Paper Covers Rock

Radical Honesty, Part II

2006-08-19T14:57:00.000-07:00

The radical honesty part II went well--actually, even better than I expected. At one point, NJT was trying to let me off the hook and he said, "But you look so uncomfortable!" I said I wanted to keep going, and I realized later it was because it was better to be uncomfortable and with him than safe and alone. That's a big deal. I hope I can hold onto that one.

Tired = Torment Revisited

2006-08-17T18:28:00.000-07:00

Yes, I was definitely worse off because I was tired. However, in there as well was the thought that "no one will help me, I'm all alone," and that was what was driving the more extreme reaction I was having. This is a tough one, because the reality is that I don't have particularly strong emotional ties to people and it is likely that no one will help me. Add in the little mini-fiasco with NJT and the emotional stuntedness of my husband and the helping landscape looks pretty bleak.

But, my husband surprised me. The next morning when we woke up, he talked to me, provided a lot of emotional support, and then made me a special breakfast. It was really nice, and I almost cried because I was so grateful. Unfortunately, he sees this as a special thing and not something to do regularly, but there's some hope I think. We'll see.

I don't know what to talk about tomorrow--continue the radical honesty thing? Talk about how I was generally quite successful this week, except with the "all alone" thoughts? Talk about my daughter, and all the guilt attached there? Anything, execpt, of course, how I felt about the error with my appointment time. I guess I'll decide when I get there.

Tired = Torment

2006-08-15T18:36:00.000-07:00

So, I seem to get worse when I'm tired. I guess that makes sense; being healthy or at least trying not to be a fucking neurotic takes a lot of mental energy. I'm sitting in the bottom of the barrel tonight.

We went to the pool on Sunday and there were a lot of lovely thin women there. And me, wallowing in fatville. A trip to Ben and Jerry's yesterday and two helpings of lasgna tonight haven't helped that at all, so I'm kicking the shit out of myself over that.

NJT screwed up my appointment time yesterday and so I a) got no reinforcement and b) am having a near-incessant time of being realistic and healthy about the "meanings" of my response to that.

I wasted my free time tonight. No one at work likes me. My husband would rather be with one of the cuties from the pool, or just anyone who isn't lumpy and stretch-marked.

I'm tired. I need to rest. I need to give myself a break. I'm not sure I'm going to be able to stay on the honesty train with NJT when I do get to go back and see him; I'm too annoyed about the whole appointment thing. I dunno. I'm sure I'll cave right in when I get there. It's what I do. I'm a fucking doormat because I think no one will want me otherwise.

Also, in my first post, I said that I "got a nice, average Jewish guy who is not as cognitive as one might hope," or something to that effect. Apparently I was mistaken; all this meta-thought flashback stuff IS cogntive therapy. Apparently what I thought I was getting was cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT), which is a lot more about getting off your ass and a lot less about who was mean to you when you were a kid. I see the benefits of cognitivism; obviously, it's working for me. I think some element of behavior change (you can act your way into feeling better) would have been more in line with my pragmatic approach to life.

Anyway.

The Key to Managing Your To-Do List...

2006-08-04T18:33:00.000-07:00

...is not to do more, but to manage the expectations behind the list.

I've been feeling it all day; the mounting pressure to go, go, go. I'm getting behind, I'm getting lost, I'm going to get caught, I'm going to get yelled at, I'm going to be blamed. I have to go to band, I have to paint, I have to do my committee work, I have to stay late at work, I have to do more with the time I've got. I have to, I have to, I have to.

The problem is that there is no possible way to do all the things I "have to" do. My expectations of myself are unrealistic. This was something that was done to me as a child; my parents created an environment where the only way I could be safe was to be perfect, to do everything just right. Of course, it's not possible for anyone to be perfect, especially not a little child who is just learning how to be. This was unfair; this was their shit; I did not deserve this. The creation of this place was not my doing and was not my fault.

That's not my world now, and that's not my place. I don't have to be perfect. I just have to be me.

I ate a healthy main dish and enjoyed Cheezits on the side. I did not go to band. I painted for 45 minutes and then stopped. I completed a single next step on my committee work. I am going to go for a quick walk around the block. I am OK. I am safe.

