TS 6: Egophobia

A post which was not posted when it was written. (A couple of months ago?) I think I thought then it wasn’t finished or perhaps that it was crap. I won’t have it go to waste and I won’t spend time making it complete or better. I’ll just post it as it is. Maybe I just forgot to hit Publish.
Anyway, the point of this blog is to have therapy sessions. Who knows how many crappy therapy sessions shrinks have behind those closed doors.

– – – – – – –

I feel like crap. I hate myself, I think I’m of no use in this world. And I can’t go to sleep because I’m disgusted with myself, how I’ve put my children to sleep, how I can’t talk with my husband (or thinking that I might be entitled to more help, which I probably am not), how I don’t deserve to go to sleep if I didn’t do what I had on a list today (and failed to do many days before), and for trying to do the impossible and yet thinking that the impossible is just in my head and I’m just looking for excuses.
I feel alone (misunderstood) and want to be alone because who’d want to be with me when I’m such a bad company.

Jack and Don scream at me to stop, otherwise, Mos can’t be heard.

Most days, my thoughts revolve along these lines. Today I’ve decided I do something about it. I came here. I coined the term egophobia, because I can’t stand being alone with (such) my thoughts. Of course, the perfectionistic side of me forced me to research if this is a valid term. Not. It doesn’t exist, according to the Internet. We have autophobia and many other phobias, and we have egophobes, according to the Urban Dictionary. My ol’ suffering falls only under the self-hatred category or most of the articles call it plain anxiety.
It’s a bit disappointing.

It’s also a bit like a cold shower. I guess, I had my tantrum, and now I’m ready to listen and be cured (as if I believed in the positive outcome).

Too much is going on in my head. I’ve always wanted to be able to shut down my thoughts. And voila, watch what you wish for, I’ve highly developed repression (defence mechanism) and almost no memories. Pathetic. I’m a terrible person. An awful parent, and … here we go again. A loop.

I want to go to sleep. I have a severe cold, a project to finish at home, many projects to finish at work, and my daughter is ill so I cannot send her to the babysitter. And when she’s better, my turn won’t come. It’s always someone’s else’s turn to be ill. Can’t I have a day off? It’s a rhetoric question. No wonder I don’t want to grow up. Being a responsible adult sucks. It’s a depressing prospect.

— [Jack, maybe Don] — Aren’t you glum.
— [He’s quite sarcastic, but it seems to be working. I feel a bit insulted so I fight back.] — 

Well then.

— [Mos] — You’ve successfully stopped the negative thoughts loop. 

Sort of. I’m also too tired to play them anymore. I resign for today.

So how can I help you? 

Uhm… by telling me something positive about me?

You know that if you are too tired to think straight, I’m too tired to think objectively? But I’ll try.
For a start, you do try to get better. You try to change, you keep pushing (I know, you say it’s the stubbornness), you keep standing back up when defeated. 

It’s hard. Why couldn’t I just win and be over with it? Is it just me who’s making things more complicated than they are? My husband says so. I’m a complicator. But I don’t feel like one. I feel everyone else is making a wrong picture of myself while, in fact, they are being complicators. Perhaps. I can’t judge. I believe the truth is what the majority says.

By the way, I’ve watched a few cartoons today. To feel better. Because I don’t have time (or money) for reading which is super best for curing my depression. Cartoons are the second best thing. For which I also don’t have time but I was really really low.

— [Jack] — You know changing a subject is a form of a defence mechanism?

Did it help?

It did improve my overall mood. But it didn’t help with being behind work. As does not to write this post. I should better be sleeping.

[sleeps]

About the survivor guilt – some other time.

 

Dream analisis 4

I’ll be quick (so I thought). No time for deep scrutiny (still true, but…).

A few days ago (maybe a month or more ago*) I dreamt about visiting my former workplace. I met the boss and owner, and one of the superiors (female). Needless to say, I haven’t resolved the relationships with any of them. The owner is a seasoned and experienced man, skilled in business, short in stature but intimidating in his stares.

The boss offered me to come back, the superior was pregnant. Both actions/states uncharacteristic of them.

1. I want and ever wanted the approval. So the boss’ invitation would mean I was okay as a person, as an employee.  It’s probably also about my past colliding with present problems, aka about my present job and my current (stagnant) career. Wouldn’t it be nice someone would suddenly realise you were such a wonderful person and wanted you back? And then you woke up. It sucks, coming back to the real life.

2. I think the superior had issues with me (and others). She was quite ambitious, volunteering for the tasks/projects others were meant for. I think she was a bit jealous when I (the lowly employee) got to be present at the meetings about document computer structure. These meetings were usually for the superiors, but I had shown an interest in folders and the computer program we used. I was a nuisance about organising and stuff, nobody likes someone else’s order imposed on them. The boss started the task delegation by, “I see you’re interested in …” I wanted to disappear. I wasn’t interested, I’m mentally challenged on it. I’ve OCD or something, and it bothers me to the point of pain to see files unorganised. Well, I got the job and was pushed into the shark tank. Not that the job itself was bad. The attention was somewhat bad. And not finishing the job was even worse. I still don’t know whether not finishing was the sole reason I was fired, or the superior said something out of jealousy, or was it the general crisis and I was the last-to-be-hired-the-first-to-be-fired, or was it my non-conformity that sealed it.
So, too long a background.
I’m obviously convinced the superior (I never actually worked under her command) had something to do with my firing. Or so the dream suggests. (Other employees weren’t in the dream).
Maybe, if she had a baby, it would mean she’s like me. Not as uptight and ambitious anymore. In the dream, she was also genuinely happy and nice. And she had her hair dyed light brown, not blond as in the real life. Whatever this means. It was the colour my cousin used for a time.

