Category Archives: anxiety

Self-medication and depression

Depression is creeping back in through a side door.  I should have seen it coming.  Even reading my most recent posts on this blog are clues that it was making a reappearance.

Ruminations.  Negative self-perception. Exhaustion even without alcohol.  Hating my husband and my life.

I saw my therapist on Saturday and she raised the Wellbutrin to 100 mg. and lowered the Klonopin to half a 0.5 mg pill.  I continue to take 20 mg Celexa.  Lynn must think my depression is worse and the Klonopin is making me tired.  It’s been 4 days with a higher dose of the SSRI and still not feeling better.  My plan is to continue lowering the Klonopin but since I use it to sleep I fear insomnia so I’m tapering off gradually.

My resolve is down and I am weak right now.  I broke my 100-plus streak of sober days and drank on Saturday night.  It’s odd how I really don’t feel that bad about it.  In fact, I liked the tranquility.  Sad but true, self-medication is what I know when my thinking turns against me.

♥ Daylily ♥

Feeling vulnerable without alcohol

Telling Lynn my marital woes didn’t have the desired effect. I thought freeing my pent-up resentments to an objective therapist would help; but, strangely, the opposite happened. I walked in feeling confident and full of self-righteous anger and I left anxious and distraught. My original anger was directed at my husband for choosing the home and town we’ve lived in for 20 years. I was forthright with Lynn, divulging my frustrations. All that sanctimoniousness disappeared when Lynn asked a simple question, “What would your life be like if you had made the choices in your marriage?”

Lynn touched a sore spot and the truth hurt.  Fear crept in and I couldn’t speak of my own needs. Quietly, with eyes cast down, I sullenly spoke, I don’t have goals. If I had things to aspire toward I would be disappointed and let down. With tears and sadness I realize the reason my life is not different is because I haven’t spoken up about my needs or desires. I own the problem in its entirety.

Okay, so let’s get this straight. First my anger is directed at my husband and I see myself as the unappreciated and unloved victim and when that assertion is challenged I retreat to the safety of believing its my fault that my needs are not met.

Which the fuck is it? The answer to that question isn’t as important as how to stop my mind, no matter what the scenario, from arriving at the same conclusions. I constantly blame myself. I either don’t get something because I’m not worthy or it doesn’t happen because I’m weak.

This is hard shit to swallow because I reject either of those things. I stuff this down with my alcohol consumption and rarely do these feelings see the light of day. My wine signifies a glass of straight up denial.

Where do these ideas originate?

The obvious answer is survivors of childhood sexual abuse learn to feel unworthy. I assumed my mother didn’t stop my brother from coming into my room at night because she loved him more. With every nice gesture or favorable event that happened to this brother, I became more certain that he was worthy of good things and I wasn’t. I didn’t speak up about the atrocity that occurred against my prepubescent body; instead I stifled my voice and learned to endure life.

My therapist reiterated that my childhood left behind a belief that no one loves me but she stated, “You are not a child anymore.” She reminded me I have a voice and people around me do care what I want and need.

I wonder why I’m so stuck in my old ways.

I hate myself for turning the entire resentment issue into something bigger than it is. We “depressives” know how to blame ourselves about everything. It’s true my husband makes a lot of the major decisions but the reality is I don’t speak up for myself; I’d rather suffer in silence and allow resentments and anger to fester. How fucked up am I? I’m not a child anymore; what’s my problem that I wallow in self-pity instead of making changes to get things that I want in my life?

So, I pretty much left therapy feeling angry that my husband doesn’t do or care about my needs and, ultimately it’s my own fault because I don’t speak up.

I have always thought that no matter who I’m with I’m still stuck with myself.

Ideally I would like to learn to speak up for myself without shutting down with anger, resentments, shame, and self-blame locked inside and so, I had the best of intentions to not bring my befuddled feelings home from therapy. I didn’t want to be angry with my husband or have a pity party for myself.

Let’s just say, that didn’t work.

All day long I was a quiet, hateful, sulking angry wife. I tried to manage my feelings, but eventually I headed for the door to buy a mood altering bottle of wine. I honestly felt the need to drink was as strong as the desire a suicidal person may feel while they prepare to jump. I saw no other options to relieving my anxiety. The self-berating thoughts that play in my head were overwhelmingly strong and I did not know how to calm myself. I had no coping skills or tools in my tool box.

