It's Not Raining

I've heard from my friends that they have been worried about me and I don't blame them. I haven't been this deep in the Abyss for a while. I wondered if I was stuck there for good this time: each time it seems as if it will be forever.

Then Deb and I chatted on IM the other day. Deb supports me, cheers me on, gives me pep talks, and when she feels necessary, gives me come-to-Goddess talks. Using examples from her own life as well as her exquisite personal wisdom, she talked me through a point — out of a bubble? past a barrier? around and over a ledge on a vertical rock face? — and somehow into a better frame of mind.

I am not well, but I am better than I was last week, and that's enough for now. I am standing between rain storms and enjoying the white stratus clouds and wispy blue sky. And I am thinking about Deb's description of how to get out of the Abyss: a spoonful of dirt at a time.

I saw my psych on Wednesday. I wish I could see her every week, but because she is not covered by my new insurance I have to pay her myself so I've backed down to every other week. She liked the "spoonful of dirt" analogy and nodded her head sympathetically when I told her I was hoping it would be more like a dramatic breakthrough.

Michele gave me three things to do:

1. Engage with myself. When I am distracting myself or escaping, as in playing a game or reading in lieu of being aware or acting, re-engage in the moment and really be there. Don't escape. Don't distract.
2. What do I need? What do I want? I am very clear about what I don't need or want — I tell myself and others all the time. I don't want to keep living with my friends. I don't want to work on the Eastside. I don't want to change careers. In fiction, those are all considered "negative goals" and considered poor goals to set for your character. It's better to have positive goals, something to move toward rather than something to move away from.
3. I forgot. Of course this one is getting away from me. I'll remember it. Eventually.

Epic

Gods, I'm still swimming through murk. Maybe I need to write or immerse myself in an epic fantasy where the heroine has to fight her way through unbelievable darkness before breaking into and winning the light. I am still in Mirkwood, or Mordor or something. I don't have a magical ring or a fellowship or a Gandalf. All I have is my little, barely functioning, broken self. I do have friends, but they aren't on this journey with me and I don't know how they can help.

What tools do I have? My ability to write: this blog, my novel, my journal, anything else that comes to mind. My ability to draw: sketch, color, illustrate whatever I see or think of. Cognitive therapy skills: I'm not sure how to use them on this, but this uncertainty could simply be a symptom of the depression, not letting me see how to use a powerful tool. Exercise: which I haven't been doing but which could change my brain chemistry at least for 15 minutes at a time. Medication: I really don't want to meddle with my meds right now.

What other resources do I have? I'm persistent like a kid sister. I'm brave, when I remember to be or don't notice. I'm stronger than I think. I'm smart, or used to be at any rate. I'm imaginative, creative, and articulate, which are the swords that cut in both directions. I have an intelligent and creative therapist. I have a stable home.

What are my hindrances? Years of being depressed and anxious. Years of being sedentary to the point of motionlessness. The helplessness that comes from long-term unemployment. Lethargy. Fear. Crumbling self-confidence. Years of giving in to the depression, lethargy, and shyness. The habit of hiding. I'm so the broken hero!

In an epic, I'd have to overcome all my personal hindrances, while battling the monsters as well, to get through the dark places and win the day. The unemployment is like the thousand-foot cataract: I have no control over the people who decide whether or not to pursue me after reading my resume. I can try to paddle to shore before the water falls over the cliff; I can grab onto a passing giant bird; I can hastily manufacture a parachute. Or I can simply go over the edge in my bark canoe and hope I don't drown or smash against the rocks at the bottom.

I like metaphors. I know this sort of thing doesn't work for everyone, but my imagination has in the past helped me through difficulties in my life. Maybe my not using it much for too many years has contributed to this morass I currently inhabit.

Perhaps I have my magic sword, my wand, my string of charms, my book of spells. Now I just need to figure out how to use it, whatever it is.

Flake

I have a confession: I am a flake. Iffy. Dodgy. A really good liar and undependable in work and play. Torpid. Stubborn. Lacking integrity, untrustworthy, and afraid of commitment. Basically, I kinda suck. I don't much like myself and I'm still working on loving myself.

I didn't used to be this way. Before I fell apart in my mid-30s, when an overwhelming depression washed over me and pulled me into deep, dark water. Before my ex-boyfriend — the one who'd changed his mind and decided he didn't want to get married, have children, or buy a house with me — got married and asked me how I used my 401K to buy my house. Before my insecure boss made me so diminished, anxious, and crazy-feeling that my psychiatrist prescribed not one but TWO mental health leaves within a six-month period. Before all that I was not perfect, but anyone could count on me to do what I said. Friends, family, and employers could trust me. I was active, flexible, creative, and committed.

I hate the way I am. I hate that I'm not the way I used to be. I hate that I can't seem to find my way back, after nearly 20 years. Twenty years is a long time to be disgusted by the person you've become.

"Ah, the sun is blindin'
I stayed up again
Oh, I am findin'
That that's not the way I want my story to end"

Feeling, Detaching, Continuing

I haven't written in wow — 10 days! I know I usually write about my therapy, but last week, I just couldn't.

Last week's therapy ended up being very emotional and very raw. We started talking about what I wrote about in my last post and pursued it far into my mind and my feelings to see what is behind this desire to reconnect with my past. At the very base of the vortex, we found abandonment and being completely alone. Intellectually, I know that my family did not abandon me and I am not completely alone (besides that fact that we are all basically one on one level). I have people who love me, both locally and scattered across the country. But, at the heart of the matter, those are what I feel.

I cried some. Not as bad as most of the times I cried in Karen's office, but the first time I've cried in Michele's, and the first time I've cried in a while. I really don't like to cry, for numerous reasons. Even more, I don't like to cry in front of someone else. It exhausts me. And when I experience a strong emotion, afterward I detach from emotion for some amount of time.

We ended the hour with a long imaging session. Imaging, visualization, creative imaging: whatever you want to call it. Michele led me and helped me find my way through it and discover things. I'm not going to describe it because it's intensely personal and there are very few people I would be comfortable sharing it with. Hell, I'm barely comfortable sharing it with myself!

Thus, whenever I thought about writing for the blog, I kept thinking about writing about the session, then about how I didn't want to write about the session. So I didn't write, and I didn't write.

I had therapy again today, and after I finished chattering, I told Michele about how I didn't write about last week's session and why. Which in turn led to my emotion/detachment pattern.

I don't want to have this pattern. Last week, on the way home, I left the radio off so I could stay with the feelings from the session and the imaging work. I wanted to ride that emotional wave to the end, the way Michele encouraged me to do. And I did ride it, all the way home. Then, exhausted, I took a long nap. Afterward, I didn't return to thinking about the therapy session or my feelings or the work we'd done and ended with. I didn't do so again until today's therapy.

Still Kickin'

Well, I weathered the mood storm back there and am doing very much better. I just wanted to let y'all know so you don't worry. I don't have anything to write currently, but plan to get back on a schedule now that I'm doing better.

Thanks for your support and your concern!

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.