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Reflections 2018 w24

Insanity is defined as doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.

Am I insane?

I trust in the doctors and psychological teams, over and over – being told the same thing over and over…There is no magic pill, it’s the therapy that will be best treatment, and it will be hard.

I accepted that, and it made sense. After-all it took a lifetime to break my mind, logic dictates it will take the rest of it to become better. But how is one supposed to carry on trusting when therapies are blocked/denied/not accessible, even when it has been part of a diagnosis and treatment plan by a doctor? Because one is on medication it is classed as being treated – opposite of what one was told originally – that the therapies would be the treatment long term not the medication, and I quote the doctor “the medication is just a band aid”.

I wish that there was a treatment plan of an alternative direction, more natural than chemical manipulation, recognised as treatment. One would give it a try, because the medications one is on now are just coincidental to the symptoms of known side effects – which are making me less well.

And my trust is beginning to fade.

Today, as I once again caused a lot of pain to my body chasing my son around the play centre, a little girl stopped me and asked why I was wearing headphones – the big over ear ones – I like that in children, the curiosity to question and the courage to ask them, so I told her. I told her it was to block out a lot of the noises around me in busy places, because if I have a lot of noises to listen too, my head hurts. Kinda the truth, I did not want to tell her what my anxiety manifests and give her nightmares. She listened, digested the answer, and decided it would be fun if I chased her and her friend around the play area. I called my son over to see if he was interested in chasing them, and then being chased, but he was having non of it, today was daddy day only.

This in part I think was because his best friends Dad died this week, and he wanted to have the comfort of having his dad play with him. I think that this is the second father, defiantly the second parent, that has died in the last 18 months, of one of his school friends. This year his sleepover happens to be on fathers day eve, one thinks tomorrow will be an extra cuddly day. I have got the cuddle films at the ready.

I don’t think it unreasonable to ask for a treatment to get better, if only to ease any worries he may have – toward a dad he has never seen well.

Reflections…Week Seven

Positive blogs, humorous if possible, has been the goal for the blogs that get published.

This week was to be about the assertiveness course I attended on thursday, but my son, on one of his bi-monthly sleepovers, is trying to cope with a death, not in the family but of one of his school friends mother, she was known to my son as she also worked at the school. So this is primarily on my mind.

Myself and my ex don’t agree on a lot of things  and this covers one of those areas. Boys don’t cry, or rather Big boys don’t cry. I’m in therapy, partially due to locking away emotions, trying to be the Big boy, so naturally have a different view.

The confusion, pain and loss on a mind that does not yet comprehend the cycle of life, death is something to get up from and retry in play, has been evident all day. Subtly I have been letting him know a cuddle is always there and tears with  daddy are ok. It is an ongoing reassurance that he can talk openly about anything and ask any questions he wants. If there are areas that have differing views I try to express that, at least a courteous acknowledgement to that fact. It took all day before he could talk about it and I was honest in my reply.

I too have a first memory of a death, although I was a year or two older. The death was that of my Grandfather and it hit me harder than anyone was expecting. I recalled to him that I can still remember the feelings of confusion, sadness, loss, of not understanding what adults where saying, of not knowing what to do with the feelings that where new to me, how to react. Tears came to my eyes as they always do with this particular memory, I didn’t hide them from him. I wiped them away whilst telling him that different people react differently to the same situation but I have learnt now, that talking about ones feelings helps, and crying is ok.

All I can do is let him know I am here for him, for a talk, a hug or just a shoulder to cry on.

My sympathies go out to his friend for the loss of his Mother.