Husband stopped me from blowing my 90 days of sobriety by talking me down off the cliff I was dangling from. When he asked, “Where are you going?” and I replied, “I need a bottle of wine.” He responded sympathetically and was very calm as I’m sure he did not want to upset me further. During this interaction I was unsettled and anxious but not angry.

My husband listened to me complain and then he heard me berate myself for not speaking up about things I wish for in my life. He said I haven’t changed or gotten better in all the years I’ve been in therapy. He meant I continue to give myself a psychological beating. We’ve been together for 30-plus years and I didn’t want to believe him but a part of me felt he was right. I thought I was making progress in my life but he thinks I live in the past and can’t let it go.

My husband reassuringly told me everyone has pain from their past but it doesn’t define them or continue to be the driving factor in their lives. His words were like a gentle caress to a baby bunny. They felt compassionate and forgiving.

I had backed off the ledge by this point and my anxiety was reduced to a manageable level. My husband hugged me and whispered, “I love you. I want you to be my wife and tell me what you want.” I shrugged and stood limp and lifeless, drained of all emotions.

I didn’t drink, though and I’m grateful for my husband who helped me through a tough time.

I’m afraid I still won’t know what to do next time. I need tools in my toolbox. So, I called Lynn and asked if she was available for a session on Saturday. This is monumental in my life. Me asking for help. Lynn agreed and said it would be good to talk while the conversation and events were still fresh in my mind.



The decrease in Celexa did the trick.  I’m not as tired which translates to not feeling like a freaking zombie.  When I’m numbed out on antidepressants it’s the worst feeling to forget half of what I or other people say.  I’m so glad that … Continue reading

Shop for lingerie

What’s a better pick-me-up? I’ve been riddled with depression, anxiety, feelings of shame, anger, and guilt; really, you name an emotion that attacks from the inside and I’ve been feeling it.

Tonight I went to the mall and bought myself a present: panties, bras and camisoles. And no cheap Hanes briefs from Wal-Mart (which I wear everyday so don’t get me wrong about that). My recent weight loss boosted my self-image and I don’t feel like an obese sea cow swimming in the lingerie department. I went all out and bought the softest Jockey panties and camisoles I’ve ever felt. No, they aren’t satin and lace or very sexy but they are stylish and comfortably cotton. I know I will feel happier tomorrow just knowing I did something nice for myself.

My mood was so low today that I almost shut down my blog and cut myself off from my therapist. The only way I can explain it is when I feel judged or criticized I get defensive. For some reason when others are disappointed in me I take on their condemnation as my own. I feel utterly worthless and push others away because I’m not worth their worry or care. The pattern goes like this: someone I trust hates a behavior of mine; I can’t change it so I hate myself equally as much.

I woke up feeling so bad I fantasized about suicide. I thought just get me the fuck out of this world. I didn’t plan anything or take the idea any further than wishing I wasn’t alive.

I called Lynn, my therapist, and we talked things out. She made me realize that I focused on one tiny part of our session and blew it way out of proportion. Lynn assured me she is committed to working with me. She observed that all of my relationships have the same dynamics and if I work on how I feel with her I am helping my other relationships too. She’s right.   I can get so stuck in inner turmoil.   The conversation was pretty long and it helped to be able to express myself to someone who was reassuring. I won’t go into the whole binge drinking thing except to say she explained her position a little better and I understand where she’s coming from. First of all, I did choose a therapist who is a prescribing doctor so of course that person would be concerned if I mix alcohol with her medications. What really made me see her point was after I asked “Would you tell a patient who self-harmed through bulimia or cutting to just stop the behavior?” Her answer was, “Alcohol is a form of medication and I am a prescribing therapist. I have a responsibility to be concerned about mixing the two.” I calmed down after that and said, “I can understand that.”

What I know is this blog is about my depression. Lynn has her eye on that when I lose my focus. Of course, she’s right that I’ll never be well until I stop drinking. It does not mix well with my medication nor help my depression.

My perspective is slowly changing.


