little miss sunshine

my thoughts don't feel safe to share. the less i dwell, the less 'i feed the animals' the less it claws and tears at me
          gloom 'n' doom. self pity is hell. no wonder i dont explore it very often. reality
i'll keep myself as safe as possible. i'll try to drive the speed limit. i'll try to eat. i'll try not to cut

If you want/need a promise, I'll give you what we did in school social work:


The 3+ people I promise to call: Eman, Lisa, and anyone else who'll listen & my most recent former therapist
I promise not to kill myself.  I will try my best not to hurt myself (i.e., cutting) but don't feel safe/able to ensure my word at this time.  If I start thinking of hurting myself in a grayish area between self-injury & suicide I will hand over my booze, migraine medication, PMS meds, excedrin OTCs and Alieve over to a trusted friend for at least one week; along with all my sharp objects (nail cutters, scissors, sewing pins & needles, metal emery board, hand mirrors, and anything else I find a temptation).  I will avail myself to counseling services on campus; may even return to my most recent ex-therapist in Huntington.  If I feel like I'm going to break my promise, I'll find the cop who stands 24/7 sentry at the Hawthorne cliffs and submit to a 5150 (that's what he's there for; that's why people go to the Hawthorne cliffs).



Re-post from March 3, 2010

For me, it's better to feel physical pain than the emotional pain.  I can only handle so much emotional pain in my life, and it triggers memories, which only add to the pain.  So, while others self harm to release pain, I do it to feel a type of pain that has an observable, curable cause.  Emotional pain will always be there, always there under the surface waiting for some one, thing, event to dredge it all up again.  But physical pain, it gets healed and goes away; it is forgotten.

And for the people out there who think self injury is a suicidal gesture, that's not true; you need to go read more psychological literature.  Besides, if I really wanted to kill myself, I've already had 5 depressive episodes in the past 12 years.  I've had my chance, I never took it.

my reasons:

I feel selfish

I always take and never give

I have nothing to offer, especially God

If I have anything to give, it's something that God has already given to me.  I can't claim anything as truly my own.

I never add up

She will never love me

She will never see me as a separate entity, worthy of dreams and desires and wants, etc apart from herself

I never fulfill half the obligations I say I'll do for other people; including prayer

I'm a hypocrite

I constantly fail

I'm tired of failing

I'm tired of not adding up

I'm a bitch

I'm all sorts of messed up

I don't want to meet back up with my therapist

I don't want to have to be honest with my therapist; the last one stabbed me in the back

I'm tired of meeting expectations that are not my own

I'm tired of being unemployed

I'm tired of hiding

I'm tired of her never having remorse

Since I constantly fail, why don't you just give me Hell since I already live it

I have so much crap going on in my life I can't hear God

I hate hearing about my 'worth'; it's painful

I'm tired of having migraines and tension headaches

I'm tired of missing events to make sure she maintains boundaries

I'm tired of hiding books, prayer cards, and prayer journals as though they are contraband

Why do I have to take care of her?

Why do I have to walk on egg shells to make her happy, but she can stomp all over me?

Why am I invisible?

I'm tired of being constantly reminded of how I cause problems

I'm tired of being constantly talked to as though I'm a child when I'm her adult child

Why does she get to act like she is 5 years old?

I hate recieving praise and compliments because I don't know what to do with them.

I'm supposed to be entering the convent, but God won't even give me a f-ing job to enable me to fulfill His will.

I have to lie about where I go for church

I have to make excuses for dressing modestly (but prettily)

I can't cry - my emotions take a back seat to hers

I can't be angry at her; I'm supposed to be understanding due to my education and training as a counselor

I'm supposed to provide information but I cannot appear to be intelligent in the matter

I can't upstage her (i.e., cooking, sewing, intellect, etc)

Tired of living under the unspoken rule of "I'll love you when you do ____."

If I try to be my own separate self, its self defeatist

I'm not "up to snuff"

Tired of having to second guess whether something is done simply to be nice or has a motive behind it for later use

[may add more later]

there - all out in the open. now, run for the hills

to post or not to post

so I wrote this huge brain vomit post & then deleted it  =)

chocolate ice cream and gchat is helping

and my big stuffed neon orange elephant...just one of those weeks where everything shuts down

even my sense of grammar and formation shuts down sheesh

just gotta let it roll on through...no wonder they call it urge surfing

enough bitching i'm gonna go write

Analysis

I can see how what I said a week ago can be a point of contention.  At some point in a convoluted discussion among several students and the professor I had made the comment that sometimes students may know more than a professor; the one at the bottom of the totem pole may have a better grasp on the matter than the one at the top.  Naturally, that can be upsetting to some people if they do not let the other possibilities come to mind.  However I had not expected to be called out on it this evening.

Professor comes up to me before the session began and said, “What was it you said last week? That the intern knows more than the supervisor?”  I countered with, “Well, I didn’t say it like that.  I can’t recall exactly.  Why?”  I hedged.  He’s defensive; getting into my full line of vision, dominating the physical and social space around me.   Plus, I would like to get the full context of the matter again – what exactly was it that I had said that put him on the defensive?  Was he interpreting it in a different manner than I had perceived myself as stating it?  He did not offer clarification.  He’s trying to establish order, and I can only assume that he feels that I am questioning his judgment, knowledge and experience in the field.  I did not have the opportunity because he took the pause in my words (when I’m still thinking and reflecting to come up with a response!!) to say “I’ve never had an intern that knew more than me.  It doesn’t work that way.”

