Is self-medicating really that bad?

I don't have any problem with drinking and don't see it as a sin like I did when I was a baptist. Maybe the way I use it isn't right, but maybe it is. It doesn't make a merry heart or help my stomach but it does help.
Chocolate, sweet tea, wine coolers, vodka smoothies...they all do the same thing for me. I think the vodka smoothies is the healthiest because of all the fruit I use. Fewest amount of calories and sugar to take care of major times of stress.
I drink a very small amount in social situations, but can down 4-8oz of vodka in a smoothie or oj when I am in extreme stress. Is that wrong? why or why not?
The idea of using med's causes some serious stress reactions, but I can get the same effect the meds would have using vodka but without triggering.

Not doing good today

I'm not doing so good. The last counseling session put words to things that I don't like to think about. I'm just on the edge of needing to sit with a bucket. I've barely got out of bed today. I got up to have breakfast with my girls at 11:30. They made biscuits and heated up yesterday's gravy. It was good southern food.

I'm supposed to be making a big batch of pumpkin muffins for tomorrow night. A potential pastor is coming to town with his family to meet with us and another family to see about starting a church. I just want to go somewhere, like deep under the covers, and not come out until they are gone. I am feeling so sick.

I'm so tired from trying to be normal for everyone around me...
I usually pull it off or have a good excuse to explain why I seem a bit off. When I can't take it anymore, then I try counseling. It makes it worse, yet I die by little bits when I just push it down and shove it back into boxes. I can't keep doing what I've been doing, but this counseling is scraping off the top layer as it oozes out of my boxes and looks at it and the looking hurts.
It hurts so much that I don't dare feel anything or think about it as me. If I did then I think I would cry...and not stop. It would be the scary crying, the kind that doesn't even care who sees or hears when I'm crying, but beforehand is so scared of the idea of anyone seeing. I don't know what the word is for that kind of crying. I just know that I melt and can only hold onto one thought.

So this is what working through trauma is like. I learned a new word last Thursday or at least had it directed towards me. I have been edgy, jumpy and nauseated ever since. I also read Christa Brown's book, This Little Light,  http://christabrown.wordpress.com/my-book/  yesterday and I didn't have enough sense to put it down until I finished it. I knew it was triggering for me, but I couldn't stop reading it anyway. No one to blame but myself.

Trying to start up counseling again

I haven't written anything since April...anywhere, or at least I don't remember doing so. I had a good time in Florida, I think. Underneath all the smiles and laughter were other things. I'm not sure which is real. Can both be real at the same time?

I'm supposed to be blogging through Bold Love. I haven't touched it in months. It was too much for me. I guess a self help sort of book that I'm going to be brutally honest with myself as I read it is going to require someone outside of myself to get me to actually do it. Evidently I don't have much self-government when it comes to hard things, I keep running.

Off and on since April I have thought about counseling and some of the stuff I talked about with Dr. A. I stopped seeing her because of that stupid letter she wanted me to write. I couldn't filter out what was pyscho bull and what was valid. I just shoved everything back in boxes until my child was ok and we had basically recovered from the last major rejection of us as a family and me as a person by our then newest friends back in July 2008. That still hurts but it's scabbed over nicely. We have had two major rejections of us since we moved here. I don't handle rejection well. It brings up all kinds of gut reactions and I hate it.

The last few months I keep thinking about going to see Dr C. He's Christian, even if he is baptist. Hopefully he can help, he reminds me of a former counselor I really liked. As long as there is a project or problem to solve then I stay busy and I don't think about things. Right now we are trying to get accepted by a denomination and then get a pastor sent to us. It's really stirring up fear of rejection and I don't like it. And that's on top of things starting to ooze out of my boxes again.

