Squish

I gained more insight into my attitudes toward strength, bravery, and resilience this week. It comes down to stress balls and Silly Putty.

I still have difficulties seeing myself as strong, brave, or resilient. For example, throughout my life I have been victimized, bullied, and abused in some way or another. Bullies, predators, and people who need to diminish someone else in order to feel bigger have found me and made it their purpose to squash me. Other children, adults, coworkers, bosses, even friends: people of all sorts have seen me as weaker than them and gone on to prove it.

My fight or flight reflex? Permanently set to flight. When the group of friends I hung out with in my 20s would get too overbearing and downright mean, instead of standing up for myself, I would take a break from them until I felt recovered. One of them even went so far as to tell me I was like a soft, furry bunny — and he didn't mean it as a cute thing but as a nonthreatening prey object. (BTW: I stopped hanging out with those folks regularly in my late 20s.)

Even some of my well-meaning friends have diminished me. Because I ask other people's opinion, many of my friends and even my mother sometimes treated me as if I were unable to make my own decisions, as if I were not quite a responsible adult. Really, because I have been single and lived alone most of my adult life, I like to get second opinions and bounce my own off of other people from time to time. Some of my male friends think of me as delicate or fragile.

So What's Been Goin' On?

Well, I've been thinking. I've been zoning out. I've been getting very few  hours of sleep a night — still — and wondering why. And the past couple of days I've been playing with the cool new toy Sabine bought me: an iPad mini. She said we all needed tablets, so she bought Griffin an android tablet of his choice and now she's seeing what about each of ours she likes so she can decide among all the choices for herself.

I also applied for six jobs yesterday. They say you need to apply for 100 jobs to find one. If I do, say, 5 a day for the rest of the month, I'll be set! Of course, I missed today. And I get very distracted by my housemates sometimes, especially since Sabine has retired.

I made a schedule of my daily routine needs. It will work, if I can get to sleep by 11, stay asleep all night, and get up at 7. Big 'ifs'.

My creativity seems to be in the bottom of the sink right now. I've been crocheting my brains out and showing some creativity there, but then I look at stuff people have made up that's on Pinterest or Ravelry and think "why don't I do that? I'm so dull!" The crocheting has left no time for other creative work (writing, drawing) or reading. But it is satisfying because I am creating tangible, useful, beautiful things for other people and that is one of my languages of love. Actually, two I guess: gifts and service.

I talked with my therapist about the rebound effect I experienced for the couple of days following my last post. We talked a bit about it being one of my patterns and how it seems related to how I withdraw after feeling a strong emotion — for example, after I have a cry or even a big emotional event, I then pull back and am distant and detached for a while, hours to days. I think maybe that's what I've supposed to have been thinking about and working on since Wednesday, but I forgot and it's upstairs in my journal and I don't feel like going up and checking it out. Right now I'm not feeling amazing and I don't feel like I'm doing Great Things, but I at least still believe I am and I can, even if not right now.

Death and Life

It is a matter worth noting that not once that I can remember this last week did I wish I were dead or dying. This fact is both happy and sad: happy because, hey, I didn't want to be dead, and sad because, wow, during enough other weeks I have?

Here's what I posted on the ReFab blog about this:

Some weeks, just getting through the week without having even random thoughts of how it would be easier if the Universe just casually bumped me off is a good thing. It’s not that things are rotten, just that they are hard and I’m still unemployed and I feel afraid about my future, never mind my present. So, I’m counting it as a win for this past week that I didn’t even wish I were dead, even for a moment.

Why have I felt different this past week? I have no idea. Could be we are getting somewhere in therapy (but I'm not aware of it; however, wouldn't be the first time). Could be due to the slight medication change (but we didn't start that until Wednesday and the past few days I've been kinda dizzy when I got up, so maybe the med isn't such a great thing for me). Could be the full moon (full moons make me happy). Could be, as was pointed out by responders to my comment, I know there are people who would miss me and be in pain if I died. I might as well flip a coin to decide what factor has made a change. Unless it's just a mental hiccup and I go back to occasionally thinking about how much it wouldn't hurt if I weren't alive. (Yeah, a bit of pessimism and wariness, plus discomfort about change even if it's for the better …)

Just FYI: NO! I am NOT thinking of hurting myself. Just want to be clear on that point so no one worries.

Power, Protection, and Progress

So. Therapy today was powerful. We talked about a major theme in my life: power and powerlessness, authenticity and invisibility. I came away with my mind spinning, feeling full to the brim, and feeling good. I even turned off my radio so my mind could keep resonating with what we talked about and when I got home I wrote the important bits down so I'd remember them.

