Well, I’ve lost count. I had one session cancelled last week, and one this week, and then another make-up session shoved in on Friday, and now I’ve had the confirmation sms that I have a session tomorrow when one wasn’t supposed to be scheduled. Cue me, or PizzaBoy, giving them a call in the morning to say WTF?
My depression is in abeyance, and I wonder if this is as good as I get. I can’t say I don’t get suicidal ideation any more, because my brain tried its very best on Saturday. I got as far as ‘if my health isn’t going to give me any more energy, and my shoulder never gets any better, then why on earth would I spend another 40 years hanging around?’ And then my mind said: ‘Oh, what a waste of $$$$ all this would have been.”
So, I’m still here, and feel mostly okay, except the old anxiety is ramping up. Not as bad as it was, but as soon as I said to myself last week that it might be time to attempt to rewrite an old short story, bam, my sleep went screwy, and I was in low-grade lather until it finally sorted out how to tell the story. It wasn’t a short story after all, but a poem cycle.
Now I’m in the ‘for gods’ sakes, just carve out fifteen minutes, and write one of the damned poems’ phase. Let’s just say that I’m getting through the old book pile. Reading as avoidance. Not quite as useful as cleaning as avoidance.
My energy IS better than it was, my outlook mostly better, but honestly, I thought being non-depressed would be….more. I was hoping for a batsqueak of sexuality, just a hint of desire, but no. Still nothing. Poor PizzaBoy. I thought there’d be more ‘oy boy!’ when waking up of a morning. I thought…I dunno how I thought it would be. Just more.
I lifted up really quickly, and have mostly maintained that level, but this plateau seems to be it. That’s unless I give myself a talking to and say ‘well, of course it is if you’re not going to do any of the suggested work sheets, up the ante on yourself in terms of magicking your brain, and starting up some therapy again to reframe, if not clear old junk’.
Sulky child self then wants to stomp around, saying: “But it’s supposed to work!”
It works if you work it, as they say in the classics. Re-find that ‘this is going to bloody work for me 100%’ drive, and get on with it, Satya.
Gratitude: that I get to have this therapy, with the support of my family; it’s worked very well for me; I seem able to maintain equilibrium between Friday afternoon and Tuesday afternoons, which is a good stretch of time(some clients can’t maintain more than about 36 hours without going downhill again, and need to slooowly stretch out their visits); the Glen Waverley clinic opened and it’s a seven minute drive, rather than a thirty five minute drive; the story idea finally fell into place; I wrote 5 poems in the cycle; I decluttered my wool stash and there’s a bag of wool to go to the op shop; 16 minutes of belly dance drills this morning; I love the cold weather when I’m tucked up on my bed in the afternoon, reading; gratitude to Unicorn Girl for suggesting I actually read ‘Betwixt and Between’; PizzaBoy; my three grandkids; friends.