I called tonight and left a voice message for Dr C. I called after hours on purpose. I couldn't talk for real today, but this was a good in between step. If he calls me back then I'll see if he will see me or not. He is not with the counseling group he was with. I can't find him listed anywhere but as a pastor at a SBC church. He may not do any counseling outside his church. I talked to him once already about a year or so ago. He probably won't remember me, but I still can't do the "let's find a counselor" thing. Starting from scratch and having to say things is torture. I can disconnect and be fairly dispassionate about it, yet at some point and at some level I know I'm talking about things I'd rather die than go through again. Shame kicks in and bout drowns me in it's suffocating weight. It's just a matter of when. It could be when I make eye contact, or when I walk out the door, or when I get into my car to leave or sometimes it really gets bad when I come back the next time and have to look at their face before I have the chance to settle in and not look at them; it doesn't really matter because it always comes and I have to remember to breathe and force myself to not care and yet still be able to talk. It's really hard.

Numb Again

I'm not going to see Dr A again. At least I don't think so. I'm going to see someone else. I will try to call tomorrow. I'm tired of sinking back into where I was. I don't know how to get out of it. I can't seem to get it together. I am more organized now, but more of a mess on the inside. I feel numb again and can't snap out of it. I'm afraid that I will never make it to prosecution of JM. It's all I can do to stay busy and forget. When I slow down, I just get depressed or even more often just hollow. I'm not really here, but I don't know how to get here and live. I try to fake it and am "sick" to cover days when I just am too worn out to continue the charade.

I am going to Florida with a friend later this month. She is not a friend to be quiet with, we will be busy and noisy and talk a lot even about serious things, but not about the emptiness of being trapped behind walls; we will have fun and it will take the edge off, but the numbness of existence will return to me afterward.

I am so tired.

A couple of years ago I was on my way out of the numbness and was learning to lean on God. Not doing so good now. I'm all out of friends. Ones that I have left or call friends are either ones that I don't want to risk losing by being too transparent or are ones that I don't trust that much anyway. I have been so often rejected in the last 2 years that I am extremely terrified of letting anyone else that close again. I guess people just can't handle my daily type troubles let alone the hauntings of the past. I'm safer cocooned behind my walls wrapped in the numbness of isolation, but I know it's not right. For now I can do nothing else. God help me.

Update and letter writing

We have moved once again, but this time it is to the land I've always dreamed of. Some day we will have horses and cows, but for now we have chickens and too many dogs. The children are settled in and enjoying life. My child who has caused my many tears has made a great effort to be a part of the family again. My marriage has yo yo'ed back and forth under the stress; but it has settled into familiar patterns again. I'm not sure if that is good or bad:) Anyway we are determined to remain married and to enjoy it. Some days it's more work than others.

I have over 50 tomato seedlings trying to grow. I think they are too spindley. Hopefully they will thicken up over the next 4-5 weeks. Onions: I have planted a whole bunch but I don't really know what they are supposed to be doing above ground.

I haven't been back to counseling since the counselor wanted me to write a letter to my dad; I didn't have to give it to him, but still it wasn't something I wanted to do. I guess I'm a chicken because I told her I didn't want to but haven't gone back since, to face her with it not being done.
She wants me to blame him for not being able to trust him and tell him about what was going on at school. I don't blame my dad. I blame the teacher and I blame my mom for being my "Mommy Dearest". I was screwed up, but my dad was the only one who was there for me without being needy himself. He may have talked to me too much, but for the most part he let me stay a child. No such luck with my mom.

I'll call tomorrow and make an appointment again and stand my ground against letter writing to my dad. Easier said than done. When I get mad I cry and that makes me mad and then I cry...I think she will make me mad.

Go figure. I have a therapist.

God's timing is incredible. Just yesterday I was saying that there's no one to counsel me because $100 an hour is not an option. I'll stay messed up if it cost that much to put me to rights. :(

Well today I took my son to his appointment with yet another therapist. I didn't have any hope that it would help, but it was "recommended" by the pysch hospital he was in. I've learned the hard way that recommendations aren't optional, they are mandated, no matter how much they claim otherwise. So I took him. I drove up there 2 hours to get him from the children's home and then got lost downtown and couldn't find the place. I hate new places!! I called and the receptionist talked me in. I hate feeling stupid.

