Back to Friday
well, yesterday was also hard. My therapist had been to a conference and heard some psychiatrist say that ocd is not an anxiety disorder, though it's fueled by anxiety, etc.; the speaker said, 'it's a brain disorder, and is treated with the antipsychotic medication risperdal.' Fucking great. What does that mean? I did a little web research, and in fact sometimes that med is used to treat ocd in conjunction with the ssri's (you know, the ones with all the nice commercials) or sometimes alone. But an antipsychotic? No one knows why risperdal works for schizophrenia and bipolar mania (and I must thank God I don't have these disorders, especially the first) so of course no one knows why it helps ocd.
Of course, I know I'm not psychotic. I know that I never will be. But the idea of suffering hard-wired into my brain is quite terrifying; one of my great core fears, and one of the reasons I've had so much trouble feeling my hard feelings over the years, is the belief that the feeling will never end. So when someone comes along and says that the ocd 'loop,' that dark repetetive and terror-filled circuit, where some thing that someone else could overlook hangs around my neck like Frodo's ring, pulling, dragging, whispering...when someone tells me that loop is a permanenet part of my head, I get very afraid. I know, rationally, that ocd responds to cognitive and exposure therapies, that releasing feelings like anger helps, that relaxation helps; shit, scotch helps. I know that I may yet find a med I can tolerate which will help. And I've been told for many years, by different therapists, that it will never completely go away, but that I can learn to manage it, can significant relief. It wasn't long ago I felt great relief myself, and I admit the last few weeks have been as much pain and anger and simply hard feelings (and why should I run from those, even if I don't like facing them) as anxiety and obsession.
But I am sure, my spiritual doubt is at least partly ocd. It's that core fear: 'you are not loved and you are alone in this world.' Actually, that was my childhood experience. It replays itself in my doubt problem; it's what gives my doubts that belly-terror umph they have. I don't just think, 'hmmm, maybe God isn't real and Shermer and Huxley and Hume are right;' I think that and am filled with terror and horror immediately. That, friends, is an obsession. And you can't reason with an obsession. Thinking about my doubt at that time yields nothing productive. Those issues can be sorted out, but not when my mind, I almost said my child's mind, is racing.
Of course, if I lived in the sixteenth century, my doubts would have a different character, perhaps something like Luther's sin obsessions. But with so much intelligent energy channelled into the cause of agnosticism these days...it's tough for an inquisitive person not to stumble across those arguments. And then...I've shared the rest.
But back to the hard feeling part of my share. I got Christmas presents from my dad this week, a first. In fact, everyone in my family got something (I suppose I need to call and thank him). My brother, who has drawn a more obvious boundary, I doubt got anything. I know my dad called him and said, 'we won't be coming to so. cal. anytime in the near future.' What a man. Fuck you dad. He simply no idea what a jerk he is being, an emotional junior-higher. No, wait, my son is in seventh grade and wouldn't treat a son like that if he had one, magically, tomorrow. No, dad pulls away when he gets a little bit hurt, sees himself as the victim, and blames my brother. And I'm supposed to be the good guy now? Does he know, he doesn't know, how I feel about the way he treated my bro. Feeling all these feelings may cause me to feel differently towards him in time, maybe not; but I'm doing this because I've discovered a part of myself I didn't know was there, a part which needs to be experienced and heard.
But what will I do? Call the space cadet and tell him thanks, I guess. Mikey got a very nice little thing. I am grateful for that, though not at the cost of my brother's blood, which is how it feels. Did it even occur to my stepmother, who is quite agile in the world of interpersonal drama, that my brother would of course find out we got stuff and he didn't? Is that part of this or am I paranoid? But then, I don't know that his family didn't get anything. Yet I'm so angry it seems it almost doesn't matter; this is triggering some past hurt and it might as well roll on out here.
Oh boy.
And one more thing. Regular readers (and I love you all) remember my work drama from a couple months ago. That led me to look into moving campuses within my district. I had lunch again yesterday with two faculty from the English dept at the school I'd like to shift to, and it went well. I'd still have to apply just like everybody else, do a teaching demo, interview, all that. Things could go wrong along any step. But I have the support of two of them, and I may be able to get more aboard before they even begin screening apps (and for this job, there will probably be around 200). I told them I still wasn't sure I'd apply. Of course, time is getting short, and I will have to make a choice soon. There are so many issues involved in this I need another post, but for those of you who pray, I appreciate quick prayer for this. Tell you what, I'll even pray for myself, like a fundraiser donation matching thing. I'm grateful that the quick prayers of others will get me to pray.
Oh man.
What else? Things are a bit tough right now with S and I; this is not surprising considering all the crap I'm going through...my feelings are so powerful. I do feel like we're communicating a little more; we need more and more of the open talking and closeness we fostered years ago. Marriage has changed our relationship so much, made it more like our parents' relationships (which were not good) in subtle ways. My therapist says that's because we didn't know our parents when they were dating, but we have them as unconscious role models as married partners. Yuch. Puke. Blech.
But then, my dear wife may read this (hi honey) and I need to tell her these things directly.
***
Another Christmas party tonight, at a friend's house. I admit I love getting dressed up for those things; I like to officially party. I may bake if I have time as that is so therapeutic. But either way, it will be nice to have the human contact, eat, drink and be merry. (Yeah, I know the context of that quote in Paul).
