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I know that not everyone is a fan of talk therapy, but I love it.  It gives me a place to go and yell and scream and cry and be silent, and not be judged.

I was looking more forward to therapy then usual today because of Ulla’s passing.  Because nestled in among all that sadness was an anger that bordered on rage.  And I had no idea what to do with it.  Sitting home quietly with my thoughts was doing nothing to dissipate my anger. Neither was blogging.

I needed to talk it out.

My anger is with the system.  With bad doctors, bad medications, bad disability processes, all I wanted to do was work on fixing it all, and all at the same time.

But, I can’t.  For several reasons.

First, I can’t go public with my real name until disability makes their decision.  And that could be months still.  But, if they think “Well she can fight then she can work” I’m screwed.  Because the reality of the situation is that I’ll only be able to devote a small amount of time per day fighting.  I have to perverve my sanity, while I help others perserve theirs.

Second, and really most importantly, the problems are too  big.  And other people are already working on other parts of the problems.  So, I have to find my place.  I have to build a network.  I have to have research in place.  There are things I want to do, that are already being done.  If I can’t improve it, then I should give that resource to people and move on to other problems.

So, my decision is this.  Normal is out There will remain in place and be my blog as it always has been.  This is my journal space.  This is where I come to get help.  The most intensely personal things will remain here.  But, I will be starting another blog. I have not figured out a name yet (suggestions are welcome!).  Some of what is posted here will also be posted there.  But that blog will be research and ideas and resources.  And, I’m sure, my unfiltered opinions of what I find.  If I just slap my real name on this blog I will have to go back through every post and mark the ones that talk about anyone in my life as Private.  And if I can’t talk about what’s going on in my life, then I may as well not blog at all.

The other benefit of my therapy session this morning was this.  I want to remember the way I feel about Ulla’s passing.  Because if I ever find myself in a suicidal spot again, I want to try to remember that I don’t feel better off that Ulla is gone.  It always comes down to being too tired to go on and feeling that other people will be better off without me.  And it’s a real thought.  It’s twisted by Bipolar, but it’s real.  If I can pull out my memory of not feeling better without Ulla, then maybe, just maybe, I can stop myself again.

Let’s hope that we can all stop ourselves the next time.

 

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