I Was My Own Therapist . . . And This Is What Happened

The shower is such a therapeutic place. Have you ever been in the bathroom just scrub-a-dub-dubbing, cleaning your beautiful body, and all of your best thoughts come up to the surface? I swear the shower is where all inventions have been thought of. Or, when you’re in there and you think back to a conversation you had that day and you think of a better response or even better comeback you could have said? Maybe that’s where all those great well known speeches have come from. The shower.

Ok, well, I was in there and I was talking to myself. You know, just checking in with my inner being. (Don’t know why the shower though, but I was also thinking maybe its because we’re all naked and we’re the most vulnerable that way, and our thoughts just come out? Not sure, anyways off topic). I have been debating on seeing some one. Not romantically, I mean for my brain. And then I told myself, why don’t you just help yourself? You know? Get to know yourself. Be your own therapist. It’s cheaper.

That’s exactly what I did. And this is how the first session went.


Therapist Me: Please sit down. (Yes I told my self to sit down, don’t judge me).

Actual Me: Thank you.

Therapist Me: You’re welcome. How are you?

Actual Me: I’m good.

Therapist Me: I’m glad. How have you been?

Actual Me: I’ve been ok.

Therapist Me: Just ok?

Actual Me: Yes. Last week I had a little meltdown.

Therapist Me: Do you want to talk about it?

Actual Me: I don’t even know where to start.

Therapist Me: What did you feel?

Actual Me: I felt sad. I think.

Therapist Me: You think?

Actual Me: I wasn’t feeling like I could handle life at the moment.

Therapist Me: Is there something in your life that you are having a hard time with?

Actual Me: There are many things. Too many things, and I don’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to do.

Therapist Me: Do you remember what started it?

Actual Me: No. I was fine, at least I thought I was.

Therapist Me: What do you think changed?

Actual Me: I’m not sure. I woke up Friday. Everything was fine. But it just changed.

Therapist Me: What were you thinking about?

Actual Me: My friend. And something that happened Thursday.

Therapist Me: Are those two connected?

Actual Me: Some how. My friend and I are in this religion. I like it. But sometimes I feel like they want me to be someone I am not. They have these plans for me. They want me to be like my friend.

Therapist Me: Who is your friend?

Actual Me: He is a “servant” at my church. It’s some one just under an “Elder”. He has responsibilities and stuff. But to get that tittle, or um, they call it a “privilege”, you have to be a very spiritual person.

Therapist Me: He’s very spiritual.

Actual Me: He is. He does everything he is supposed to and always follows the rules. Since we are friends, I think everyone just assumes that I will walk in his foot steps and be just like him. But I can’t.

Therapist Me: You don’t have to.

Actual Me: I do.

Therapist Me: Why do you think you have to?

Actual Me: They all want me to.

Therapist Me: Who is they?

Actual Me: My mom, my church friends, the Elders in the congregation, and basically all the other people that go.

Therapist Me: You mentioned Thursday. What happened that day?

Actual Me: One of the elders had been texting me that he and another wanted to come to my house and just chat with me. But I already knew what they were going to say.

Therapist Me: How did you know?

Actual Me: They have gone before.

Therapist Me: What do they talk to you about?

Actual Me: Usually its because I am doing everything in my church I am supposed to and then suddenly I lag or don’t really do that much as I was, and they want to check up on me and read me Bible texts.

Therapist Me: Sounds like they care about your spirituality.

Actual Me: They do. But, I feel pressured at times. I was just not in a good mood. Or just scared. I don’t really know. So I went out with a friend instead and told them I wasn’t going to make it. They still went to my house but I wasn’t there.

Therapist Me: A different friend than the one we are talking about?

Actual Me: Yes. She doesn’t go to my church. She’s actually not in the religion at all. I have a couple of friends that aren’t in my religion. I’m not really supposed to talk to them because they are considered a bad influence.

Therapist Me: Are they bad people?

Actual Me: No

Therapist Me: Why are they a bad influence?

Actual Me: They don’t believe what I believe, so they are considered bad. They might persuade me to do something that goes against what the Bible teaches.

Therapist Me: Do you like being around these friends?

Actual Me: I do.

Therapist Me: You are in this religion. You have friends there. Your mom is there. You like it. But you also have other friends that do not attend, who you like to be with but are told not to. The, “Elders”, as you said, want you to assume this role they have planned out for you but you don’t want it. (Pause) What would happen if you just told them? You’re not leaving the church, you’re are just not assuming any responsibilities.

