#MicroPoetry 'Echos In The Dark'

 Copyright©2014 kimmie All Rights Reserved

Thank you for allowing me to share

God bless you, and all those you love

Kimmie x

We Love You Littlie

My child

Taken from arms

Tubed, tested, incubated

Disabled

languid in arms

Weak, floppy, fading

beautiful 

loved in arms

praying - can we keep you

Special care

 Special needs

Just special 

Brighter

Strengthened in arms 

Fighting 

breathing

Being

Home

safe in arms

Enduring

Growing

Learning

You did it
you did it all 

 First smile 

first word 

First everything

A bit late

(very late)

 but you did it!

Stunningly beautiful, wonderful child

you're so loved 

by us 

By all who know you

Proud of you darling x

Thank you for allowing me to share 

God bless you, and all those you love

Kimmie X 

Copyright©2015kimmie All Rights Reserved 

Tweet

'professional her' and 'mentally me'

When I began a new course of psychotherapy (early September) I had reservations about whether or not this was a good time for me to take on such a big challenge.

On top of an already long list of 'issues in my life', my Dad (as many of you already know) is going to die soon, according to his doctors, some time in the next twelve months, and I worry that taking the lid off of a life time of mental health issues might be the straw that breaks the camels back (the camel being me!) 

I had a few other concerns as well, and so prior to my first meeting with the psychotherapist, I arranged to meet up with my occupational therapist (who is also my key worker) to discuss my concerns, and have a care plan put in place.
Copies of my care plan where sent to both my GP, and my psychotherapist. 

Points A, B, & C (below) are copied from that care plan, and should clarify for you, dear reader, the concerns I raised with my OT prior to meeting the new psychotherapist.

A. "We spoke today of how difficult it is for you to speak openly about past issues, and how this has been made more difficult owing to your fathers ill health" 

B. "We also discussed the emotional cost to you after therapy sessions, and the potential impact on your ability to act as joint carer for your disabled daughter. This role is tiring, and needs for you to feel able to cope"

C. "Due to there being multiple issues that need addressing in therapy, you would like to be clearer about the length of therapy being offered" 

"We agreed that you should discuss A, B * C with the psychotherapist to agree the best way forward" 

Right at the beginning of my first meeting with the psychotherapist (after the initial uncomfortable silence) I tried to get the above points across - I asked her (albeit like a muddled five year old might ask) - do you think, in your 'professional' opinion, that now is the right time to for me to embark on another round of psychotherapy, considering blah, blah, & my Dads impending death. 

I'm concerned that either, I'll be getting somewhere, and then my Dad will die, undoing any progress I've made - or, that his illness/decline over the next few months will interfere with therapy; and so, potentially - I'll make no progress at all, therefore wasting sessions that another person might benefit from. 

My feelings are, that I have more than enough 'big issues' to deal with at the moment, and that now isn't the best time to dig deep, but was asking for (and willing to be led by) her advice.

Her response was - "It seems to me that your expecting me to make the decision for you" o_O

Toward the end of the session, I also asked her, A) Would it be possible to meet fortnightly, as apposed to every week, and B) How long were the sessions going to last.

My reasons for requesting a longer period between each session being - the sessions are on a Friday, my disabled child is home the two days following, and for days after therapy I am drained, emotional, struggle with paranoid thoughts, and feel very low. 

This interferes with my ability to help care for my daughter, which exacerbates guilt, and places extra stress on my husband. 

With regard to my second question - I needed to know how many sessions had been allocated to me, because I'm aware (from past experience) that sometimes therapy courses are limited to a set number of weeks, and as I have multiple mental health issues, dating back to childhood; I don't feel safe taking the lid off of the whole lot if I'm likely to be left hanging. (I've been left hanging before!) 

Her response was - "We can explore these concerns next week" 

Fast forward to the following week - 'professional her' leads 'mentally me', away from 'The body Guard' (that's hubs to the newbies) and the relative safety of the waiting room, along a corridor (I feel unsafe in) into an unlocked room (I feel unsafe in) and then, sits watching me (at least, I assume she's watching me, I'm looking at her feet!) for what feels like hours, but was probably nearer to 5 minutes; without so much as a 'Hi' or "how are you".

Seriously, are these people trained to leave empathy, smiles, and the niceties of basic communication on the other side of the therapy room door?! - Because if so, someone needs to tell them that many mentally ill people are uncomfortable (understatement) around strangers, and that silent observation is probably not the best way to put anxious, self conscious, (in my case paranoid) people, (who are meeting you for the first time, and are as nervous as nervous gets) at ease!

When I finally pluck up the courage to perform speak, I tell her that (as anticipated) I had struggled for days after our last session, and needed to talk about changing the frequency of the sessions.