Family dynamics

My husband, kids and I have been home for Christmas vacation. Husband and kids are having a grand old-time but I am busy cleaning, organizing, doing laundry and keeping the kitchen up. To my kids credit they helped clean their closet yesterday (because I forced them to). There is some pride in getting that nasty job done; but last night I was pissed off that I was not enjoying the same vacation as my husband. I expressed my displeasure a few times and each time my kids and husband say, “Don’t do it.” That’s easy for them to say. If I don’t do it everything will pile up for me to do later. I have ignored the kitchen for 24 hours and the counters are piled with dirty dishes because the dishwasher is full and someone needs to empty it. The roaster pan from Christmas still sits on the stove top, waiting to be cleaned. It’s been there for 4 days. (During this writing I hear the sounds of my husband cleaning the kitchen and making the kids pancakes).

Last night I was angry enough that I wanted to run away. This coping mechanism is totally a mental escape that allows me to not feel trapped. I learned it as a young girl who suffered in silence with the shame of incest. Maybe getting older is not such a good thing because I realize I can’t simply “run away.” I have a house, husband and kids.

So I did the second best thing I know to cope with a shitty situation. I opened a bottle of beer and then had a couple of glasses of wine. I went to bed at 8:30 pm just to get away from everyone. The alcohol worked by easing my anxiety/anger but I wondered why I’m afraid to demand my needs get met. What would happen if I told my husband to help me instead of what he does, which, when he is not working, is hobbies or sitting in the recliner and watching TV.

Earlier in the day I tried to express myself in a non-confrontational way. I asked my husband, “Will you do me a favor?” His answer was an immediate “No.” I responded, “Why would you answer that way?” He laughed and said, “Because it’s the way you ask it.”

I’m not even going to go into the conversation because it triggers a sense of helplessness. I really should address this issue in therapy. Well, I have and Lynn tells me to make lists but I can’t get my husband to do anything on my lists. That would be a topic for therapy.

I am writing on a new laptop I received for Christmas. My husband surprised me with the gift even though we had agreed not to spend money on each other. I know that was sweet of him and I shouldn’t be so angry. He knows a lot more about computers so he spent hours on Christmas day installing Microsoft Office 10, updates and virus protection. When he transferred all of my files from the old laptop, I became nervous that he would open one of my blog posts that are kept in a folder called “Weblog.” He passed right over the specifics and I worried for nothing.

I had to enter a password for access to my new computer and so I typed it in without showing my husband. It asked for a hint in the event I forget so I wrote “flower.” Husband needed to get into my computer so he asked for the password. I said, “It’s a flower.” The children guessed sunflower and Mayflower (that’s my younger one who was thinking of the pilgrim’s voyage to America). Husband guessed daylily, typed it in and got immediate access. “How did you know that?” I asked. His answer, “You told me you had a handle by that name on some website.”

I felt a wall of self-protection go up. Oh crap, what if he has been to my blog? Quick, think, do I say bad things about him? I wondered, Is he the one who visited the day I had one visitor read almost all my posts. I quickly decided he hasn’t been to my blog because he really doesn’t have an interest in what I write. He’s never liked my ramblings on paper and the times he has suffered through listening to me express things similar to what I write about he looks bored. He spent all day on my computer and I know he didn’t read my documents. Emotional stuff is boring. I know this about him.  (I changed my password anyway).

Tomorrow we are traveling to visit my mother and step-dad. They are both 78 years old and live a few hours away by car. We have a reservation at a hotel and will hang out with them most of the time. I look forward to the break from all the things I do around my house. My mom lives in a retirement home and wants to show us off to all her friends in the dining room. She also said her place needs a snowman out front. This is how my mother is. She likes to show others she has the perfect family and so I will play along. I do love her and I like to make her happy. So, I’m bringing along a scarf, hat, carrot nose and my kids snow gear (We haven’t thought of what the eyes and mouth will be yet). My boys will be instructed to build a snowman and just as I was the dutiful daughter so shall my children be the dutiful grandsons. I know I sound sarcastic but all kidding aside; I want my boys to make Grandma happy. I am bringing my Sony Handycam to get some video. Life is short and she is getting older. I want to have video to look back on as a way of remembering my mom.

We’ll see my oldest brother, who was the perpetrator of sexual abuse upon my prepubescent body. Ironically, he has always been my mother’s favorite. I feel slightly sickened by the reality of such facts but otherwise I’ve forgiven and moved on with my life. My brother has admitted his mistakes (been counseled by his pastor) and we have made amends. It took years of therapy but I no longer think of what he did to me when I was a young girl. My boys like to see their uncle and all of this will make my mom happy.

