Still going through a tough period. I am crying a lot and not wanting to talk much. On the way home from the hospital today I suddenly had an idea for trying to control mean voice's capacity to torment and undermine my confidence.
I came straight in the door and went through to the sitting room and started work with the plasticine we have been using to create all sorts of designs for a cob house build. I made a plasticine model of mean voice that looks like an obese Morph from Visiion On, a children's art show for deaf and deafened children in the 1960's and 70's. She has one finger up in the air agressively showing me what she thinks of my creative efforts. I squeezed her into an old pickle jar. I'd have normally made the orchard apple jelly and chutney by now. My partner found my little bag of Guatemalan Worry People and I dropped them all in on her back and then screwed the jar down tightly. She can take the weight for a change. I then made a label and didn't even bother to make it a pleasant label or amusing one and just stuck it on with sellotape.
I felt better for doing it. Shakey. But I do know with some of myself at least that I have a choice about how I handle mean voice. This urgent plasticine activity was an attempt to say I am trying hard not to let mean voice win. Not win so much as take over. I wish I had more emotional energy for the task and I dread these periods when I feel wretched and raw again.
Painting takes me to places I have never been within myself. What I can't seem to do just now is make the connections I want to make between my emotional awareness at a non-verbal level which leave me sometimes astonishingly aware and most of the time feeling traumatised - and the practical day-to-day bits and pieces of living.
Thank you P for the parcel today. I chose not to open it or read it - yes, the day has felt that desolate - but love oozed through the envelope. My partner was thrilled when he opened it for me as you have included something edible which is one of his favourites - I can see I will have to hide them.
I have done my best to stay up and not retreat, literally, to bed on return from hospital. West Wing was on but I wasn't really with the plot I have to say. Ridiculous as it sounds I was waiting for mean voice's retaliation. I just kept saying I have a choice. I don't really believe it yet - but it worked for maybe half an hour or so - which is better than mean voice taking over all day every day. In the half an hour there was nothing as far as I am aware going on inside. I had to force myself not to look at the mean voice in the jar as if I was checking on a live creature. She (the mean voice in me) will sleep in the study tonight.
Agitated and dead inside I feel physically much as I do after a serious lung infection or Glandular Fever. Everything needs to be checked and double-checked from have I cleaned my teeth to the gentle and very well meant enquiries about whether I am going to shower or get up etc...
Is mean voice better than no voice? It was a close run thing. When mean voice returned she had plenty to say about my attempts to "demean" her and "control" her. She reminded me who was in charge. I feel like taking anything to knock me out overnight so she can't get me at my most vulnerable in the early hours.
Good points today:
Hospital.
Seeing Joseph, our collie enjoy a quick sniff round the grass outside the hospital and do a perfect recall.
Bad points:
I have slipped back.
I accept choice but do not have the emotional energy at the moment to make safe and consistent choices regarding my own needs.
I am frightened that other people's help could have unbearable implications in the future.
Still have no idea who I am or who I want to be.
Going down feels precious/tortuous and very must.
BUT my only linkage at the moment is that the professionals must have some idea why I am getting stuck and how to give me the emotional equivalent of Epsom Salts.
Our love and prayers to you all.G
Posted by: Gwen | 10/25/2007 at 07:10 PM