***
Thanks to all for reading. I let my self hang out here, and I need it and love it. These posts aren't about writing, they're about sharing, healing, finding support in a strange and frightening world. I still need to find a meeting! But this is a great help regardless.
On a very separate note, James Brown can sure sing a Christmas tune. Napster him if you can.
Peace to all, including myself
Of course, I know I'm not psychotic. I know that I never will be. But the idea of suffering hard-wired into my brain is quite terrifying; one of my great core fears, and one of the reasons I've had so much trouble feeling my hard feelings over the years, is the belief that the feeling will never end. So when someone comes along and says that the ocd 'loop,' that dark repetetive and terror-filled circuit, where some thing that someone else could overlook hangs around my neck like Frodo's ring, pulling, dragging, whispering...when someone tells me that loop is a permanenet part of my head, I get very afraid. I know, rationally, that ocd responds to cognitive and exposure therapies, that releasing feelings like anger helps, that relaxation helps; shit, scotch helps. I know that I may yet find a med I can tolerate which will help. And I've been told for many years, by different therapists, that it will never completely go away, but that I can learn to manage it, can significant relief. It wasn't long ago I felt great relief myself, and I admit the last few weeks have been as much pain and anger and simply hard feelings (and why should I run from those, even if I don't like facing them) as anxiety and obsession.
But I am sure, my spiritual doubt is at least partly ocd. It's that core fear: 'you are not loved and you are alone in this world.' Actually, that was my childhood experience. It replays itself in my doubt problem; it's what gives my doubts that belly-terror umph they have. I don't just think, 'hmmm, maybe God isn't real and Shermer and Huxley and Hume are right;' I think that and am filled with terror and horror immediately. That, friends, is an obsession. And you can't reason with an obsession. Thinking about my doubt at that time yields nothing productive. Those issues can be sorted out, but not when my mind, I almost said my child's mind, is racing.
Of course, if I lived in the sixteenth century, my doubts would have a different character, perhaps something like Luther's sin obsessions. But with so much intelligent energy channelled into the cause of agnosticism these days...it's tough for an inquisitive person not to stumble across those arguments. And then...I've shared the rest.
But back to the hard feeling part of my share. I got Christmas presents from my dad this week, a first. In fact, everyone in my family got something (I suppose I need to call and thank him). My brother, who has drawn a more obvious boundary, I doubt got anything. I know my dad called him and said, 'we won't be coming to so. cal. anytime in the near future.' What a man. Fuck you dad. He simply no idea what a jerk he is being, an emotional junior-higher. No, wait, my son is in seventh grade and wouldn't treat a son like that if he had one, magically, tomorrow. No, dad pulls away when he gets a little bit hurt, sees himself as the victim, and blames my brother. And I'm supposed to be the good guy now? Does he know, he doesn't know, how I feel about the way he treated my bro. Feeling all these feelings may cause me to feel differently towards him in time, maybe not; but I'm doing this because I've discovered a part of myself I didn't know was there, a part which needs to be experienced and heard.
But what will I do? Call the space cadet and tell him thanks, I guess. Mikey got a very nice little thing. I am grateful for that, though not at the cost of my brother's blood, which is how it feels. Did it even occur to my stepmother, who is quite agile in the world of interpersonal drama, that my brother would of course find out we got stuff and he didn't? Is that part of this or am I paranoid? But then, I don't know that his family didn't get anything. Yet I'm so angry it seems it almost doesn't matter; this is triggering some past hurt and it might as well roll on out here.
Oh boy.
And one more thing. Regular readers (and I love you all) remember my work drama from a couple months ago. That led me to look into moving campuses within my district. I had lunch again yesterday with two faculty from the English dept at the school I'd like to shift to, and it went well. I'd still have to apply just like everybody else, do a teaching demo, interview, all that. Things could go wrong along any step. But I have the support of two of them, and I may be able to get more aboard before they even begin screening apps (and for this job, there will probably be around 200). I told them I still wasn't sure I'd apply. Of course, time is getting short, and I will have to make a choice soon. There are so many issues involved in this I need another post, but for those of you who pray, I appreciate quick prayer for this. Tell you what, I'll even pray for myself, like a fundraiser donation matching thing. I'm grateful that the quick prayers of others will get me to pray.
Oh man.
What else? Things are a bit tough right now with S and I; this is not surprising considering all the crap I'm going through...my feelings are so powerful. I do feel like we're communicating a little more; we need more and more of the open talking and closeness we fostered years ago. Marriage has changed our relationship so much, made it more like our parents' relationships (which were not good) in subtle ways. My therapist says that's because we didn't know our parents when they were dating, but we have them as unconscious role models as married partners. Yuch. Puke. Blech.
But then, my dear wife may read this (hi honey) and I need to tell her these things directly.
***
Another Christmas party tonight, at a friend's house. I admit I love getting dressed up for those things; I like to officially party. I may bake if I have time as that is so therapeutic. But either way, it will be nice to have the human contact, eat, drink and be merry. (Yeah, I know the context of that quote in Paul).
***
Thanks to all for reading. I let my self hang out here, and I need it and love it. These posts aren't about writing, they're about sharing, healing, finding support in a strange and frightening world. I still need to find a meeting! But this is a great help regardless.
On a very separate note, James Brown can sure sing a Christmas tune. Napster him if you can.
Peace to all, including myself
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