Therapathetic

People find themselves drawn to different professions for a lot of reasons.  

Personally, if I had my way and all the money required, I'd be a cartoonist.  

Still, gotta make a living somehow, and being a Psychologist not only makes sense for me, but allows me the opportunity to help someone...
...Or accidentally screw someone up pretty badly. 

Exciting!  

Okay, so I'm actually pretty terrified.  

That being said, I learned what to do from my classes, and what NOT to do from most of my therapists.  

I've had a lot of therapists.

I take this as a strength.  
I've been where the client is.  
Also, as a therapist, I'll know that not all cases will be the same.

I even had a therapist direct me to a hypnotist who got SUPER excited over the idea of me puking in her office.

Let me explain that one.

See, I told her that I was having nightmares.  
She asked what happens when I wake up.
I told her that if they are really bad, I get sick.
Her response was: 

And so my response was: 

And my mother promptly removed me from the woman's office.

Mind you, I've had nice, sane therapists too.  
My current one, in fact.  

She's been very helpful, which means she's been supportive in a way that allows me to come up with what I need to do for myself. 

She guides without telling, and gives hope when needed.  

The one before her also wasn't awful.  

She was an art therapist and helped me learn that I like art therapy techniques but would like to do other things with clients.

The one before that one was mostly...  Good?  
...ish? 
 
She went out of her way to say that once I was diagnosed with PTSD, that would be my life forever.  

Don't tell your client, who is in your office to get better, that there is no such thing as healing or a future without intense psychological pain.  

Not cool.

Also, she was wrong. 

So, let's get to the utter shit of it, shall we? 

When I was of Bat Mitzvah age, I went to a woman about my crippling anxiety and dealing with some physical pain.  

After hearing that I was not going through this traditional Jewish ceremony (which was a very minor part of my story), she explained to me that: 

Yeah.  

She decided to let me know that I'd be "letting my congregation down" and that the rabbi and my own PARENTS would hate me for not doing it. 

This was utter crap. 

I responded with a: 

And my parents reassured me that they weren't going to disown me AND that I didn't have to see that woman ever again.  

It turned out that my family actually knew her, but didn't realize that she had a different last name than her child.  

My father was training her child for his/her Bar/Bat Mitzvah.  

Projection!  Don't do it!  

Next up was a woman I actually had twice.  

What I mean by that is that I saw her for many months, then switched to someone else, and then tried her again.

I had left the first time because she was very open about also being the therapist for a frienemy of mine.  

She'd talk openly about said friend/enemy and I felt uncomfortable, realizing she was probably doing the same about me.  

Breach of confidentiality, for one thing.  

The second time was somehow worse.

I was talking about something... I don't remember what.  

It triggered her. 
She started crying.
A lot. 

I was not crying. 

Pretty much everything this lady did went on my "Don't do this to people" list.

Still, not as bad as a woman who forced me to take drugs. 

Look, if you have a chemical imbalance and want to be on medication, more power to you.  
It can be helpful. 

I didn't want it. 

Beyond that, I had ZERO signs of clinical ANYTHING that wasn't direct cause and effect.  

I had anxiety and some depression because my legs didn't work right and my sister was scary.  

I wanted to talk about it. 

I wanted to find ways to work with it and build my life into something better.

She decided that would be too difficult, and handed me a pill. 

Since I had said from day one that I did not want to take any medications, and she had agreed...

I figured I must be REALLY screwed up for her to demand I try them.  

...So I took the pill.

It didn't take long before I started feeling like I wanted to kill myself.

I had never felt like that before.  

Thankfully, I was able to see that it was the medication having a strange effect on me.

In retrospect, the fact that she didn't mention that as a possible side effect, the fact that she talked me into taking something at all, and the fact that she didn't mention just STOPPING instead of weening off of it could be dangerous... 

Bitch could have killed me. 

DON'T DO THIS TO PEOPLE.

And you know what her response was when I said I wasn't going to take it anymore?

Thankfully, I had brought Dad in that day. 
I don't even know why I had dragged him in.  

Maybe I was afraid of what else she'd ask me to do. 

He told me I never had to see her again.
...She had always silently repeated everything I said with her own lips anyway.
That was really creepy.  

Like I said before, there have been good therapists in my life.  

They don't need to be on this list in pictures because every day that I talk about the progress I've made shows how not-shitty they are. 

Those are the people I hope to emulate. 
I hope to be a not-shitty therapist.

