Saturday, March 16, 2013


I usually only post when I have enough negative energy to propel me, so I don't know if I'll finish this. But I thought I'd give it a shot.

- One of my clients talked about deficiency today, saying eerily similar things to my own suspicions that I am fundamentally flawed and will never be able to consistently break out of the patterns I find myself falling into. It's always interesting to hear someone else say the things in your heart without knowing.

- In my training class today, we did a Gestalt activity where we had mock clients/therapists in the middle of the room. You'd think (or I would, anyway) that we'd do more of this because so much of the therapist affects the way therapy goes. But anyway, something new for us.

I was the client for our second go round, and I volunteered because I wanted to process a really strong emotional reaction I was having. The details aren't salient, but I discussed my fears of saying how I "really" felt and how I felt as if I would be setting off a bomb that would incinerate everyone around me. [It was interesting listening to the reactions of my peers afterwards; I think I really overestimate other people understanding me. It seems so clear in my head, but it just doesn't often translate to others well. And I'm almost surprised at my surprise of that.]

We explored what that was like, feeling as if I'd set off a bomb, and I went to a postapocalyptic landscape, ruined and dead with myself the only survivor. It was interesting because I love postapocalypses and this helped me understand why more, but also because I've been to that city before. I did a hypnosis/meditation thing with a previous therapist, and I ended up in a ruined city filled with zombie rat/dog creatures that were chasing me. When alone, I just wanted to let them overwhelm and consume me. When with the young woman I was madly in love with, I wanted to survive and keep moving.

She's gone, of course, but the city (and the fear) is still there. I still feel desolate, I still feel ruined and derelict. But at least this city was... hollow instead of filled with terror. I still want to populate it with survivors, though. [pun intended]

-Most of my weekdays now involve at least 10-12 hours of work. And that's actually working, not just procrastinating. I feel exhausted, but it feels like an earned exhaustion. I like a lot of my work, and that helps too. I can see the appeal of workaholism: I feel better during the week when I can't stop moving and have to keep on getting things done; it's only when I stop on the weekends (unless I particularly fail at something during the week) that I really start to sink back into depression. The feelings catch back up. It does, however, make me want to push myself to do this much work for at least the next two years. If it means I can get out of Knoxville, it'll be worth it.

-I slipped back under 130lbs this week. I resented myself about how glad I was of this. It's funny to me how whenever I go over 130, I always think "I'll never be thinner again" because it's already a bizarre weight considering how haphazard my eating it.

It's not a cause for alarm psychologically; I'm not intentionally restricting, and I haven't thought about my stomach being fat in awhile (although "thin" still feels egregious). I've just been working so much that I don't eat "meals" anymore [mostly just snacks and discrete items]. I guess it's not so bad, as long as I don't pass out. I kind of like punishing my body anyway. [Ok, maybe it's a small cause for concern. We'll add it to the list.]

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