Decent day — good day

When I was thinking of the title for tonight's post, I thought "I've had a good day.  A decent day." The fact that I downgraded it from good to decent struck me. Why do I so often diminish the good, but the bad is always way up there — awful, horrible, terrible? When I exchanged greetings with someone I know around the complex, he said he was "good" and I said I was "not too bad." Am I afraid that I will attract The Bad by giving attention to The Good? It's weird, whatever it is.

Therapy Day today. I still hadn't done my homework, so we talked about all the other crap. Then I learned that while I thought I'd been doing cognitive therapy in the past, I hadn't done it in the orderly manner that Karen does it. 

We were discussing, hell, I don't remember all of it specifically.  We discussed my living in the past and the future. We discussed my meltdowns of last week. Then she asked me if she'd gone over the Cognitive Distortions checklist. No, she hadn't, and I'm glad she thought to do so today. I have a lot of the distorted thinking patterns on her list. For example, All or Nothing thinking, where everything is black or white. When my meltdowns occur, that's the first place I go. Or "Mental filter: you pick out a single negative detail and dwell on it exclusively so that your vision of all reality becomes darkened, like the drop of ink that discolors the entire beaker of water." Might as well put my picture on that one. One bad thing can color the rest of a predominantly good thing for me. 

My current homework is to note these distortions when I think them, label them, then replace them with corrected, undistorted thoughts.

I've been in therapy for over half my life. I was told that much of it was cognitive therapy. But I've never had it targeted this well or been given such specific information and ways to deal with it.

My other homework is to get some balance in my life with the computer. I've let the computer be my escape from reality, my distraction from thinking or living. Now my intention is to use the computer as a tool — for writing, for communicating, for doing work — and to not use it for escapist activities. Nope, no planning any prison breaks on the computer for me! Oh, not that kind of escapist. And if you check out my blog list down on the right, you'll see "zen habits." In my previous post I mentioned the blog author's book, Focus. Well part of that book talks about becoming addicted to the computer and allowing it to control you rather than the other way around. Luckily for me, this book has come to me at the right time to help me with this specific task. Oh, and with the next one.

In order to deal with my forever living in the past and the future rather than the present, my homework is to practice mindfulness and get out of my head. Think outwardly, not inwardly. Yeah, that will be easy. I worked on it while on my short walk. "Oh look, pretty trees. Ow, my feet hurt. Listen to the birds. The sun is in my eyes. Smell the scent of trees and pine needles and dust. My feet still hurt." It was like dragging a toddler along on my walk! Which, in some way, I guess I was. That inner child thing.

And, of course, I need to continue on my trauma homework.

It's a whole lot of work, certainly. I must make it a priority or I'll never do any of it. And at my advanced age, it's high time I stop suffering from my past and fearing my future and simply begin living my life. Because being miserable has lost its glamour somehow.

Deep thoughts #1

Sometimes all that is needed to raise my self-confidence on a dreadful day or a lousy week is for one really noticeable or significant item to go just right so I can say "Yay me!"

Today, that one was making the reservation for a room for tomorrow night. It's a bit more room than completely necessary, but I am a woman of taste and grace and a small sitting area for myself and guests is a small necessity.

So, YAY ME!

OMG! I DID STUFF!!!!

It's entirely appropriate language and punctuation to use.

Today was a typical Sunday. I stayed up until almost 3 am because I couldn't sleep; finally took a pill. Then I woke up at 11 am.  At least I slept for 8 hours, which is good for you, right?

I dawdled, knowing I had so much work to do that I'd put off since Friday (down heah in the South, folks take Good Friday off, including school and gov'mint offices, y'all). Almost all of what I had to do was work-related — a press release I'll get paid for as the contract progresses, and the work samples for the potential contract, plus updating my professional web site.  I also have my therapy homework. I just couldn't start.

I wrote emails. I checked blogs repetitively. I drank two large mugs of tea.

Finally, I ran out of ways to delay myself and I started. Nothing like a tight deadline to motivate one! And then something weird happened. I. Got. Productive.

Here's the list of what I accomplished today:

• edited a press release
• added 6 or 7 PDFs to my portfolio on my computer
• added the same 6 or 7 PDFs to my web site area
• updated my web site: made minor changes to 5 pages, major changes to 2, added 13 or 14 new pages, included all the correct links (and tested and tested), tested and fixed some more (uploaded and tested and fixed and uploaded)
• via email, asked for testimonials/recommendations (from probably 7 people) that I can post on my web site (have received 4 yeses and no noes)
• swept the deck, including the deck chairs and around the door
• took took the two large boxes that have been lingering in the living room out to the storage closet on the deck
• paid a bill
• boiled some eggs
• ate some eggs for dinner when I realized it was almost 8 pm

In between were at least 30 texts with friends.

I guess the drugs have kicked in.

"I had a good day," she said with surprise in her voice.

The day was sunny, but the sunshine is not the reason I had a good day. I held few expectations for myself — just a small list of things that must be done —, but keeping my expectations reasonable was not why I had a good day. My period hit flood stage, which is definitely not why I had a good day.

