This session followed an intense week for me because I was again very upset with the audio tape, therapist called to discuss it (after staff obviously co-reviewed it) and told me to FOCUS on visualizing and not editorializing, something anyone here who reads what I write, knows I do this.
But what I realized this week is a couple of critical things:
I 'editorize' because I'm constantly translating everything I hear and see, always looking for what's REALLY meant behind what's said. In my house if you were told black is white, you better believe it or else...even if you knew it was a total lie.
And my efforts to tell the truth, to teachers, guidance counselors who then called home after speaking to me or looking at my drawings only got me into boiling oil at home. No one was pulling a little white girl out of an upper middle class home in the '50s, who ever heard of such a thing. I didnt have a bruise on me, wasnt raped daily, everyone drinks and has family issues...right?
What I need most is to learn the correct technique of pushing aside the decades of internal chatter but the only way to do it is look at it very closely, honestly, face it, and then put it away. Not forever, put it away and then relax with something rewarding, be it favorite tea, something more, but reward the child as well as the adult that dared to 'see' it for what it was.
So that meant doing a 3rd version of the audio tape. As I listened to each version my voice gets stronger, more facts come out because I've stopped distracting myself from 'seeing' what was going on and the unspeakable question that somewhere deep inside was finally asked, not by me, but by the therapist.."Do you feel that your mother caused your father's death?"
I do, but of course can never prove it. I was only invited back to the apartment to confirm what she clearly knew, with a stone cold stiff- as-marble-body lying in his bed.
Years later when I thought her defenses were lowered I asked her if she remembered doctoring his pills, in effect each dose was doubled because of inserting tiny pain pills into the sleep meds. My father was like a bull. After decades of drinking a fifth of scotch nightly I guess an extra pill wasnt making much of a dent. She denied even knowing what I was talking about, "Oh you misunderstood, I was helping him because he kept asking for pills so I put sugar inside and dumped the medicine out."
We wouldn't have needed two docs prescribing and two pharmacies filling the same narcotics if sugar was replacing the meds...?
Ah, the wonderful days of no computers and record keeping that could be easily lost, changed or whatever.
While I grieve for my father, its amazing what a role my mother played of such negative and destructive behavior. Much of which I cannot even write here
So the 3rd tape is actually visualizing and reporting what I saw and experienced with much less anxiety even though, even though it is now becoming uglier and clearer, the anxiety level is actually dissipating as though a steam valve is being loosened, pressure is being released.
This week's work at home is making lists of all positive experiences to do with Dad, not only in action but emotion, places, things said and I can bring pictures to next week's session. My mother made a concerted effort to destroy most of the family photos as well as all her personal letters so I have only 4 pictures of my father and a pair of cuff links.
Along with this special project are the week to week monitoring of thoughts, highs and lows of grief and who/what/where provoked those feelings and any physical issues and there have been some. The stress of doing this work has brought on recurring shingles. The doctor finally prescribed an antiviral which is amazing in shutting down the symptoms. I'm very lucky because I read many people do not have success with the med used for this. I also do not think any of the grief work could happen without being on the study meds because the grey clouds lifted and the strength needed had to be found, with these medications this has been the case.
Those rabbis and others who pooh pooh and condemn medications as are being utilized in this study, should be drawn and quartered for harming people and frightening the vulnerable who need help and think saying tehillim 3 hrs or studying texts is the answer for all Life's questions. G-d gave us brains and expects us to use them, even when it may seem to contradict halacha according to conventional practice. While prayer is important, it is not a replacement for seeking appropriate medical or emotional help so life is as the Rebbe often told us, 'b'simcha.'
***A word about Mr. B. His breath was so bad when I was clipping his nails I opened his mouth and found a wiggly grey molar. After looking online for something in my medicine cabinet that might relieve his pain...he had been isolating, snapping at me and his pal, but eating and coming to me to play alone...so I didnt think it was anything more than a recent diet change I made for them and he might be having some digestive problems. His teeth are missing and rotting, he has periodontal issues. The vet warned me it may cost thousands to treat and there is only one doctor in this part of the state that does feline dental surgery. We discussed giving him oral antibiotics, but Mr. B is not to be toyed with unless he decides what game he wants to play and having pills pushed down his throat 3x a day is not his idea of fun. So an antibotic was injected between the shoulder blades, the vet rubbed his shoulders for about a minute to disperse the medication. Within 2 days he was head butting his very hurt and confused little pal who feels so dejected from being chased out of the bedroom every night and made to stay in the living room where its colder. I had to finally buy another heater and make a whole snuggly place and bring B2 there (he has his own lullaby we sing) so he didnt feel completely orphanated-new word-orphanated, descriptive verb, feel free to use it:-)
But what I realized this week is a couple of critical things:
I 'editorize' because I'm constantly translating everything I hear and see, always looking for what's REALLY meant behind what's said. In my house if you were told black is white, you better believe it or else...even if you knew it was a total lie.
