Labyrinth.June 16, 2011 at 12:52 pm | Posted in Cheese with that whine? (aka rants), Crazy Talk (aka: Therapy) | 4 Comments
I have moments when I feel great. Like I’m getting better, leaving the Bad Place behind.
Like the time and money I’m investing in my therapy sessions is helping, really helping.
It’s the moments when I sit on the deck, watching my boys.
Or when I run a 5 mile race at a pace I didn’t think I’d manage this early in the season. And place in the top half of my age group to boot.
Usually it’s not one thing that starts the slide.
It’s a multiple things, timed close together.
A pregnancy announcement. Then another. Then getting a surprise visit from AF without warning.
A couple of days at work where I get absolutely nothing accomplished even though I’m stupidly busy.
A REALLY bad run, where it hurts so much I have to cut my distance short.
A trying morning with O, where I feel myself slip into the red zone of impatience, where I start to nag and speak louder, sometimes yelling at him over things that are actually part of our regular routine. And I see, and recognize, his confusion. Why is Mommy so upset today over this?
And the calm, the Zen, the happy place I’ve been working so hard to find begins to dissolve.
When that happens, the Inner Critic starts in on me.
You’re a failure. What’s the point of even TRYING to measure up? You never will.
I wish I knew why I did this to myself. My therapist suggests that maybe my Bad Place is just anger turned inwards.
Ironically, I’m starting to get angry at myself for ALLOWING myself to slide back to the Bad Place. I wonder if I’m indulging in feeling badly, like there’s something about feeling bad that makes me feel good.
It’s totally fucked up.
I’m TIRED of the Bad Place. I’m tired of always being on edge, wondering what’s going to push me back down. I’m tired of waiting for another shoe to drop.
I’m tired of being tenuously happy, trying to knit together wisps of happy moments in the hopes that it’ll be enough to keep me from sliding back into the not-too-distant darkness.
I’m tired of working so hard to find happiness, and I’m starting to wonder if I actually HAVE the capacity to be happy. Like really, truly happy.
Which, you know, might just another way of self-attack.
I need to find a way out of this labyrinth. I just don’t know how.