Difficult day today. It was OK till I collected my daughters from school. Then I ended up talking to a colleague in school and realised afresh how poorly my brain is working. Explaining something I know inside out and back to front was very difficult - and nigh on impossible once another conversation was going on in the room.
H (younger daughter, 11) came out of school quite upset. We've decided to stop her school saxophone lessons - a generous description would be "incompatibility" - less generous would be to say H thrives on praise not criticism. She has a temporary teacher at the moment and, from really enjoying her lessons, has become disheartened and discouraged. So until the "real" teacher returned, she is best taking a break. She has also had older children at the school asking her if I (I teach there) am "in the loony bin" or "in a rehab centre" on a daily basis. A consequence, I am sure, of the supply teacher telling my class that i was off work with stress. And to add to it all a friend collapsed on the stairs with stomach ache with H the only person around - H felt quite helpless, I think. Not a good day for her and I can't help but blame myself. My elder daughter has GCSE "mocks" this week - and that is pressure on both of us, with me trying not to be too anxious on her behalf. I find it so difficult to distance myself from the concerns and worries of those I care about.
So tonight I feel anxious and upset and unsettled. Tomorrow I see the psychiatrist, which doesn't help - another thing to feel anxious about. My appointment with my GP has been postponed - and he IS a real support, so that is something of a blow. I've tried to take it easy today but all I am aware of is that my brain is sludgy, I feel I have achieved nothign but pain for those I care about. Hopefully tomorrow I will achieve a better perspective.
As Dana said,
"Growth is not steady, forward, upward progression. It is instead a switchback trail; three steps forward, two back, one around the bushes, and a few simply standing, before another forward leap."
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3 comments:
I'm not surprised you feel down with your child being bullied and with the stress of appointments. Good luck with the psychiatrist, sorry about the GP's cancellation. We've had psych yesterday and GP today and i'm exhausted already. Being sick is hard work!
Caroline, one of the most intruiging writers i have come across, Anais Nin suggests:
'We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations'.
and that:
'Life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through. Where people fail is that they wish to elect a state and remain in it. This is a kind of death'.
hope that's helpful, it's meant to be
Marcella, the round of appointments can be very wearing, helpful though they often are. Yesterday's psychiatrist appt went better than I expected (but when doesn't it lol!) but he makes it all sound so easy ("You haven't really got any streses to worry about now you are off work, have you?") and I find him a little patronising. I have to see him again in a month (well, that's what he said, but the next available appt is 6 weeks) rather than three months which is what I have been doing. Today I see my psychologist which will I am sure be difficult but useful. All sorts of abandonment things going on there and things I find it difficult to talk to him about, like how much I will miss seeing him.
Paul, those quotes were helpful, thank you. In fact I have printed them off to take along to today's psychology appointment. I like the idea of growing partially, and of life being a process of becoming. Actually, the second is particularly helpful, because I am trying so hard NOT to remain in one state. To recognise that it's not necessarily making everything perfect, but travelling on, is useful. Thanks.
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