today
Today, I had trouble getting out of bed in the morning. I wondered, is that because of depression and anxiety, or am I using that as an excuse? I was kind of thinking it was both, and eventually made myself get up and eat breakfast.
Then I watched a movie. Once I got far enough in, it did distract me, but at first, the anxiety was still having a heyday. It was being really absurd. "You might not sew that right." And there I paused in indecision, which was rather ridiculous since I was determined to finish making this handbag, and I wasn't even demanding that it turn out perfect. Finally I just dove in. It is definitely not perfect. No worry there, but it is turning out fairly similar to how I intended (but a little bit smaller).
The upcoming travel involving my leaving my "safe" (-ish) home state where I have multiple friends and where I have my psychiatrist and therapist (well, they are technically in another state, but close by), this trip is getting great anticipatory anxiety ratings. I'm not usually this anxious. Well, I guess that's something to celebrate. The majority of my life without these stupid anxieties (replaced at times, by other, more logical fears, like what could happen to me from the invisible contaminants on the bar of soap in my family's bathroom). But really, I often haven't felt this concentration of random anxiety.
Yesterday, I saw my psychiatrist. We had a valuable conversation. I brought up my monetary worry, saying apparently I shouldn't have checked my credit card account. The thought that the problem was just because I'd actually looked at the information was somewhat amusing to me. And he said, well, you can still smile about it, so it must not be too bad. I replied, but I can smile in the psych ward, too. I really meant it. I did smile there. And it didn't mean I wasn't upset. Anyway, Mr. Psychiatrist replied, so I can't take your smile at face value, it isn't necessarily a good indicator of how you're feeling. Yes, I confirmed, I sometimes smile to cover up my distress. He asked, so how would your face look if you weren't smiling? Then I made a face, trying to think about that. He asked, Is that the face you would make? No, I replied, that's my thinking face. Actually, I still don't know what expression would really express how I feel about the state of said credit card account. I'm not sure I have one.
And then, I set about thinking about when I cover with a smile. Sometimes, I think it is meant to downplay my distress, to myself and/or to others. Sometimes I share things that are part of my normal life, and it bothers whoever I'm talking to (i.e., describing depressive thoughts to a person without depression). I want to smile to lighten it up a little, try to take off some of what weighs on them. Okay, so I might smile also when describing that to my therapist or my psychiatrist. I guess my face shows it more accurately when I cry.
Which I did when discussing the dear credit card account with my therapist, who decided to wave my copay altogether, which really bothered me, leaves me feeling incompetent. She tried to convince me to accept it (which I probably would have anyway, even though I was upset about it), by comparing it to how I care for my toddlers at work. By saying she's done it for other people, too. It seems that, though raised in a family that wasn't rich but that always had enough (though not always enough for icecream), I still judge myself by my financial status. I have easily stated my opposition to "prosperity gospels" - i.e., that if you were good and God was happy with you, you would have lots of money. I wasn't into being rich. I was quite content with how my family was when I grew up. And not until money started decreasing did I wonder if I was doing wrong and that was how God was judging me.
Wow, this past couple years have been just great at showing me my pride and judgementalness.
So now, I will speak to myself, but you can listen in if you'd like. (And now that I've said that, okay, I am talking to you, too.) God's oppinion of me does not necessarily correspond to the state of my finances. You know, in one way, I'd like for it to be, because then maybe I could do something to ensure I had more money. But the thing is, if I try to get points from God by doing what I should, I fall so ridiculously short that it's pretty crazy to seriously consider such a thing. It would be like approaching a hotel that cost a million dollars to enter and saying, "look, look! I have three pennies! Now won't you give me one of your better rooms?" So I guess I'll stick to wearing Jesus's goodness and entering on his ticket, not trying to buy my own with three pennies. And having said that, why, since I know that that is what I choose to believe, why do I still keep thinking I need to earn more pennies? Why?