My session this week was all I could have hoped it would be; it's the same stuff, taken a level further in. I can be honest, and I can be open--I can try it.

Anxiety about my to-do list? Bring it on, bitch. I can take it. Because I'm the one in charge around here.

The Two Poles of Waiting

2006-07-31T18:24:00.000-07:00

I'm alternating between apprehension and anticipation of my Thursday appointment and my impending attempt at "radical honesty". Not far into my therapy process, I read a book by that title, and although it had quite a lot of absolute crap in it, the concept was sound. At some point, you just have to swallow your fears and tell the truth. The truth shall set you free, and so on. It's liberating in a lot of ways, and I'm anticipating the liberation. It's also terrifying to reveal oneself by being truthful--and thus the apprehension. I think it's a credit to NJT that I even think this is possible.

Of course, he's fairly astute; he may realize that the most difficult thing for me to do is to express an emotion about someone to that person; what will I do if the question he asks is, "Tell me your reaction to me."? He's asked before, and I've always dodged it to some extent. I guess, to be radically honest, I would just have to take a deep breath and...tell...the...truth.

Today's Rant

2006-07-24T18:17:00.000-07:00

Just...want...to...eat...

And here's why:

"I don't know why you even try. You know no one likes you. Why don't you just shut up? You're so bossy. You're so pushy. No one cares what you think anyway. Everything you say is just inane and stupid."

I dunno what to do with this one; I'm supposed to counter it by "giving it back to my parents." 'No one cares what you think,' definitely them. 'Bossy' and 'pushy,' well, I don't know. Does it matter?

No munchies in the house, so maybe I can get by without eating. We'll see.

The Stark Reality

2006-07-23T17:41:00.000-07:00

Last night, actually typing out the shit-soaked vitriol that spews from my brain really helped. To hear it is to see it, and to see it for what it is: absolute, underserved, and abusive.

For what I think are understandable reasons, I don't tune into that voice very often. I don't like to hear the words, so instead I mentally hunker down in a sea of anxiety (and often eat, eat, eat), trying to dodge the reality of it, and waiting for the blow to fall.

Unfortunately, to beat it, I have to face it. I have to hear it, and I have to say it. The realization of what comes next in therapy came to me as I fell asleep (or maybe I was able to fall asleep once I had the thought): I have to start repeating this crap to NJT, word for word, no matter how interior or personal it is, or how ridiculous it makes me look. I've got to lance the boil, as it were, and bring the poison out into the air.

This is a revelation, yes? A breakthrough for my recent resistance, yes? I think so.

And of course, NJT is on vacation and I don't see him again for two weeks. I hope I haven't lost my willpower by then.

Emotional Eating

2006-07-22T18:07:00.000-07:00

I have a very good sense that the more I want to eat, the worse I am doing at recognizing the critical thoughts running around in my subconscious. The desire to eat is directly proportional to the amount of overly harsh, self-hating abuse that's being thrown at me. More abuse, more eating.

Of course, since I recognize it but can do seemingly nothing about it, I just kick the shit out of myself even more. Why are you eating, you fat bitch? You know you're just going to get even fatter! And then you'll really be unlovable.

In the face of that kind of onslaught, any kind of relief seems reasonable. No wonder I eat. Holy shit.

I keep waiting...

2006-06-14T18:35:00.000-07:00

...for my daughter to fall asleep. I don't understand why on my husband's nights she goes down in ten minutes and on my nights it takes an hour.

...for my husband to wake up. Somehow he thinks that just doing more around the house will make everything OK. He cancelled his appointment with NJT today. I do not think this is a good thing, although his reasons sound, well, reasonable.

And frankly, he is at least partially right. If he is really, truly, and consistently doing his share around the house, I will probably stay married to him. I might not be happy, and I might be lonely, but I will probably be married. Somehow "He's an immature slob who expects me to take care of everything" seems like a good reason for divorce, while, "I just feel lonely all the time" does not. Maybe I could have an affair after a couple more years of lonely, if I'm not too fat from all the eating I do to compensate for the sadness I feel every day.

...for the strength to see just how sad that last paragraph is, and to do something about it.

...for evenings to not be so hard. I'm fine all day, and then I fall apart around eight o'clock.