I think the session went very well. Z actually talked. He wasn't nice, but he did talk a bit. Eventually he decided to go to sleep. It wasn't that long of a session, a 50 minute hour. Well Dr. A and I talked some more and somehow, I am trying to remember how, she asked me if I had been abused. She's really gooood for that to "come up" in conversation. For the life of me I can't remember how it started going that direction. I found out that a federal law has been passed that gives me 7 years instead of 5 years to prosecute. I need that extra time. This year has been consumed with Z issues. I have more time now.

She also asked/told me "Who in your family abused you? You didn't tell about the teacher so someone in your family must have primed the pump that you didn't tell." I just sat there looking at her, dumbfounded. I never did answer her. I started messing with filling out Z's paperwork some more. She said that abusers who threaten kids lives, if they tell, are cowards. (Maybe that was the point where she asked about me?) She said she could tell by the look on my face that I didn't know that. I'm in my 30's pushing 40 and I didn't know that. I still don't think I "know" that. I don't believe it. I do believe that he was scared to be found out, but I also believe that he would kill me if he could. I believe that he tried to set me up for that when I was 19. Cowards can kill. I'm still afraid.

I'm not sure how much Z got out of his session, but I got a lot. So much so that I called back twice this afternoon. Once was to find out what she was. She's a pyschologist. The second time was to actually talk to her to see if there was anyone like her near where I lived. She said she is one of a kind and laughed. We talked for a bit about if there was anyone closer and equal. She asked if it just clicked when we talked. I said yes. She has another office 45 minutes closer to me. She gave me the number and said to tell them that she sent me and approves it. Dr. A said it's hard to get in because she is really busy, but that would get me in. I called the office and evidently I'm out of the area they are supposed to take from, but since Dr. A. sent me they would take me. I have an appointment in 3 weeks. The receptionist asked insurance type questions and then asked the question I hate to answer. What is the presenting problem for you to see the Dr? Dancing around the answer didn't help. She asked if it was depression etc. I said no. Eventually I had to answer "childhood sexual abuse". I can write like crazy and be very verbal in my writing but to actually say it with audible words is something very different. I'm really amazed that I was able to talk to Dr. A without too much stuttering. I didn't freeze up once, but then again it wasn't about me to begin with. Maybe that helped; but I think she is just really good. Also I'm in a place where there are people that I see on a regular basis that I'm learning to trust because my being here is permament and not temporary. That's really suprising considering that in the past year I've had a good number of people drop me. The last batch that drop-kicked me was especially vicious. Why do I keep trying? I don't want to be alone in a crowd or in my life.

I trust the pastor of the church we are now attending, although he knows nothing of my specific past. He's seen us at our worst, family wise; or at least close to worst. He hasn't seen us on the edge of divorce, but he is seeing us through a major crisis with Z. What's worse? a suicidal, thinking about divorce mother, crisis point in discovery concerning childhood sexual abuse; or a homicidal, suicidal son? It's almost a toss up in stress levels. I'm not sure which is worse.

I think 2 weeks ago Pastor D asked me about hope. The basic idea of it was if we were hopeful about the placement we are working towards for Z. I told him we don't hope. I refuse to hope for anything, it hurts too much when it doesn't work out. If I don't hope then it's ok.

I'm thinking that's not really biblical. But I don't really care right now. Hope is too scary. And that's the problem with this appointment that I have coming up. I'm trying not to hope, but it's really hard not to. Do I thank God for hope or get angry because I'm getting hopeful once again? Anger fights off fear and tears, which are by products of hope. I'm scared to look at this again. I think it was 3 lawyers that turned me down to prosecute my case. That makes me feel that what I went through isn't seen as any real big deal. But it was and is.