She, remembers she has a tongue in her head (finally) and her response is - "we can come to that in a bit, but first.................."

At the end of the session, I raise my concerns again - she informs me that the session has ended, and we will discuss my concerns the following week - she leaves no room for argument!

Our next session didn't start well - there was a man in the corridor (a stranger) and, to cut a long ramble short, I panicked, had to be led to the therapy room via another route, after first being reassured by my husband that it was safe to do so.

Safe route turned out to be 'the long way round', through a number of doors, and shorter corridors - thus increasing my already intense anxiety, and by the time we had made it to the therapy room I was a wreck - I spent the first 10 - 15 minutes of the session sat on the edge of my seat, turned away from 'psych lady', so that she couldn't see my face - crying & struggling to control my breathing.

Once I had calmed down enough to speak, I told her that I really needed to talk about the concerns I'd raised during previous meetings.

Her response was - "we can talk about that in a bit, but first - why did you feel the need to turn away from me while you were upset"

I went along with her prompting until shortly before the end of the session, and then asked again about the possibility of changing the frequency of the sessions, explaining, again, that the aftermath was interfering with my ability to do 'The mum thing', 'the wife thing' and pretty much 'everything'. and she replied, AGAIN (FGS) with "Lets leave that for the next session".

Crying now, I said, "You say that every week, I really need to sort this out now".

Her response (with her expression leaving no room for argument) was "The session is now over" - she then got up, walked to the door, opened the door, and waited (stone faced) for me to follow.

I remember saying, rather pathetically, as I got up from my chair (still crying) "No one listens - no one listens to me".

I followed her down the corridor, and back to reception, where hubs was waiting, then turned to her and said (sounding a lot bolder than I felt) - "I won't be here next week".

At this point I'd had enough, so when I got home, I phoned my OT (key worker) explained all of the above and asked her if she would speak to the psychotherapist on my behalf....

Well, dear reader, I met with my OT this week, and she told me that she had indeed spoken to 'psych Lady', whose response had been - "There's no problem with less frequent sessions - It's always made clear to the 'client' that's it's up to them to determine the frequency of sessions" .... *Face Palm* o_O

To say I was upset is an understatement!

I was (and still am) Gob smacked!
If she can lie so blatantly over something she failed to explain (despite my giving her numerous opportunities to explain) then, I'm afraid she might lie (or twist the truth) about things I divulge to her.
There is absolutely no way I can open up to her now; I don't trust her!

There is only me and her in the therapy room, so if she ever chose to use the things I tell her against me (something I always worry about before, during, and after therapy, given the nature of some of my intrusive thoughts) it would be my word against hers, and as she's the 'Professional' (I use the term loosely!) and I'm the 'Mentally ill' person; I shouldn't think my account of things would mean diddly squat!

I'm not sure why 'Psych Lady' dismissed my concerns during sessions (though it seems to me, it may have been a power thing, considering how upset I was, and how easily she could have put my mind at ease) or why, when questioned she led my OT to believe that I must have misunderstood the situation, but I am absolutely sure that I will not be meeting with her again!

Thank you for allowing me to share.

God bless you, and all those you love

Kimmie x

I am...

When other mental health sufferers say they are ashamed (many of them are, for one reason or another) I'm usually the first to respond with - "You have nothing to be ashamed of, you can't help being ill" - and I mean it!

However, I'm afraid it's a case of 'Take my advice, I'm not using it', because there really is no other word than 'ashamed' that describes how I feel, overwhelmingly so, and have felt for a very long time.

My 'shame' might not be rational, but it is 'my' truth, and that's what this space is for.

I AM

I AM MUM - To my youngest child (as I once was to my older children) I am story teller - sock puppet  - Tickle monster - make-believer - hugger - hand holder - love; no questions asked.

My four older children are a different story - these days (though they try hard to hide it) they are uncomfortable around me, resentful, ashamed.

They're no longer babies, I can't hide behind, sand castles, sock puppets, and 'sing a song of sixpence' anymore.

They don't understand mental illness, they can't see 'Stuck-In-Scared - but they can see whats going on externally, and it frightens them.

I love my kids and they love me. I have never set out to hurt them, but (without meaning to) hurt them (emotionally) I have!

I am ashamed.

I AM WIFE - I am the wife who almost drove my husband away, because I was blind to how my illness affected him.

He says that blinded by my mental illness (which in fairness has been greatly exacerbated this past few years) he lost sight of ‘me’ - he’s sorry - he loves me - he’ll never hurt me again.

I blame myself - I'm looking into his eyes, and seeing, Where I once saw special, everything I despise about myself reflected back at me.

I am ashamed.

