Tag Archives: manic

Familar and comfortable like quicksand

So what was the awful suggestion my psychologist made to me that annoyed me so much, and made me close down?

He suggested that I keep playing my internal tape (fat, stupid, lazy) because it has the comfort of the familiar about it, better the devil you know etc. I suppose he felt because of my religious cult background that maybe I enjoy mental “self flagellation”.

He also likened it to people who love to go see a horror movie, can’t help themselves and enjoy being scared.  A nice illustration which immediately falls totally flat as I have never seen a horror movie. Only Hitchcock’s  “The Birds” when I was old enough to laugh at the CGI  (not sure those drawn on birds could even classify as cgi) and  I couldn’t sleep for a year after seeing the Michael Jackson video for “Thriller” … (as an aside I had to watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer for years to build up my “horror” resistance.)

Also, if it’s so damn comfortable there, then why the depression and the suicidal tendencies huh?? Yeah comfortable like quicksand. I like it so much that I want to leave this earth behind to get away from those internal taped voices.

*sigh*

He talked about some experiences he had had (at my request) and a particular negative moment when a “leader” publicly wrote him off during an intense emotional time by loudly announcing “oh leave him if that’s the reality he wants to create”. Basically belittling both his experience and his person. And it wasn’t an isolated incident but a summation of the power play and vulnerability in their relationship.

I don’t see the difference between his comment to me and that leaders’ comment to him. Which means I’m angry he felt he could just throw my problem back on me and leave me to blame myself again. However, anger has always been a rather effective change agent for me, and I have had an awesome two weeks. It reminded me (again) that the pit is mine, I have to climb out, and I wanted to climb out just to spite him to show him he is wrong.

Perhaps also a reduction in Effexor XR, and a manic episode all combined to create a rather happy and up (overall) 2 weeks. I was kind of glad he wasn’t able to have a session last week, as I didn’t want my happy mood wrecked again.

I will have to try and get the sessions to focus more on my relationship with my eldest instead of going over what a f***kup I am.

LATER: I did tell RG at the next session that I didn’t see the difference between what he said and what that leader said to him, and he said he was (comfortably) embarrassed – could see where I was coming from, so it felt a bit “touche”. Of course being the sporadic, wandering nature of the sessions means this hasn’t been revisited.

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thanks Tony Robbins but..

I heard a Tony Robbins audio once where he said in essence that people “do” depressed. So if you “do” happy, the corollary is that you are happy, or at least you become so. Of course, this immediately fails the “true for all” test by application to the Third World – people can’t just “do” full, fed and satisfied; they can’t just “do” health. Well, not according to me anyway!

So while the decision of the last post was powerful and did work, I find myself here again. Of course one shouldn’t be so stupid as to think it would be a once off, but well a girl can dream right? On the positive side, it lasted 7 days which is great, I’ll never say no to good days.  So, do I-  TonyRobbins style – just “do” it and make that decision and act it out? Last time I didn’t have the physical and emotional weight I have had the last 2 or 3 days, nor the headaches, irritability and excess sleep which points more to a manic episode than “doing” happiness.

However, do I really have a choice to NOT try? If  it works, and  I owe it to my husband and children to see if I can at least be less irritable and reactionary today, then how can I not try? It’s just the long term good versus the short term gratification. It’s hard work to try and be happy, and seriously right now I would rather go back to bed, put a pillow over my head and ignore the world.

A decision

I have realised that no one can get me out of the pit except me.

I think when I had my first major breakdown 10 years ago, I thought that somehow there would be some kind of “magic” answer – like a cancer victim hopes for an operation to amputate the malignant tumour. I thought medication would fix it all, and that if finally people knew how much I was suffering that I would be given treatment and get better. I hadn’t realised that this was the start of an ongoing struggle that I would continue to face again and again.

Giving up the struggle to be well, while a blessed relief, was the initial step to the inexorable slide into the pit, and my ultimate attempt to cease struggling. This time the experience has been quite different. I had promised myself “I would never be in that place again” and here I was nearly there. Because of my terribly great fear of the dis-empowerment of “that place”, I largely bypassed the “feeling suicidal” and went straight to thinking about the event and planning it. There is control and order by doing that. However, with two little children now,  the cost to give up is so much greater, even if giving up is just letting myself have a major breakdown.

I have always believed – when well- that suicide is a cowardly response. When unwell, I often feel that it is the braver option. Well or unwell I do acknowledge the awfulness for my children and the utter finality of the decision. This time too, there has been relief with moments of sunlight reaching-  if not the floor of the pit – at least the walls. And instead of those moments making the depression worse, reminding me of what could be, of what my life should be, they have been and are a great source of comfort.

I also tried to think if anything would make me happier, and figured winning the lottery would probably do it. Now, last time I had a breakdown I was on a 6 figure salary, but I wasn’t happy so I do acknowledge that money is not the answer. However, thinking of what I would do if I had that money I came to a realization.

I actually don’t want to die.

Because I want to be well.

So I decided some things.

I asked God for help and told Satan to piss off.  Now that could just totally be interpreted as personifications of my own inner strength and weaknesses  – I don’t care what others think if it works. In the end, one needs to be well regardless of the cosmology used to get there.

And I tried to think of the fight in more physical terms – rather than always a cognitive battle for positivity. Anger and frustration are often best served using a a physical release so that one can then expend the energy and focus on the cause of the problem in the quiet that follows.

I realised that no one else is going to get me out of the pit, because no else can. Even RG as helpful as he’s been, can’t actually do the climbing for me. The medication enables me to climb but won’t do it for me. If I want to get out, only I can do it. Surprisingly instead of driving me immediately to the brink it gave me some hope and a determination to spite this thing.

Of course, perhaps I just woke up manic, and am now in a terribly, irritable, controling phase again. Oh the joys of bipolar madness.