It started off with me talking about the TED Talk by Amy Cuddy about body language and using it to change your own perceptions and feelings and behaviors. About the "Wonder Woman pose" that the media has played up and how to use it. (And I have used it, and Amy's other suggestions, and they seem to actually work.)

From there we went into how I diminish my own strengths and talents and accomplishments, and why I do so. I tend to have "don't look at me, I'm no threat" submissive and powerless postures: head or eyes down, shoulders hunched, arms and legs drawn in. I have often thought that I don't deserve as much space as other people, as much air as other people.

Then we went to why. Mostly self-protection, plus a lot of being squashed so much I've just given in and stayed squashed most of the time. Because of being molested, and from such a young age. Because my parents were always telling me "don't show off" (my intelligence and vocabulary), "don't brag," even while encouraging my little brother to show what an exceptional athlete he was and revolving our lives (mine included) around his sports. Because at a job I stayed at for six years (four years longer than I should have), my boss and co-workers treated me worse and worse the more authentically I lived my life and the more I threatened their world view: I both worked AND wrote (and published a story); I took a month off and went to Britain; I took six weeks off and attended a full-time writers' workshop (that you have to apply and compete for). Some people can be downright hostile if you do what they have told themselves they cannot do because that is How Things Are.

I have often in my life felt that The Universe hates me. It has seemed as if, just when my life was going particularly well, the Universe has reached out and slammed me, with moving when I was 16, with the deaths of my father and my brother and my mother, and with other things. And that has happened a lot, but there are times when I've been slammed while things were going very badly, and I'm sure there have been times when things have been going well and I haven't been slammed (I just have to remember them!).

Therapy Hangover

Sometimes, when going through therapy, a person can experience what some call a "therapy hangover." This feeling can occur from extreme emotions experienced during therapy, from reaching a deep place during therapy, and from intense realizations or epiphanies reached during therapy. Usually this feeling doesn't come during or right after the therapy session, but a little while later.

I think that today I experienced a therapy hangover.

Today's therapy was good. I was feeling disappointed with myself for not achieving the goals I set at last week's session. I've been feeling disappointed in myself for not putting more time toward my freelance job and being behind in reaching my deadline. Those were the feelings we started off the session discussing. Fairly simple and normal stuff.

I tend to approach my sessions in a freestyle, stream-of-conscious style. I lose track of original points as some new thought or memory comes to mind and I chase after that. I've told my previous therapist and my current therapist about this tendency and given them permission to control the session more, but both of them have basically let me follow my paths and tangents.

Today, in particular, I think this tactic was useful. I went from being disappointed in my not reaching my goal for the week to disappointment in myself regarding work to having developed the feeling over years that I'm going to disappoint my employer eventually, so I might as well get it over with right away. (I tend to feel this with friends, too, but forgot to bring this up during therapy.) So I tend to do something that will disappoint: I take a sick day early in my employment, I change plans suddenly (such as not coming in on a day I was scheduled to be in the office, saying I'll work at home instead), and I don't always work as hard as I feel I should and can. I'm not just in the process of disappointing others — I'm disappointing myself.

Ideas and memories and feelings kept coming to mind as I spoke, such as my parents' insistence on straight A's, even though they couldn't do the work I was doing in school and they had no understanding for how hard math was for me, for example. I told my therapist that I'd tried not to internalize that mindset, but that I had anyway. Perfection is hard to live up to.

Confidence Falls

Y'know, when I first set out to move back to Seattle, I was full of confidence about finding work back in high tech. I had a long history of high tech and I'd done a lot of extreme editing of scientific materials and I'd broadened the types of writing I've done with my various projects in Houston. Fantastic, right?

So now I am in Seattle and I've settled in and begun networking and looking for work. I've joined meetup groups in Content Strategy, Information Architecture/User Experience (IA/UX), general technology, and so on. I've gone to their meetup events. And my confidence has been pouring out of me like blood from an open arterial.

For example, last night I went to a Content Strategy meetup with my friend. The first presentation was fairly basic and I didn't really find it that informative or interesting, but the presenter was pretty excited about it so that made it okay. The second presentation was exciting, entertaining, and … confusing. I may have taken in about 10% of what the guy was talking about. The fellow to my right, an engineer and writer, had the opinion that the presentation was fairly content-free. I felt like I was too stupid to understand it, because everyone else seemed to really like the presentation. On the way home, I expressed my feeling and the other guy's opinion to my friend and he asked me what points I was confused about or what questions I had because maybe he could answer them. I only had one basic question because the rest of the presentation didn't make enough sense to me for me to even have questions I could articulate. I know I've been out of the high-tech biz for a while, and that things that used to be just what tech writers did are now their own professional niches with their own jargon, but I expected to be able to understand a hell of a lot more than what I did last night!

