Notes from the Front

So Wednesday, my therapist and I filled out and submitted the paperwork for me to go back to Rehab.  I am full of so many feelings at this point, I don't know if I can even write them out, but I'm going to try.  \
This year has been, in a word, horrendous.  It started out with a bang, two days before New Years Day with an epic fight between me, my brother and my sister-in-law, over something she wasn't even supposed to hear and both of them refuse to forgive, even though I've apologized for it a zillion times.
  A few months ago, my dad's youngest sister died, her last words to me being "I don't hate you, but I can never talk or be with you anymore."
Combine that with being diagnosed with diabetes, that the doctors are still trying to manage(although they do tell me that I'm on the right track with meds, food, and excercise), a possible wonky thyroid, and the fact that several people have stopped speaking to me for whatever reason, and I am, basically, a basket case.
So, when Scott,the aforementioned therapist, who looks remarkably like John Scheneider does now, and whom has half the clinic in love with him(not me, we've known each other 15 years, and we're way too comfortable. as well as I'm too smart to indulge in any of that transference crap)says to me,
"So, what do you hope to get from Rehab this time?", I think of the question on three levels.
1.  Okay, I'm going to be honest.  I shouldn't call it Rehab, really, cause it's not Rehab in the traditional sense for one.  It's not for drugs, or alchohol.   The real name for it is Partial, which is short for Partial Hospitalization Services, which loosely translated, means, it's a last stop program before you decide to commit yourself to the locked ward on the fourth or fifth floor of the real hospital, or someone does it for you.  BTW, that was part of the New Year's Day fight, my brother and SIL wanted to commit me.
Yeah.  Obviously, that didn't happen.
SO ANYWAY.

2. I haven't been in the REAL hospital since 2004.  This past April makes it nine years that I've stayed out. I suppose that says something about me, what, I'm not so sure, because the past  nine years have been such a mix of things, good and bad. I've been on six different drugs, all with differing degress of side effects, the result being that none of them have really done what I wanted them to do, that is, make me feel better, have more energy, and most importantly, stop crying at least five times a day.   Still, despite that, I'm still here, I get up every day and attempt to do at least one productive thing between the crying jags and bouts of self-loathing.  Speaking of, an acquaintence made a comment to me earlier this week about a mutual acquaintence that he was at genius level, and most geniuses he knew all had a dose of healthy self loathing.  I don't mean to sound conceited, but I'm smart, I've been told my IQ is up there somewhere.  To be honest, if that is indeed, true, I'd rather be dim, and incredibly practical an well adjusted, not consumed with anxiety, worry, and sadness most of the time.
And that's the other thing about Partial.  Unlike other mental health programs where the employee turnover is once a month, if not every other day, some of the staff has been there since the first time I was there, in 1990.  They know me by name.  They'll let me take the lead in some discussions, they tell me I have been a great help to some of the other inmates, erm, patients.
This will be my 4th time there.

3.  So, in answer to Scott's question. "What do I hope to get this time.."

Resolution-To accept things as they are.   To know that people won't change, no matter how much I may want them  to.  No matter how much what they've done has hurt me. They are who they are.  I need to be able to accept that, and if necessary, cut those people out of  my life.  It doesn't make me a bad person. And it's no longer my business or concern to worry about what kinds of people they are.  I want the resolve to not think about them every day, and not have them affect my life anymore.  After all, I don't matter to them, why waste my life having them matter to me as much as they have.

Closure-On all of the above.  To put it all away, in some mental warehouse twenty boxes, deep, like the one at the end of 'Raiders of the Lost Ark', never to be seen, heard, or thought about again.  I need to do that.  Once and for all, I think it's time.

Finally,
Peace.  I want to feel at peace about everything, but most importantly about myself.  I want to accept who I am, and like who I am, and stop apologizing every five minutes for something I've said or done.  I want to stop being sorry for not working, for loving whom I love, for being expressive, and sarcastic and emotional and far from perfect.   I want to accept myself whether I have people who accept me or not.  And, most importantly, I want to accept the fact that there are some people I know, who do accept me for who I am.  Whether I understand that or not.  They love me, and I want to finally feel like I deserve it.
That's what I hope to get.
My intake appointment is Wednesday.
Wish me luck.

Stuff My Therapist Says-Or, What it's Like to Be Me

So, my therapist is going to be gone for a month.  God knows he's entitled to a vacation after listening to me, and who knows who else, bitch, moan and whine about their problems.  I hope he gets some much needed and deserved rest, and I hope I manage alright while he's gone.
 He did tell me if I really needed to, I could talk to someone else, but the thought of explaining my story from the beginning to a complete stranger, um....no.  So until July 15th, I'm alone with all my wonderful jumble of emotions, left to my own devices.
Apparently he knew that fact might leave me a little, for lack of a better word, apprehensive, so, during our last session he kept telling me about all the changes I've made in the past year.
According to him, I am
-more peaceful, less morose.  Of course, I tell him it's because I'm resigned to my situation.  And alright, maybe it's a little more than that.  But I've just had a really difficult week, and that's kind of hard to see right now.  Although sometimes, I am able to laugh, and get myself out of the hole for a little while.
-less reactive, which, according to him, means I don't lash out at people the way I used to. He says it's a good thing, and I suppose I agree with him for the most part.  Not getting angry at people and saying things that I'll ultimately have to apologize for, and keeping my mouth shut so I don't make a bad situation worse makes things easier for sure.   However, it does make me feel like I can't express myself the way I would like sometimes, and more than a few times I've had to leave those feelings unexpressed, and that means I've stuffed them and dealt with all the wonderful things that leads to, such as being up half thew night feeling like the alien baby is about to burst out of my stomach, or intestinal distress or just crying over....stuff.
Ugh.
So, after careful thought, I realize that I'm most probably going back to rehab, yet again.  That's if my insurance will cover it.  I need a break from constantly being alone, feeling  so lonely my chest hurts, and dwellng on stuff that really doesn't help to dwell on, as there's nothing I can do about it.
Again, ugh.
If I'm honest, I feel like a loser going back.  If I'm honest, I wish I could, most days, just go to sleep and not wake up.  Still something tells me to keep trying, and  will.   As much as I wish I could just give up.
If I'm honest, I wish I could see why some people think this is so brave of me, when I just don't.
I wish I could believe what was said about me.
Maybe some day.