I have been open about the sexual abuse within my family (with my siblings, not with my children) but my step dad has never been told. I sometimes have the desire to disclose this family secret because he has been part of the family for over 10 years. I love him for the wonderful grandfather he’s been to my kids. He is also so good to me and my husband. What would it serve for me to share this? I wonder why I want to. If my mother hasn’t told him would it be wrong for me?


Breaking away from self-hate

My blog is a bit quiet lately because I am digging deep into my unconscious attitude in order to find the source of my pain and suffering. I know the answer lies within me and I’m on a mission to expose my pain in order to stop living under the veil of a sense of negative self-worth. I must dis-identify from the self I’ve created through “stories” I made up during a painful childhood of sexual abuse and misunderstandings. I created a self that feels unworthy and inadequate but, there is the real me, whole and perfect, just lying in waiting for me to rediscover.

Mindfulness meditation and therapy are my tickets to this place of rediscovery. Unfortunately, the path to get there requires me to stare down the stories I’ve made up and recognize they are wrought with an unnecessary sense of dissatisfaction, longing and suffering. I’ve learned many bad habits that I must break. I tell myself I’m not worth it, that I’m different and that no one will ever understand me. This keeps me unable to truly love another person and leaves me stuck in a self-fulfilling prophecy. My stories are self-limiting and I’ve had enough.

Mindfulness will allow me to see my pain with compassion and forgiveness. I am going to try to be a witness to it but not participate in its negative effects. Once I turn toward my suffering I believe I can better understand how I came to feel deficient. Ultimately, my goal is to live wholly in the moment and stop the negative behaviors of self-harm that have allowed me to be distracted from the recurring suffering I’ve learned to put upon myself.

These ideas are from a wonderful book, Living with Your Heart Wide Open (Stahl & Flowers).

Your heart may break, but it breaks open, and this is where the light shines through.

I’ve worked on a lot of issues in my life but never how I developed a sense of inadequacy and how this comes up in my daily life. This seems like the ultimate emotional work in order for me to realize the peace and happiness that has always been with me but that I’ve never had the privilege of feeling.

It’s going to be a long process that will be worth it in the end. For now, that’s all I can say. Daylily

Barely holding on to my resolve

When I don’t drink – how do I handle the stress of everyday life? What do I do instead of blocking my feelings with wine? That is the million dollar question.

My usual pattern is to suck it up/act intelligent/do the right thing/remain calm/play the part of a mentally balanced person by controlling all of my reactions through careful thought. I can only do this for so long and then… I need a drink.

There were weeks when I would drink every day. Lately I’ve shown progress by not drinking during my work week. But when the weekend comes all bets are off and I open a bottle of wine to decompress from the built up tension of the week.

I’m not saying its right; I’m just telling you the truth.

This week I told myself I would not even drink this weekend. I was going along fine, not a drop of alcohol since last Sunday, but Friday’s arrived. Now I don’t know how I can make it through without numbing my thoughts.

The meditations have been working great. I have more energy and I feel good because I’m sleeping well without alcohol in my system. But, last night Husband and I got into an argument at the dinner table and I was the one who reacted with anger and stormed out of the house. This is unheard of – it’s not characteristic of me at all. As I said, I remain calm and rational at all times. But, if I can’t drink to forget that I always suck-it-up and discount my feelings than the shit is going to hit-the-fan.

Thinking about this, my anger at Husband makes perfect sense. The triggers for my drinking are the husband, kids, chores and responsibilities at home. I don’t have any “me” time or at least it feels that way. (Of course, if I got off this computer I would probably find more time!) I have to look at these stressors for what they are, I feel pure rage. Rage that I keep locked inside.  What do I do when I’m staring down the triggers without my usual coping mechanism?

Anyway, when I stormed out of the house, I got in my car and sent a text to my teenager, “I know you don’t like when Mom or Dad get angry but no worries. I went to get gas and do a few things at work. I’ll be home by 9pm. Tell your brother, too.” He immediately replied to my message, “ok thx.” Then my son #2 called to ask me where his science test paper was. GRRRR! I can’t even get away when I storm out of the house. Of course, I put on my loving voice and gently explained that I did not know where HE put his test but suggested a few places he could look. He told me “Daddy wants to see my grades.” I’m thinking then why the fuck doesn’t Daddy get off his ass and find the test with you.

