braveheart
Member
I went to my first PMS clinic appointment at St Mary's, Paddington, last Wednesday.
It went fine until I had a bit of a panic attack with the blood test. Small room. Felt trapped. But the nurse was quite sympathetic.
I have to go back on 4th Feb. to see the specialist consultant. I saw a very nice woman consultant today, but she really wants me to see this high up man dr who is a specialist in PMS. *shakes*
Anyway. She was really nice, and sensitive to my feelings. She even said she wasn't surprised and that she kind of expected it when I told her how I had had a difficult relationship with my father growing up and that he hated women, and how that's impacted on my experience of myself as a woman and consequently pre-menstrual worsening of my pre-existing psychiatric symptoms.
She also used the word 'traumatic' several times - when she suggested I go through my journal to make a summary for each day in December feeling-wise, as the super-doc wants me to do, that she didn't want to make things too traumatic for me.
I spoke up about not wanting hormonal treatment and she made note of that, and said that I do have choice. That's so important.
I said how I'm interested in diet, agnus castus, and maybe something for the anxiety. She said it's important that I do still hear all the choices and options available to me.
She said I was very eloquent, and gave a very clear picture of how things are for me. *blushes*
Uh, yeah, anyway. Nothing prescribed or anything yet. And I have to go back to see this doctor who's so hight up he's a Mr! I think he's a professor.
And I managed the bus and the waiting room. Quite an achievement considering my agoraphobia and social anxiety. Just a bit thrown by the blood test, as I say. Not that I have scars. But because of room claustraphobia. And I hate needles. And people taking MY blood! Its for hormone levels, and apparantly best done at the point in my cycle I'm at today.
I had a little cry on the bus home. Only a few tears, but they were very healing.
Why the tears?
It's all about accepting me as a woman. Growing into being a woman.
The whole thing has brought up lots of difficult feelings though - connected with being an adult woman, and sadness and loss about being held back developmentally by the traumas of my past... I'm starting to acknowledge myself as a woman now [rather than a little girl or a Thing] and that scares me because I don't know where that will lead.
It's a whole new phase in therapy and I feel very unsure.
The woman consultant asked me if I was in a relationship, but she didn't ask if I'd ever been in a relationship. The answer to which is no....
I'm not sure I know how to be an adult. What does it feel like?
I?m feeling sad and depressed and vulnerable. But I am containing it. I am holding the love for my wounded femininity. I am holding my pain.
Who would have thought that a premature birth and early isolation, followed by years of paternal hatred and derision and ridicule of women, coupled with years of being tormented and abused making me feel I?m a Thing not a human female [close to tears as I type this] who deserves love, warmth and affection, and can give of the same. [wipes damp eyes]
I need so much love.
I am filled with so much love.
I can bear the pain of this abused child and teen.
I?m not pushing this depression and sadness away or squashing it down with any more meds. These are my normal human feelings and I am entitled to grieve for what I never had growing up, and for the wounds that inflicted, and I?m entitled to heal in my own way.
I knew this depression was coming, but at times it just rips through me, the sadness. I'm scared the Other Me will come out and take over and ruin everything.
On top of all this our fridge/freezer has given out. My flatmates have put all their things in the small spare freezer. Leaving all my stuff in the broken one. This really triggers me and makes me feel invisible and excluded. But I have been able to cry.
It seems very incongruous that something seemingly so trivial would set my tears flowing. I do feel very tearful and to cry is a relief. But I'm still scared.
It went fine until I had a bit of a panic attack with the blood test. Small room. Felt trapped. But the nurse was quite sympathetic.
I have to go back on 4th Feb. to see the specialist consultant. I saw a very nice woman consultant today, but she really wants me to see this high up man dr who is a specialist in PMS. *shakes*
Anyway. She was really nice, and sensitive to my feelings. She even said she wasn't surprised and that she kind of expected it when I told her how I had had a difficult relationship with my father growing up and that he hated women, and how that's impacted on my experience of myself as a woman and consequently pre-menstrual worsening of my pre-existing psychiatric symptoms.
She also used the word 'traumatic' several times - when she suggested I go through my journal to make a summary for each day in December feeling-wise, as the super-doc wants me to do, that she didn't want to make things too traumatic for me.
I spoke up about not wanting hormonal treatment and she made note of that, and said that I do have choice. That's so important.
I said how I'm interested in diet, agnus castus, and maybe something for the anxiety. She said it's important that I do still hear all the choices and options available to me.
She said I was very eloquent, and gave a very clear picture of how things are for me. *blushes*
Uh, yeah, anyway. Nothing prescribed or anything yet. And I have to go back to see this doctor who's so hight up he's a Mr! I think he's a professor.
And I managed the bus and the waiting room. Quite an achievement considering my agoraphobia and social anxiety. Just a bit thrown by the blood test, as I say. Not that I have scars. But because of room claustraphobia. And I hate needles. And people taking MY blood! Its for hormone levels, and apparantly best done at the point in my cycle I'm at today.
I had a little cry on the bus home. Only a few tears, but they were very healing.
Why the tears?
It's all about accepting me as a woman. Growing into being a woman.
The whole thing has brought up lots of difficult feelings though - connected with being an adult woman, and sadness and loss about being held back developmentally by the traumas of my past... I'm starting to acknowledge myself as a woman now [rather than a little girl or a Thing] and that scares me because I don't know where that will lead.
It's a whole new phase in therapy and I feel very unsure.
The woman consultant asked me if I was in a relationship, but she didn't ask if I'd ever been in a relationship. The answer to which is no....
I'm not sure I know how to be an adult. What does it feel like?
I?m feeling sad and depressed and vulnerable. But I am containing it. I am holding the love for my wounded femininity. I am holding my pain.
Who would have thought that a premature birth and early isolation, followed by years of paternal hatred and derision and ridicule of women, coupled with years of being tormented and abused making me feel I?m a Thing not a human female [close to tears as I type this] who deserves love, warmth and affection, and can give of the same. [wipes damp eyes]
I need so much love.
I am filled with so much love.
I can bear the pain of this abused child and teen.
I?m not pushing this depression and sadness away or squashing it down with any more meds. These are my normal human feelings and I am entitled to grieve for what I never had growing up, and for the wounds that inflicted, and I?m entitled to heal in my own way.
I knew this depression was coming, but at times it just rips through me, the sadness. I'm scared the Other Me will come out and take over and ruin everything.
On top of all this our fridge/freezer has given out. My flatmates have put all their things in the small spare freezer. Leaving all my stuff in the broken one. This really triggers me and makes me feel invisible and excluded. But I have been able to cry.
It seems very incongruous that something seemingly so trivial would set my tears flowing. I do feel very tearful and to cry is a relief. But I'm still scared.