Cha Cha Hannukah

Surrounded by questions of whether or not I had a Christmas tree growing up, I started remembering Hannukah once again.  

I remember the same things I've told you all before...

And I noticed something else.

First, let's talk about the fact that eight gifts typically happen.  

It's one a night, and parents will generally pick which to give their child each night.  

Sometimes the gifts get a little silly by the end, and sometimes they get better and better.

My parents?

They showed us all the gifts at once. 

In a pile...

Mine would be one wrapping paper and my sister's would be another. 

They were in a pile and it was our choice which present we'd pick first, second, and so on each night. 

This was terrible.

We'd spend every night thinking about what the other shapes contained and whether we chose right, even though we'd obviously be getting the others open eventually. 

Sometimes it would be a miss, like a thing we didn't really care for or something decidedly useless...

Sometimes it would be something completely ridiculous on the other side of the spectrum, and I'd become a little concerned about who my parents had to kill in order to afford it...

Either way, having that pile to choose from and that interesting semi-roulette of Hannukah ended with conditioning me to realize that anything I'm waiting for will eventually come, whether I guess or obsess about it or not. 

It also did something else that is fairly important.

It made me no longer have a crushing sense of curiosity.  

I don't mean that it took the magic out of my imagination or made me want to know how things worked a little less.  

Not at all.  

What I'm saying is that situations that were labeled as dangerous in some way were no longer particularly interesting to me.  

Things that did not affect my life and that would not have anything potentially awesome for me or my loved ones were empty boxes which did not need to be opened. 

When friends saw a door saying, "Do Not Enter," it filled them with a NEED to open that door.  

I was freed from this need.

I no longer cared. 

I'm telling you...  This was freeing.  

A beautiful thing.  

The closed door was now nothing more than a door I did not need to open, so that I could spend more energy opening the doors which needed opening.  

Take this both literally and figuratively.  

On a completely separate note, I actually DID have Christmas this year.  

We had a tree in the apartment and everything.  

It was about four feet tall and we didn't actually have much to work with.

The only real ornaments on it are, oddly enough, mine. 

Oswald, the Lucky Rabbit...

Plenty of candy canes,
Batman...

The ribbon is Halloween ribbon. 

There were lips on there somewhere...

The topper was Trickster #1 from the Broadway show of the Lion King. 

And a bat. 

My Knight's family has taken me in as one of their own. 

I feel a little like a tiny kitten being taken in by a pack of wolves.  

They are very caring and were terrifying before I learned the ways of their people. 

...Like Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.  

This freaking movie.

I don't understand what the Hell I watched. 

My eyes themselves were confused and pained, yet entertained. 

Like watching an empty car explode.  

The movie was so charming and nice to look at that I somehow got through the implications of ...everything bad that could possibly happen to a woman.  

Like the main character himself, all was forgiven with a dance number and a song. 

In any case, we were given many gifts that evening and much joy was had.  

I felt like I was really a part of the family, and that was nice. 

Yay!

 

 

Getting Injured

I currently have a band-aid on each thumb as I type this blog entry.  

I consider myself a careful person, really... and I wouldn't call myself clumsy per se... 

But I'll let you kids decide for yourselves.  

I started young with the accidentally-hurting-myself-in-stupid-ass-ways thing.

My mother still feels guilty about an incident where I fell out of the shopping cart.  

Dude.  

Those things are, like, designed to avoid this.  
I still don't understand how I managed such a feat without breaking my legs in order to get out... 

But I clearly remember the milk isle zooming in toward my face: 

Obviously, I survived.  I probably lost a tooth though.  

I can say that, because I was generally losing teeth during these incidents.  

Considering all the oral surgery I wound up having as an adult later, it was probably for the best that I just get the baby teeth out of the way fast anyway.

I was walking along with a straw in a drink and a loose tooth to play with (do you see where this is going?) and not ONLY did I stick my loose tooth INTO the straw for fun, but then I tripped. 

This resulted in RIPPING THE TOOTH OUT OF MY FACE while also smashing the rest of me to the ground.  

Very efficient, really.

Doorknobs often had a similar effect.  See, I was "doorknob height" and wasn't always aware of my surroundings.  
I blame inner ear issues.  

Either way,

Lost at least one that way.

By now,  you've heard tales of how often I cut my hands open while carving pumpkins, or stabbing myself in the thumbs while sewing (often straight through the nail)...

But one time, I actually learned a lesson during a sewing mishap.

You know what?  I'm not gonna illustrate this one because it still ickles me.  