You get the idea. I was pissed off. I still am. I have no coping skills to deal with anger and conflict. All I know is to drink and blot it out.

A member at the AA meeting suggested I try to “think through the drink.” Which I guess is a way of facing the feelings head on and knowing the craving will pass. How can that work when the triggers will never pass? I will forever be stuck in this house with way too much to take care of. The desire for a drink may dissipate but I will be angry at the world. What good is that?

Well, I didn’t drink yet; I’ve just been contemplating it. It’s early in the afternoon and I am off to watch son #1’s varsity soccer game. Later on, husband has dinner plans with co-workers so maybe I can try to unwind by the mere fact that he’s not going to be around. I am taking a lot of this anger out on him (okay, all of it) because I don’t like to hurt my children and I know no other way to release it.

I am stuck in a bad place right now.


Survivor challenges her therapist

My stomach was turning and my chest was jittery on the drive to my therapist’s office. I thought this must be symptomatic of a physical ailment like migraine or menstruation. Except my earlier headache had disappeared with 2 ibuprofen and my period had not really begun. Then it hit me… This is pure adrenalin from fear and anxiety. I was scared to confront Lynn about our patient/therapist connection but I felt that I must. In order to move past my sense of defenselessness I needed to express myself; it was the only way to have a productive session.

I believed Lynn didn’t care about me as an individual. Our sessions lacked a supportive atmosphere. I felt judged for failing to not drink because she inevitably brought it up at every session. Her mission appeared to be cure quickly and be done with me. Inside myself, I believe there is a reason for my drinking and I have to work on that piece of me in order to live/cope in this world without alcohol.  It is not as simple as AA or willpower.

“How have you been doing with the drinking?” She would ask. “Are you taking Klonopin when you drink?”

I always answer truthfully, Yes, I’ve been drinking and Yes, I take one klonopin pill at bedtime.

Every session feels as if there is a mirror up to my face and I get a ten-fold feeling of disappointment in my resolve. As a bonus, I  experience the displeasure of my therapist.

I admit I’m disappointed in myself and I have psyched myself up to tell Lynn that I don’t need to feel her frustration, too.


“How are you?” is how she always begins our sessions.

I have anxiety. I’m not feeling well.

Lynn asks, “Is it because you don’t want to be here?”

“Yes” I agree, “I wanted to cancel.”

She smiles because her guess was right. She asks if it was the way our last session ended, with me talking about my marital relationship. She presumes that is what triggered my anxiety.

“No, I feel like you are focusing solely on the alcohol. Like I should wave a magic wand and stop drinking. I feel judged that I’m not doing that.”

But, I consider her question about whether I am protective after a disclosure about my marriage. Could that be my issue? She is the therapist and maybe she knows more than me.

I tell her,”I don’t know what the issue is really. Maybe it’s my relationships.  Last time I talked about transference but maybe I meant projecting.” I explain to Lynn I don’t know what is real and what I’m projecting onto others.

Lynn openly tells me she is not sure what I want.  “The first day of therapy you came in saying no incest/past Courage to Heal stuff, you’ve already worked on that.”

She says, “You keep one foot out the door. I’m not sure where we are going. You orchestrate the conversation.”

“Did you have these issues of not being able to feel comfortable coming to therapy with other therapist?” Lynn asks.

I think to myself, I may not be giving off a clear signal and that does make it hard for others.

“No, I never felt this apprehensive for such a long time.”  I admit that I’m not feeling supported. I say, “I don’t know if the relationship is hard for you and you don’t want to work on it.”

Lynn says she has never felt she can’t work with a patient’s issues.

Then I disclose a private feeling that bridges the distance.

“I’ve never been to a therapist and talked specifically about drinking as my coping mechanism. I am in new territory and it is easier for me to blame you, my therapist, or my husband, than me, the person that must make the changes. I am cognizant that this is my “final frontier.”

[If I learn to live without alcohol, I will open a new chapter after 49 years, where I can accept myself without escaping with alcohol.]

I sit on Lynn’s couch and listen to her talk to me. Lynn admits that the greatest percentage of patients that leave her practice do so because of alcohol dependency. This disclosure interests me because I am about to be one of the statistics that run when the going gets rough. But, I admit, and tell her “One thing I do is stick to something I commit to.”  She shares something about herself that I already know, “I am straightforward and shoot from the hip.”

