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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.

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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.

 

To help to focus at work…

… you must pretend each day is the last day before a vacation. On that day you do only the work no colleague can do instead of you, and you do an enormous amount of tasks. Too bad each day is not like this.

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.