Still feeling pretty bummed out.
But like I told Doctor Costin during my Therapy Thursday session today, I feel like it’s all serving a purpose. That my metaconsciousness is processing some very deep and painful emotions that can be traced all the way back to my initial trauma of being raped by a stranger in a public shower stall when I was four years old, and that is some seriously heavy mojo, so no wonder things aren’t peachy keen up here on the conscious level where my usual “self” lives.
I can feel it churning away deep inside me. And I know it’s going to end. I already feel better than I did yesterday and yesterday I felt better than I did Tuesday, and so the trend is positive.
I just have to try to stay relaxed and let things unfold naturally without trying to interfere with or control the healing process.
I am slowly learning to accept that some things work better when I do nothing but sit on the sidelines and watch the parade go by.
I know that I am healing, despite the pain. Healing is often painful. But the fact that the cure often hurts worse than the disease is no argument against treatment.
Sometimes things have to get a lot worse before they get better. But it’s worth it because, well… they get better!
And there’s no way doing nothing is going to accomplish that.
And I have known for quite a while now that in order to become more sane, I was going to have to get a lot closer to being crazy.
That’s part of the deal. The path to sanity was always going to involve dealing with a lot of severe issues that my usual “ignore everything and play video games” lifestyle would usually leave undisturbed.
Before you can dispose of the toxic waste properly, you have to dig it up, and that is going to be a mighty disgusting and dangerous job.
But leaving it down there is not an option. It’s contaminating the ground water and making everybody sick. And that’s only going to get worse over time.
Time to dig deep and keep digging until it’s all gone.
Luckily, all I have to do is hold on and maintain. This is one time when my extreme passivity is actually a bonus.
That said, my role is not entirely behind the scenes. I am “doing something” in that I am sending my deep healing energies down to that poor scared little animal way down deep inside me, and encouraging myself to wake up and fight all the lethargy and lassitude that has built up over the decades of my mental illness.
It’s a tough to fight because being a lazy lump staring at screens will always be easier.
Not better, just easier.
And giving up will always bring instant and profound relief. Relief like that can be extremely addictive, almost like a drug.
Trust me on that.
But there is no giving up now. Now, it is actually easier to just let the healing process continue rather than go through all the hassle of trying to stop it.
Besides that, I am intensely curious as to where all this is going. I am totally invested in the plot and characters now. Every episode is like a revelation. And if I was to somehow interrupt it all, I would never know how it all ends.
And that would drive me crazy.
More after the break.
Little known fact : there is a sequel to Farewell to Arms called And Fuck Legs, Too
Pity the ingrate
Everybody says that one of the best ways to counter depression is with gratitude. You need to learn to feel grateful for all the little joys of life.
And I just can’t do it. And I’m not sure why.
Maybe my overdeveloped sense of irony is to blame. Gratitude like that is stupid and lame, suitable only for the empty-headed and vacuous who are also soothed by inane platitudes, oversimplified political messaging, and reality TV.
Or so that bitter, snarky, defensive part of me insists. I’m not sure I agree.
Overall, I would rather be happy. Like them.
And yet, when I try to imagine myself with an “attitude of gratitude” (gah). that rage and bitterness and contempt is all I feel.
I mean, gratitude for what? All the ways life ISN’T screwing me over? That is beyond insipid. Gratitude doesn’t work that way, at least not for me.
Even if you could manage to be grateful for literally everything that is not happening to you, you would burn out almost instantly.
And grateful to who? There is no entity deciding my fate. No “person” I have to thank for all the good things in my life.
Nor do I have anyone to blame for all the crappy stuff that has happened to me.
I am sure that this gratitude shit works for a lot of people. People who aren’t as bristling with rage and sarcasm as I am.
But it’s definitely not for me. I am grateful to and for the actual people in my life who help me. I am endlessly grateful for Joe and Julian for all the ways they have made living with my illnesses far, far easier.
I am grateful that I have a great friend like Felicity. Love you, dear. 🙂
And I am grateful for all my fluffy friends online. Critters like Ada, Niva, Coaldust, Sylver, Jetta, Windchaser, and the rest of the gang at Merriam’s on Tapestries MUCK give me a place where I feel like I can relax, fit in, and belong. Where I can make friends, hang out, get the positive attention I crave, and even have a little frisky fun once in a while.
I only wish I could function that well in the real world!
But that’s as far as my gratitude goes. It’s as evidence based as the rest of me, and I cannot fathom being any other way.
I can’t just manufacture gratitude.
The other great cure for depression supposedly is exercise, and I can’t do that, either.
Fuck this god damned life.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.