What's In a Name?

So. I found out today when I did a search on Twitter, APPARENTLY! there is an alternative meaning behind CBT. I was doing a search to see if folks tweeted about cognitive behavioral therapy--and turns out CBT is also shorthand for cock and ball torture.

Here endeth today's lesson.

My Reading List (Are you sensing a theme?)

Here is an inventory of books I have read on my self-help journey.  

Stop Walking on Eggshells: Taking Your Life Back When Someone You Care About Has Borderline Personality Disorder
  
The Sociopath Next Door

The Places that Scare You: A Guide to Fearlessness in Difficult Times

Mindset: The New Psychology of Success
  
Will I Ever Be Good Enough?: Healing the Daughters of Narcissistic Mothers

Reinventing Your Life: The Breakthrough Program to End Negative Behavior and Feel Great Again

Face Your Fear: Living with Courage in an Age of Caution ** 
Feeling Good: The New Mood Therapy **

Anyone who knows me, knows the theme to this particular reading list. I view each book suggested to me as a life-line friends have given me along my path. I have derived a lot of benefit out of all of these books--some books more so than others, but there's something useful to be found in all of these books.

Regarding the two books at the end of the list, and why do they have asterisks?

The book, Face Your Fear, has been on my bookshelf for years, and this weekend in the course of doing an annual culling, I have spared this book from this year's culling. I opened up the book to where my bookmark was where I left it, and I immediately was hooked (again). I think enough time has elapsed from when I last started reading it, and I think I am more receptive to actually facing my fears. Rabbi Boteach is a great writer, so it will no doubt be a wise investment of time.

The last book on the list--well, there's a bit of a back story regarding this book--and a TWIST, an interesting development.

About five years ago (+/-), I sought out a consultation with a psychiatrist to see if they could test my brain chemistry. I was hitting rock bottom again, and before I entertained going back on antidepressants** again, I wanted to find out which particular neuro-chemical was out of whack. My thinking was that I didn't want to waste more time on a seratonin reuptake inhibitor, if let's say, my dopamine was the real culprit.

I was up front when I made the appointment about the nature of my consultation. They wasted my time. I sat there and was assessed, and wasted an hour (or more, if you factor in the time to go into NYC and back home again), only to be informed "we don't do that." The doctor then handed off a free copy of the book Feeling Good, and I was on my way.

At the time, I thumbed through the book, and scoffed at the idea of THINKING my way out of depression. I'm a smart woman. Surely, if it were possible, I would have figured it out by now, so why am I still struggling? 

So, five years ago, in my annual culling, I got rid of Feeling Good. And in the course of a conversation recently (within the last 2-3 months) did I mention and suggest this book to a friend (a friend who had recommended at least two books on the above-mentioned reading list). So I re-read the editorial reviews and the customer reviews on Amazon, and decided I was too hasty in culling the book, and I ended up buying another copy. 

Right around the same time frame when I was suggesting the book to my friend**, I had a pretty horrible thing happen to me professionally and personally, and I realized I needed to dump my therapist of nine years, of which, I've posted about and alluded to within this blog as well as the blog devoted to my mom and other dysfunctional relatives.

January 3rd I did the deed, and dumped FIRED my therapist, and started a quest to find a new one. It took me two straight weeks of making calls and refining my search several times until I found the person who I hope will decide to continue on as my therapist.

Now for the twist: The type of CBT she utilizes is the one the book Feeling Good is based upon. 

So, while I am frustrated at the idea of my previous therapist holding me back for nine years, and I have nothing to show for all that time, no progress, no new job or an improved emotional or physical state; I *DID* have the POTENTIAL solution in my hot little hands FIVE YEARS AGO.

Confession: One of the many problems I have is my inability to finish things I start. Several of the books listed above I started and read 75-90% of the way through and got distracted or lost interest or or or... well, I am the queen of excuses. I think ultimately, my problem is that I have not made myself a big enough priority.

**It bears sharing, that I have gotten more therapeutic benefit out of my friendship with "S" than I got out of nine years with a professional therapist & social worker. I only hope that I have been as big of a support to him as he's been to me. Between his support, and the Maharajah--I honestly don't know where I'd be, and for whatever amount of wallowing I allow myself to do, it's a splinter's worth of what it'd be without these two valuable supports in my life. 

Kaizen 2019: Day One

I had hopes on January 1, to get back into the swing of things THEN; however, it's taken me 27 additional days before I got back on my bike.

I knocked out 30 minutes this morning.

Tomorrow is my 2nd (of 2) assessments regarding CBT in the morning, so no bike until Wednesday.

Stay tuned to see if I get back on it on Weds--if that happens, hopefully, I'll be able to kickstart my habit again, but all I know is TODAY I managed to make myself a priority first thing in the morning.

Perhaps I'll start drinking more water, too. 

PERHAPS.

This Year's Project: CBT

Today was the first of two appointments, which are assessments for CBT, which I hope will help me move forward.

Just Burn It All To The Ground

Just divorce me.
Just fire me.
Just put a bullet in the base of my skull directly into my brain stem to shut everything down ASAP.

I am in the abyss and I cannot extricate myself.

Fuck you for your silence.

Intermittent Wallowing

Still wallowing and feeling sorry for myself and HOLY SHIT AM I DEPRESSED! 