...for the damn number on the scale to budge. I've nearly doubled my exercise and I haven't dropped a pound. I imagine I must be eating more and in denial about it.

Small Mercies

2006-05-05T18:26:00.000-07:00

My girl is beautiful, and I love her, but oh dear Lord, thank you for letting her fall asleep in less than 20 minutes tonight. Sometimes we all just need a little break.

So, I have time to blog, and eat a little ice cream, and watch the Simpsons before I head in for an early bedtime. The existence of blogging, Bunny Tracks ice cream, and the Simpsons are also all small mercies for which right now I am intensely thankful.

I got the job which I referenced a couple of posts ago. I am so excited. My new boss and one of my new reports are already emailing me stuff, and I wish my last day at my current place of work was this Friday instead of in almost a month.

NJT and I recently discussed the idea of perceived threats from others (for what must have been the fifth time, but I think I get it now), and this whole new job thing is going to be a real "opportunity" for me to work on the concept. I live in a mental world where people are scary, where people are randomly malicious, but that's not the real world. My new boss is thrilled I'm coming, not just taking me as an easy choice. My friend who will soon be working for me is thrilled that I'll be his new boss and is already keeping me "in the loop" on things.

The world is a randomly malicious place, but it's far less malicious than I perceive it to be. This is my chance to be open to the thought that maybe people like me just because of who I am, not because of anything I do for them, and I can start this new venture off more wholly intact than I have ever been.

That in itself is incredibly exciting. A large mercy, there.

One of the first thoughts I had when I realized I was going to be offered the job was, Oh shit, this is going to ruin Tuesdays at 3P with NJT. I'm not going to be able to skip out at 2P the way I do now once I'm in the new place. It's closer to his office, so I should be able to do a lunch appointment, but certainly not every week. I think I can do ten days (Monday of one week, Wednesday of the next) or even settle back to every two weeks, but it's going to be a major change.

Ahh, and that's another small mercy: that the change is so perfectly timed. We've very recently gotten to what I interpret as the fear of my body (cold rejection), the fear of my mind (the critical voice), and the fear of my soul (that the world is a dark, dark place, and that somehow I derserve that). Truly, everything from here is refinement and reinforcement, and surely I can do that biweekly. Surely.

The Dilemma of Therapy

2006-04-27T07:46:00.000-07:00

So, my last post was about how I got started in therapy. The most important part of the post is the concept that "I thought there was something wrong with me," and it leads me to thinking about the dilemma of theapy.

Now that NJT and I have been slogging away for more than 18 months, it's becoming more and more apparent that the core issues that I face--particularly with my marriage--are actually not about something being wrong with me. They are certainly about something being wrong, but it doesn't lie with me.

NJT keeps telling me that I grew up with a subtle yet pervasive environment of emotional abuse and neglect, and that's becoming more difficult to deny. There are a lot of implications of accepting the idea, including that it means I didn't notice the subtle yet pervasive environment of emotional abuse and neglect in my marriage. If I'm going to see one truth, then I have to see the other.

And that leads to the dilemma: how do I keep looking at this man every day? How long do I keep trying to provide feedback, stand up for myself, etc., etc.? My husband is also seeing NJT (and there may be an entirely different set of posts on that little pickle of a problem), and I have to think that if I can change, he can change. It's just so hard to be patient through what might be a very long process with no guarantee of success.

I have an excellent ability to misplace blame; often when I think about this problem, some part of me gets angry with NJT. If he weren't so nice, so careful, and so gentle, I wouldn't notice the stunning lack of softness elsewhre in my life. I know it's NJT's job to be that way, but I can also see that a lot of the time I am nice, and careful, and gentle, and I'm beginning to understand that compassionate attention is a basic human right, especially in "intimate" relationships.

I didn't get compassionate attention as a child; I do not now get compassionate attention from my husband. Now that I see that the gaping black hole of lack, I don't know what to do, and that's the dilemma of therapy.

How I Got Started in Therapy

2006-04-26T18:27:00.000-07:00

I went into therapy thinking that there was something wrong with me; I had achieved pretty much everything on my "must-do" list and it seemed like it was time to just settle down and enjoy building my life. All of the heavy blocks were in place--isn't that what your 20s are about?--and I could start really making inidividualized architecture. Foundations were in place, and it was time to start reaching.

