Yesterday I took a big step in my quest for finding inner-peace, or at least figuring out how to begin to achieve inner-peace. Yesterday, I went to see a psychiatrist. I found him after doing some research online. He received high recommendations from patients, I liked the location of his practice, and I went with gut.
The building is shared by a number of health wellbeing practitioners; acupuncturists, massage therapists, counselors, psychiatrists, and herbalists. The waiting room was warm and inviting, with soothing music playing, and a number of sound masking machines in use outside a number of doors. There was a small kitchenette and on the fridge, a large herd of magnetic words that others had put together into small poems, sentences, sayings or just random pairings.
“Eat all things” “Don’t stop here” “Love is in every place” “Heart” “Loss” and on and on….
After a short wait, Dr. Paul came in and called me into his office. It was a room I was glad to be in. Also warm and inviting. Overstuffed chair, a couch, and books…lots of books…and art…around the room. Very comfy.
We went through the preliminary and normal form filling ritual for insurance purposes. Then, he handed me a 21 question questionnaire meant to determine my current state of mind. I knew it wasn’t going to be a ‘fun’ session when I began to cry just reading the questions. I finished, he tallied them up, and based on the number told me that I would place in the “depressed” section of a line that went from “Happy” to “Suicidal” (He didn’t use those words, but that’s the gist of it).
Now came the question. “Why are you here?”.
Why am I here.
“I’m tired of being angry” I replied.
“What are you angry about?” He asked.
What am I not angry about would be a better question.
I really didn’t know the exact answer. It’s everything I said. But, I do know that it goes way far back. Right now, I have no reason to be angry. For the first time in my memory, I’m in a place where I have nothing to be angry, upset or sad about. Life is good. I have an amazing husband who I love with all of my heart. I have a son that fills my heart with unimaginable joy. I have a father and a step-mother that light my days. I have friends that love me, support me and bring sunshine into my soul. I have a community in my church that uplifts me and who I cherish. I have a nice home. For the first time I don’t stress whether or not we have money in the bank. I have a job. I have reliable transportation. I have a dog and a cat whose love fills every little nook and cranny in my being…. Life is good.
I’m angry. I can’t enjoy or relax into my happiness. I feel guilty. I’m angry. I feel undeserving of what I have, and the worst part is that I feel undeserving of anything better.
He asked me to explain.
I started at the beginning. My lack of memories. My lack of happy memories. I told him about how my parents had divorced when I was really young and how my mother had remarried shortly thereafter and how we’d moved to Brazil, then to Spain then they’d kicked me out at 15 and I spent a year with my father and step-mother and how I went back to my mother and step-father, probably because at the time I didn’t get along with my step-mother and that it was easier for me to not get along with my mother than it was to not get along with my step-mother how I left home right after high-school, how I was scared of my stepfather, how he’d beat me as a child, how my memories do include having to go get the dog’s leather leash and how that leash felt when he hit me with it, memories of times when it hurt to sit in school because my rear-end and legs were so welted, how they’d left me to tend for the house after I graduated high school while they went to Spain, how I’d had a party and it had gotten out of hand how I’d been raped at this party, how I couldn’t face the wrath of my stepfather and I left home and went to Maine how I became extremely promiscuous how I began to drink how alcohol numbed it all how I ended up in Chicago how I got pregnant and couldn’t make it as a single mom on my own so I moved to Maryland to live with my father and step-mother who were now here, how I met my ex-husband how I married him shortly thereafter how we were horrible for each other how we both drank how he did drugs how he raped me for much our marriage how he beat me one night how we grew to abuse his step-son how I left how I lost my youngest son how my eldest son went into his own pit of despair and anger how I had to kick him out how my mother turned her back on him how she claimed that my stepfather had been a good father how he’d never hit me how I was a horrible person for thinking bad things about him…………………
It was a verbal flow of pain and anger. It was an opening of a faucet and an inability to stop the flow…….
He called it “A big ball of mess”
A big ball of mess. I am grinning as I write this. How perfect. A big ball of mess.
He sort of chuckled and said that one of his strong points was being able to remember stories. He is a story-capturer. He said thought that he was pretty sure that I had a lot more that I hadn’t fit into my 4o minutes of full disclosure. So much more. Each one of those branches has off-shoots of other pains other memories other angers. A big ball of mess alright.
We’re going to spend the next few sessions breaking down my big ball of mess. Then, he’s going to put me to work and make me go outside of my comfort zones to begin the process of reconciling my anger and making a decision about it. Keep it, and accept it. Reject it and accept it.
I am broken inside. However, I know that my pieces can be put back together. One step at a time.
I’m looking forward to having a new name for my Big Ball Of Mess.