Your Feels Aren’t a Secret (from Me) feat. Abuse
Does anyone know why Dog’s breath smells like hospital after he has been sedated? It’s nasty and it lasts for hours and I have no idea what it is. He was on profonol and presumably intubated, but otherwise was just sitting around being scanned.
Talked to my therapist about their emotional masking. It clearly makes them uncomfortable but we did make progress. They verbally agreed to the concept of having had an emotional reaction that produced some barrier to a thing I’ve asked them several times to help me with. That’s rational brain on board. We’ll see if their feels brain is on board next week, because it wasn’t there yet.
My brain complains that I am manipulating them unfairly. They claim to want it this sort of interaction but they clearly do not currently like it. I talked to them specifically about how people don’t like it, and was reassuranced it would be fine, but they didn’t like and it didn’t want to talk about not liking it. I think I may have overwhelmed them slightly before the session was over. They were not quite in a hurry to be done, like they might be if they had another pressing concern, but said the same slightly odd itinerary acknowledgememt/dismissal thing several times almost 10 minutes before the end of the session, until I decided out time was up.
The thing I eventually need from them is to help me find a smarter therapist, at least supplementally. But we’ll have to practice on lower stakes heists first. I’ve got some in mind but I do not know if they will be up for helping me with them.
Got back to the day job today, after doing none yesterday. Got through my deadlinr work for the week and out of most meetings, but I’m still skating on SRs. I will knock out a couple tomorrow to make next week sane. And I’m going to start on my masking machine mask during HA4Hs.
I think the quaranteeny theater will get real quarantine use this weekend. LS is coming up – driving themselves, which is really convenient – and we’re going to watch a movie. It’s nice and cool here most nights so we’ll get to snuggle into blankets and I can wear fuzzy socks and a hoodie. Having the gear to be comfortable outside – instead of only having enough to survive – is new to me, and still not entirely comfortable. But it’s one of the reasons I built a theater, so I could start to feel less survival-y about living outside. It feels both like freedom and death to me; abandonment and comfort. I need to practice having it just be bland and at least vaguely positive. And Shanda needs to practice being seen.
I saw more clearly today how I can’t feed myself properly because there is no food that’s in too poor a condition for me to refuse it and have other food. If I’m cooking for someone else I can, but not for myself. I can decide not to eat it but instead of having something else I just abandon the plan to eat. It’s not great. It’s also one of the reasons I’m ashamed to eat with other people, lest they notice that I eat bad food. It’s better to be invisible than to be a garbage food person. It would be great if my eating disorder didn’t have 117 seperate aspects to address. Also if I didn’t spend the first few years of my life learning to eat urban trash and raw wildlife and shitting in a hole in the neighborhood’s yard.
Shanda has finally agreed to be sad about Dog dying, which is a great relief. It’s been pent up for a while now and it has been very stressful for both of us. I’m glad it’s not secret anymore. I know it will be hard to grieve for Dog, but it will be easier if we do it together. And I can help you do the sort of things that will let you remember Dog with gracious love instead of possessive nostalgia.
ZiB
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Sent from a phone.
