I've been arguing with my shrink again about how recovery is going vs how it's supposed to go. You're told all sorts of things, particularly slogans which make me want to punch the person reciting them since I just don't relate to most of the routine. Or the people. And they can't relate to my particular situation of dying.
It makes me angry and so anxious that I suffer panic attacks. Even when I'm at work, it's a niggling presence in the back of my mind that I can't completely block out, and when I'm home alone it's worse. Yet the presence of others in recovery meetings just makes it worse to know that they can indeed physically recover. And the more structured the environment the more I resent the situation.
They haven't crossed that invisible line of truly permanent damage. I'm only making gradual progress in wrapping my head around that and still have no idea how to do this. How do I live with a terminal diagnosis, knowing that it's my fault?
I'm not denying that I need support, sympathy, empathy, understanding, and all other human emotions that ease our passing. Yet I've managed an emotional defense system for years that closes all of this off, while nurturing the need to protect all who I care about from the reality they aren't willing to face. I just don't know how to integrate my need for comfort with my oppositional need to protect them if things truly go sideways, medically and generally.
To be honest, the groups, AA, SMART, etc, seem to be pushing me apart from life. I find no solace in them, and pressure from my shrink and others to just keep going makes me more uncomfortable. I see no answer, even researching cirrhosis groups. Key: they're all for non-alcoholics since, even though we are the largest reasons for liver transplants, we are the bottom of the transplant list.
I'm desperate and alone, and entering into the period of birthdays and holidays requiring my presence. I'm not ready but will do what I can and know that this too shall pass. I'll bury myself in denial for now and tackle the rest when I won't cause most of my family to cry or, god forbid, allow what's really going on to be apparent.
The show must go on.
It makes me angry and so anxious that I suffer panic attacks. Even when I'm at work, it's a niggling presence in the back of my mind that I can't completely block out, and when I'm home alone it's worse. Yet the presence of others in recovery meetings just makes it worse to know that they can indeed physically recover. And the more structured the environment the more I resent the situation.
They haven't crossed that invisible line of truly permanent damage. I'm only making gradual progress in wrapping my head around that and still have no idea how to do this. How do I live with a terminal diagnosis, knowing that it's my fault?
I'm not denying that I need support, sympathy, empathy, understanding, and all other human emotions that ease our passing. Yet I've managed an emotional defense system for years that closes all of this off, while nurturing the need to protect all who I care about from the reality they aren't willing to face. I just don't know how to integrate my need for comfort with my oppositional need to protect them if things truly go sideways, medically and generally.
To be honest, the groups, AA, SMART, etc, seem to be pushing me apart from life. I find no solace in them, and pressure from my shrink and others to just keep going makes me more uncomfortable. I see no answer, even researching cirrhosis groups. Key: they're all for non-alcoholics since, even though we are the largest reasons for liver transplants, we are the bottom of the transplant list.
I'm desperate and alone, and entering into the period of birthdays and holidays requiring my presence. I'm not ready but will do what I can and know that this too shall pass. I'll bury myself in denial for now and tackle the rest when I won't cause most of my family to cry or, god forbid, allow what's really going on to be apparent.
The show must go on.
posted by AnonymousX at 4:50 PM
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