I tend to stick sewing needles pretty much wherever I can, with the (often very, very wrong) assumption that it will assist in my not losing them.  

So, I'm sitting on my parent's couch, sewing stuff.  

Probably making one of these: 

So cute. 

Such pain. 

And I put the needle in the couch next to me, just slightly, thinking I'll be able to pull it out by the thread later.  

Then I couldn't find it.  

...

Yep.

Cue a few days later where I'm on the same couch, trying to get something that has fallen behind said couch, getting up to sit on my knees... on the couch. 

Right. 

Our needle friend is promptly found.  

It goes up into my thigh. 

Let me clarify... 
It's not like, poking from the side into my thigh.  It's going from the top of my knee UP into my thigh-meats, along the thigh itself. 

Oh my fuck. 

There are no words to describe the combined horror, shame, pain, disgust and so on that I experienced in this moment.  

*ahem* 

Moving on.

Did I mention I've managed to STAB myself?  

Some were small, like the x-acto knife at art school.

We were snowed in, so there was a moment of, "Whelp, glad I didn't cut off my thumb.  Wouldn't have been able to get to a hospital in time to save it.  Whoops." 

Instead, I merely jammed it into the tip of my thumb.  
There's a vein at the base of my palm that had flipped out during this process.  
This happened a decade ago and it still puffs up if I'm stressed.  

...

Probably a terrible sign.  

Still, not as bad as the time I stabbed myself in the shoulder while working retail.  

See, I was diligently cutting apart and collapsing boxes for storing them in the back.  

"The back" was basically a hallway with shelves of walls filled with random crap to sell.  

Knowing we were the only two in the store, and knowing I had gone back there, I guess my work-buddy forgot.  

She didn't see me sitting in this hallway cutting boxes with the box cutter.  

She walked into me, kicking the box away.  

This was fine except: 

I remember thinking, "Oh, that didn't happen.  I'm just holding the box cutter slightly PAST my shoulder.  Here, I'll pull it awa- ...  Oh crud."  

My coworker wanted to rush me to a hospital, but, being me...  

Nope. 

I just wanted to keep on workin'. 

I still have a scar from it, but obviously I was fine.  

Well, obviously I'm fine NOW in any case.

...

Shh.





 

 

Lost Like This

My sense of direction has never been fantastic. 

It is the real reason why a smaller campus is nice for me, though I'll admit that I've certainly gotten lost within small campus areas too. 

…Okay, within buildings.  I've gotten lost within a building or five.

Like, this one building on the smaller of my college campuses might as well be like that Escher painting. 
 



Once, as an undergrad, I got lost on the other side of campus because I had gone to the other dining hall. 

I had to call my friend from home, who had been there maybe once, to tell me how to get back to my dorm.
 

Of course, I had gotten stuck in my own dorm at one point before that… 
 

This one Summer, I was taking a class for college at my old high school.  

I figured, "Yeah, I remember this place.  It'll be a breeze getting around."

First of all, that saying, "You can't go home again" can mean a lot of things. 

In terms of my old high school, it means some major renovations were being made and the entire thing not only looked very different, but was actually being gutted at the time. 

So, after my class, I go to leave.  
I remember that the doors lead, you know... out. 

…And, technically speaking, they did. 

The problem was that "out" did not mean out to the parking lot. 

Out, in this case, meant out into a wasteland of mud and construction equipment. 

I like to think the equipment was just as confused as I was.
 

It was also raining, hence the dirt being mud. 

I turned to go back inside, but the door was locked. 

…

The door that I had just gone through was locked to the outside. 

I imagine I looked like this, trying to get back in:
 

With no other choice, I turned to see if I could some how climb may way out, back into society. 

I began to sink into the mud.

Not only was it really, super gross, but I also was working under the assumption that I was going to die there and be buried like some horrible time capsule. 

"This seems to be a college girl.  What was she doing back then in the 2000s wandering around a high school?  We may never know…" 

I actually don't remember how I got out, but I know that I was very distraught and disturbed when I went back to my parent's house. 

The sandals I had been wearing were given to the gods as sacrifice. 
 

I don't know why I thought that would be easy.  

I mean, even when I WAS in high school, I never knew where I was going.  

I'd carry around my schedule every day and ask my teacher EVERY DAY how to get to the next class.  

I was late most of the time, so I stopped going to my locker at all, except for before and after lunch.
 

I'd switch my school bag with my lunch box, then my lunch box with the other half of my school stuff for the rest of the day. 

