Saturday, January 15, 2011

Morning. Feeling tense and frozen. Is that normal, or is that a medication side effect? And does it matter? Because eventually I get myself to move. On Saturdays and Sundays it's pretty hard, though. And it's hard on work days, but I don't want to loose my job, so that's a great motivator.

I went from being indecisive to being indecisive to suddenly deciding to go on a hike with my dad. May my counselor be satisfied with my exposure to the sun (through a winter hat and two coats! Really, how much sun exposure is that?). Actually, she probably wants me to go outside several times a week or something.

I don't like my options from here. Hoping for medication-related improvement is a really really slow and possibly hazardous approach to regaining "mental health." But some people have been helped this way. Hoping for a CBT and ERP solution seems even more discouraging. I'm supposed to have these super powers that enable me to act against my thoughts and feelings and change myself. Oh, really. Like I haven't tried to be a perfect human before, and see where that got me? But I'm not supposed to try to be perfect. I'm supposed to be intentionally not perfect? I'm grumpy about therapy and the think-more-rational-thoughts thing. And that is why today's plan includes going to the gym and trying to get out my frustration in a positive way. If I tire myself out... then can I go back to sleep? (Of course, I'm tired already.)

But medication is a slow hope; I don't see a doctor for a couple more weeks. And therapy is a slow hope - I'm supposed to just do the things that "should" help me with the confident assumption that it will help. Really? What have I been doing wrong for the past half year? Okay, so I slacked off alot. I know, I know. And maybe it takes years for the therapy to change me. Months for medication, years for therapy, okay, now I understand my attraction to the idea of medication. Because months sounds better than years. But it could be years. Suppose it takes years to find the right medication. Okay, that's too depressing. Let's get back to thinking in the right here, right now. Right now, I'm typing on the computer, and I like the sound of typing. Little tiny goals. I've done this before. I can do this again. Little tiny goals. And rewards. What would I like? A puzzle? No. The psych. Dr. implied that I liked them because they held one right answer. I concluded he didn't think this was a good traight in myself (to the extent that I seem to posess it), and I stopped putting puzzles together. Thanks, Dr. And even more thanks to my brain for it's amazing "logical" conclusions.

But what else? I could buy tennishoes. The psych Dr. used that as an example of how he had not been careful with his money when he was younger. So I concluded that I shouldn't buy new tennishoes either, despite the fact that they had holes (no, I held out that the holes were a good reason until my counselor said she didn't notice the holes, so then I decided I was stupidly over-reacting to some holes in my shoes - and some uncomfortable times when water entered my shoes through the very not water proof sides - and so I have not bought new shoes. 'Cause buying new shoes might be a sin.

And oh, great. Do I just sit here writing my obsessive compulsive thoughts for the world to read? Maybe I should print this out for my counselor. I like to give her writing samples of my thoughts. Sometimes she compliments my writing skill.

Thankfully, I presume most of the world will not find or read this, keeping my secret safe from most of the people who know me.

Thanks to all of you who are my ocd friends who read this and do understand.

No comments:

Post a Comment