off. I had a therapy session Monday. Tuesday I was sad, teetering on the edge (or so it seemed). I replayed the session and what I should have said or the direction I should have gone. My therapist doesn’t yet know me and has jumped to a few conclusions, but I set her straight. Nothing serious but assumptions that my need to be a good wife is somehow related to me being Muslim. It’s not. It’s related to the need to never give him a reason to leave me. Not that that has ever been an issue…in my mind I’m just waiting for the axe to fall. After all, I’m a needy, anxious, chubby, restless, indecisive, old lady and who would be able to look past my faults and love me? (Insert many paragraphs as to why I should be fired from my job, hated by my children, looked at as a terrible daughter, sister, friend.). MY THOUGHTS ARE NOT REALITY.

So today I am seeing the doctor (psychiatrist). I’m not sure why other than he is in charge of managing my medications. I have met him once before and he seemed very nice. I feel like I confuse the doctor and counselor because I was not an unloved abused child nor am I unintelligent. I am told I am attractive (wow that hurt to type) and I am a good person. I think he must find it hard to understand my low self esteem. Oh sure, I had a relationship with a egotistical, narcissistic sociopath who always criticized everything I did but this goes back long before that. Hell, I probably sought him out to validate the negativity I felt toward myself. Totally my fault…again.

Nevertheless, I almost want to stop counseling after only three appointments. I feel I would rather live in my world of apathy constantly trying to improve myself by setting unrealistic goals than pull my head out of the sand and face the reality that I am never going to achieve the goal of being the person I want to be. I am who I am. And she’s not that bad (yes she is).

I wish there was a pill to stop my racing mind constantly imagining the thoughts of others as though it was reality.

I wish I could take something to erase the need to complete the errant thoughts when I’m trying to concentrate. I do not need to figure out 311-68 at that very moment, but until I do…it won’t stop. I do not need to remember whether on not I put my keys back in my purse…at that moment. But I do. And if I try to push it away, the whispering is still there, behind my ear…”just figure it out, then you can concentrate” my brain lies to me. So I do…and then the next errant must-solve-now thought starts. It is maddening.

And I really wish there was a pill to stop the tinnitus which is seemingly made worse by the anxiety the counseling-to-help-me-deal-with-anxiety is causing.

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Sneezing fit

while strapped into my CPAP mask.

Although this was not mucous filled sneezes (thank God), they were nuclear sneezes.

The first sneeze started deep down in my toes and from tickle to explosion was less than .00002 of a second. In that microsecond, my brain went through every scenario from “this is how I die” to “I’m going to pop my mask”. My brain froze all logical thought like hit the stop button or lift the nasal pillows. So I lay there…flat on my back…and sneeze air back into the CPAP as my CPAP forces 5-20 cmH2O air up my nose. As the air is forced up my nose, you cannot open your mouth or that air escapes. This my brain remembers. First 2 sneezes I kept my mouth clamped shut. But the battle of the pressures was overwhelming and quite frankly the hysteria was setting in. I started laughing. Sneezing, laughing and gasping all at once.

Thank God I peed before I went to bed!