And my efforts to tell the truth, to teachers, guidance counselors who then called home after speaking to me or looking at my drawings only got me into boiling oil at home. No one was pulling a little white girl out of an upper middle class home in the '50s, who ever heard of such a thing. I didnt have a bruise on me, wasnt raped daily, everyone drinks and has family issues...right?
What I need most is to learn the correct technique of pushing aside the decades of internal chatter but the only way to do it is look at it very closely, honestly, face it, and then put it away. Not forever, put it away and then relax with something rewarding, be it favorite tea, something more, but reward the child as well as the adult that dared to 'see' it for what it was.
So that meant doing a 3rd version of the audio tape. As I listened to each version my voice gets stronger, more facts come out because I've stopped distracting myself from 'seeing' what was going on and the unspeakable question that somewhere deep inside was finally asked, not by me, but by the therapist.."Do you feel that your mother caused your father's death?"
I do, but of course can never prove it. I was only invited back to the apartment to confirm what she clearly knew, with a stone cold stiff- as-marble-body lying in his bed.
Years later when I thought her defenses were lowered I asked her if she remembered doctoring his pills, in effect each dose was doubled because of inserting tiny pain pills into the sleep meds. My father was like a bull. After decades of drinking a fifth of scotch nightly I guess an extra pill wasnt making much of a dent. She denied even knowing what I was talking about, "Oh you misunderstood, I was helping him because he kept asking for pills so I put sugar inside and dumped the medicine out."
We wouldn't have needed two docs prescribing and two pharmacies filling the same narcotics if sugar was replacing the meds...?
Ah, the wonderful days of no computers and record keeping that could be easily lost, changed or whatever.
While I grieve for my father, its amazing what a role my mother played of such negative and destructive behavior. Much of which I cannot even write here
So the 3rd tape is actually visualizing and reporting what I saw and experienced with much less anxiety even though, even though it is now becoming uglier and clearer, the anxiety level is actually dissipating as though a steam valve is being loosened, pressure is being released.
This week's work at home is making lists of all positive experiences to do with Dad, not only in action but emotion, places, things said and I can bring pictures to next week's session. My mother made a concerted effort to destroy most of the family photos as well as all her personal letters so I have only 4 pictures of my father and a pair of cuff links.
Along with this special project are the week to week monitoring of thoughts, highs and lows of grief and who/what/where provoked those feelings and any physical issues and there have been some. The stress of doing this work has brought on recurring shingles. The doctor finally prescribed an antiviral which is amazing in shutting down the symptoms. I'm very lucky because I read many people do not have success with the med used for this. I also do not think any of the grief work could happen without being on the study meds because the grey clouds lifted and the strength needed had to be found, with these medications this has been the case.
Those rabbis and others who pooh pooh and condemn medications as are being utilized in this study, should be drawn and quartered for harming people and frightening the vulnerable who need help and think saying tehillim 3 hrs or studying texts is the answer for all Life's questions. G-d gave us brains and expects us to use them, even when it may seem to contradict halacha according to conventional practice. While prayer is important, it is not a replacement for seeking appropriate medical or emotional help so life is as the Rebbe often told us, 'b'simcha.'
***A word about Mr. B. His breath was so bad when I was clipping his nails I opened his mouth and found a wiggly grey molar. After looking online for something in my medicine cabinet that might relieve his pain...he had been isolating, snapping at me and his pal, but eating and coming to me to play alone...so I didnt think it was anything more than a recent diet change I made for them and he might be having some digestive problems. His teeth are missing and rotting, he has periodontal issues. The vet warned me it may cost thousands to treat and there is only one doctor in this part of the state that does feline dental surgery. We discussed giving him oral antibiotics, but Mr. B is not to be toyed with unless he decides what game he wants to play and having pills pushed down his throat 3x a day is not his idea of fun. So an antibotic was injected between the shoulder blades, the vet rubbed his shoulders for about a minute to disperse the medication. Within 2 days he was head butting his very hurt and confused little pal who feels so dejected from being chased out of the bedroom every night and made to stay in the living room where its colder. I had to finally buy another heater and make a whole snuggly place and bring B2 there (he has his own lullaby we sing) so he didnt feel completely orphanated-new word-orphanated, descriptive verb, feel free to use it:-)
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