Television Snow Storm
I have about eight hours until I will be on a plane to Norman, Oklahoma to admit to a residential facility called Living Hope. For those of you who have been keeping up with this process, you know that this transition has been a long time in the making. It's been around three weeks since we really started to find a facility to take me since insurance had denied any further days in IOP. Until Tuesday. Tuesday quickly went from a potentially exciting day with a therapy session I was looking forward to and my first family night to bring a friend to, to my last day at CFD before leaving for res.
As I am trying to sort out my thoughts and write this I am experiencing the same sort of loud buzz in my head and it takes me out of the present moment. It makes it really hard to stay focused and know what I am feeling because I am to distracted by my thoughts. This is what happened in session on Tuesday after my team told me when I would be leaving. I didn't know what I was feeling I was just really overwhelmed with emotion. I couldn't trace a single thought I was having from start to end because so many things were going on in my head. It felt like I was having a billion conversations with myself and then only getting angry with myself because I wasn't having them with the people in the room which only led to me having another angry voice yelling at me. I wanted words to come out. I wanted tears to come out. But nothing was and I felt frozen as if I had no control over my body. I didn't know what I needed. I wanted to know, but I just couldn't come up with anything when asked. I wanted to go home. I wished I hadn't brought anyone that day, but then I realized it was probably a good thing that I wouldn't have the opportunity to be alone.
Wednesday I packed. Ed was loud and I listened to him some of the time but luckily had support just when I needed it to break the grasp he had.
Excuse the time gap as I try to finish expressing these final thoughts at Gate 49 at Hobby Airport. I woke up and this sense of anger and displeasure set in very tangibly. I wasn't guessing what I was feeling anymore. It was no longer very fuzzy. I am mad that I have to go. I don't want to go. It doesn't feel like it did when I left California in June. Then, I was desperate for relief. I don't feel that sense of desperation right now. I was also at the beginning stages of treatment then, so it didn't feel like I was the cause of the need for residential. It felt like there had been a wrong call initially where I should have been placed and that it was not my fault. Now it sort of feels as if I am being punished. Like I wasn't putting enough into recovery and everyone just decided that I had been in treatment too long. I feel like a let down and I also feel hurt and let down, myself.
I feel like I had no choice in this. And that upsets me. It upsets me that after feeling like I had been shoved to the side for weeks on end from various people while trying to move forward with this process that I was forced to to come within days notice. And I get it. I get how the process works. I know it really had nothing to do with who I am as a person and that it wasn't intended to be taken personally. According to what everyone says, this is all in my best interest. It was easier to believe this when it was more theoretical.
I kept choking up on the plane. I just hate this right now. Maybe I wont in a few days or a week, but right now I do. I think I really started believe this wasn't going to happen and even in this moment I am having trouble gripping to reality.
I do feel very lucky and fortunate that I have been able to be in treatment up unto this point. The same has not been the case for several of my peers. I am thankful for all those who have been so kind and supportive of me throughout this process. I can't fathom what this would be like without those people. They know who they are.
I have less than an hour left until I am reduced from a person of free will to a client. Who is immersed in therapy for more than 12 waking hours. I intend to write a lot during this experience and share what I gained from it. I am hopeful there is a reason for this in this time and place as uncomfortable as it may be right now. I hope it is made clear soon and I am trying to keep my mind open. Who knows, maybe this is the turning point of my whole life.
Anyways. That's pretty much all the coherent sentences I can muster out of my sleep deprived and overly emotional brain. My brain that I described as feeling like the static you would see on old TV's that I would call a snow storm. Thanks for reading. Thanks for caring.
Glo
Wednesday I packed. Ed was loud and I listened to him some of the time but luckily had support just when I needed it to break the grasp he had.
Excuse the time gap as I try to finish expressing these final thoughts at Gate 49 at Hobby Airport. I woke up and this sense of anger and displeasure set in very tangibly. I wasn't guessing what I was feeling anymore. It was no longer very fuzzy. I am mad that I have to go. I don't want to go. It doesn't feel like it did when I left California in June. Then, I was desperate for relief. I don't feel that sense of desperation right now. I was also at the beginning stages of treatment then, so it didn't feel like I was the cause of the need for residential. It felt like there had been a wrong call initially where I should have been placed and that it was not my fault. Now it sort of feels as if I am being punished. Like I wasn't putting enough into recovery and everyone just decided that I had been in treatment too long. I feel like a let down and I also feel hurt and let down, myself.
I feel like I had no choice in this. And that upsets me. It upsets me that after feeling like I had been shoved to the side for weeks on end from various people while trying to move forward with this process that I was forced to to come within days notice. And I get it. I get how the process works. I know it really had nothing to do with who I am as a person and that it wasn't intended to be taken personally. According to what everyone says, this is all in my best interest. It was easier to believe this when it was more theoretical.
I kept choking up on the plane. I just hate this right now. Maybe I wont in a few days or a week, but right now I do. I think I really started believe this wasn't going to happen and even in this moment I am having trouble gripping to reality.
I do feel very lucky and fortunate that I have been able to be in treatment up unto this point. The same has not been the case for several of my peers. I am thankful for all those who have been so kind and supportive of me throughout this process. I can't fathom what this would be like without those people. They know who they are.
I have less than an hour left until I am reduced from a person of free will to a client. Who is immersed in therapy for more than 12 waking hours. I intend to write a lot during this experience and share what I gained from it. I am hopeful there is a reason for this in this time and place as uncomfortable as it may be right now. I hope it is made clear soon and I am trying to keep my mind open. Who knows, maybe this is the turning point of my whole life.
Anyways. That's pretty much all the coherent sentences I can muster out of my sleep deprived and overly emotional brain. My brain that I described as feeling like the static you would see on old TV's that I would call a snow storm. Thanks for reading. Thanks for caring.
Glo
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