I don't put my feet on other peoples furniture

I just don't. My mother raised me right and let's just face it, putting your dirty shoes on other peoples furniture is just rude. Now, if I know the person really well (and I know there isn't any dirt or mud on my shoes) I may ask if it's alright. The other day while hanging out at a friends I got a little anxious and needed to make myself a little smaller (just scrunch up a bit, you know, it can be comforting) and so I asked him. But that is a very rare occurrence (and why I just didn't take my shoes off I don't know).

Random little blog entry isn't it? ;) Don't worry, there's actually a point to this.

I don't put my feet on other peoples furniture. Usually. But since Monday, May 9th (ah, Monday of the overdose >.<) there has been one notable exception. The therapists office. Now it probably helps that I have actually seen this guy in the past, albeit for a brief period of 'crisis counseling' (four sessions I think). So did I ask, as I did with my friend the other night? No, as a matter of fact the first time I did it was the Tuesday after and I didn't even notice I had done it at first. Just drew my foot up on the seat of the chair and wrapped my arms around my knee. He didn't say anything so I didn't bother about it; it was that much more comfortable that way. The next session I did the same thing, almost from word one. Today I did better... at the beginning (get ready for it because the entire point of this blog entry is about to be revealed ;)). I sat down and crossed one leg over the other at the knee and swung my foot; pretty 'standard' for me in similar situations. And for the first bit that was just fine because we talked about pretty innocuous stuff. He told me what he wanted to talk about and asked if I had anything I wanted to bring up. I told him nothing, other than to let him know that I was going to be gone most of next week. He asked why and I told him that this Saturday I was going to go back to my home town for the Pow Wow (there is one every year)and that there was some family stuff in the middle of the week... it just made more sense to stay rather than go back and forth with gas prices being what they are. He asked me what tribe and I told him and we chatted about that for a bit (I thought it was a little strange at the time... now I just think he found a perfect opening and wasn't going to let it get away) before he says something like 'You know, I don't think we've talked about your family. We might have but if he did I just don't have a picture of it.'. Oh good. After I assure him that he hasn't just forgotten, we never did discuss them (it was short-term crisis counseling, that's not something you normally address) he says something to the effect of 'OK, good, so give me a picture, brothers, sisters, parents...' Joyous days. Up comes one foot, the arms go around the knee. See, the gal I talked with on the 9th asked about that stuff (it's generally assumed that people who self injure have some sort of trauma in their past, usually physical or sexual abuse because, most of them do) so I told her a bit: my dad was abusive and being the outspoken child I got the brunt of it. I made light of it as best I could (a lot of shoulder shrugging) and eventually the topic was dropped for other, more immediate and important things (such as whether or not they were going to detain me... they didn't -and heaven and that woman only know why because even this guy told her to send me to the psych ward and he knew me that much better than she did- but I did get to spend the night on a friends couch). I did learn later that she told him that there were 'family issues' of some kind, or something like that, but gave no specifics. But I digress... another couple minutes conversation about family things (mostly parents) and I've got both feet on the chair and wrapped my arms around both knees. I don't put my feet on other peoples furniture. I just don't. And yet out of three sessions with this man (OK, the three most recent) there has not been one where I haven't had at least one foot on the chair as I hugged my knee to myself. I've changed my mind. I don't want to do this, I'm sorry. These folks have been so helpful. Bend over backward helpful. I don't understand it but I really do appreciate it. I just don't want to do this. The goal of DBT is to help the person tolerate intense emotion without reaching for the razor blade (or the lighter or whatever other self harm behavior they engage in). This sort of conversation makes it that much harder. I didn't reach for my razor blade this time (or the candle as on rare occasions I will burn rather than cut)... I came home, ate, and then stuck my finger down my throat (he doesn't know about that bad habit of mine as of yet >.<). *shakes head* That's not much better.

*sigh* How did my life become such a mess?

(Disclaimer: there are supposed to be a couple paragraphs in that one large one... but for some reason blogger won't post it as such... I will admit to being awful with such things as paragraphing but I'll not take the blame for that, lol)