Well let me tell you what does work that way.  He comes from the psychoanalytical Freudian training and paradigm.  From what has been mentioned in class he does stand behind the current paradigm of EBP (evidence-based practice) and a slight eclectic mix of other modern theories and perspectives.  However, what I had insinuated with my comment last week, and I was unable to defend, is that other fields and professions have their own perspectives and paradigms.  I’m very EBP, along with multisystemic theory, systems theory, positive psychology, empowerment and the strengths perspective.  I move within these with a lot of ease.  I see things from many perspectives; many facets.  A student or an intern may not know or comprehend more, but understand a different view or facet.  A student can appear to know more than a professor because they are not caged in the paradigm.

Professor is focused on tradition and principles, and often makes statements that draw attention to “how things should be done, and are done.”  He’s mentioned that therapeutic practices are not to differ from what everyone else is doing; well, Rogers and others broke away from the behavioralists.  Rogers disagreed that people were merely functioning on conditioning (classical, intermittent, interval & ratio), and formulated the humanistic approach that incorporated emotions and reactions; a further extension from Rogers was existential psychology.  Sometimes there has to be people who break away from the norm, the “way it has to be done” in order for there to be growth.  For my Professor, principles are not rules; rules may be broken but not principles.  I understand the concept, but support it only so far, as can be noted.

On several occasions he has stressed the appropriate need for joining professional organizations.  He has pushed local, state and national organizations.  The class he is teaching is one of the introductory courses, yet he pushes this need to professionally belong more than any of the other professors in the program.  Belonging-ness: making sure that students are not put off by him, always making nice.  At times, appearing more as a comedian than a serious professor; he’s ingratiating himself: he has to belong. 

ESTJ
2^nd interesting link (has a spot-on humanized description) 
Kiersey's Typology

Without Mercy

Holy Mother, pierce me through,
In my heart each wound renew
Of my Saviour crucified.

It’s a neat and tidy little verse, isn’t it? Short, but not so sweet.

Prayer is so different for me these days. It’s not dry, but it’s not blossoming either. As many know, this verse is part of a prayer to the Five Wounds of Christ that I prayed in novena fashion before telling my mother on Sunday, June 14th at 4:25pm that I was interested in religious life. I knew that I was not going to be received warmly by my own mother, hence what was the point in asking for Mercy? Instead I requested that my heart bear all the wounds of our Precious Lord’s own Heart. My heart would become His; my blood be replaced by His; words, thoughts, intentions, etc. All were to be replaced with His.

Careful. Be ever careful of what your soul says to God. Do not hinder your Soul, but be ever aware, and prepare yourself as best as you can. You ask to be put on the frontlines, you will be there. You will not be relieved from your duty until you languish and your soul faints. I have physically fainted once, and I can now also say that I know what it is to have your soul feel fatigued and faint.

Sometimes I get pulled from the front lines for a week, other times just a half hour. It is not pleasant when I have to leave the security of the camp and plunge headlong into the front lines, but I did not ask for Mercy. The moment one task is done I am handed another. Consolation is few and far between; oh the sweetness of it!

Truly, hands that are not my own grasp my heart, and hand the heart over to the Lord. She offers it to Him and He’s taken it. How torn it is, I don’t know, but I know that it is.

As a mother rocks a child to comfort and soothe, so has the Spirit rocked me.

Good Friday, 2008

Remember, O LORD, what has befallen us, look, and see our disgrace:
Our inherited lands have been turned over to strangers, our homes to foreigners.
We have become orphans, fatherless; widowed are our mothers.
The water we drink we must buy, for our own wood we must pay.
On our necks is the yoke of those who drive us; we are worn out, but allowed no rest.
To Egypt we submitted, and to Assyria, to fill our need of bread.
Our fathers, who sinned, are no more; but we bear their guilt.
Slaves rule over us; there is no one to rescue us from their hands.
At the peril of our lives we bring in our sustenance, in the face of the desert heat;
Our skin is shriveled up, as though by a furnace, with the searing blasts of famine.
The wives in Zion were ravished by the enemy, the maidens in the cities of Judah;
Princes were gibbeted by them, elders shown no respect.
The youths carry the millstones, boys stagger under their loads of wood;
The old men have abandoned the gate, the young men their music.
The joy of our hearts has ceased, our dance has turned into mourning;
The garlands have fallen from our heads: woe to us, for we have sinned!
Over this our hearts are sick, at this our eyes grow dim:
That Mount Zion should be desolate, with jackals roaming there!
You, O LORD, are enthroned forever; your throne stands from age to age.
Why, then, should you forget us, abandon us so long a time?
Lead us back to you, O LORD, that we may be restored: give us anew such days as we had of old.
For now you have indeed rejected us, and in full measure turned your wrath against us.

Divine Mercy

I have been thinking about the Divine Mercy recently. Others have been writing about it in their posts and I was so enamored with it when I was first directed towards it last year. While I found it easy to adapt to the Rosary beads and the new prayers, I have since found the simplicity of the of the decade bead prayers to be full of depth.

A long while has passed since the last time I found prayer painful. In fact, when I did used to find prayer painful it was because I despised God, so this kind of pain is not related.

Perhaps pain is not the right word to use, but I also cannot say that the pain dwells only in my soul. Maybe it's the closest we can get to begging God without actually begging, although I certainly have done that!

But I really need to go, I have a paper due on Thursday and I am merely procrastinating here while I conjucture what it is that I feel each time I pray the Divine Mercy. All I know is that I avoid it. Prayed the DM yesterday with a group before the Blessed Sacrament and before the first 'decade' I was so close to tears that I could hardly finish the decade. If it hadn't been for the recitation of the group I do not think I would have finished praying it on my own.

have you ever encountered similar problems in prayer?