Dear Emily:

I woke up with a head full of numbers and a nagging headache this morning. Unusual for me. I don’t usually do headaches or numbers. But I’m not surprised that one brought on the other. I’ve always hated numbers. Working with them is enough to give anyone a headache as far as I’m concerned. It’s a good thing not everybody feels that way. Someone has to love it and be good at it. That’s the beauty of our diversified world. Everyone is good at something.

The reason my head was full of numbers is that I was diagnosing myself according to the DSM book (Diagnostic & Statistical Manual) which is what we’re learning about in class. In this book every possible clinical disorder and diagnosis and every possible shape it can come in has a numerical code. We’re not expected to memorize all these, but by the end of this course we are expected to be able to make a speculative diagnosis for other health professionals or to read and understand these codes when they are presented to us.

It could be a very dry course for sure and thank God I’m taking it in an experiential school where the teaching of it is made to be as lively as possible. It’s a course where we do a lot of role playing. We get to act out all these different disorders while the rest of the group tries to figure out what it is we are presenting with. In fact we’re supposed to jump right into it today with the different mood disorders. As someone said, all we have to do is just jump right in and act normal and we’re bound to hit one of them.

I’ve gone off track here. Not unusual when I’m trying to say something and I’m not quite sure what’s bugging me or how to bring it all together yet. I spew out a bunch of other stuff while trying to figure out what it is I really want to say. After yesterday’s class I felt rather melancholic and I was trying to figure out what was going on for me.

It was on my one hour drive home I realized how sad I felt that our family is one that never talks, never opens up and never looks within for answers. I feel sad things such as alcoholism, abuse, psychosis, bi-polar, schizophrenia, depression, anxiety disorders and anything else which falls within those umbrellas remained, and still does, something to be hidden in the closet.

I realize a big part of this has to do with my deep need to not hide behind barricades, to not erect walls to fence myself in, to not deny the reality around me, to not ignore the truth, and to not feel shamed for what is. I can’t deal with what I can’t see, what I can’t put on the table, talk about, see, touch and feel, and quite frankly, I don’t see how anyone else can either.

But on the flip side of that I have a very strong sense of honor and respect for people and their right to what feels right for them and what they thinl should be contained behind cement walls. My struggle has always been and very much continues to be, how do I live my reality and at the same time respect theirs? How do I balance this? How do I break through this very powerful, seductive, “don’t talk” rule that permeates everywhere and somehow manages to superimpose itself in my life?

Until I figure this out for myself I will continue to struggle with what it is I have to say and how I will say it. This is where I am blocked in moving forward in who I am and in my writing. This is where I feel the sadness and it is probably where the flipping headaches come from.

Writefully Yours
Annette