Actual Me: That’s not a good thing to do. It will look as if I don’t want to be there. Or I don’t want to help out with what they ask me to. They will think I don’t want to grow within the church, and they will just be disappointed.

Therapist Me: Why don’t you try it. If they care about you so much they will understand. Try to find a way to tell them that it is bothering you that they are trying to compare you to your friend. I’m sure they will understand.

Actual Me: I can try.

Therapist Me: Pretend I am one of the Elders. I ask you about your spiritual goals. What would you say?

Actual Me: Uh, mmm. Some times I feel like everyone has a set picture of who they want me to be, but no one asks me how I feel about it.

Therapist Me: Go on.

Actual Me: I feel like you want me to be just like XXXXX. But I can’t. I know saying it sounds so bad. But that doesn’t mean I hate God, it doesn’t mean that I hate the religion. It just means I can’t be what everyone already expects me to be. I’m sorry.

Therapist Me: Good. How do you feel?

Actual Me: Nervous but at the same time a little better.

Therapist Me: Why don’t you practice saying that over and over. Think of other ways you can say it, so when the time comes, you can express yourself and let them know how you feel. How they are making you feel.

Actual Me: I will. Thank you.

Therapist Me: You’re welcome, that is what I am here for


 

In all seriousness. This helped a lot. I don’t know if talking to myself like this makes me a total loon, but if so, it doesn’t matter, it helped.

I’m Better Now

This Friday is when it started. I’m barley getting out of it but it’s lingering.

I don’t really know what happened. But it has the attention of almost everyone. All eyes are on me. Is he ok? What’s going on? He needs help. Everyone is worried about him.

I didn’t mean to worry anyone. Specially not my mom. I honestly don’t feel like I should have, or like I did. I binge watched Pretty Little liars all weekend with out getting out of bed. For anyone this is something normal. Something another millennial would do. But I have history.

My mom asked me if I was ok Saturday. I told her I was. But we both knew I wasn’t. I was tired. Tired of it all. Honestly, I just wanted to be alone. I just wanted to breathe, I wanted to get out of my head and float away into the fake lives of the characters on my screen. I wanted to forget about mine.

I didn’t go to church on Sunday, which only added fuel to the flames. My best friend texted me. Asked if I was ok. I didn’t text him back until today. One of the Elders called me, said he was worried and my mother had mentioned something to him. I didn’t reply or call back until today. Told him I was fine, he asked if there was something he could do to help. I didn’t text back.

I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I’m done. It happened. I was a little sad let’s move on, I’m better now. I’ll be fine, I’ll be ok. Just like the last time.

This Person I Am, Who Is That?

I am bipolar.

No, its not written on a paper, I was not tested, and I haven’t seen anyone that actually has a degree to be telling me this. But I know I am. Either that or something else (I know I’ve gone over this before, which only proves my point). All I know is that something is not working correctly up there, its always malfunctioning, always pulling me in the wrong direction, and it needs to stop. These highs and lows, these lies I tell people and myself. This person I am, who is that?

 

I feel like I’m trapped inside a bubble, but get this, every single time I’m bursting my way out, every single time I think I am finally free from it, every single time I do the impossible to make it out of it alive… I stop. I, turn around, and find refuge in it.

If that didn’t make sense (because I’m literally just spitting my thoughts on the keyboard with my fingers), picture this;

You are running in the woods, dark and damp. It has just rained, again. You run and run. You can’t even remember why you are running any more, so you stop. You breathe, the trees are nice. The birds are chirping, and you tell yourself, “you know, maybe I am over reacting. It’s not all bad.” That’s when you hear it. The loudest growl you have ever heard. Every time you hear it, it gets louder, and meaner. Your heart starts to pound and you feel the sweat on your forehead start to drip into your eyes making them sting and water. Before you take off running you look back and you see it. Huge, mean, big teeth, sharp claws, heavy feet crumbling everything that gets in its way. Branches cracking and logs being shoved, the birds burst into the clouds in the skies because even though they are high in the tress and out of reach from this thing, they still fear it. That’s when you remember what you were running away from.