The day was sunny; I accomplished all my tasks; my period almost I survived being away from home for over three hours with a heavy period; I bought a few snacks and ate all of them (two steps forward, one step back); my brain whirred — the  title for this post came to me, I imagined a potential title and signature graphic for another blog if I choose to illustrate and sell greeting cards and other of my works, and ... I should use my digital recorder in the car because I have forgotten for the moment; my body sucked in the heat and the Vitamin D; I posted comments on blogs, I read blogs, I emailed, FBed, and Tweeted with friends; many ideas for all the writing aspects of my life ran in rivulets through my brain, just behind my eyes (where they are running now, like visual music tracks in color and motion).

None of these things is the reason I had a good day. Not one single thing made me feel better — it was the gestalt of all of them combined that lifted my spirits and the corners of my lips. On my mood spreadsheet for today, I will actually go positive on my Depressed/Happy axis. (Yes, I do keep a spreadsheet of my moods and any typical things that might have an influence on them. Then I create charts to see if there are obvious relationships. Thank Gates for something useful!)

I feel potentially productive. What this means is that my mind is churning on all the projects that I have to do and all the projects that I want to do. I can see them and hear them and feel them. (This may be my own form of synesthesia.) 

Tangent — A previous therapist of mine was quite concerned that I was wasting too much of my energy on a fantasy life I imagined every day. Finally I told her all about it, in the same amount of detail that I used in imagining this life and she was astounded. "I understand now," she said. "This is why you need to leave, to go somewhere more stimulating. If you can run your normal life and a whole yet imaginary life, your mind isn't getting anything close to the amount of stimulation and outlet that it needs." Which was entirely true, and which has continued to be true off and on — few jobs can occupy my mind fully for any great length of time. I get bored and wander off to something else. At least I give two weeks' notice before wandering off.

What this tangent means is that my mind was more awake today, more alive, and thus able to begin creating and reaching out for what it needs.

I endeavor to avoid becoming too excited over singular positive changes — they are too easily overset. I will save my excitation for an actual upward trend. (But I will continue to feel optimistic!)

More

Writing a post every day is about as difficult as I expected it to be. But the posts were coming from me so quickly, I grew cocky. I found that sometimes the words aren't flowing. Sometimes I'm far too tired to want to put in the effort or the time. Sometimes I just don't feel like it. And in the past, if I didn't feel like doing something, I'd cancel it, call in sick, blow it off.

I've realized that I wasn't giving myself much credit for writing this blog daily. And not only this blog, but the occasional post on my other blog, and now I'm starting a third, for professional conversation.

Even though I have been so anxious and depressed and purely, miserably in pain during the past month and 2 days, I've written for this blog every evening. And I've turned out another couple of posts for the other blogs.

I don't give myself enough credit.

Today, I dressed in nice clothes and went to a meeting, which was energetic and loud. The sun shone. The weather was hot and not too humid. There was traffic. I didn't have enough water to drink and was parched all the way home. I'm tired because I'm so introverted and I've spent entirely too much time alone inside my home, because I'm out of driving "shape," and because I became mildly dehydrated.

Yet, here I am, writing a post for tonight, even though I am tired and my knee hurts and my ears are still ringing from the talking (we are a loud group). I'm writing even though I have clothing spread all over my bed that I need to put away before I can go to sleep. I'm writing even though all I planned to do was write "Sorry, no post. I'm tired."

Writing a post every day is more difficult than I thought. And much easier. I need to give myself more credit.

Big love, bright life

Today I was drenched in prayers and good wishes from many friends in my extended community and now I feel light and shiny. 

How different from just a day or two ago!

I still have my depression and anxiety, but today I am feeling noticeably lifted above them. It feels good. Between good therapy and an amazing response from these friends, yes, it's a good day. This good day feeling directly recalls yesterday's post about the feel-good brain chemicals produced in women's conversations.

Along with the light and shiny feelings comes exhaustion. I conjecture this exhaustion comes from the emotional outpouring I made, and the emotional inpouring I received. How amazing the power that can be transmitted via email and cell phone!

One message that friends told me and told me was that Depression Lies.This message aligns with what Karen and I discussed in our session today. She said that whether or not I have some social developmental problem doesn't matter. The fact that I believe I do makes me act as if I do: I feel awkward in social situations, I don't know how to make small talk, I feel clueless and am tense, sure that I'll say or do something foolish or stupid (and in the past, I often have). Belief can create reality. (Julie, no crowing!)

Thus, I have another task, trying to change my belief and hoping it changes my behavior and thinking. I'll put it on the list.

I'll leave off some of the other things we talked about in today's session, because I don't want to bring down the tone of this post. 

I feel good. I feel a remembrance of when I was an optimist and rather bouncy. I can't wait until I get my new med — it may take me back to that place where I feel confident and calm. I'll hold onto today's light and shiny feeling for as long as I can, and I'll come back to this post to remind myself, when the dark days come, as they will do as I continue my therapeutic journey.

Thank you, my friends, for everything.

Signed,

Tinkerbell

Faith?

I'm not very good at faith. I have a scientific mind. However, I used to be a "true believer" type: faeries, Santa, good government, UFOs, true love, and unicorns. These two aspects do create a bit of cognitive dissonance.