Secondly, I am not getting responses to job applications, other than the one where a friend submitted me via his company's employment referral system, probably because I've been out of high-tech for so long. There's a lot of jobs I'm not even applying for because of not having a few of their Required qualifications: specific programming languages, specific tools. I'm very happy to be here, but maybe I'm too out-of-date, too old. But if I'm not writing and editing, I don't know what else I can do. And honestly, I need to be working a professional job in high tech to be able to afford a decent apartment now and a decent house someday in this area. Besides all the other typical living expenses.

Yes, I have found a part-time freelance job, or rather, it found me. But it's taken me three weeks (okay, three part-time weeks, but still) to truly get up to speed on the information and how they want it presented for this first project and I've just been revising the existing stories written by someone else. I haven't even begun to write original text yet and I'm as nervous as my housemates' cat about doing so. What if I can't do this anymore? What if my work sucks?

Stumbling Again

I spent most of last week in my pjs, without showering, watching Phineas and Ferb cartoons on Netflix. I felt anxious and overwhelmed and failing and all I wanted to do was escape and distract myself. So I did.

Then I had therapy. I had great difficulty even articulating my thoughts and feelings to my wonderful therapist. She was bewildered by the fact that I was succumbing in ways I haven't in months, seeming to have lost the progress she's seen me make.

I really wasn't feeling good.

But my therapist and I talked about how I have moved many times, always successfully. We talked about how I have the skills to overcome this feeling of being a victim of my emotions and thoughts, and of feeling smaller than my circumstances.

In addition, Deb and Sierra are participating by holding me accountable and checking in with me every day or two. And giving me pep talks and suggestions. My BFF says he'll help remind me that I can do this and have done it many times. 

I basically need all the cheerleading I can get because my confidence collapsed big time, another thing that baffled my therapist. But I think I know partially why. This is my first move where there wasn't this background safety net of my mother, and the first where there is literally no one here to come help me from time to time. So until I get Sierra down here near the end to help me with the final major packing, it's all on me. I'm still not strong in the "depend upon only myself" department. I suppose that this move will help me with that.

Irrational Thinking, the Scarcity Mindset, and Cognitive Therapy

I am afraid. I'm afraid of many things, few of them rational. Some of them even have names. One of the things that most occupies my fear at the moment is that I'm going to run out of money and have no options. This is called a Scarcity Mindset. It's a little rational to think that I'll run out of money because I'm not working and the inheritance will last for only so long. But it's not rational to the extent that I fear it. I'm almost paralyzed with it.

It doesn't help that, for almost two years, I've been almost incapable of holding down a job. I worked at that contract job and called in sick way too often, just out of the stress of working and commuting when I was still recovering from my grief.

I'm capable of working a regular job now. I'd rather work freelance, but I think I can work something more normal. It would be best if it could be on a contract so I could get paid by the hour and extra for more than 40 hours a week; I don't want to work all those extra hours without extra pay anymore. I'm too old for that shit.

So here I am, looking for work on craigslist and the freelancer's association job list and LinkedIn and not finding anything or at least not getting even any messages back and I'm thinking maybe I need to find an office job (not like there aren't already enough office workers looking for work out there) or a retail job or something just so I can earn some money. I need to find work. I need an income. And I'm terrified that I won't find work and that I'll end up stone-broke. 

But this is something that cognitive therapy is designed to work with.

The Story of My Life - Part 1

There is a type of therapy called Narrative Therapy where you rewrite portions or all of your life highlighting different aspects than the ones you currently highlight. For example, these days I describe my life mainly by highlighting all the things that have happened to me where I was powerless and bad things happened. Wonder why I'm depressed and anxious?

But talking with my therapist this week, we discovered that I have other aspects that I could use to describe my life. For example, remember when I talked about not being self-differentiated from my mother, aka still having the uncut umbilical cord between us? Well, in another conversation, we discovered other stories where I had differentiated and done things that carry you on into independent adulthood.

By talking about how differently I can describe aspects of my life by what I choose to highlight, we got on the subject of how I could write a different version of my life and remind myself of all the good and powerful aspects I've shown in my past. It hasn't all been bad choices and powerless tragedies. So I'm going to do that. But first, here is the way I currently tell the story of my life, to myself and to others (well, some of it I only tell to others I am close enough to trust).

