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Thanks for visiting my diary. I've been journaling since 1984 and have chosen to share some of my entries online. They are not all positive thoughts, but I hope that reading them might be a blessing to someone who needs encouragement.
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I've been alternating between sleeping, arm pain, and deep thinking. *grin* Ironically, this week is the five-year anniversary of when I left my marriage. I've been thinking a lot about it, reading journals, etc. I'm having some thoughts that I will probably post later--I had some interesting revelations that generalize to a very interesting discussion of stuff that applies to lots of different situations.
I've often thought of the counselor's dilemma when dealing with clients with disabilities. I am especially blessed with my current therapist. She is dilligent about doing her homework and also respects my own areas of knowledge (expertise?) and the impact of not only the disability and attitudes about disability but also the medical interventions. For so long therapists kept telling me that my history did not make me vulnerable to having a dissociative disorder--no severe or prolonged abuse or trauma. That was part of what made me throw therapy to the wind and start digging for my own answers. Eventually some circumstances compelled me to return to therapy, and it has finally been a good and helpful thing. One of the things I'd like to do is put together a book based on my personal experiences but referencing the professional mumbo jumbo and put a guide in the back to disability info for counselors. I talked to my therapist about it, and she really liked the idea. I'm just not sure where to start.
My arm is showing signs of healing. It still has a long way to go, and the week has been frustrating as I've tried to avoid irritating the injury. Of course, my mom thinks I'm going overboard in being concerned about it. I just have to remember that she isn't living with it and she (a) doesn't use her hands for as many things as I do and (b) isn't so likely to have to worry about something like banging it on the door jamb as she walks through. I really don't conk into things that often, but I'm realizing how much effort I put into making that so. I always took it for granted that I was fairly good at estimating distances and being aware of where I was. Now I'm realizing that that takes on new meaning when I have to apply it to a specific part of my body. Stubbing my toes or brushing against something are commonplace events for me, and usually I just ignore them--everybody stubs their toes and brushes against things once in a while. ...
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