Of course, this brilliant process is why I often did my homework, yet managed to not have it to hand in.

Middle school was even worse, because even if I had known where my locker was, (which I never did) I wouldn't have known the combination to my lock anyway.
 

I still have dreams where I'm lost and looking for my damn locker. 

I get lost in wide open spaces too.  I get lost in stores and panic the moment whoever I'm with is behind a display or something, thinking I'll be lost forever. 

Panic probably doesn't help the lost thing… 

I've learned to at least ask or pretend to know where I'm going until I figure it out, but I still feel like I'm always wrong about which direction I should go. 

…There's a metaphor in that, I'm sure.

The Rest of the What I Wore Challenge and Thanksgiving

The first part of this can be found here!

The What I Wore challenge goes for thirty days.  The idea is to last a month, but a started at a weird time, so I wound up ending on Thanksgiving.  

Day 13:  This is what I was wearing once the day was done.  The shirt is one with a little picture of Kyo from Fruits Basket on the bottom right corner.  Computerrr....

For day 14, the top is a hand-me-down from my mom, cause I’m so cool.  
 

You know, I have trouble drawing my full body because I’m a tiny, too thin thing with boobs.  I automatically want to draw myself with real people proportions, but I’m just not built that way.  I have no midsection, so I’m mostly limbs.  

In fact, I read a "body positive" thing online recently telling everyone that it is impossible to be built like me.  So, don't worry kids!  You aren't a freak, but apparently I still am.
Oh well.


Day 15 was a rainbowy Jack and Sally shirt.

...I chose a month where I’m just wearing a lot of jeans, and I’m aware of how boring this is.  


Next up, PINK on Day 16!  This shirt features a skeleton magician with his rabbit companion. 

It was my birthday weekend!  That has nothing to do with this image.  
This is day 17 of the What I Wore challenge.  
…I’m gonna need to start doing different things with my hair for these in the future. 

It’s not really visible, but along with the skull covered shirt, I’m wearing a star cartilage earring and an arrow with a star as my industrial on the other side. 



What I Wore challenge, Day 18 was still my birthday weekend!  
We went to a museum, I got to play skeeball… I had a damn good time and you can read that post here! 

My hair was half up, my ears were full of earrings, I wore a dress I made (Yep!  You can read about that too!), and I even wore leggings instead of jeans.

Day 19 of the What I Wore challenge!  It was the last day of my birthday weekend, so I had a crown. 

…I feel like half my clothing items only make sense when seen in real life. 


Day 20 was covered in spikes!

Yet another presentation for Day 21 of the What I Wore challenge…
Also, I keep drawing my hair too long.  
I guess I’m just anxious for it to grow out again.

Winter happened by Day 22... 

And on Day 23, I looked grumpy due to a headache.  

Day 24 of the What I Wore challenge: I had a migraine all day, so getting out of my pink fuzzy robe and pajama pants was not a thing that was going to happen.

 It's so weird seeing these quick blog-drawings in color...

Here we have a black wrap shirt over a grey under shirt for Day 25...  And jeans.   

Day 26 was more interesting!  
"Zombie" knee highs, leggings, and a velvety dress thing that has the shoulders cut out.  
It was warm and comfy.  

Elvira tee, half striped pants, and purple fuzzy socks on Day 27 of the What I Wore challenge.

Day 28 of the 30 day What I Wore challenge.  
I consider this my Marceline outfit.  
You know, Vampire Queen from Adventure Time and all that. 

Day 29 involved a silky jacket that makes me feel like an 80's rocker.
We had Thanksgiving a day early with my parents, since it was also the first night of Hannukah.    

Day 30 was Thanksgiving.  
Hung out with Rob's family... then we hung out with Rob's family.  So much family.  I like them a lot, and I wanted to look nice.  
This dress is sort of striped in layers of fabric.  
Once again, much prettier than what I drew.    

 Whew!  That's it for that! 

It's a Kind of Magic

For a little while, and perhaps again soon, I was altering Magic cards.  

I don't even play the game, but I love the art and some of them were fun to play with. 

So, here are a few examples because this is my blog and I can show what stupid things I do with my time.  

First up, bunnies and that... thing.  With scared people.  

Here, I had a request to make this dude into a lady.  The colors are actually a lot nicer in person, but oh well.  

Sometimes it's just fun to extend the artwork...  

And lastly, NEKKID.  I think this was the first one I did, so I wasn't really...  sure what the Hell I was doing.