Yet, I still managed to continue my search for my next therapist. I called a psychology group where two therapists on my list are located. So now I hurry up and wait for them to give a call back. If I get no traction with either candidate, next week I will reorganize my efforts and contact the insurance company and see about preferred and participating practitioners nearby.

Eleven days into the new year (eight of which have been since I fired my previous therapist), and I feel like I am stuck at square one.

In addition to contacting today's candidates, I also managed to schedule an appointment with a neurologist for a consultation in my on-going quest to find out what is at the root of all the pain.

Living in pain, anxiety, depression is no way to live. The more pain I have, the more depressed I am, and the more depressed and anxious I am, the more I am stuck in my cycle of pain.

Also worthwhile mentioning, the Maharajah got a bottle of CBD oil, and I used some on my knee, elbow and low back, and I don't know how long I should use it before I start to notice any results. But at least it's one more thing to tick off my list of things that we tried.

I guess.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go to lunch and self-medicate with some fried chicken.

New Year--Same Old Me

To say I am struggling is an understatement. 

I have backslid on my bike routine to zero. I made an attempt on New Year's Day to reinvigorate my bike habit and managed to get in the saddle precisely once in the new year.

My trip to India decimated me physically. The trip was arduous, though surrounded by loving people. And then there was the lingering question of whether I was infected with Swine Flu or not, and here I am. Wallowing, and depressed, and (SURPRISE SURPRISE) still in pain.

My mom is still up to her usual routine, so I've tucked her away in the box in my mind, and I'm choosing not to deal with her unless absolutely necessary as there is zero return on that investment--and I have not allocated even one solitary SPARE fuck with which to dispense on that charity case.

Additionally, I did the deed on 1/3, and my first official act of 2019 was dismissing the therapist with whom I have had sessions since 2009. Periodically throughout the 9 years, I'd reassess about every 18-24 months (so roughly five times) whether I have gone as far as I can with our therapy sessions, was I meeting my goals? 

To be honest, I've gotten far more tangible benefit out of my interactions with a friend of mine in Northern Ireland, who is on a similar journey. He and I check in periodically (sometimes multiple times daily, to sometimes less often) and he's been a great sounding board and a wonderful support for me. Additionally, he's recommended several books to me, and I've bought several and derived a lot of benefit out of them--so much benefit, I've decided to try to find a new therapist, one who specializes in schema or EMDR (or both) therapy. Sad to say, but I feel my prior therapist was keeping me stuck. 

By the time of our last session (December 26th), my mind was made up that I needed to make a change. It was time for him to "cut bait," and I'm ready to go fish. I've wanted and needed far more structure in our sessions. Instead, for nine years it was pretty much me doing word vomit until we find something interesting, and we chew on it a little bit and before I knew it, our time was up. I was always the one to remind him, or circle back to what we talked about in our previous session. I always used our sessions as a way of organizing thoughts and I'd always come away from our sessions with a "to do list" which I created myself. The next session would involve me ticking off which items were done.

The "October Discussion" at work was enough for me to realize my coping mechanisms are failing me. I need more substantive coping mechanisms and conflict resolution skills. I need to address the underlying issues and schemas which shape me, and my actions/reactions in the world. I am tired of ME holding ME back. But really it's not ME, it's the garbage and abuse I suffered, but it's really MY RESPONSE to all those past experiences which is holding me back today.

The short list of things I want to accomplish with my new therapist, in no particular order:
1. Somehow heal from the stuff done to me (or at least the stuff I am AWARE that was done to me);
2. Stop negative self-talk;
3. Stop being risk-averse;
4. Change my fixed mindset to a growth-oriented mindset;
5. Establish and maintain healthier habits regarding sleep & exercise.

One thing I have become super aware of as of late is how all my life I had been given "crumbs" in life, people closest to me giving me scant attention or love or support (or or or...fill in the blank), and with the abandonment schema being a big thing for me--I have been cultivated to have a disproportionate amount of appreciation for those crumbs--the tiniest of gestures get over-inflated in my mind, and interpreted far more intensely and with more importance than I should. 

All my life, I've been fed crumbs, and have been led to act as if it were a fucking feast served to me. I am officially tired of being Oliver Twist--and I won't be imploring, "Please---I want some more" from anyone anymore.

My work-life and interior life are out of harmony. My depression and anxiety and pain are the ones in control now. I am on cruise-control and not sure how or when this will change. If there were a way for me to will myself to cease existing, it would have happened by now.

I have long held the opinion that some friendships are like Twinkies, and others are like dairy products. 

Surely, a glass of cold milk and a Twinkie make a pleasant snack, and we need a mix of these friendship types in our tribes/herds/circles of friends. 

Twinkies are durable, reliable, and long-standing. They will be ready for you when you want or need them. They literally stand the test of time.

Dairy products, on the other hand, have a much shorter shelf life--you're lucky if a gallon of milk lasts a week after opening it.

So before you reply--if you reply--ask yourself on question: Are YOU a Twinkie? 

Seems like a supercilious question; however, let's just say, I've built up a "lactose intolerance" of sorts.

I'm done "paying it forward." I'm done making deposits into the bank account of good will. I'm tired of takers taking without reciprocating.

And if any of this angers you--I'll revert back to one of my dad's sayings, "Don't go away mad, just go away."   

If you're not actively helping or playing a supporting role in things, you are part of my collection of problems. So, in short, I won't be chasing after anyone anymore. I will be in what I call "the power position." I'm going to work pretty hard at being able to identify and NOT insert myself in situations, unnecessarily.