Reality

I haven't written much lately. Been in a really bad place.

I went to see someone to help me with med management. For those unfamiliar, med management is someone you go to who helps you get your prescriptions and helps you figure out which ones you need. I am very proactive in my treatment and I know what works for me and what doesn't. Problem is, for me, seeing someone new always sends me reeling.

So this last woman we went to see was horrendous. She was horrible. She told me I could die from sudden cessation of clonazepam (klonopin) and I knew that was bullshit. I had stopped taking it weeks before and had no problems. I was just anxious, as usual.

I told her I did not want any psychotropic drugs nor anti-depressants. I am not psychotic nor depressed. The anxiety and insomnia are my killers.

My anxiety gets so bad that it's hard to concentrate on anything and if you give me more than two things at once, I am overwhelmed and shut down and at times will go straight into (a) panic or (b) shut-down. Sometimes both, though not at the same time.

That said, and despite how horrendous this woman was, after two weeks of total hell, I decided to look up the side effects of sudden cessation of klonopin, despite my own experience. I was dumbfounded.

I was taking 1mg up to four times per day, as needed. Sometimes - some days - I didn't need any. Some days I needed more. It's a PRN medication (PRN meaning "as needed"). Same with the trazadone I have been taking for sleep. .5 mg

After about two or three weeks without the clonazepam, my anxiety shot through the roof. Everything became unbearably loud. People talking. Bumps from upstairs (where Trevor plays his games). Doors slamming. Even my own footsteps on the staircase. It was like I was trying desperately to be invisible. I couldn't handle any stimuli. It was too much.

Now I am in a quandary. There is literally nobody else who can help me with my medication management and I find myself again with only a week and a half supply. I can stretch it because, like I said, I don't need it every day as prescribed; sometimes only once a day. Sometimes five times a day - if I am unable to sleep.

The last three weeks have been hell.

I am on the fence as to whether or not I am grateful to have the clonazepam again. I mean yes, it helps me but .....when I wasn't on it, I was experiencing very deep, extremely profound pain and memories and nightmares. I was utterly dysfunctional and unreachable. Is it good to shut that down? Isn't that a part of going through the healing process?

I just don't know.

I've never been a proponent of medications but I have had to admit over the past couple years that it serves a purpose, as long as the purpose it serves, is being served.

For the first time in awhile, I feel uninformed and helpless.

Sex with Daddy, a Dream (TRIGGER WARNING)

I call it a dream, not a nightmare. I described it to Bill as if I were telling him how to bake cookies - no attachment, no feelings. I felt nothing, yet his response was, "Wow that's a nightmare!"

It is? I didn't wake up sweating or shaking or crying.... isn't that what nightmares are?

I have never (or don't remember ever) having a dream or dreams of any nature about my father (or any of my abuse or rapes, for that matter). I have a snapshot of him in my mind - this vision of him from more than 20 years ago, and though I've been told he's now fat and bald, I remember him to be beautiful...so handsome, hair that women would die for...he was a fabulously good-looking man. That is what I see in my mind...

And that is what I saw in my dream.

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We were in my apartment, only it wasn't this apartment...it was somewhere else. I recall that I initiated sex with him. I was aroused. In my dream, I was the same age I am now. He did not say anything, just smiled as I commenced to performing fellatio on him.

From there, somehow I was able to have intercourse with him while also receiving oral sex from him. Again, I was wanting it. I initiated it.

Next thing in the dream, we are sitting on the floor, and I was leaning against a bed frame. There was no mattress or box spring - just a space where they used to be. Beneath where the bed was supposed to be, were a few pair of shoes - one of which was a pair of little girl's black shoes. I remember thinking, "Wow I haven't seen those in a long time." There were other shoes but those stick out the most in my mind.
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End Trigger

I told my father I was going to sweep while I could get to it...

As I began to sweep, I looked over and my father was drinking a glass of wine. I didn't know where he'd gotten it because, in my dream, I had no wine. Furthermore, he was drinking this "wine" from one of the margarita glasses that I left at Gary's house when we split up. I looked at what he was drinking and it wasn't wine; it was juice.

Coincidentally, this is what Gary's father used to do. He once told me, "I like to drink cranberry juice out of a wine glass so I can fit in."

Obviously there are things that stick out - the little girl's shoes....but one thing that troubles me deeply is, in the dream, as I was initiating, I was feeling the same feelings for my father, that I have for Bill. This hopelessly in-love feeling...this complete devotion.

It's worth noting, as well, that my adoptive father recently bought me a bed frame.

When trying to interpret this dream, I struggled. Usually Dreammoods is pretty good, but this left me blank.

It's also worth noting that I recently ran out of anti-depressants and have not been taking them. I have read that anti-depressants will amplify dissociation so I wonder if not taking these medications for a few days now, might have unblocked some things, along with my getting in touch with some intense new feelings that I have had with Bill.

After it all sank in....after I thought about it, I was saturated with shame. I felt like a whore. How could I even possibly dream this?? This is despicable!! *I* am disgusting! Who dreams this shit?!

Is this possibly me, getting in touch with parts of myself that I have never touched, via new, healthy, restorative relationships and feelings with new people?

I've never once given thought to whether or not I wanted to be molested. I didn't. Ever. Yet I willingly participated for a lot of different reasons. Some are obvious, others probably not. Being told by my therapist yesterday that it's okay for me to love....did that open up something?

Will these dreams continue? Will they get worse?