Exposing myself

Yesterday I met with my therapist again. We talked more about this idea of self-loathing, and the aspect of self-punishment in it. I talked about my despair that things will never get any better. He pointed out that things had been better for me in the recent past, right before I got sick (a bad cold a few weeks ag0, with a subsequent downhill slide). I responded that I realized I had felt better in the past, but that that made it worse. The times of good feelings — of feeling normal — just point up how abnormal I really am.

Depression has ruined everything I have ever attempted. I really don’t want to try any more. I don’t want to keep switching medicines in the hope that the next one’s placebo effect will be more effective than the last one’s. My life already feels like a joke.

He asked me if there had been times in the past when I had felt worse than I do now. There certainly have. I have been suicidal and nearly unresponsive. I’ve been hospitalized twice. After my second hospitalization I was sent to cognitive-behavioral therapy with medication as a follow up. I personally hate CBT for myself, although I’ve seen it work very well for others. I don’t like the feeling that I’m being led through some kind of step-by-step analysis that will make me well at the end of six weeks, pat, even though I know that’s not really how it works. I’m like a cook who’s seen too much of the kitchen to want to eat in his own restaurant.

My mood ranges from pretty good — laughing, enjoying myself to some degree — to very sad, irritable, crawling out of my skin. Mostly I like to sleep. It’s good sleeping weather and my dreams are pleasant. Sometimes in my dreams I am able to visit with friends and family who died long ago, and I love that.

~ by irishtraveller on March 16, 2007.