You’re Not My Daddy, I’ve Got One Thanks

Not the thing I thought I’d say to my therapist. A few sessions ago he mentioned the term ‘reparenting,‘ and gave some advice, to judge myself as I would do with Hannah. The curious creature I am, I looked it up. At its most basic, reparenting involves the therapist taking on the role of parent. That was not for me, but it turns out he only meant his one strategy, not the full theory. Phew. However, a few hours after being in session I sent him a text, embarrassed by all I said in the room. That’s a big sign that I am losing some control and a handle on my boundaries/barriers.

Well, my friends, we may be headed down a rabbit hole, low-grade psychosis is here! This disturbing time when feels like parts of me or my life are loosening, dissolving, or otherwise releasing their group. I mean parts of me or my life. My ego boundaries, the perception of other people’s opinions, speaking and revealing more than I usually consider acceptable, my grip on reality, and my own sensory control. I’m happy I’ve built up insight since the last time, it will help.

Psychosis Feelings

When psychosis starts so many parts of my life change. Let’s look at this morning. I was in our bathroom, heard Hannah talking in our bedroom, opened the door, and there was no Hannah. Just an empty room. This isn’t a bad one, but it can turn into a constant irritation, things like phones ringing in other places throughout the day. I would also sense presences and speak to them, sometimes for 10 minutes, before I realized they weren’t in the room as I thought. I could have sworn they were there.

Another issue is being easily affected by external sources. Those little things that only bother a typical person on occasion go into overdrive and become a 24/7 experience. Crowds make my head swarm, music makes me feel like I’m rolling or in despair, one statement could crush me or throw me to the stars either in person, lyrics, or a script. As these external stimuli continue to influence my body starts feeling like everything inside is moving at the molecular level and all I can do for myself is get in hot/cold water, use a towel as a jerry-rigged straitjacket, or dance. I’ll admit to hiding because it’s been 15 years since I was involved with dance.

External sources of relief were body scrubs & BDSM (DDlg). I wasn’t lying, I have a Daddy thank you very much. When I said that my psych had to sit bent over with his mug in front of his face for a couple seconds but failed to hide the amusement on his face before straightening. Then I thought it funny and now I have anxiety over saying it at all, even though he knows our past.

To my next embarrassed for having mentioned him: I had a bit of a scary moment yesterday as well with our little beastie who came to fruition far faster than I expected. I was driving and idly thinking of how to form a scary bipolar monster that would stick with me, and it didn’t work. I moved on to a buddy that would try and stem the flow of mixed, mania, & psychosis and my mind couldn’t get a grip. Then the thought popped in, what about a cute bipolar monster! One who tried its best not to send in an episode, but a loss of control of his abilities could create one. There, a monster I can forgive, and in that, maybe forgive myself. Goals.

Now I had my buddy decided on. I spent some time in the car, coming up with what he would look like, only to start ‘really’ seeing what he looked like. A combination between Toothless, Stitch, and the rocky sort of feet in ‘the bipolar monster.’ Another quick move had my perceptions seeing, but not visually seeing, this little guy running around He fell down, and I laughed, I got to the Jimjilbang where I started petting this unseen thing, and he was pretty real for a moment before my logic brain kicked in and I dunked myself in freezing water. That helped quite a bit, notes for later. He made another appearance today briefly sitting on my head which I felt but didn’t feel. It’s hard to explain. It’s like sensing a presence, knowing it’s there, but it’s not. What door did I open:?

I can’t escape this feeling that I will lose control of my head, and I’m afraid.

The text: “Yay our first appointment since intro time where I’m questioning everything I said (except the xxx) – This is one of those things I’m doing so I can hopefully stop thinking about it, Congrats! Psychologist upgrade, you got one of these lovely messages”. Nope, that’s not embarrassing at all. Oi.

Please note: I in no way regret having explored in the world of BDSM. I do not think it comes from mental illness. It’s a wonderful way to build trust, have new experiences, and to do it on your own terms. I enjoyed the community.

Another Sign: I took me 4 hours to write this.

One thought on “You’re Not My Daddy, I’ve Got One Thanks

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