Dahlia White Perfection (photo from Wikimedia Commons.org)
I saw Lynn today and admitted my feelings of shame, stupidity, embarrassment and sadness. I wasn’t sure how to tell her I mixed alcohol with the klonopin (and subsequently fell down and got seriously bruised) so I went about it the long way, weaving a story of what led me to drink more wine than is typical for me. The usual stresses: kids, family, love, loss, etc. I really have a high expectation for myself and when I do something downright stupid I am my worst critic.
When I’m at the therapist’s office I always have this 3rd person approach. I watch what I say, what she says and what we both do. Lynn was trying to play it cool and not show shock or much of anything. I was explaining things dispassionately so I wouldn’t put all my raw emotions on her table. I saw her eyes go down to my arm and the bruises before I was ready to get to that part and I was aware that she already knew. She said, “It’s not quite as bad as how you judge it in your own mind.” Lynn told me I like control and perfection and when triggers occur and I react less than what I would like, I beat myself up.
I admitted I find it difficult to disclose my vulnerability, frailties and weaknesses to others. I showed her my bruise and she did not react.
Lynn asked, “What were you afraid would happen when you told me?”
You would immediately think of your own liability and whether it is a bad idea to be prescribing medications to me.
Lynn agreed that was important and said she has warned me not to mix the klonopin with alcohol. I assured her I knew the risks, as it is also written all over the prescription bottle and accompanying pamphlets.
I felt the need to tell her, I have never taken more than what you prescribe for me, one pill a day is all I’ve ever done.
See. Look. I’m still a good little patient.
She told me if I ever drink just don’t take the klonopin that night.
I think her approach was to try not to make it as big a deal as I feel it is. She was diffusing some of my anxiety and tension by trying to lessen my sense of transgression. It somewhat helped but I’m still walking around with a couple huge bruises on my arm that are embarrassing.
That conversation all occurred within the first 5-10 minutes and then my therapist and I got down to some heartfelt conversations. She asked what feelings or thoughts were occurring when I turned to wine as my escape. I will save the rest for another day because my sense of shame makes it difficult to go on. I’m still processing my mistake and trying to figure out how to forgive, forget and move on. ♥
“No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.”
Eleanor Roosevelt (taken from the book I’m reading, If Life is a Game, These are the Rules by Cherie Carter-Scott)