last counseling session

So last counseling meeting… hmmm…  didn’t talk about much deep crap; though I wish I had stronger nerves so I could talk about it.  The counselor is the same one I’ve been seeing; same one that counseling Erik and I.  I hadn’t seen him in over four months since I left my last job, so it was playing catch up on what was going on in my life. 

But, it seems, even if the session weren’t spent playing “catch up” I don’t know how much I would have talked about.  Opening up, well…  it’s so hard for me.  Everyone tells me I’m supposed to be ok.  Look how great my life is!  I have a job, which in these times is something in itself to be thankful for.  I have a wonderful husband who can clean, cook, and still fix my car.  Even got a great little dog. 

Why can’t I be happy?  What am I missing?  The past haunts me so much.  I relive things over and over again, so vividly.  It takes so much strength and energy to focus on work at work.  And still I end up crying. 

My counselor asked me what if this is as good as life gets?  … hmmm…  my reply, and I still stand by it, is that I’m screwed.  I know this will be something I live with the rest of my life.  Something that won’t go away.  Anti-depressants don’t help.  Even friends don’t help because I can never fully convince myself someone would actually want to be my friend.  It’s easy to convince myself everyone would be better without me in their life.  It’s hard.  It takes so much energy to snap out of it, to concentrate on what I need to.  And then my husband wonders why I’m so tired. 

I go back on Wednesday.  I hope to be more open.  But I’m not sure I can.


I have a counseling appointment on Wednesday. First time I’ve been back since starting thisnew job. I had to wait until I got sick time as I have to work until 5 pm, and to get to my appointment, I have to leave at least at 4:30 pm. So 30 minutes of sick time every two weeks.

I haven’t told my boss yet that this would be an on going thing. I guess I’ll just send an email every two weeks and hope that she is forgetful enough to not notice. So what if she wants proof that I was under some type of health person’s care? Can she require a “doctor’s note” and if so, how do you keep something like that private? Oh well.

I guess the bigger picture here though is I’m still scared to go to my counseling appointment. I feel all talked out, empty. What do you say once you’ve hit that point? Hello I’m depressed now what? I know… I know…  I’m never going to beat this so I need to stop complaining. I watched Girl, Interrupted and Nell this weekend.  I was in tears by Saturday night.  So very hard to get through.  Maybe because I connect so well.

I’ve started doing landfill inspections twice a week.  One longer, one shorter trip.  About 4 hours for the long one and 2 hours walking for the shorter one.  It is so tiring I’m ready for this to be over with.  I come home from the long one and just crash.  Hubby’s nice enough to help out with the chores and cook on those nights.

Oh well, finally got my W-2, so hopefully we can get our taxes done soon.

This week will be busy…  tonight bowling, Wed counseling and Thursday an AWMA meeting.

last counseling appointment

yes, i know back in april i said no more counseling.  that didn’t last long so i started seeing the counselor again.  i like him alot.  it’s still hard to talk though.  extremely hard.  but it’s so hard to talk even if no one were in the room.  i guess i get so worked up i chicken out of saying what i want to.  i also have problems just sorting out what to say.  what’s wrong … how the heck do i know.  i just feel down … really down.  meds don’t work.  and i can’t explain the feelings enough to have the counseling work to it’s full extent.  i think i made my counselor really mad last time.  or maybe just frustrated.  i do that to all my counselors.  they all get so frustrated because they don’t know how to help me.  and meanwhile i don’t get any better.  at least i’m not as bad as i was in missouri.  then i was living day to day.  now i still want to die so badly.  but know i cant.  what would erik do about the house.  i don’t think a lot of life insurance companies cover suicide.  i feel trapped.  the only way to stop the feelings is to die and i can’t do that.  so i’m trapped here.  i’m just so confused.  everything is so overwhelming.  but there isn’t a lot going on for me to be overwhelmed.  when i quit my last job i pretty much gave up counseling.  my last appointment was he could do 7 in the morning but i wouldn’t be able to get to work on time and i couldn’t go in the afternoon because i have to work to 5.  so hopefully in the new year i will start getting some sick time that way i can take off to go to appointments.  i miss that time talking to someone.  i guess it shouldn’t matter.  nothing matters.

not a friend

I’m not your friend. That’s what I wanted to shout. I held it in though. Too afraid to make a scene, too afraid to let the counselor know how much I was hurting. You shouldn’t care how I treat myself, that I want to cut myself, that I want to hurt myself, that I want to kill myself. You are a counselor, not a friend. You can’t be both.

I have problems with boundaries. I want to tell someone so bad the stuff inside of me. Trust is a big issue with me. But there comes a point in time where the trust issues are void—they don’t matter near as much as the feelings of wanting to be accepted.

Only I won’t be accepted, and I know that. So I push the “friend” away. It’s a constant tug of war within me. Pushing the person away only to try to win their friendship back again. I know it makes no sense. Nothing much in my life does.

If they get too close, I have to accept that maybe I am likeable. Maybe or not. Maybe they just have bad tastes in friends. Maybe they are just trying to hurt me. And I deserve to be hurt. Maybe they are trying to get some sense of satisfaction over “curing” me. Well, I can tell them this now, to save them from the hurt of finding it out later, that I can’t be cured. Whatever beast is inside of me won’t ever leave, and I will feel this way the rest of my life. It’s a scary thought, but one I must learn to live with.

I want to be the counselor’s friend. I want him to be my friend too. But it is impossible. When the relationship ends, I try to convince myself that the counselor is dead, but they are not. I know that deep inside and it tears me up. What did I do that they don’t love me anymore. How can I win that caring back? I wish I could do something to win back their love, but I can’t. I must have done something terribly wrong for them to not want to talk to me anymore. To be lucky to get a one line response to an email every now and then. The closest thing to a friend I have is a counselor, and I have to pay for that friendship.

But that’s ok. I don’t deserve the friend, the counselor, to feel happy.