rats

I am really good at convincing myself of things.

I had convinced myself that "OK, so I feel a little down, and sometimes I have some bad days, but I'm not depressed, and besides, with all the meditation I'm doing, I'm learning to handle my feelings, so I don't need medication or anything--I'll be fine."

Yeah. Sounds good.

One reason I'm angry at my old therapist is that she would participate in the convincing. I would make up a little story and she would help me tell it, add details, help it all fall into place. It felt nice and comforting but it was not useful.

But, damn, I hate when I get called on that shit.

My little stories are so pleasant. They keep me warm at night. They pat my hand and smile reassuringly. Too bad they're imaginary.

So, realistically, let's consider the facts.

Q: How much meditation am actually I doing?
A: Not that much. OK, hardly any.

Q: What did I eat while Loopy was in Chicago for three days?
A: Jelly beans and granola bars and......uh.....I know I must have eaten something else.

Q: How late did I stay up every night while she was gone?
A: Til 4 a.m.
Q: Why?
A: Because I couldn't stand the idea of turning out all the lights and being alone in the dark.

Q: How long have I been unemployed and without any regular activity?
A: One year.

Q: Why?
A: Because I'm trying to finish my incompletes so I can get my teaching certification and finally become a teacher.

Q: What am I doing toward finishing those incompletes and fulfilling that dream?
A: Uh...... nothing. Well, wait, there was that one day when I wrote a page and a half—okay, yeah, nothing.

Yeah. Hate to break it to me, but all of that sounds pretty damn crazy. Or at the very least, non-functional.

Our Little Italian Friend (couples therapist) is annoyingly good at ignoring what I'm saying and listening to why I'm saying it. So he listened to my twenty-minute speech on how I'm learning and growing and doing so much better, and responded with, "You sound terrible." Aw, what gave it away? Was it what Loopy calls "the Stepford wife voice"? Or was it the vacant stare? Dang.

My point is, it's depressing to be told you're depressed. Even if I was deluding myself, at least I had some cheerful moments back before he..... rats, I'm deluding myself again.

But it is depressing, because I really thought I had this thing licked. I remember telling people "I used to be really depressed but it's fully in remission. I feel happy every day, I feel like my life is headed in the right direction..." That was spring of 2003. But here I am, back to the meds again.

Of course, the fact that I was there once gives me hope that I can get there again.

It just seems like there's this enormous mountain between me and where I want to be. I thought I already climbed it, but somehow it's in front of me again. And I don't even have the energy to want to climb it. I just stand here and stare at it. Been staring. For a year. And it just gets bigger.

That's what meds are for, I know, I know. We'll see.