I started back in therapy. I realized that I was just a bit more of a fuck-up lately than usual. I was watching too much tv, spending too much time searching the internet, wasting time at work, thinking way too much and eating like crap. Every night I would tell myself that I would stop doing these things the next day but I never would. Whatever resolve I had to make changes in my life was gone by morning. Then I’d feel like crap for my lack of motivation and thus the cycle started all over again. I kept waiting for some sort of defining moment, a line of demarcation that would separate how I was from how I wanted to be. I felt like there needed to be some symbolic break and then I started to feel even more depressed because that never happened. It was a very black and white way of looking at things, which is typically how I am. The situation was made even worse because I knew I was a mess and horribly unhappy but I didn’t have anyone who would understand where I was. Thus not only was I a fuck-up, I was a lonely fuck-up. I knew I needed to do something different to get unstuck and I figured starting therapy would be a good start.

I went back to Sherry, who I’d seen before. She is very matter of fact and nonjudgmental, plus she gives homework. I appreciate that and the fact that she holds me more accountable than I would be on my own. We’ve talked about a few different things but mainly focused on my fear of being happy and my great capacity for overthinking things.

One of the things she mentioned was the idea that changing myself doesn’t have to be black and white, that I could make small changes that over time would make a bigger difference than I thought they would. It seemed too simple to actually be true but I figured she was the professional so I trusted her. She told me to find a hobby and I did. I started knitting and I love doing it. I committed to less time on the computer, less tv time, and less diet coke. The diet coke part has probably been the hardest. I also committed to yoga and/or meditation and whatever books she assigned to me. I’m not a yoga/meditating person so I feel a little cheesy doing it but I do find myself feeling a little better when I’m done.

So we slowly work on the other things: figuring out why I’m so afraid to allow myself to be happy and why I think the universe will some how try to bring me down a notch if I am happy. It’s hard to undo a lifetime of Irish Catholicism, though. And we work on getting me out of my head. I try to stop myself from thinking, thinking, thinking (perseverating is a much more accurate description) by being aware of what’s actually happening, not what I’m thinking about. I try to retrain my brain and get out of the mental ruts my thoughts always end up in.

I do feel better. Not great, not exactly happy but better.


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