Then I watched a movie. Once I got far enough in, it did distract me, but at first, the anxiety was still having a heyday. It was being really absurd. "You might not sew that right." And there I paused in indecision, which was rather ridiculous since I was determined to finish making this handbag, and I wasn't even demanding that it turn out perfect. Finally I just dove in. It is definitely not perfect. No worry there, but it is turning out fairly similar to how I intended (but a little bit smaller).
The upcoming travel involving my leaving my "safe" (-ish) home state where I have multiple friends and where I have my psychiatrist and therapist (well, they are technically in another state, but close by), this trip is getting great anticipatory anxiety ratings. I'm not usually this anxious. Well, I guess that's something to celebrate. The majority of my life without these stupid anxieties (replaced at times, by other, more logical fears, like what could happen to me from the invisible contaminants on the bar of soap in my family's bathroom). But really, I often haven't felt this concentration of random anxiety.
Yesterday, I saw my psychiatrist. We had a valuable conversation. I brought up my monetary worry, saying apparently I shouldn't have checked my credit card account. The thought that the problem was just because I'd actually looked at the information was somewhat amusing to me. And he said, well, you can still smile about it, so it must not be too bad. I replied, but I can smile in the psych ward, too. I really meant it. I did smile there. And it didn't mean I wasn't upset. Anyway, Mr. Psychiatrist replied, so I can't take your smile at face value, it isn't necessarily a good indicator of how you're feeling. Yes, I confirmed, I sometimes smile to cover up my distress. He asked, so how would your face look if you weren't smiling? Then I made a face, trying to think about that. He asked, Is that the face you would make? No, I replied, that's my thinking face. Actually, I still don't know what expression would really express how I feel about the state of said credit card account. I'm not sure I have one.
And then, I set about thinking about when I cover with a smile. Sometimes, I think it is meant to downplay my distress, to myself and/or to others. Sometimes I share things that are part of my normal life, and it bothers whoever I'm talking to (i.e., describing depressive thoughts to a person without depression). I want to smile to lighten it up a little, try to take off some of what weighs on them. Okay, so I might smile also when describing that to my therapist or my psychiatrist. I guess my face shows it more accurately when I cry.
Which I did when discussing the dear credit card account with my therapist, who decided to wave my copay altogether, which really bothered me, leaves me feeling incompetent. She tried to convince me to accept it (which I probably would have anyway, even though I was upset about it), by comparing it to how I care for my toddlers at work. By saying she's done it for other people, too. It seems that, though raised in a family that wasn't rich but that always had enough (though not always enough for icecream), I still judge myself by my financial status. I have easily stated my opposition to "prosperity gospels" - i.e., that if you were good and God was happy with you, you would have lots of money. I wasn't into being rich. I was quite content with how my family was when I grew up. And not until money started decreasing did I wonder if I was doing wrong and that was how God was judging me.
Wow, this past couple years have been just great at showing me my pride and judgementalness.
So now, I will speak to myself, but you can listen in if you'd like. (And now that I've said that, okay, I am talking to you, too.) God's oppinion of me does not necessarily correspond to the state of my finances. You know, in one way, I'd like for it to be, because then maybe I could do something to ensure I had more money. But the thing is, if I try to get points from God by doing what I should, I fall so ridiculously short that it's pretty crazy to seriously consider such a thing. It would be like approaching a hotel that cost a million dollars to enter and saying, "look, look! I have three pennies! Now won't you give me one of your better rooms?" So I guess I'll stick to wearing Jesus's goodness and entering on his ticket, not trying to buy my own with three pennies. And having said that, why, since I know that that is what I choose to believe, why do I still keep thinking I need to earn more pennies? Why?
I think the holiday season is a very anxiety producing time for everyone - let alone those of us with OCD!!! I just wrote on one of my blog posts that I struggle so much with getting out of bed some days too. The key for me is to just "do it", and 90% of the time the next thing you know I feel better and I've forgotten about what was bothering me when I woke up.
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