Somehow, and I don’t know what words I use, but I ask if she wants to work with me. Lynn re-words my thoughts, “Do you mean Am I invested in you?”

Lynn tells me, “You are unique because you sit before me trying to work this out. Many patients have left by now.” Her words relax me. I know what I’m doing is the hard shit. Working on changing my thoughts so that I don’t need to drink is an area where I need help. I drink because I hate myself. I feel shame and unworthiness. It is hard to reach out to another and talk about this stuff!   But — if I am to heal I must talk about it. My goal is to live in the present but in order to find enjoyment in the now I must see why I live on a daily basis with self-defeating thoughts.

Lynn asks if I read the Courage to Heal while in therapy. I say that I did. She replies, “I have used that book in group therapy situations.”   I tell her I think my issue is no longer the incest/sexual abuse or my brother but the thoughts that I develop that repeatedly tell me I’m not good enough. I need to let go of the past and learn to live in the moment. I mentioned the new book I’m reading about mindfulness and tell Lynn I’ve not had a drink for a week and between that and meditation at night, I have slept well and I feel good.

Lynn praises me and asks, “What is one good quality you see in yourself?”

My answer, “Right now I cannot think of any.”

She smiles and says,There are more than one but for next time I want you to come up with one thing you like about yourself.”

I was a blank slate. No ideas. Nothing. It was enough that I expressed my inadequacies to her. No way could I think of a positive.

The conversation flowed freely and ultimately, I trust that she could be the therapist that helps me along this most difficult journey to wholeness.

Trust is a tricky thing for a survivor of sexual abuse who was raised by a narcissistic mother.  ♥Daylily

Meditation/Mindfulness = Self-love

Saturday was a miserable night for me. I drank too much and cried while doing it. Usually drinking blocks my feelings but on this night I felt like a total fuck-up. I also took 2 Klonopin because I just didn’t give a shit. I wanted to be numb to my feelings. I tried to block out the disapproval I felt at my last session with Lynn. I felt she was judging me and I was disappointed in myself. For a long week I carried her words around and debated about whether to cancel my appointment for this Saturday. I’ve decided I will go and tell her I don’t feel supported. I will also admit that the progress I’m making with her feels slow and it’s disappointing. I blame myself and sitting in her office is painful because I must look and speak about my failings.

I apologize for the negativity that abounds in the beginning of this post. That was not my intent but it is my Truth as I’m living it.

I made an effort to do something good for myself on Sunday. I left behind my husband and kids and drove to the Natural Living Expo, which touts itself as being New England’s Largest Holistic Event. I was dressed in an old pair of jeans, a comfy t-shirt and barefoot in my topsiders, with my hair pulled completely back because I didn’t bother to shower before leaving. I was far enough away from home that I wouldn’t know anyone and I didn’t which was a relief because I looked like I felt. Very down, depressed and looking for answers.

I carefully observed the mystics, channelers, tarot readers and psychic mediums who offered everything from divine healing to spiritual guidance. Some looked like witches, others like gypsies and some like princesses. They all tried to draw me in offering a 15 minute reading from $20 all the way up to $45 (the higher-end offering a CD of her reading to take home). I didn’t see how they could feel my spiritual presence in a gigantic exposition hall and I wasn’t comfortable sitting in their tiny booth/table area practically knee to knee. Shit, I can barely stand my therapist’s huge office. Needless to say, I didn’t participate in a reading. I did go to a presentation by a healer who has written books and claims they are on the best seller list up there with Deepak Chopra’s books. She gave card readings to members in the audience but I wasn’t chosen. Secretly I was glad because her husband was taping the whole thing on his iPhone and I didn’t want to end up in any publicity. Not looking the way I did!

