session 3

Yesterday was harder than I thought it was going to be.

After all the time I’ve spent thinking about my Issues,  I didn’t really have much to say actually.  I even kinda didn’t want to talk to her, but maybe I was just pissed off because I had to throw my plastic down before I was allowed to do the session?

I had to do a Suicide Contract because my psychoanalysis report said I was at “High Risk”.  When I tried to explain that was exaggerated cause the weekend before I did the testy thing hadn’t exactly been a high-point, she took a little while to remember the note in the report that warned some of the data might be skewed because I’m unhinged. 

Which seems to kinda defeat the purpose of this test as a diagnostic tool, but whatever.

I guess I also kinda lied about how far I went with my ’suicidal thoughts’ two weekends ago.  I took 3 sleeping pills cause I was totally stressed out over stuff and I wanted to do was sleep so I would stop crying and carrying on, and the regular “calming” dose (half a tablet) wasn’t working.   I told her that bit.  I didn’t tell her that I took the 22 pills I had left in the packet and looked at them and thought about taking all of them.  Obviously I didn’t take them, cause I’m not that clichéd, but I did have the blister sheets in my hand before I eventually drifted off. 

So yeah.  I semi-seriously thought about it.  I called M the moment I woke up and told him all about it, so it all passed blah blah blah.

Anyway, I agreed to not act on any further thoughts before my next appointment with her, to make an emergency appointment if I need to, and to get in touch with M or Little Brother.

The next part of the session was where I sat there fiddling with my hair lackies and couldn’t think of what to say.

Awkward.

It was easy with my last psychologist, Dr S, cause he treated Little Brother and he knew exactly what was up with my family and he Got me pretty quickly.  So I’m struggling trying to open up with Dr H.  M reminded me that since I’m in for like 2 years of counselling, it doesn’t matter that it’s going slow, and maybe he’s right.

Dr H made an interesting observation though.  That my voice gets all tight and throaty when I’m talking about stuff I don’t feel like talking about, and that I get all curt and polite, and I sort of hunch up on the couch.  She’s right.  I could feelmy throat being all tight and constricted.  I hadn’t noticed that before.   But I definitely do it, I know I’m all curt when I speak to Father now.  Cause I don’t want to let my guard down.  And because it’s a massive struggle for me to talk about something things without bursting into tears, and I guess I try to block the crying and weeping with my throat.

Then when I was talking about something I was reasonably ok with (my academic achievements), my voice got deeper, more relaxed, less restricted, and I was more animated with hand gestures etc.

Discovery re self: I blather a lot, but I never actually say what I want or needto say.  Like in this blog.  I’ve been doing posts on superficial shit like organisation and sleep and money but I have yet to talk about my childhood, I didn’t even mention what happened the weekend before last when I considered suicide and nor did I comment on the weird sad/guilty/messed-up feelings I got when Father emailed me last week, trying to be helpful and it ended with me saying “Please don’t start this. I don’t have the time.”

I do want to talk about these things, I’ve hinted at the dodgy childhood thing a few times, but yeah, I find excuses to not write about them.

Homework for week: Read online therapy article on “Mindfulness” and observe the way my voice is when I’m talking and keep a note of what I’m talking about when I notice these voice changes.

money matters

Yet another item on my stress list: Money.

Cash. Dough. Moolah.

Whatever you want to call it, I don’t have much of it.

Upon returning from M and my Post-Graduation South-Asian Holiday-Extravaganza, there were three factors which left me in this particular financial position:

1. I had spent all my savings;
2. I had dipped into the ol’ Visa (all it takes ™) to fund some splurge duty-free purchases, leaving me in debt; and
3. I realised that I simply cannot, no matter what, regardless of any previous grandiose stay-at-home-to-save-for-home-deposit plan, live with my parents anymore.

As for Number 3, I honestly had to get out.  As. Soon. As. Possible. (I know keep putting off the back story, but I really can’t find the time to sit down to shift through it all…)

I emailed/rang a bunch of people offering rooms in share houses in suitable locations and accepted the first response because it was in a great location, the room was reasonable, the house didn’t look horrible and the house-mate seemed nice enough (in the five minutes in which I spoke to her).  It was lucky I took it since it was the only response I got, and therefore I ignored the fact that my share of the rent was slightly higher than I wanted, and just submitted to the horrible rental market, relegating myself to not saving as much as I would like to.

My frugality with the new digs included not buying a TV and choosing not to use/share the wireless internet (saving about $40/month) but I had to borrow $750 bond from Mother and $200 from M to buy a microwave.  Whereby Number 2 got even worse.

An “interest-free balance-transfer low-rate credit card” offer was taken up to avoid paying 19.99% on my old student “fee free” credit-card, which was now about to charge me fees as I was no longer a student, but I was rudely awakened to receive less than I expected in my first paycheck due to the fact I was paying back more than I should have to in Fee-HELP because my incompetent university had overcharged me.

Plus I have the aforementioned shopping addiction, so I was buying a few things here and there which I probably didn’t need to buy, but hey, I just started working and I was earning money, I should be able to spend if I want to, dammit.

Then, as I was reasonably making-do, I decided to go to Therapy to sort out my Issues.

Which totally Boned my budget.

At $170 a session, getting Self Actualized ain’t cheap.

While I do get about $110 back from Medicare cause I’m on a “Mental Health Plan” through my GP, I still have to have the full fee up-front, and it’s caused me to actually increase my credit card debt. 

I need to get it paid off before the 6-month “interest free” period is over, but I feel like I’m not making aaaaany headway and it’s bumming me out because I can’t save for anything, including a trip to Melbourne that I would reeeeeally like to do in July.  Plus I can’t shop. 

After I’ve paid for this week’s session today, I am cutting up my card so it doesn’t get worse, because I have budgeted to keep my head above water from this payday onwards.

I’ve been reading a few blogs about saving money, and I have decided to really get serious about “budgeting” and the like.  My next goal is to save up an “emergency fund” so that I don’t need to rely on credit or parents or M for things that jump up to scare me.

Then I’ll work back to the Melbourne Trip, if I can, and then work on saving for a home deposit.  Not that that’s likely in this market (I’m such a pinko, cause I love to blame the freaking market) but hey, a dream is a dream.

Squanderlust on news.com.au had a new post today about “frugal being the new black” and I reckon she’s onto something.  And hey, if I’m on that bandwagon, of course it’s cool now :P