Life has rather kicked the faith right out of me. When I encounter others who believe in things, whether it's a deity or true love, part of me is sure that person is deluded. The other part of me is envious. I guess that makes me Fox Mulder: I want to believe. Blind faith, however, has never suited me.

Given that information, you may be surprised to hear that I think I am feeling better. I have very limited, subjective evidence, and many adjectives: kind of, maybe, a little bit, perhaps. But I felt good after therapy the other day; I felt like myself. Actually, it was a little weird. I walked like I used to walk, long swinging steps, head held high. I felt light. There was something different physically. (It didn't last long, but that's a different story.)

Add to that anecdotal evidence is that fact that I seem to be less depressed. I think I've gotten off the couch more today. When off the couch, I made movements that one might interpret as dancing. Just a little. Maybe. Kind of.

It's possible that I'm turning the corner, with my new therapy and my higher dosages of medication. But I have no actual proof, yet. Maybe if I believe, perhaps, I'll get better because I believe.

That would be really great because then I could stop taking the medications, right?

Another over-stimulated day

Exhausted again, which also means an early(er) bedtime, which I hope will lead to an earlier wake-up time.

Lots of sunshine, and my car's sun visor is missing a screw, so I cannot effectively use it on the side. That doesn't matter so much because the sun was hitting my arm more than my face.

Then there was the large amount of people contact. Loud people contact. In breaks during that, I received two phone calls that I really wanted to take, including an invitation to lunch by a good friend, to go to our favorite restaurant. ::Sniff::

In addition, I'm experiencing some body sensory overload. Pain, tiredness from being on my feet for a large part of the day. Even my skin feels overstimulated, possibly in part due to the sun, sunscreen be damned.

I want to be quiet, but my home needs cleaning. And I'm hoping the not-lunch friend wants to go out adventuring one day this weekend. The clutter and dirt makes me tired, going out in the sun and who knows what will also tire me. I hope it will be a good tired. Besides, this friend is one who gives me energy when we are together.

No major insights or progress tonight. Just a body that is ringing like a bell.

Out

I left the apartment today for something other than a medical appointment. I had to meet some people about working for them (which makes me feel like celebrating), and it took several hours, including travel time. (I need to look into what this year's IRs deduction is for mileage, given how high gas is and continues to become.)

All of this being away from home has exhausted me — one of those special effects of being an introvert, or as my therapist called me, an extreme introvert. I have many projects to do and I have to begin them immediately. I hope this need for quick work will keep me up and going.

I have begun to feel a bit better. This mood lift could be due to the sunshine we've had the last 2 days; it could be due to an uplift in my mood cycle. I kind of don't care, but I need to know so I can handle things better in the future.

And now that I am exhausted, I am going to bed. But at least I wrote another meaningful post. I need to write the details of the trauma work soon. You might find it interesting.

Mixed blessings, mixed bag

Today was a good day, in the beginning. I got up before 10 am. The sun was out. I went to my therapy appointment. I went for a walk after, bought groceries. Then I was done. I'd accomplished things successfully. Didn't want to push my luck.

But in therapy we didn't get around to the trauma work. I dislike pauses and I tend to talk too much in therapy, especially when I feel nervous, which can even happen with an established therapist. I think it's when I know there is a challenging topic on the agenda. We did talk about other things, and I told her some stories about childhood, which filled in more of my history. We talked about how I've missed some developmental steps, which leave me having trust issues, clingy-dependency issues, and having very real difficulties relating to people and establishing relationships. Often times it seems I completely miss social cues, or know they are there but do not understand them. I'm not sure if I will ever really learn them, but it would be nice to get better than I am. Or else I'll be stuck having a peer group that tops out at nine years old.

Then came the less than good part. I ate ice cream. A lot of ice cream. My bed is littered with clothing (mostly pants) that is too small for me, because of the 15+ pounds I've put on. In fact, I am eating some ice cream again, late at night, near to bedtime, which is not a good time to eat.

Karen and I talked about my depression, which is something she has difficulty seeing or imagining, because I've been "up" when I've seen her. I explained to her that I'm still riding high from going birding with a good friend, and that I am feeling a little better. But also because I don't like to show negative feelings, even to therapists. I think I've cried maybe a handful of times in front of therapists, in all these many years (decades). My first therapist commented on how I really didn't fit the profile of a depressed person, because I can still get excited about things and occasionally do things.

I'm just being me, the one who doesn't fit any mold.

I have difficulties with vulnerability. I've been trashed so thoroughly by people I've been vulnerable to, since a very early age. And yet, without vulnerability, there can be no deep connection to others, and that's the kind of connections I want. If I appear to need nothing, then people aren't going to feel that I need their friendship. Or, perhaps, that I will have any to offer them.

I became so good at protecting myself and masking my vulnerability that I built an entire world inside myself, with a many-layered fortified castle. With creatures. I could describe it to you, but I won't. I may need it again.

Because being vulnerable is difficult and frightening. I'll need some place to feel safe, when the vulnerability gets me into painful places. Because it always does.