I AM ADDICT (In recovery) - I am the woman who, consumed by symptoms of mental illness, used gambling as a form of escapism. despite knowing she was hurting herself, and those she loved.

I am the grown woman who once sat on a stool in a bingo hall, and wet herself because she'd pumped too much money into a fruit machine to chance another punter stealing her win while she went to the loo!

I am the mother who was often late picking her children up from school because she couldn't walk away - who struggled to feed her children, and went hungry herself, because she'd gambled best part of the housekeeping.

I am the mother, who (up until ten years ago) thought more often about her next bet, than she did her children, and her older children remember that!

I am ashamed

I AM OCD -  "I see the brush slam down onto the back of my beloved child's head. I hear her desperate screams as the brush comes crashing down! I see myself standing over her, a stranger masking my face, the mask vaguely familiar and yet at the same time completely unrecognizable! I see my child confused, hysterical and consumed with fear beneath me. I repel with every fiber of my being against the *illusory images*; my heart breaks!" read more

I am ashamed

(Please be aware, the above paragraph has been recycled from an old post, and is about intrusive thoughts, a symptom of OCD - NOT child abuse, you can read the paragraph in context by clicking on the (read more) link above. Thank you.

I AM SELF HARM - Sometimes I feel desperate, sometimes I feel angry, unimaginably angry, angry at me, sometimes I crave feelings of relief, calm, control - sometimes I just need to feel.

I starve, burn, cut, bleed, I am visibly scarred.

I am ashamed

I AM AGORAPHOBIA - I'm unable to go anywhere alone, unable to go out at all some days.

Despite being accompanied in public, I often experience catastrophic thoughts, often experience paranoia, and sometimes experience panic attacks  - sometimes it's clear to onlookers that I have issues, my awareness of this exacerbates anxiety, and shame.

My inability to go anywhere alone places a great burden on my family, especially my husband.

I am ashamed.

I AM EATING DISORDER -  probably the most terrifying symptom of mental illness Iv'e experienced yet, and the one I find the most difficult to write about.

This relatively new addition to my mental health issues frightens the life out of me, and I simply cannot find any 'justifiable' reason for starving myself half to death when I have five children who need me to be strong, and ALIVE!

I am ashamed.

(2016 edit...I have made some progress since this post was published, two years ago. I'm still unable to eat in front of people, and my eating is still somewhat disordered, but I am eating now (as opposed to surviving on cuppa-soup and coffee) and my weight is within a healthier range...there is progress. I'm not there yet, but I'm getting there... I think.)

I AM BENEFIT CLAIMANT - My youngest child and I are both disabled, my husband is our carer, we didn't ask to be a burden on society (Tory words, not mine) but we are - we take the 'social security' (incidentally, from the same system, that my husband paid into for 20 years, before taking on the role of full time carer) or we are unable to survive. 

Fear of the Government, the media, and the benefit system, fear of those in society who have no understanding of invisible illness/disability, and are taken in by the 'scrounger' rhetoric, has led to a dramatic increase in my symptoms, and has caused an Eating disorder, that I did not have prior to the UK Governments combined attack against welfare recipients.

It seems these days its almost impossible to read a newspaper without the words, liar - cheat 'scrounger', jumping out from the page.

I feel judged - by Government - media - society....I'm afraid that you, dear reader, may be judging me right now!

I am ashamed.

I AM DISABLED - Damaged 'stock', a drain on loved ones, a drain on the state.

I am ashamed.

POSITIVE THOUGHT

I AM ME - I am Me - I'm loving, kind, empathetic. Compassionate, generous, passionate. Creative.

I have a child-like way about me (not always a good thing), a wicked sense of humour, and a heart for the hurting.

I like Christmas, a lottle (that's like a little but a lot). I'm obsessed with Betty Boop; there may be more Boops in my house than there are in the Boop-Shop.

I love: Clouds, the sound and smell of the rain, the sun on my face, sand between my toes. Sausage meat between my fingers (that's not as mad as it sounds). Paddling. Puddle jumping. Mud between my toes. Being with my kids. Cappuccino!

I hate: Cruelty. The current UK Government. War. Greed. Fish (unless it's cod...cod's okay). Oh, and the wind; I HATE the wind, it's so... so irritatingly-windy!

I have a fabulous imagination, and the ability to get right down on a child's level, and I mean right down; like 50 going on five down, so I make a great playmate, Where my relationship with my children is concerned, these qualities are my saving grace.

PRAYER

Lord, I pray that the eyes of those who 'see it how it isn't', be opened, and the voices of those 'who tell it how it is', be heard. Amen.

Thank you for allowing me to share

God bless you and all those you love

Kimmie x

Related Posts
Just For Today
A Rant
A Fine Line
Agoraphobia (poem)
 Where I once saw special
Stranger Within

Tweet