DogTired
Silver Member
Journalling. My wife came up with that years ago. She used to do that as a teenager in what she called her "Gripe Book".
Next day, she would read what she had written in anger and usually tore out the page, as on a re-read, it was nothing to get worked up about.
So I started my own. Except I can't get angry or remain upset about writing out the events of my history, or the flashbacks or nightmares.
To me, everything I write happened, and I have no regrets about anything. Besides that, there is no way of me doing anything about what happened.
Plus most of the people I knew then are either pushing up daisy's or also moved on.
So no one but my journal and wife know what happened.
There are times that I sort of recall something so refer to the journal to see if I have written about it in the past.
If I had, it's easily forgotten. If I haven't I journal it.
Somehow, on a re-read, the impact of what I wrote lessens everytime I read it WHICH I THINK is a good thing.
Enter this new therapist. "Nonsense! you writing a journal does nothing to moderate your flashbacks or nightmares."
Probably right as the flashbacks or nightmares still happen as they always have (and there is some pretty bad s*** in some of them).
Yet, it isn't all bad. I also wrote about the fun side, the nice bits in people, those little things we all recall.
Including my sketching memories and that's kinda calming on a re-read and somethings still make me laugh!.
Re-enter "know it all". STOP writing your journal! It's interfering with "my" processes!
WT*! So change your processes as it helps calm me!!!
I'm nothing special but I know me but, apparently, me isn't what he wants!
So he issues a threat. "Stop writing or find someone else".
Got to love the ESC key on my keyboard as it dumps the connection instantly. Took me ages to reprogram that trick into the Esc key.
Next day, an email. "Look we have to work on our communication as what I do is set down in our methodology to cure you".
WHAM! Instant BS warning.
My Reply. We both know you can't "cure" long standing PTSD just moderate the effects. Which is all I asked of you..
Over 30 plus years ago, the first "Psychologue" explained it as finding something that works for you to lessen the burden you are carrying.
Which made perfect sense to me, and his advice and methods worked, until earlier in this year when my health deteriated and everything flooded back.
I remind you that you have not taken a history so how exactly are you trying to "cure me" when you don't know what caused the illness.
His Reply? Still waiting.
So what now? Guess what, I journaled that and the other conversations as the stress the new "therapist" has caused me has supercharged what is upsetting me.
Not bad. It's only taken two sessions to P's me off completely as I don't go "arrogance" from any "I'm a professional" very well.
Next Stage? "Pass the phone book SWMBO, I need to find someone different who can help!"
An extreme response? Not really. I've got to have confidence in who I am talking to as mind games with a stranger is a minefield to cross without knowing what's buried underneath.
Next day, she would read what she had written in anger and usually tore out the page, as on a re-read, it was nothing to get worked up about.
So I started my own. Except I can't get angry or remain upset about writing out the events of my history, or the flashbacks or nightmares.
To me, everything I write happened, and I have no regrets about anything. Besides that, there is no way of me doing anything about what happened.
Plus most of the people I knew then are either pushing up daisy's or also moved on.
So no one but my journal and wife know what happened.
There are times that I sort of recall something so refer to the journal to see if I have written about it in the past.
If I had, it's easily forgotten. If I haven't I journal it.
Somehow, on a re-read, the impact of what I wrote lessens everytime I read it WHICH I THINK is a good thing.
Enter this new therapist. "Nonsense! you writing a journal does nothing to moderate your flashbacks or nightmares."
Probably right as the flashbacks or nightmares still happen as they always have (and there is some pretty bad s*** in some of them).
Yet, it isn't all bad. I also wrote about the fun side, the nice bits in people, those little things we all recall.
Including my sketching memories and that's kinda calming on a re-read and somethings still make me laugh!.
Re-enter "know it all". STOP writing your journal! It's interfering with "my" processes!
WT*! So change your processes as it helps calm me!!!
I'm nothing special but I know me but, apparently, me isn't what he wants!
So he issues a threat. "Stop writing or find someone else".
Got to love the ESC key on my keyboard as it dumps the connection instantly. Took me ages to reprogram that trick into the Esc key.
Next day, an email. "Look we have to work on our communication as what I do is set down in our methodology to cure you".
WHAM! Instant BS warning.
My Reply. We both know you can't "cure" long standing PTSD just moderate the effects. Which is all I asked of you..
Over 30 plus years ago, the first "Psychologue" explained it as finding something that works for you to lessen the burden you are carrying.
Which made perfect sense to me, and his advice and methods worked, until earlier in this year when my health deteriated and everything flooded back.
I remind you that you have not taken a history so how exactly are you trying to "cure me" when you don't know what caused the illness.
His Reply? Still waiting.
So what now? Guess what, I journaled that and the other conversations as the stress the new "therapist" has caused me has supercharged what is upsetting me.
Not bad. It's only taken two sessions to P's me off completely as I don't go "arrogance" from any "I'm a professional" very well.
Next Stage? "Pass the phone book SWMBO, I need to find someone different who can help!"
An extreme response? Not really. I've got to have confidence in who I am talking to as mind games with a stranger is a minefield to cross without knowing what's buried underneath.