The building where I go for my mental health treatments seem designed to trigger a panic attack. It’s in the old hospital, a rambling Victorian derelict that is mostly boarded up with condemned signs warning about asbestos. It looks like the setting from a horror film so I’m already nervous before I get to the tiny section still in use.
It was not helped that when I arrived on Monday for my level three assessment there was no receptionist and I was instructed (via signs) that I was to let myself into the waiting room. As the minutes ticked by I started to worry I was in the wrong place, luckily this time the psychologist was only five minutes late and so arrived before I could work myself into a froth.
The appointment went fairly well, we established quickly that I was caught in a terrible cycle. Essentially, I’m depressed which makes it hard to do things which I then take as proof of my failure which makes me insecure which then causes anxiety so I avoid doing things which means I’m lonely and isolated which makes me depressed…
We also established that part of my problem is my self esteem is in the freaking toilet. Therefore the plan of action is to sign me up for a CBT self esteem group workshop. This would run about 6 to 10 weeks, afterwards we’d have a review and if it was deemed I still needed one to one I’d go back on the waiting list for that. However I wouldn’t be at the bottom of the list again, I’d be in the same place on the waiting list that I would have been without the workshop. Basically this is a plan to get me into some sort if treatment before the year is out.
This is good because I feel like I am two steps from a nervous breakdown. Since my last post I learned that I’m probably going to be made redundant, broke my toe, and crashed after trying to be super mom. Things aren’t good right now. Don’t get me wrong there are pluses, I am looking forward to being a stay at home mom but things are still hard.
One thing I said to the psychologist is I know what I am trying to get back to. You see for years when asked to describe myself I would have said “introvert, likes routine, afraid of change, boring, anxious and cynical” recently I realised…that is not me at all. All I am describing is the cage I built for myself. In reality I am a creative, spontaneous, sensitive, social, optimistic person. I just crush that in myself because…I don’t know why. I know I am sick of it though.
Part of it is probably because I am very sensitive to my environment. I tend to internalize other peoples negative emotions. If someone is angry I blame myself, if someone is sad I have to make them happy or I get sad. I can’t read drama books or watch serious television, not even the news, without it effecting me. Heck even in comedy I cannot watch someone bring humiliated. A trait I share with my father. My mood is far too dependent on my environment.
I suppose the phrase I’m slowly groping towards is empathy (I was avoiding it because it sounds hippy dippy). Maybe empathy simply means remembering, I remember with perfect clarity how it felt to be embarrassed, hurt, insulted, betrayed and so on in my past. I can (and have) forgive the person, understand the circumstances, see the bigger picture, and feel no animosity now but remember vividly how I felt at the time.
I don’t know if other people remember those things so clearly but I know it’s a key factor in why other peoples emotions effect me so much. I subconsciously view the pain or sadness of others and feel a stab of my memories of feeling that way myself. Which is possibly why I have built up safety behaviours that keep me at arms length from people, to avoid over empathising with people.
I still believe CBT can and will help me. I am getting better all the time but this is a slow process. Changing my thought processes is not going to happen over night but self awareness is a key. I think I’m a bit closer to that now.
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