Doing battle
I really like the power of intentionally posting about my own mental health related efforts. There's something refreshing and cleansing about taking my struggles out of a secret and dark place and into a normal, even slightly boring public one. Partially, I also hope that someone will see me talking openly about my current journey and feel a little less overwhelmed or hopeless about theirs.
That being said, I'm not writing this to give anyone else advice or motivation. I'm just talking about something I did today.
I got to my telehealth appointment early and noticed that I was dissociating already, with about five minutes until session start. The ability to speak was escaping me and I knew my voice would be clammed up while I scrabbled for a sense that my body was my own. It was curious. I haven't dissociated in a very long time. Spurred by the time crunch, I quickly practiced a grounding exercise to get myself to a place where I would be able to speak.
I was glad this worked. My therapist was very neutral, unhurried, and friendly. I showed her that I was painting my nails offscreen and opted not to speak to fill any silences. She asked me some questions about what had been bothering me, the specifics of which I'll leave off the post. I surprised myself with the honesty of my words. Prior to the session, impostor syndrome's creeping shadow tried to convince me to turn away. She let me know that my intake assessments indicated high anxiety, the presence of PTSD, and the presence of depression. Only the depression came as a surprise.
We continued talking, her asking questions, me answering. I told her that I felt I had no support system despite being surrounded by friends. This confused her. Did I not feel I could lean on my friends? I clarified, I probably could if I needed to, but I would feel ego dystonic proportions of guilt if it got there. She said, very casually, "Oh! So you were emotionally neglected as a child?" I offered my perspective, then told her I needed to take a short break. With my camera and microphone disabled, I stumbled to the other side of my apartment, didn't scream from the bottom of my lungs, and then came back. This overwhelm came on very suddenly. I think most of all I was startled by how easily the clinician summoned it from me. But she was kind, nonjudgmental.
She quickly posted a link in our virtual session's chat and asked me to click over. A blue dot was moving side to side on screen. I realized that this was EMDR. I heard her voice explaining that we would use this for grounding. For a moment I wondered if I should stop or ask for prior warning to being therapized in this manner, but the dot moving from side to side truthfully was oddly calming. My thoughts kept moving, but when the animation stopped, everything in me went quiet like when you hear a gong at the end of a meditation session.
We continued, alternating between short question--and--answer dialogues followed by interaction with the bilateral stimulation (that's what EMDR is) webtool. In our consultation she told me that it would be fun, and... it was. She asked me about places in nature that I liked, my favorite animals, favorite sounds, and then manipulated the webtool to reflect my answers. The background became a river. The auditory backing track became a thunderstorm. The dot turned into a cute bee. I asked for the synchronized tone to be a heartbeat.
At one point she asked me what I was noticing, and I told her I was distracted by plans to get pizza with a friend immediately after therapy. She asked what else I felt, and I said I felt like a wet sardine. I demonstrated by flopping my arm around, which made her laugh. When we went back to the bi/stim page, she turned the dot into an animated slice of pizza. Some kind of joy broke through me, and when that chunk was finished I told her that what I was noticing was how hard it was not to bust up when I saw the animation.
One thing that was different about this provider was that she talked very casually about her pets and the things she was doing to take care of them. She let me know that she wanted to see me on a different day because one of her dogs needed surgery. It was such a normal conversation. I sit here surprised that therapy could really feel therapeutic. Later, when I made it to getting pizza with the friend, courage returned. My life still takes effort, and I must be watchful, but on the other side of terrified vigilance is calmness and bravery. I will not be broken, I will be a human being.
I feel lighter for having done the session, but I also feel tired, like I fought on a huge field. I wrote this post because I was thinking about battles. I will sleep deeply tonight, worn out and ready to sink into dreams.