I had my I’m-better-now bubble popped today. I’m good at taking care of myself though– this would have been a dangerous level of dissociation in the past. At this point I am clear that I do want to use SI to manage it. And I did not get absorbed in fantasies about SI either. I see a lot of growth in myself even as I’m laid up on the sofa, really not able to do anything- with a major headache and plans for the day had to be forsaken– Basically– I’m ok. I’m not even all the way through it but I’m ok. And I’m a bit sick of medication and confused about medication. It’s my confession that I suspect it made things worse– am sure worse in the longer picture– maybe/probably better – much better – in the immediate problem of needing to be able to get myself home. But I really don’t want to talk about it with professionals because I rarely take it and I do not want it to be taken away from me. I feel up against that. I also feel up against having a number of topics that are opening for me in my head that I would like to talk to my therapist about but it’s all stuff that can trigger a lot of dissociation and I know all about it not being wise to force – that the entire value of therapy is that he does not force me and he teaches me how not to force myself. But there’s been stuff to talk about that I can’t talk about without force. I am on different channels over whether I want to go there. That feeling of being split, now that I write it out– that must be about the same as will to force. And I know that technical solution is to talk about talking about it without naming the stuff. I’m remembering when I first started and I would think of him like an md who wouldn’t touch where the pain was excruciating but would back off to where I could first tolerate some contact around the injury– all that suddenly sounds fishy in a si context- but that’s only now occurred to me.

Part of what I’ve been thinking as I’ve been resting -getting my strength back after the world was shifting around on me this afternoon is how much I would like to be in the arms of a man. I would like to be cared for and nursed. I feel that as my throat tightening, my chest tightening– somewhere starting with sad then going to panic, I think. And now I’m back to early moment before tears that I know will never come. I’m not sure what I feel. It isn’t really loneliness. I used to have that intense nurture from a man who would care from me. I don’t know why I feel like I’m being melodramatic by — I do know why– it’s because maybe I need to morn the good parts. How secure I felt in his steady arms. It feels melodramatic to interrupt my experience of that sadness – or that memory of feeling so safe– with the other reality that that same person was everything but safe. Safety was the cost of my protection. …..I am a much better nurse to myself…. Mistakes I am not making include: I am not calling myself names I am re-focusing my thoughts when they go toward anxiety of stuff I was supposed to do today that I ended up un able to manage, I did check in with my therapist who was able to point out that I was talking and able to plan and I heard that – let it in- saw that when I am off I am not a great judge of whether I am ok…. but then how much of that was the medication working….- I am doing right now by just pulling my thoughts out of that, I am doing right by writing, I am doing right by resting. I made sure I ate. I am remember other people saying they weren’t mad at me. I feel a little scared of going back to therapy tomorrow but I don’t have to think about that either. …..and I can remember my therapist suggesting that there could be some long term gain- that this is just not feeling very good. I think i might have been the one who said that it will pass.