What’s the line in that song? It’s three a.m. and I think I’m lonely? Actually, it’s four and I think I’m exhausted, not lonely, so apologies for any detours or rambles along the way. The day for me was eventful, with one very good thing happening, and the rest being neither good nor bad but hard on the nerves. The toughest was starting with a new med provider. I hate this process because vocalizing how very ill I am fills me with shame. Funny, how that works, huh? Despite the growing evidence that there are genetic, neurological, and environmental causes for this condition and its relatives, I still can’t get past feeling a supreme agency in the deconstruction of my ability to stand up straight and spit in the face of the world’s trials. Perhaps because it’s diagnosed with behaviors and feelings, instead of blood tests and x-rays. After all, I was raised to believe that I am responsible for my own behavior.
But the doc asked me an interesting question, when I was holding off a minor meltdown as I confessed my current state. "You are learning in therapy that these negative messages are bad…?"
He was a kind guy, and seemed pretty astute (though I had to hold back a giggle when he grimly informed me that I was severely depressed…I didn’t know? (It seems I’m also now a record holder of sorts…I have the dubious honor of the highest (lowest would seem more appropriate) score his forty year practice has ever seen on the whatchyamacallit-quantitative-question-and-answer quiz. Gosh, do I get a ribbon? A year’s supply of celexa?)). Anyhow, due to his other good qualities, I patiently tried to explain to him the difference between knowing the reasons for what is happening to you, and actually feeling them. This didn’t seem to be a surprising concept for him, so I imagine he’s heard it before. I know I’ve said it before, just not to him.
But a while after I left one thing did occur to me. I’m taught that thinking these bad things about myself is bad. Uh, oh, I smell a loop. I’m bad to think that I’m bad. I’m not a bad person, I just think bad thoughts. It’s bad to think bad thoughts, don’t do it. Oh, lord. Oh, no. Not lord. He’s got a thing or two to say about bad thoughts too. I’ve already got enough voices weighing in with contradictions.
How to combat this? Is there any way out short of surrendering all sense of accountability? I like accountability. I don’t like my own tendency towards taking on more than my own ration of it: if I proportioned my share as scantily as genetics gave me height then on several ocassions in my history I would’ve shoved that blame ball towards another holder. I’m almost certain that sentence has way too many words. More succintly, I wouldn’t mind feeling comfortable telling some other jerk that this time it’s his fault. Just once or twice. But still, I’m not willing to give it all up. If I do, who am I when I’m done? Will I like me?
It would seem that acceptance needs to have a voice here, but does acceptance necessarily lead to change? Do I trust that I’ve really accepted, or have I just put another layer of armour over the pain so I can talk about it, while I secretly hide the whole mess in the closet and hope nobody sees? Then again, if the grand three-part act of positive change we see in movies actually does occur, will I know when to stop?
Thus ends bummer’s lesson on how to use your own mind to confuse yourself before dawn. Hope everyone is having a day with sunshine and good coffee in it.