When I got closer to 30, it was obvious that things were going terribly wrong. Just mentally hurting myself by screaming internal invective wasn't getting me anywhere, so in a great "more-is-more" way, I started physcially hurting myself. Not very serious--nothing to leave a mark--but still pretty disturbing. I finally started calling therapists after a hysterical late-night call to my brother; I ended up with NJT because he had a nice receptionist who explained to me that most psychologists keep their own schedules and that I would just need to leave a voicemail and he would call back. He did, we talked, and I saw him for the first time less than three weeks after I turned 30.

They All Sound So Reasonable

2006-04-16T12:28:00.000-07:00

I have a job interview this week. I'm not terribly unhappy where I'm at, but this other position would involve more responsibility, more pay, and coworkers closer to me in age and thought, so it seems too good to pass up. I'm usually a little nervous about interviews, but not too much so--the truth is that there are few positions in my field for which I would not be a suitable candidate. I've got skills, experience, and flexibility to fit in about anywhere. The reasonable adult part of me knows this.

So, I don't know if the nausea that hit when they called to schedule the interview is a symptom of the problems that have led me into therapy or a byproduct of going through the process.

I used to be exceptionally good at processing unpleasant thoughts; I'd just invalidate them, ignore them, and file them away on some lower level of my psyche. Usually I would be a little crabby for some period of time (a couple hours to a couple days, depending) while this process was going on and then I would be fine.

One could argue that these thoughts were still getting me even under the old model; I would eat, or shop, or yell, and end up heavier, more in debt, or alienated from someone. However, these effects weren't immediate, weren't always that bad, and could be managed in ways that didn't require me to every actually deal with the original thoughts (via exercise, frugality, or withdrawl).

From the very beginning, NJT has been telling me to look at and challenge my negative thoughts, and we've gone through several iterations of this process. I'm to the point where I can generally see the thoughts (or hear them, I guess, although somehow 'seeing' seems more correct); before they got filed so fast I wouldn't notice them. I can also tell where the thoughts come from; this isn't my voice but instead is commentary programmed in from my past.

BUT, and it's a huge BUT, it takes a terrific amount of psychic strength for me to wrestle with that voice, and this damned interview has too much attached to it. I want the job, and so that makes the interview important, and important things attract notice from my critical voice. Thus, the wave of nausea when I got the call, because I knew that I was going to be in for an ass kicking.

I guess that's the work for NJT and me this week; I wrote out a bunch of the comments but haven't been able to adequately address them. They all sound so reasonable that it's difficult to do anything but duck my head and say, "yes, you're right."

I get mad about being in therapy because I don't want to have these feelings; there's a large part of me that wonders if my old way wasn't better. And then I think, well, it's nice to know there's someone out there who can maybe help me with them, and then they'll just be done instead of hanging around in my mental subbasement. I just hope NJT is on his game on Tuesday.

Mood, Self-Talk, and Yesterday's Appointment

2006-04-12T04:37:00.000-07:00

I'll have to write more about my daughter later. I typed that bit out quickly somewhere between the 20th and 30th times of putting her to bed on Monday. It was a better thing to do than a lot of the other options as at least it calmed me down a bit and helped me focus on how much I care for her.

My weeks go from Tuesday to Tuesday these days. I don't know if everyone gets hooked on therapy this way, but Monday no longer begins my week and neither Friday nor Sunday ends it. Whether I am eagerly anticipating my appointment or dreading it--or both--Tuesday is the day for me.

The last week was a difficult week, but not a bad week. I made it through feeling pretty calm and empowered despite a number of setbacks. Yesterday afternoon, though, I found out that my boss's boss had made a pretty negative remark about me and that she had agreed with him. This really shattered my mood, and I'm still not completely sure why. I validated the heck out of it (that's really annoying, anyone would be upset, etc.), and when that didn't work, I IMed a friend of mine who I knew would be supportive. She was (I love her). Talking with my buddy helped a little but I was still upset.

Then through a series of unfortunate events, I was late to my appointment. As a hyper-critical perfectionist, you can imagine how I hate to be late. Add that onto my already bad mood and I just couldn't get into the right place mentally. And I don't know what was up with NJT, but he was not in the right place, either. I put on a pretty good face, and we made a little progress on the topic of the day (talking effectively with my husband), but overall it was just frustrating. Thinking that I had also just wasted $125 and an hour of my life did nothing to improve my mood.