I tried to feel comforted by the herbs, gems, stones, jewelry and other frills that abounded. I walked about feeling empty and not receptive to the things that I saw. I heard people asking about how something could help them lead a better life; I saw people meditating and believing they were being healed with light, sound, massage and mystical words. But, I was a skeptic. I decided I knew what my issues were and so I wasn’t going to pay anyone else to tell me. But, I kept my options open and continued through 3 exhibit halls. Close to the last row I was to walk down I spied a woman who looked smart and friendly. Her table was simple. All I saw were CD’s with different names. I asked her to tell me about what she had. She said she offers hypnotic CD’s. She asked what the issue I was looking to work on was. I glanced to my right and saw a nosy guy eavesdropping on our conversation. My guard went up and I answered, “Depression.” She responded, “It’s never just about depression. Depression is the result of something. What is it that caused your depression?” I quickly answered, “Childhood issues.” The woman picked up a CD titled Transform “I’m Not Enough” (I’m Not Enough Beliefs– I’m Not Enough Suggestions). She told me the CD’s are hypnotherapy and will take me back to the time in my childhood when unhealthy thoughts developed. I’m not sure why but I trusted this woman and I asked, “Will I be scared?” She answered, “No you’ve already been through it once.” For $12 I walked away with the CD.

I copied the CD to my iPod and for the last 3 nights I’ve been listening to it in bed before I fall asleep. I have a collection of other meditation CD’s and put them all on a playlist. It’s time to find inner peace so that I can tackle my drinking. I drink when I’m stressed so I’m trying to live in a more mindful way. But, I’ve tried this direction before. Yoga, meditation, therapy, EFT – it never seems to stick and I end up falling back to my old ways. It’s been quite a few years since I actively meditated and I think it’s what I need to do. I must find the quiet place in me that is worthy. I want to feel good enough.

Lastly, on the same day I went to the expo, Sunday, I bought a book for my Kindle called Living with Your Heart Wide Open: How Mindfulness and Compassion Can Free You from Unworthiness, Loneliness, and Shame. I hope this complements the meditation I’m beginning. I discovered the book on an upbeat blog I highly recommend

I hope this is the right path for me to heal my sense of unworthiness. Undoubtedly, it would be nicer to live in this world liking myself rather than hearing voices from my childhood telling me I’m not enough. That path is getting old and tiresome and I’m ready to blaze a new trail.   Daylily

Me depressed…”insecure with myself”

This morning Lynn left a message on my phone, asking if I could come an hour earlier than our scheduled session on Saturday.  My first thought, I’ve got an out, I can just tell her no and not have to see her.  I still have no idea what I want to talk about and I’d like to take that pressure off.  But, being the good girl that I am, I called her and left a message saying, “I can make the earlier time but if you have to bump someone else, we can reschedule because I don’t have any pressing issues that can’t wait.”  I wonder how that looks to a therapist?  Is Lynn thinking, She’s trying to get out of it.  She doesn’t want to come or perhaps she is thinking, Daylily is such a nice person to consider others before herself.

I wonder what the word is for a person who doesn’t like to trust other people and doubts herself when opening up to others?  Self-conscious? defines self-conscious as insecure with one’s self.  Other definitions are: affected, anxious, artificial, awkward, bashful, diffident, discomfited, embarrassed, ill-at-ease, mannered, nervous, out of countenance, shamefaced, sheepish, shy, stiff, stilted, uncertain, uncomfortable, uneasy, unsure.

How depressing to think I am insecure with myself.  Sad, too.  All my relationships begin with me so that tells me nothing in life feels secure.

Have I just gotten really good at faking it?  How do I put on a strong front and live like I have confidence?  Lately I don’t.  Self-doubt and ruminations are creeping into my thoughts.

Tonight I went to a board meeting and attended a public hearing and yesterday I had a meeting with a group of important people.  I feel depression sneaking in the back door.  Signs and symptoms are that I doubt myself, how I acted, how I looked and what I said.  A voice is telling me I’m no good.

The answer of what to talk to Lynn about is surfacing.  Poor sleep, negative thoughts, ruminations, a lot of self-doubt and a general sense of being out of control.  These are signs of depression.

This morning I reverted back to an old thought, I should not eat and see how thin I can get.  I haven’t been thin for years but when I was first diagnosed and treated with antidepressants I tried to cling to anything and I chose dieting as a way to control something in my life.  This morning I recognized my thought to not eat as a coping mechanism I’ve used in the past.  Back in my late 20’s I was down to 12% body fat on a 5’8″ frame.  I was basically anorexic but very muscular.  I don’t know why I’m going on about this except I wish I had control of my thoughts but I don’t so I’m fantasizing about controlling my life through diet and exercise.

I haven’t had a glass of wine since the weekend but my head is crying out for relief from these torturous thoughts and ruminations.  And it’s only Wednesday.  Sigh.  ♥ Daylily