I have been busy towards my first step (as I outlined last post). I called, scheduled and attended my first therapy session. The verdict? She feels that I could benefit from Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) and she also suggested I visit a Neuropsychologist. The cognitive gaps I am suffering may have physical origins that should be ruled out before leaping into therapy. I called the Dr. she recommended and should hopefully hear back from them the beginning of this coming week. I feel good about this accomplishment regardless of the fact that it does nothing at this point to improve my mood. I did more reading on CBT and it does sound as though I am a classic candidate. Individuals that have a feedback loop that continually looks for the negative and personal fault to re-enforce an existing sense of worthlessness need to reset their perspective.

It's strange, I want to feel like I deserve to think positively but then time and time again I am reminded that I can't seem to function. Everyone around you begins to expect you to screw up, which you do, re-enforcing the original perspective.

I hate my job and the Dr. says to me "it's temporary right? because it seems like a bad fit for you". Yeah, it's a bad fit alright. But what to do? No options present themselves at this point. Have to work, can't just lounge around and do nothing. Can't find work I want to do so, I am condemned to hate my job at this point.

The only things in my life that don't suck are my Darling and my Baby Boy. Time with them is not without challenges though. My husband grows tired of the person I have become (I can't blame him, I am thoroughly tired of me myself) and my son has become a bit whiny (not out of character for his age and certainly nothing like other children if I understand their parents). Regardless of these challenges I cling to them as my only source of good feelings.

I gobble up the diaries I follow constantly looking for the secrets of their authors existence. None seems to breeze along without troubles but all seem to find their way regularly to their diaries as I once did, before. Before, when I left my words float away without fear they would snap back at me. Now fear leaves me speechless. The words stay trapped in my head swirling around endlessly. There is no escape, no release. I am captive to the voices that hold sway, now, when I am weak from the winter and cold.

This becomes an exercise in futility neither setting me free nor entertaining. A long, vague whine.

Anyone have any cheese?

I wish you Peace

~alison~