Sitting on the Couch

I've got anxiety pretty bad these days. I feel anxious about looking for work, about signing up with a freelancers association that could lead me to more work, and about not finding work and going broke.

I feel anxious about leaving my apartment. It's hot outside and I can't be spending money on things I don't need, so I don't need to go out, except for therapy, grocery shopping (which I do on the same day), and getting the mail, which I often let pile up in the box.

My anxiety makes me want to just wrap my arms around myself, around and around until I'm unable to move and I am calm. So I sit on my couch, day after day, and I don't really do much. My comfort zone has become excruciatingly small.

I even try not to think: I go online and see what blogs have new postings, but even blogs with new content run out. So I have to think some. I get bored with blogs and with playing solitaire or sudoku on some electronic device.

And I think I've very nearly hit bottom. There's not a lot of room between me and the bottom of whatever it is, be it the barrel or the Abyss, so most of the space for movement is up. It would help if up were easier or I had help. But for some reason, my life has required that I do most things alone, with no help from others. I think this is quite mean of life.

Speechless

I can't think of anything good or positive to say right now, so I'm probably not talking to you much. There is only so much self-pity someone else can stand.

Right now, I am miserable, my life is miserable and overly challenging and I'm making no progress. I have tried and I am trying as hard as I can. Will I keep trying? For now, that is unknown.

So if I'm not writing (and I gave up Nano ... again ... commitment issues?), it's because I have nothing to say that isn't about misery and grief and the Abyss. And there is really no point in writing about all of that.

I am positively speechless.

Oh, and yesterday was Mom's birthday.

Positivity and Mental Noise

Yesterday (and actually several times recently), Julie has pointed out to me that I am not being positive and that I'm not even acknowledging that there is anything positive in my posts. I'll point out all the ways I've failed, and she'll point out the things I succeeded at during that same time, things I won't even have considered.

I guess this means my next task (I should just write them down on a long list) is to pay more attention to the positives, the successes in my days and not dwell so much on the negatives and failures. Heck, I probably shouldn't even refer to "failures": they are "learning experiences" or somesuch!

I agree to do this. It will fit well with my mindfulness and awareness practice, which is going quite well in certain areas.

For example, most of the time, there is noise in my head. It might be music (usually popular songs, but not the whole song), it might be conversations I'm having with other people (that actually never happen) or arguments with other people (that never happen). Or it might just be me counting or talking to myself or providing commentary. But my mind isn't quiet and all that noise distracts me. With all that going on in my head, if I don't pay very specific attention, I'll forget whether or not I locked my apartment door and have to come back to check; same with the car door. I can forget to set the timer for my tea or forget to put tea in the tea strainer (makes for awfully weak tea!). When I allow all this unfiltered activity to inhabit my mind, I can lose whole days and whole weeks of time because I'm not paying attention. I also break things when I'm just following along with the activity. (I broke things a lot as a kid.)

A few weeks ago I began developing the habit of washing my dishes after every meal. It's easy enough right now because I don't cook particularly. And when I wash them, I am reminded of a passage in Thich Nhat Hanh's The Miracle of Mindfulness where he allows a friend to wash the dinner dishes, but only if he washes them "correctly." To wash dishes correctly, you must be paying attention to the dishes. You must be washing them to wash them, not washing them so you can rejoin friends in conversation or go watch television or some other activity. You must wash the dishes to wash them.

When I wash my dishes, I make myself slow down. I don't think about what I'm going to do next. As I wash each dish, I notice how it looks and how feels in my hand. I feel grateful for having it and appreciate its aesthetics. I carefully wash and rinse each piece, then dry each piece, paying close attention the entire time. Focusing. I find that I have enjoyed washing those dishes. Plus, they aren't cluttering up my counter or sink (other things are, but I will get to them). And I feel more relaxed.

I can add being more positive to this mindfulness and awareness practice, because I'll need to pay attention to note the positive things I do or that occur.

When I pay attention, when I focus, my mind is quiet. When I am washing a bowl, the only noises I allow in my head are the sounds of the dishcloth and soap and water squeaking against the bowl, the sounds of the refrigerator compressor (which runs too often) and the air conditioner — only what is occurring right now. My mind feels less cluttered, more open and airy, and much quieter. Perhaps in the evening, when I am assessing my day, I will achieve a similar quiet as I pay attention to the positive parts of my day, and reframe the ones that were less than positive.