You start to run again, and you finally escape, just like you always do. It’s a cycle that never stops. But then, this time you stop running. You stand your ground and come face to face with this creature. You look into its mesmerizing, beautiful, glowing eyes. You touch its softer than soft fur. You notice that those sharp teeth shine an ear to ear with a genuine smile. You feel the warm embrace of a nice hug and you feel like you are home again. The birds return with a lovely melody only they can sing,  and the rays of the sun kiss your skin welcoming you back to bliss. You are ok. Everything is fine. And then you feel the sharp pain on your arms reminding you why you were running once again, as It’s sharp claws come up to strike once again, you take off. And the cycle continues.

 

That is how I feel. I don’t know of any other way to describe it. I don’t even know if it made any sense. I don’t know what to do about it. And honestly, it is getting way to repetitive in my opinion.

 


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Cat Stuck In A Tree

Can a medical professional, someone who has studied the human brain, or has at least some sort of wisdom about why I am socially awkward, tell me why?

Let me explain before everyone starts yelling at me that I’m crazy, (don’t worry you don’t need to), I already know.

I was laying in bed the other day, just breathing. Just laying there not even thinking of anything. Then, suddenly, like a real life movie, I started thinking. (I know dangerous). What was I thinking about? I’m glad you asked, thank you, you’re so kind, lets be friends?

So it was the day after my church had a park picnic. I didn’t go. Why? Because I freaked out and wimped the hell out. Is that normal? Like, I know the people there. I have been knowing them for years. They’re not mean, they’re not bad. They’re actually cool people. So why didn’t I go?

That’s a real question. I don’t have an answer to that one. But I’m trying to figure it out. This happens often. Do I mind it? I mean I’m not missing out on much to be honest, its not like I wanted to go in the first place, but still my friends were there, texting me, asking me where I was. Mean while I was at home watching Netflix and living the life of a King… alone.

I look back at last year and ask myself how I did all the things that I did. I’m like, dam, who is that dude? Who was that you know? I was so social, outgoing, fun! I was kissing random people in clubs, grinding, and dancing all over the dance floor like no one was watching. Just thinking about it gives me anxiety now.

I’ve talked about this before. I have these roller coaster highs and lows of my social-ness (is that a word? You get what I mean). I don’t understand why though.

The thing is that I am like a cat stuck in a tree. I’m up there. Stuck. Can’t get down. Then when someone tries to help me all I do is hiss at them. (OK, that actually made me laugh so hard, I literally pictured myself in a tree hissing at people, hahaha, I’m so lame).

man_in_tree

 

As I’m writing this I remember something that helped me break my social walls. Alcohol. Now that I remember correctly. Before any social gathering, I’d take at least one shot. To loosen up. Soon it became two. I didn’t tell anyone. No one noticed. But I see now that, that’s the actual reason why I was so outgoing.

I remember I was trying to be more “out there”. But it’s scary out there. For me at least. So what did I do? I got goose and got loose. It helped. It worked . But at what cost? What if I wouldn’t have stopped? What if I had kept going and it became a habit? As it almost did? Where would I be now?

It’s crazy how one thought can lead to another thought which will lead you to another one. This post is mainly me talking, speaking, and just letting my thoughts free. That’s why there’s no structure (I mean there never is but still). Main points: I know I have something maybe anxiety. Alcohol: helps. Is it the answer? No.


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Study Myself

I’m trying to cope with my anxiety. I’ve been studying myself lately. Others would call it over thinking but that’s neither here nor there.

Any who, this morning I barley made it out of bed. I woke up, looked at my phone and slowly considered all the possibilities and outcomes of me not actually showing up to work. Some how they all waded up with the world collapsing or a total apocalyptic nightmare.

I know, a little too much. But hey, that’s me. I eventually got up and made it to work. I reminisced on my favorite moments form last year. Dang, I was crazy. How did I do those things? Social little butterfly I was. No, I was a monstrous huge mosquito. Then I looked at all the times I felt down or depressed. What led me there? What led me to be better? I know I’m not bipolar. At least I don’t think I am. I hope not.

But for sure I have some type of thing that’s wrong with me. Who knows. But I’ve noticed a certain pattern in the last couple of years. I go from being a little tiny ant hiding under rocks and blending in with the crowd. Then, suddenly, I’m the center of attention. I’m everywhere. In every post on every picture on all social media. Ok, maybe not like that but you get me?

So like I said I see a pattern, do I know what it means? Hell no. Just know that there’s one there. If I go back and check on my blog posts it’s also clearly there to see as well. So what’s next? Maybe I need to study myself more. Evaluate Me. See who I am. Even though I thought I really already knew myself I guess there’s more to me then I knew.