And there's the key to the entire problem: thinking. I realized about 3:50 this morning that my inner critical voice had been going nonstop since I heard about the snippy comment. There was some truth to the snippy comment and that snuck its way in despite all my efforts to keep it in perspective. Then, I was late for my appointment. Then, I screwed up my appointment. Then, my evening got twisted around. Then, I ate about a half a carton of ice cream. Then, I got to bed late. It was one thing after another, with the criticism just mounting with each event.

One real problem for me is that I don't hear my critical voice; I just feel bad about the ass kicking that I'm getting. And one thing that NJT has helped me see is that when I am kicking my own ass, I get mad. It doesn't matter who is beating me up; I'm still being beaten (metaphorically). Humans are hard-wired to fight back and then to eventually give up and give in. It was that exact process yesterday. I got the negative feedback, started berating myself on some internal level despite all the good soothing, validating, and addressing I was doing consciously, and then after hours of this I just gave up and stuffed in some ice cream.

I can see now that it would have been a good idea to ask NJT about this whole episode. Unfortunately, I'm still a little rigid about session agendas; we are on a certain track now, and I've put my mental work into that this week, and I don't want to lose the chance for feedback in that area in order to talk about a day-to-day issue.

I've often thought I need two appointments each week--one for the topic of the week and one for just this kind of thing. And then I realize that's just a highly transparent excuse to talk more with NJT and I figure out something else I can do.

Like blog it, of course.

"Don't Have Kids, They'll Ruin Your Life"

2006-04-10T18:58:00.000-07:00

So, one of the most obvious questions is, "Why is your life so screwed up it would require spending every Tuesday afternoon from 3-4PM with the Nice Jewish Therapist (NJT)?

The short answer, and the very long answer, the negative answer and the positive answer, is my daughter.

Paper Covers Rock

2006-04-07T10:35:00.000-07:00

I have a real blog. Really I do. And no, I ain't gonna tell you where it is. All I'm gonna say is, this ain't it.

Because this is my little online space. If you find it, or I give it to you , there's a reason. I want you to read it, or I don't know you, in which case I don't care if you read it, although I hope if you're bothering to do so, you enjoy it.

I know that "anonymity" has its limits in cyberspace, and that I could be tracked down, but I'm not doing anything criminal. I just need a little breathing room, a little air, a little corner of the world in which to tuck my thoughts. And since I'm on Blogger pretty regularly for legitimate purposes (see above), I think this will fit in just fine.

So, why Paper Covers Rock? Well, mostly, because that's the image that came to me. I needed something to indicate the kind of absurd level of hopelessness that I am usually feeling these days. Every once in a while, the rock gets to smash the scissors (although, does Rock really want to smash Scissors? Maybe Rock really wants to get to know Scissors a little better and see what develops. Who knows? Has anyone ever asked the Rock?), but just as often, the rock gets covered by the paper. Smothered by the paper.

I'm going to stop that nonsense right there before it gets even sillier. Here's the deal. This is just another whiny, self-serving personal blog. I'm going to use it like in my teen years I would have used my little pink journal. I just need somewhere to capture my thoughts.

I've been in therapy for 18 months, when I thought I signed up for six. Despite the fact that I thought I was getting a cognitivist who would shape me up and ship me out like Dr. Phil between commercial breaks, what I actually have is a really nice, average Jewish guy who tries hard and who's a little less cognitive than I might like. The end of therapy is nowhere in sight.

Never having been in therapy before, I don't know if this is my fault, or his fault, or if the reasoning falls somewhere in between. I imagine the problem lies somewhere in that last option. I keep going back because he doesn't put up with a lot of shit and he seems to genuinely care (again, maybe they're all that way, I guess I don't know, but I somehow think not).

Another anonymous blog about therapy. Send out the press releases!

Maybe Paper Covers Rock came to me becuase the paper can be a cover for the rock to hide under. Maybe the paper is a blanket for the rock. Maybe the rock isn't losing at all, but is instead getting--exactly--what--it--wants.

PCR