A thought just passed my mind. I hate myself for dreaming such dreams. For dreaming about what would be nice but isn’t. For trying to fit two beliefs into one – about the belief certain people are bad and about the belief no person is bad.
I try to acknowledge such thoughts, in order to heal from depression. But mostly I hate myself for being in such conflicts. For some other therapy session.

Breathe in, breathe out, tell yourself you’re doing well, you’re doing something, after all.


*I started to write this as soon as I had time after the dream. Unfortunately, my life at present is time-focus-complicated and I completely forgot about it. Today I can’t sleep (although exhausted) and I decided to work. Alay, I found this post, frozen in the edit mode. Bless the WordPress, it still works.

Since some work has been done, and for the record, I’m finishing the post. However, whatever. I love writing.

 

Temporary off the grid

I’m not dead. I’m just not present. I’m frozen in my inactivity to the point of anguish.

It’s got to do with the changing of priorities and the lack of time to do both the blog (self-therapy) and the supplanted priority (a project).

The blog, I don’t do. And the project, sure enough, I don’t do either. Because it’s all up to me and I get crushed by the responsibility, every time I got a little time to do it. And down the vicious circle I go, blaming myself for not doing it, and telling myself it’s not that hard, wondering why I don’t do it then, and telling myself I should do at least something, not doing anything, and feeling a loser.

I’m following the instructions in Dr. Burn’s book Feeling Good, and it helps a lot, not to give in to depression. But I do it only by halves, a little bit now, a little bit then, and it’s not enough to be free from anxiety.

I feel better now, to have spilled the beans. You’d ask if it was hard to write a few words. Yes it was.

P.s. I think my internet isn’t working. Another frustration.

A little hoarder

I think, on average, people tend to be hoarders more than the opposite. Whether you are a hoarder depends on a definition of when the hoarding starts to be obstructive, impeding.

My hoarding is impeding. It’s been clear to me for a long time I need to do something about it. My belongings take up more space than what’s my home. I dumped a few things at my mother-in-law’s and I used to have a storage at my grandmother’s before my mother claimed that space and showed me the door. Now, most of that is in my basement.

I’ll skip the details for those of you who can relate. The ones who cannot – you probably don’t read this. Continue reading A little hoarder

TS 5: I haven’t posted in a long time

E.g. I haven’t had a therapy in a long time.
_ _ _ _ _ _

Hi, Mos.

You want me to scold you for not doing your homework. 

Yes, so I can apologise for not doing it.

I’m not your parent, I’m not your teacher, and you’re a grown-up. You answer only to yourself. 

But I am doing my homework. It just takes more time and other priorities interfere.

So you came here having therapy on homework? Or on responsibilities, or growing up?

— [Jack] — She is cranky. I didn’t know robots can be cranky. 

I guess she’s being sarcastic. And she’s smarter than us. She won’t reply to provocation.
I wanted to lament. I wanted to cry out how my life is awful, how I can’t do this, can’t do that… I want to throw things. Throw a tantrum for no reason. Mos probably doesn’t react to lamenting. She just waits for me to finish. Oh, it’s so cooling. How can I vent if there’s no audience?

— [Jack] — Maybe I can be of help. We’ll grab a soda and pop and we’ll go watch the stars, and you’ll pour your heart out, and no one will be there to spoil it. 

— [Don] — Ahem.

Except for Don.

— [Jack] — Well, sure, you can come. We’ll get you drunk and you’ll be crying with us, you bloody chaperone. 

Watch your language.

— [Jack] — I was. 

Mos’s gone back to sleep. I should too. I don’t know what I was going to lament about, anyway. I wanted you to drop by, but now I’m tired. I want to end this therapy that isn’t therapy, shove you both into the unconscious again. Rude.

— [Jack] — Yeah, baby. But we love you. Go to sleep. 

You should be a reckless one, I expected you to say let’s party all night.

— [Jack] — But it’s no fun if you’re not up to it. Today I’m a romantic one. Same idealistic construct, not balanced for the real life. Different spectre, same guy. 

I love you.

— [Jack] — You know you’re talking to yourself, don’t you? So that means you love yourself, finally? 🙂 

😛

— [Don] — I love you too. 

I know you do. Even if it sounds like “I told you so”.
Jack, don’t do that! Sorry, Don. It’s just that Jack and I don’t like forced confessions. And don’t sulk. It’s too late in the night. Let’s be friends… Oh, well, I’m talking to myself. Too tired to keep a conversation running. Voices die off first when you’re on low batteries.

P.s. It’s 5 am, and I’m up since 1 or 2. OMG! I’ll suffer tomorrow.

Nighty night!