therapeutic journal: turning it around
March 27, 2014

Today didn't start very well; waking up blood-soaked and exhausted it never going to be a good thing. After I struggled awake and shook off the semi-coma feeling, I realized I'd hemorrhaged through a super-plus and an overnite pad, right through to the sheets. Made even bigger mess in the struggle to clean it all up. So I was behind from the beginning. Then the dog came in wet (Oh goody--rain!) and had to be toweled off, and turned around and blew off his expensive and fancy breakfast. I forgot to turn the coffee maker on, so once I was showered and dressed, I had another delay there. Got in the car and realized my favorite morning DJ was off, replaced by my least favorite DJ. Got a few miles from the house, and realized I'd completely forgotten to put my partial in.

All through this, though...I found I was making a conscious effort realize that I didn't have to wallow in it, and to push my spirits past the crap. A good thing, I think. I really didn't have a lot of time to spare for self-pity, as I was already running late.

But. Funny how things turn around. The morning commute was a breeze. A super-lovely bonus, since it is Thursday, and raining. I got to work, sat down to my new PC, and proceeded to succeed where IT had failed--getting my desktop printer up and running. It wasn't a problem at all, actually. Went smooth as silk. And since I had pushed myself to climb out of my funk, I was able to notice and appreciate what went well, instead of only seeing the crap.

And sometimes, there are things getting at your peace of mind that you don't even realize--until they stop. Last Friday, Spouse replaced the blower motor on the Ford's heater. And my ancient computer was replaced at work. And today I noticed that both items, which previously struggled and strained, producing near-constant, anxiety-inducing noise...are sweetly, blessedly silent. Ahhhhh...

I really want to get over the physical aspects of whatever is plaguing me, as well as the mood-related crap. I am fairly certain, after a lifetime of cycling through this stuff, that the number one trigger of my depressive episodes is fatigue. It is usually when my thyroid is plunging, or I've been over-extending myself, or I am recovering from an energy-sapping bout of illness, that I "drop my basket". And I also know that the best way to feel better is to "exercise, move more, blah-blah-blah"--but there is a gap between where I am now and the point where I can act on that advice. I need to get myself up to the minimum level of energy required to get going. People are like cars; they suffer from being parked. But no car will run with an empty gas tank, and my needle is really close to E right now.

I'm hoping the two-pronged approach to the problem will pay off--I'm willing to make the doc happy and up the Z if he's willing to make me happy and up the T. Maybe doing both will get me somewhere. Or at least off my arse, so I can get me somewhere.

I wish I could afford the kind of therapy where you can just work on what you need to work on, at the pace you need to go, and you don't have to worry about what is okay with your employer or your insurance company. I would love to really work through unpacking some of my baggage. But unless I can throw around flipping great wodges of cash, I find that everything is based on measurable progress, deadlines, diagnoses, and finite timeframes. I don't find that conducive to real success.