Updates for today:
President Obama is a secret Episcopalian. He is pretty good at choosing via media to try to work with all sides, with the compromise. Sure, it's not popular in this age of polarization, of us-vs-them. Just look at the Catholic bishops' strong responses and increasingly bizarre rhetoric, which is marvelously discussed on the Daily Show. You have to love Jon Stewart. (I really need to watch his show more often.) Funnily enough, the bishops' take on the contraception "mandate" goes counter to their long history of moral theology and reasoning; the Washington Post has a great post about it.
I took today off of work in order to get some things done, including a kind of a volunteer orientation at a museum. This smaller museum needs some help catching up on their archives and organizing their library, so my husband and I volunteered. It's great practice for us, we get something for our resume, and we get to help them out.
Taking today off is kind of handy, too, because I was increasingly anxious (I think is the best way to describe the weird feelings I've been having) about my psychiatry appointment this afternoon/evening. And I've just been feeling kinda crappy and weird for a long time--stupid memories, you know? And despite my past blog post about wine, my husband and I both had wine for our Valentine's Day dinner yesterday. It was some sort of sweeter white wine, and I had three glasses of it. That actually helps amazingly well with tamping down that anxiety and dulling the emotional aspects of memories.
Dulling the memories' sting actually makes it easier for me to recall them and then handle them in order to box it up and put it away into that mental closet (along the lines of EMDR). Right now, I can't remember what memory I was talking about with my husband, but I sure remembered it well last night. Oh yeah. My brother's male dog kept peeing on my bed, and he kept denying it, saying my female dog was responsible for the higher up peeing. He didn't want to clean it up all the time (it was a daily thing...). I wanted to figure out how to keep his dog from marking my bed all the time. Eventually our parents said I needed to stop whining (ie, complaining). I needed to just grin and bear it when my sister's puppy poked a hole in my brand new skirt that I saved up money for. I asked her to try to train her dog better, and my dad had my mom deliver his message to me "here's $20 and stop whining." I was apparently whining when I told my dad, in my senior year of high school, that I was severely depressed. Stop whining. That constant message of "there is no acceptable emotion besides happiness." Only Dad could complain, and we'd walk on eggshells around him. Even now, I worry about voicing any complaint for fear of being labeled a whiner.
"Whining" isn't all bad, actually. How are we to improve things if people don't speak up? It reminds me of a creation story I learned in a Native American Literature class. The earth was dark and watery, and the woman complained to the Creator--it's too dark! And so the Creator made light. Then she complained, "It's too wet!" So the Creator made land. And so on it went, until it made the perfect world. Dang, I wish I could remember which tribe had this creation story...but I really liked it.
Anyway. Psych appointment this afternoon. Hopefully he can help me out with some medicine to deal with my emotions, anxiety, and PTSD reactions. I really don't want to drink 1-3 glasses of wine, morning and evening, in order to feel "normal." That is, more moderate levels of anxiety, fewer PTSD (over)reactions, and so on.
We'll see how it goes.
Filed under: Becoming Episcopalian