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New stuff. Stuffed behind an LJ Cut for those who'd rather skip over it.
Well, on Friday we had our first meeting with the therapist. He's in his fifties (early fifties, I'd say) and seemed to have a good grasp on the issues at hand. We both made it very clear that David getting better is our top priority, far more so than our marriage at this point. After all, we could work on marriage issues all day long and it wouldn't help anything if he can't get better, as so many of them stem from that stuff he's been dealing with.
David was having a hard time with the interview, but he managed to hold it together and respond to the guy. He kept being angry at a phrase the guy would say or something, but had enough of a hold on himself to realize that what we were talking about was the reason for his feelings, not the therapist. I was glad to hear that.
The therapist wants me to come to as many sessions as I feel comfortable with. I'd go to all of them if I could work it out, but I think David will need some times without me there. As such, we're letting him decide before a session whether or not he wants me to go. He does want me there at the next session, so on Monday we'll be back there again. I'm sorta glad. At least I'll have someone to talk to about things as well. I don't think it can help but help me through things too, painful as it may be. Note to self: don't wear mascara to appointments.
This weekend we went down to David's sister's house for a couple of days. We were supposed to take Alisdair, William and their cousin, Jacob, to the zoo, but Alisdair decided he'd rather stay at Jacob's house and just play all day. We took the boys to Toys R Us for his birthday present from Aunt Chantele (she gave him a gift card) and fun was had by all. Well, mostly all, anyway. David was having a hard time. Being out was setting off his anxiety attacks, being in and talking about his family wasn't much easier. Chantele found these letters from David's mother, written back from '69 to '71 and ending a few months after he was born. They cover his mother's pregnancy with his sister, Shelly, and her pregnancy with him and a bit after his birth. Amusing note: his mother had planned to name him Sandrelle if he was a girl, considering it to be a classy name suitable for a fashion designer or accountant or college student or something. Ye Gods. We were both glad he was a boy. :)
On the downside, the letters do reveal that she was a petty, self-absorbed, self-centered harridan even then. She cared more about telling people about her new expensive furniture than about her children. She called Shelly a brat from the day she was born (something she didn't do with her other children) and never had a kind word to say about her -- and we wonder why she ended up with so many problems.... It was just... depressing. Necessary in many ways, because his mother makes it so easy to believe that it was an accident, or that she's changed, or that it was all a misunderstanding. It never was and she never has changed, of course, but sometimes you could almost get lured back in.
Chantele hadn't really noticed the extent to which she ended up being the adult in the family, but the letters and pictures sort of shed some new light on it. She was the eldest, being somewhere between 8 years older than David (I can't ever remember exactly), but she was left to take care of them in so many ways while their mother went her own way. For example, she remembers when she was 10 and David was still in diapers. He had followed her to her softball practice (apparently so she could watch him). She tried to keep him out of the way, but he wandered up behind her while she was batting and she accidentally hit him in the head, then dropped everything and carried him home, bleeding, to get help. For the first time, she wondered what he was doing there, and why he'd been sent with her (or allowed to go with her). He was just a toddler and not speaking yet at that age, apparently. What mother in her right mind sends a toddler out with a 10 yr. old to her softball practice for a few hours, with no adult supervision? I mean, maybe for a short while at home, but certainly not out. It's crazy, and makes me angry just to think about.
Argh.
So anyway....
Today was far better, because we got in a check! I can't afford to get a car with it, as I need to pay bills and hold some back to pay for David's therapy and other such things, but it will get me through the rest of October pretty comfortably. I feel much better now, with stress removed from that aspect of things, and I'm hoping things will continue to improve financially. I'm so incredibly tired of being broke that just having a bit of relief on that side of things feels unbelievable. If I'm very good, I might not even binge spend like I usually do (or more realistically, I'll do it on useful things and/or on something small that won't impact my budget very much).
Well, on Friday we had our first meeting with the therapist. He's in his fifties (early fifties, I'd say) and seemed to have a good grasp on the issues at hand. We both made it very clear that David getting better is our top priority, far more so than our marriage at this point. After all, we could work on marriage issues all day long and it wouldn't help anything if he can't get better, as so many of them stem from that stuff he's been dealing with.
David was having a hard time with the interview, but he managed to hold it together and respond to the guy. He kept being angry at a phrase the guy would say or something, but had enough of a hold on himself to realize that what we were talking about was the reason for his feelings, not the therapist. I was glad to hear that.
The therapist wants me to come to as many sessions as I feel comfortable with. I'd go to all of them if I could work it out, but I think David will need some times without me there. As such, we're letting him decide before a session whether or not he wants me to go. He does want me there at the next session, so on Monday we'll be back there again. I'm sorta glad. At least I'll have someone to talk to about things as well. I don't think it can help but help me through things too, painful as it may be. Note to self: don't wear mascara to appointments.
This weekend we went down to David's sister's house for a couple of days. We were supposed to take Alisdair, William and their cousin, Jacob, to the zoo, but Alisdair decided he'd rather stay at Jacob's house and just play all day. We took the boys to Toys R Us for his birthday present from Aunt Chantele (she gave him a gift card) and fun was had by all. Well, mostly all, anyway. David was having a hard time. Being out was setting off his anxiety attacks, being in and talking about his family wasn't much easier. Chantele found these letters from David's mother, written back from '69 to '71 and ending a few months after he was born. They cover his mother's pregnancy with his sister, Shelly, and her pregnancy with him and a bit after his birth. Amusing note: his mother had planned to name him Sandrelle if he was a girl, considering it to be a classy name suitable for a fashion designer or accountant or college student or something. Ye Gods. We were both glad he was a boy. :)
On the downside, the letters do reveal that she was a petty, self-absorbed, self-centered harridan even then. She cared more about telling people about her new expensive furniture than about her children. She called Shelly a brat from the day she was born (something she didn't do with her other children) and never had a kind word to say about her -- and we wonder why she ended up with so many problems.... It was just... depressing. Necessary in many ways, because his mother makes it so easy to believe that it was an accident, or that she's changed, or that it was all a misunderstanding. It never was and she never has changed, of course, but sometimes you could almost get lured back in.
Chantele hadn't really noticed the extent to which she ended up being the adult in the family, but the letters and pictures sort of shed some new light on it. She was the eldest, being somewhere between 8 years older than David (I can't ever remember exactly), but she was left to take care of them in so many ways while their mother went her own way. For example, she remembers when she was 10 and David was still in diapers. He had followed her to her softball practice (apparently so she could watch him). She tried to keep him out of the way, but he wandered up behind her while she was batting and she accidentally hit him in the head, then dropped everything and carried him home, bleeding, to get help. For the first time, she wondered what he was doing there, and why he'd been sent with her (or allowed to go with her). He was just a toddler and not speaking yet at that age, apparently. What mother in her right mind sends a toddler out with a 10 yr. old to her softball practice for a few hours, with no adult supervision? I mean, maybe for a short while at home, but certainly not out. It's crazy, and makes me angry just to think about.
Argh.
So anyway....
Today was far better, because we got in a check! I can't afford to get a car with it, as I need to pay bills and hold some back to pay for David's therapy and other such things, but it will get me through the rest of October pretty comfortably. I feel much better now, with stress removed from that aspect of things, and I'm hoping things will continue to improve financially. I'm so incredibly tired of being broke that just having a bit of relief on that side of things feels unbelievable. If I'm very good, I might not even binge spend like I usually do (or more realistically, I'll do it on useful things and/or on something small that won't impact my budget very much).
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Date: 2003-10-14 05:01 pm (UTC)From: