Home

Home has meant many things to me over time. In high school I got in trouble once for not answering an essay question "correctly": we were to describe the one place that feels most like home, but I answered by explaining that many places feel like home--my mom's house, my dad's house, the high school library, my violin teacher's studio.

I have lived in five states--home is a complicated concept for me. Nonetheless, Kansas--the Midwest--eastern Kansas and western Missouri--the place where I grew up--is my Home in a way perhaps no ever place will quite be.

I went home for Christmas and New Year's for two and a half weeks. And it felt like Home; I found a deep ease in being with the people and the land that I grew up with. The trip even left me thinking that I may want to move back to the Midwest someday; I could certainly see myself raising a family there. I love the rural Midwest with all my heart.

But I don't think I would have gotten out of this trip what I did if it weren't for all that I'm learning while living out here in California. Some parts of coming back to Kansas were hard. In the Bay, I have found social circles where people grant each other an incredible amount of freedom in letting each person be who they are and act however they feel like acting so long as they are not hurting others. This open culture is most apparent in the wide range of fashion/personal appearance one sees in the Bay, or in the enthusiastic acceptance of people who have non-normative genders or sexualities. But I have found that this attitude of acceptance ranges to all kinds of diversity, creating an environment in which people are not judged for making unique choices in how to conduct their lives or for expressing all sorts of personal quirks. As a rather quirky person myself, this environment has helped me greatly in becoming more comfortable in my own skin. In the Midwest, of course, it is very possible to find specific people/groups that are similarly open-minded, but the culture is overall less permissive in this respect. So as I found myself settling back into Midwestern culture, I felt myself having to constrain myself in some ways; I found myself starting to re-police my behavior in ways that I've been learning to relax over the last several years. I could feel the old shame taking over my thinking again, and it hurt.

This sense of shame, of shrinking to fit the perameters I needed to exist within, was part of my experience this Christmas, but far from all of it. And I believe that I was able to have a much richer and more profound experience visiting home because of the emotional work I've been doing in the last couple of years. Specifically, I tried to apply the practice of letting myself feel whatever emotions come up and not judging myself for them. So when shame or any related feelings came up, I tried to let myself feel them. And I think that by feeling them I let myself move through them enough to create space for other feelings as well.

It was beautiful. On Christmas Eve it started snowing; there was so much snow by Christmas day that we were snowed in at my grandma's, and my sister and I couldn't drive to our dad's. At first I was stressed about our plans going awry--I was only in town for so many days after all, and there were a lot of Christmases to celebrate and people to see.

But somewhere inside myself, something shifted, and I was able to surrender to the situation at hand. I managed to find the spark of motivation to go outside and be in the snow. My habitual tendency is to stay inside--not put on all those layers--not make the effort to get up from reading a book or watching TV--but I convinced myself to take hold of this opportunity to be in the snow since I obviously won't be getting any snow in California.

Once I finally got all the pieces of my winter gear together, trudged through the deep snow, shoveled part of the sidewalk, I found myself simply standing, face raised to the sky feeling the flakes touch my skin. A fluffy snow, not too wet, the air not too cold. Light. Delicious. Later, my mom and sister joined me for a foray into the woods behind my grandma's house. Once inside and warm, we played board games and MarioKart (so colorful!) with cousins, aunt & uncle, and Nana. I went to bed that night feeling a peace, a happiness that I have rarely experienced.

The next day my sister and I drove to our other grandma's house, where we met up with our dad. This side of the family prides itself on being weird, and our gatherings are always full of games and quirks and laughter. One of my cousins was expecting a baby (who has been born now!); she (and another cousin who wasn't there) is the first of our generation to have children. Our excitement for her meant that the tone of our reunion was a little different than in years past. I could feel the change, but I could also feel the continuity; I could feel the love between us.

I thought about my cousin that night, as I lay in a bed that has been there my entire life. This was perhaps not the exact path she had foreseen her life taking; but her fiance is kind, their house is beautiful, and she was happy and excited to soon be holding her new daughter.

And I realized

Things don't have to be perfect to be good.

For the rest of the trip, my emotions alternated between the flaring of my shame/guilt/anxiety feelings, which I allowed to happen without trying to hold on to more pleasant feelings, and moments of peace, moments of fun. I love the Midwest, the down-to-earth culture, the space--physical space, but also, space within lives, a slower pace of life. The sky, the land. Family. Friends who came from where I come from. I felt rooted. I felt like I could breathe. I felt whole.

It was hard to leave; I was sad to leave. I feel more connected to nature in the rural Midwest, even just from driving through the country on a regular basis. I miss living with family. I miss winter.

I stepped out of the airport in Oakland, and the air was spring. Two and a half weeks of a very cold winter for Kansas allowed me to appreciate the warm, breezy air in a way that is usually lost to me, living in this perpetual paradise. I was warmly greeted at home by my wonderful roommates.

I've been home for several weeks now, finishing up grad school applications, taking some classes, playing an orchestra concert. I've adjusted to being back, and have tried to find a mindset of appreciating all that I have here, without always comparing to what I left back in Kansas. I do have a lot here, and I do appreciate it, but I miss being so close to family and the landscape I love.

Last Sunday evening, I went over to my best friend's apartment; his partner was also there, and his roommates were floating in and out. Low key hang-out, each person taking care of chores and work, bits of conversation here and there. Something that I did not expect happened: I felt like I was hanging out with family. My closest friends and I often call each other family, and with good reason--we've been through a lot together, and we know that we will continue to be there through the years. But this *felt* like family in a way that I've never quite accessed before with my friends. Comfortable, solid.

A friend of mine who's faced a lot of challenges and loss in recent years says that through these challenges he's come to see his family in a subtly different way; they now feel to him like "burnished oak." Smoothed with use, solid.

Perhaps someday, the Midwest will not be the only place that feels like home so deeply, feels like home down to my bones. Perhaps family is home. Perhaps family can sometimes be found in unexpected places. Or perhaps someday I will carry home within myself, will carry those roots, that love, that peace, within myself.

Change :)

So much!

1) I learned that I have sleep apnea. This was severely disrupting my sleep (without me being aware of it), making my heart work hard when it should be resting, and reducing oxygen flow to my brain during night-time. While that might sound like a scary diagnosis, I was actually immensely relieved to know that there was a reason--a treatable reason--why I felt so tired all the time. There were numbers. It wasn't all in my head. And goodness gracious as if I weren't already a ridiculously lucky person, my hospital GAVE me a CPAP machine, which treats sleep apnea. My insurance plan didn't cover one (even though I have pretty comprehensive insurance and this is a necessary treatment); the doctor asked me if I had money to buy one and I (truthfully) answered that I don't. Apparently they had a slightly used machine that had been donated to their sleep department, so they gave it to me. They GAVE it to me. They also gave me the mask and tube that go with it. What a beautiful moment; I walk into a hospital with a problem, and I am given the necessary treatment regardless of my ability to pay, for free because I am unable to pay. Goodness do we need socialized medicine--this should be available to every patient, every time, not just as a random, incredibly lucky fluke.

Anyway, the machine is making a difference. I still have a lot of sleep to catch up on, but I can feel the difference. I have more energy; when I wake up in the morning I don't feel wretchedly tired. I'm becoming more awake and alive. So wonderful. I am so grateful. :) I walk more. I offer to help out people with things more. Turns out I wasn't just being lazy; getting good sleep actually makes a very tangible difference in what I am able to make myself do, as well as in what I am able to enjoy.

2) Major life plan/career/goal change!

So I was on the path to education--took the GRE, getting ready to do my grad school applications for schools of education. On a whim I had signed up for this day-long meditation retreat at the East Bay Meditation Center on finding one's purpose in life/following one's dreams. I went, not necessarily expecting much; but I nonetheless participated sincerely. And I found myself doing exercises and getting feedback ("I noticed your face really lit up when you mentioned music.") that started to let me re-open the question of what I want to do; this process was aided by the open/safe feeling the workshop created. I didn't leave the day with a new plan in mind, but I had knocked a little chink in the armor that was protecting my current plan of going into education. (Armor that was necessary to protect me against my deep fears of what would happen if I changed my mind and found myself once again directionless and, a truly terrifying prospect, hopeless.) What this workshop gave me was courage to ask questions.

So when I next went to therapy, I broached the subject by way of mentioning the recurring bad dreams I have about teaching, where serious things go wrong in my classroom and I feel horrible about myself as a teacher. My therapist asked, "Do you want to teach?" Such an obvious question, yet I had managed to not ask myself that in all this time. I hemmed and hawed about how I would care a lot about my students and there can be some good things about teaching, or how it was only a means to an end (working in the field of education eventually not as a teacher, for example, on curriculum development). But even though I was terrified to say it out loud, I knew the real answer to his question: No, I don't want to teach. We floated the idea of applying to both education and academic (such as history) programs, to give me more time to explore what felt right.

As I stepped out of my therapist's office, a little bubble of a thought hit me. Could I become a therapist? A few months earlier, a friend who I was helping through tough times said to me, "You're really good at this. You should consider becoming a professional therapist." For a moment I was delighted at his suggestion, but I quickly dismissed it with fears such as, would I want to do professional work that hit so close to home, seeing as how I do so much mental health work on myself, in my own life, and with my friends? I squashed the idea then and there.

But now I thought again about becoming a therapist. My earlier fears seemed much less significant; the draw of the profession seemed much more real. I stored this idea for a week or so and then brought it up in therapy. (haha, is it intimidating telling a therapist you might want to become a therapist? yes!) To my enormous relief, my therapist was supportive, as were my friends; within a week I had realized that I was not going to choose to go to a school of education no matter how long I left the option open; I decided to just apply for programs to become a therapist.

I feel good. My therapist asked me what it feels like when I think about becoming a therapist; and I felt it: peaceful. Relieved. I don't have to spend the rest of my life trying to act out a job that doesn't truly fit who I am; as a therapist, there will of course be professional boundaries, but at root, I will get to be myself. I will get to work closely with people, getting to know them well, supporting their healing and growth, sharing and--I'm sure--gaining wisdom. What more could I want? All my life, what's brought me alive has been love of people. Suddenly I feel like...I feel lighter, because I have figured out a way to do what I love. It is just such a relief.

I am still very passionate about education. I am still very passionate about music. I plan on staying involved with both throughout my life; perhaps even at a later point in life I will want to teach again. But at this beautiful moment in time, therapy is what sits right with my soul; it is what feels natural to me.

Christmas

I've been having a really interesting (lovely) experience lately. An experience that, along with some changes in my life, makes me think that I'm actually...turning a corner on my depression. I am not only being told by my best friends that they see progress; I Feel progress.

I feel good sometimes. Warm and happy -type good. And I've realized that every time I feel this (which has been like, several times in the last few weeks--which is--a LOT for me) that my mind says, "I feel like Christmas." It seems that the (most) consistent reference point in my life for feeling warm and happy has been Christmas. I honestly didn't know a person could feel like Christmas at other points of the year--much less several times within a few weeks, almost a .... kinda regular occurrence. ???? hahaha

I've been unhappy a long time.

Christmas--feeling happy, warm, hopeful, loved--is one reference point that I keep bumping into. Another is my memory of this one evening during the fall of my freshman year of high school--I was in the high school marching band--our house was near the stadium where our football games were played--and I remember walking to the game (we always performed at home games) in the cool fall air, the maple leaves turning, proudly wearing my band uniform...and I felt excited about life. About the possibilities of a new social world provided by high school and band. About possibilities period. I never felt quite that feeling again in high school-nor in college-after that fall. But this fall...the air is reminding me of that hope....that excitement, perhaps even reminding me as well of younger childhood memories of being excited for my (October) birthday, Halloween, the approach of the holiday season.

Tonight, I feel loved. I feel loved and cared for in a way that I trust. It makes me feel safe. It feels like relief and gratitude and Christmas mixed into one.

Thank you to all the beautiful people in my life who give me so much love and care and support.

More soon :)

What makes you feel good about yourself?

Ok, my much-appreciated readers, I am going to submit an inquiry to you, and I would love to hear any input at all that you can think of.

As you probably know, I have a tendency to feel like nothing I do is ever good enough, that there is no way for me to be a good enough person. Intellectually, I can talk myself into believing that I am a good person--but emotionally, I feel perpetually insufficient, not good enough. Guilt is my constant companion--I can always find something to feel guilty about. For example, when I'm caught up on my current responsibilities, I sometimes turn to feeling guilty about mistakes I made as a teacher--even though I was trying very hard, it was my first year teaching with virtually no training, I helped a lot of my kids, and it was well over a year ago. My therapist wants me to really challenge this belief, which is very deeply ingrained in me. So, I was like, yeah, I'd like to change this belief: I don't want to spend the rest of my life feeling like I'm not good enough, which is, of course, very painful, and which I think is at the core of my depression. But I'm not sure what to replace this belief with.

I figure I need to start by taking, "Nothing I do is ever good enough," and replacing it with, "There IS such a thing as good enough."

That's a start, and here is where I'd like to solicit any ideas from you. Do you have any beliefs about what qualifies as "good enough"? If you feel like a good person, why do you feel like this? Or even if you don't, do you have any ideas for how you *could* feel like a good person? When do you feel satisfied, or proud of yourself? What makes you feel good about yourself? Do you think that there are certain actions that make a person good enough, or do you think that all humans are inherently good enough (no matter how horrible of things they do)? etc. etc. Don't worry about whether your ideas are "smart" enough or "perceptive" enough or anything like that--I just want to hear lots of ideas! Put them out there!

I truly appreciate any thoughts! If you don't want to leave your thoughts in the comment section, you can also send me a private email at kjlammers at gmail dot com.

Thank you!

I can't believe it! (or: How to work when you are depressed)

But here I am, barely over the edge into October, and I met the goal I set for myself of applying for 30 jobs in September. October's goal is 35. Of course I only did it because I made myself accountable to other people about it, but still, I can't believe I actually did it.

My impulse is, has always been, to not feel good about achieving my goal. Which isn't to say that this wasn't a significant goal; I have long been terrified of the process of applying for jobs, and every time I submit an application it is through an immense amount of effort and will-power to overcome my fears. While it is true that as I get more practice, the actual work involved in applying--tracking down jobs, editing cover letters, choosing which version of my resume to send--is getting easier, it is also true that the fears I have around applying, and perhaps more fundamentally, getting a job, have been very strong. I have a deep fear of not being able to make myself do work, of ending up so miserable in a job that I am paralyzed; this fear is, unfortunately, the result of experiences such as at my last job working for a bankruptcy lawyer where I was having extreme difficulty just making it through the day by the time I quit. (I will also note that the circumstances in that office were particularly difficult for me because I found the practices of my boss to be unethical and had a very hard time supporting such actions with my work.) When I get depressed, I get slow, I get unmotivated, I get stuck; and I am absolutely and utterly terrified of becoming stuck and depressed in a new job.

Feeling stuck doesn't just have to do with job-related work; it also has to do with the basic work of living--being able to make myself do my chores, cook food, do laundry, exercise, and so on and so forth. I am currently not in that kind of place (at least not overall), but I have lived through periods where I felt like I was so down that I had no control over my actions because I could not trust at all my ability to follow through on my commitments to myself. It is incredibly scary (and guilt-inducing) to feel unable to force yourself to do what needs to be done. And the ultimate version of this fear, for me, is the version where I am at a job and cannot do what needs to be done in my job. Add into this scenario the uncontrollable welling up of deep sadness and a boatload of guilt over my inadequate performance, and I'm looking at a really awful situation.

So the idea of working is scary to me. Thus applying for jobs is hard; not because writing cover letters is hard (I've got that pretty well down), but because the process brings up intense fears for me.

To get past these fears and be able to apply anyway, to meet my goal of 30 jobs, I've used a couple of strategies. For one, I've focused on job descriptions whose responsibilities don't sound too overwhelming. Someday, when I am more well, I will want challenge in the workplace again. For now, simply being in the workplace will be enough of a challenge. I'm also applying to some part-time jobs because I feel I would easier be able to handle a moderate workload at first. This may look like I'm trying to take the easy way out, but it's not: it's me recognizing where I am right now, listening to what my emotions are telling me, and taking a step I think I can maybe (hopefully) manage. It's also just pragmatism: if I tried to force myself to apply for jobs that sound a lot more challenging (i.e. jobs that would actually use my considerable intellect), I won't get anywhere; I'll be too immobilized by my dread to actually put applications out there.

The other strategy was suggested by my therapist: because I fear getting into the rhythm of work again and finding myself to be miserable, he said that I need to give myself an out. He set it up this way: I have to promise myself that if I get a job, I will give it all I've got for 3 months (so that I can give myself time to adjust back into the pace of working). And if at the end of 3 months I'm just miserable, I have to have given permission for myself to quit. Worst comes to worst, I could move back home for a few months until grad school starts in the fall. According to my therapist, the point of this "out" is this: until I acknowledge, and deal with, my fears, they're going to be standing in the way of me doing what I need to do, and I'm going to get very little done. And he also said that applying for so many jobs was going to be slogging through the mud, in order to validate how difficult this is for me.

So I did all this. And I still felt awful every time I planned on applying, up until the point where I would start working on the cover letters and then my anxiety would melt away and I'd become clear-minded and be able to work again. Sometimes I truly just felt too awful to start working; on those nights I would either give up and go to sleep, or try to get some positive energy flowing from another source (talking to a friend, reading a funny website, etc.). It sounds silly, but in my experience at least, when I feel just tooooo bad, I cannot for the life of me force myself to do work. In order to start working I have to first make myself feel good enough that my energy and brain can start flowing, either by talking myself down from my anxieties, or by getting happy energy from an unrelated source.

Piece by piece I slogged through the applications, and finally, at the very end of the process, it started to get a lot easier. By the time I finished application number 30 I was tossing them off easy as pie; by having this goal that I had to meet (especially because I was accountable to others for it), I think I was able to force myself through the worst of it, and by doing it so many times, I've come through, hopefully, the most intense part of my fears/dread.

So I suppose I should be proud of myself, should allow myself to feel satisfied and happy for what I've accomplished. This, in itself though haha, is extremely difficult for me. There's the eternal voice in my head: the applications weren't good enough, 30 isn't actually very many, you have other responsibilities to take care of, etc. etc. etc.: it's not good enough. Not good enough. I don't know why but my mind/heart are deeply invested in believing this, that nothing I do is ever good enough. My therapist says that I need to learn to feel satisfied about my accomplishments; and this does make sense, after all, it would be easier to make myself do things if I actually felt good about doing them. So I'm trying to feel good about this; I'm trying to tell myself that it actually was enough, it was good enough, it was actually really hard and a significant achievement. Even just typing those words is hard for me--I suppose that's the next question to explore: why am I so hesitant, almost ashamed it seems, to feel good for accomplishing my goals?

Quick thought in fact: perhaps I am ashamed to feel good because for almost all of my life I have based my identity on excellence--more than excellence in fact: brilliance, superb excellence, magnificence. Some part of me is saying: anything less than astounding brilliance is not good enough for me, so I better not let myself feel good about it. Why I am so invested in seeing myself as almost superhumanly amazing is another question: perhaps it has to do with the fact that I have such a hard time seeing myself as loveable, loved--could I deserve, could I receive, unconditional love, true enthusiastic boundless love, if I weren't excellent? Who am I if not excellent? What worth do I have if I am not constantly excellent? What value do I bring to the world if I am not constantly producing excellence? On what basis would anyone love me if I weren't amazing? (Of course I know factually that many many people love me; these questions are coming from my heart though, not my mind.) Why would anyone love this deeply-flawed, grossly imperfect, unsublimated, human human human, Kate?

(Lol, at least I know I'm still an Enneagram 2.)

Being satisfied, learning to feel satisfied, will then have to come from recognizing that there is no such thing as "enough", no achievement will ever feel like "enough", and thus, what is achieved, is in fact enough.

And it would be nice, lol, to come to believe that I am worthy of love even the way I am right now.

Depression

Sorry, again, for the long absence...I could feel bad about not writing for so long, but I feel bad about so many other things already that I think I won't go there, haha.

This past month I've been getting more depressed again, I think. I don't know why and this is frustrating. Not anywhere near my worst levels of depression or anything, but enough that I can feel it. I feel it in my body; I'm tired (but not as tired as I have been at some points); my, excuse the TMI, sex drive has decreased quite a bit. I'm sad but seemingly unable to cry, or at least I haven't had a good cry in quite a while. (And I have had good cries since starting on my antidepressants so I don't think it's those; I hope not at least.) I've had my thyroid and iron levels checked, and they came out fine. It is possible that I could have sleep apnea, so I will be getting tested for that in a couple of weeks.

Life-wise....I studied a lot for the GRE and did incredibly well on it, but have taken very little pleasure from this fact. I've been quite stressed about applying for jobs. I am pushing myself, working hard, but I feel bad nonetheless. And it feels like I've lost some motivation socially, have been a little withdrawn, been making less effort to meet up with people, etc.

I started playing this multi-player game online (a strategy game, with teams you work with); got a lot of energy from it for a while b/c it was really nice to have constant access to a social environment, but took on more responsibility within the game and it became stressful, am playing a lot less now.....

My closest relationships are all in perfectly fine shape; still have lovely roommates, good family, friends to talk with.....

I just

feel myself slowly sinking

not in the sense of feeling like I will sink very far; it's not like quickly sinking through water, but rather slowly sinking in mud

not too deep of mud

but mud nonetheless

And I don't know why.

I don't think I'll be here forever, but I am frustrated, because....I was feeling better not too long ago, and I don't know what changed.

Only thing to do is to keep plodding along. I mentioned that my therapist said I have perseverence. I have perseverence because the thought of living my entire life this way is just too awful; I have no other option but to keep struggling forward (or even keep struggling when falling backward a bit; the point is: keep struggling). It would be nice to feel good. That's possible, right?

Lol, sorry for the depressing the post. I guess that's what you get for reading a blog about depression. :p

Perseverance/or/Holding feelings, good and bad

My therapist this past week (the new one, who I'm liking very much by the way) told me that I have a lot of perseverance; he said that even though he's just getting to know me, he can see that I'm trying as hard as I can.

Words like that mean a lot to me since I have a LOT of guilt around work-related issues; essentially, I have a very strong tendency to feel like I'm never working hard enough, and thus, since my brain long long ago adopted the belief that the work I do=my worth as a human being, I then feel like I am a bad person. My guilt about "not working hard enough" is, at this stage of my life at least, seemingly omnipresent. Hell, guilt about anything and everything is always hovering somewhere in my mind.

I didn't apply for enough jobs this week. I should have called so-and-so back sooner. I'm not studying hard enough (GRE coming up). I should have done my chores sooner and better. I should clean my room more often. I should go to bed earlier. I should eat healthier. I should exercise more. I should be more considerate and caring to the people in my life. I should spend less of my energy giving to people in my life and more on facing my own problems. I feel bad that that car had to stop so I could cross the street. I should spend less time on the computer. I should play my violin more. I should read more. I should live more frugally.

and on

and on

and on

Despite the momentary relief I felt at my therapist's words, I spent much of the rest of the week feeling very very guilty for various items on that list, and probably others too haha.

Often my response to feelings of intense guilt has been to assuage it--say, it's ok Kate that you didn't do this or that, it doesn't actually matter that much, it doesn't make sense to feel that guilty. I'm good at talking myself down, of coping with the guilt, distracting myself, removing the edge to it, dulling the pain, pushing it away..... I think this has contributed to my emotional emptiness; and clearly, all the reassurances in the world have not taken away my root tendency to assume that I am doing something wrong at any given moment, to believe that I am never good enough.

So this week I tried to hold the guilt instead of going through my usual reassurances/coping mechanisms. I tried to just sit there and acknowledge, I am feeling very very very guilty, very ashamed. Tried to just feel it, not fight it, not push it away..... So, honestly, between the guilt and the corresponding shame and sadness, it was a pretty shitty feeling week. But I am proud of myself for trying to feel what comes up, trying to not run from it.....this is all in the long-term hope that if I learn to feel these things fully, perhaps they will not continue to hold so much power over me; perhaps by feeling them I can actually move through them, move forward. (A lot of the philosophy fueling this supposition is coming from Re-Evaluation Counseling theory and Buddhism/meditation stuff I'm reading).

I started to think tonight that perhaps it's not just bad feelings I have a hard time facing. I think I sometimes run from good feelings as well. I was feeling very sad this evening and turned on some music and began to feel sooooo much better; and very soon after that I felt the impulse to turn the music off and go on with my evening the way I had been. I think this impulse came partly from a sort of fundamental distrust I have of feeling good. I think that sometimes I am so afraid of losing good feelings that I'd rather not have them or cut them off myself; that way I maintain a sense of "control" over disappointment/loss. I think that because I recognize that good feelings are so ephemeral (as are all feelings in truth), I just don't want to bother with them; I want what I know is solid; so I settle for not too bad, because I think some part of me believes that I can at least control things so that I won't feel too bad. I'm afraid to feel good because I'm terrified of losing feeling good. I'm terrified of coming to trust that feeling good can be a regular part of life, only to have it swept away. Only to be "disillusioned". Only to have to be faced with the "hard realities" of life once more.

Perhaps this is why I can't hold onto my therapist's words of praise, or any words of praise, or any feeling of accomplishment, for very long. I'm deeply afraid of *actually* believing something good about myself, and then being proven wrong and crushed. I felt crushed often at other points in my life; I learned to cope, it seems, by never letting my hopes get too far ahead of me, never letting myself feel too confident, too happy, always keeping the highs low enough that the seemingly inevitable corresponding crash wouldn't be too painful. I think some part of me believes that emotions look like a sine wave--up always followed by down--and writing the equation to make the wave as narrow as possible will mean that my downs don't go too far into the negatives.

So here's to rewriting the equation to open up my sign wave wider and wider; here's to learning to hold the really painful stuff, and perhaps even harder, learning to hold the really good-feeling stuff. Here's to learning to value not only lack of pain, but to actually value feeling good. (In the words of a good friend, "Kate, just because you're used to being miserable doesn't mean you actually have to be miserable all the time." oy! haha) Finding the courage to actually believe something good about myself, or to actually hope for my future.

When my therapist said that I am trying as hard as I can, that I have perseverance, it rang true to me. I know, on some level, that I am reallllly trying hard; I know that I have not given up; I know that I am determined to continue putting one foot in front of the other. So what is the next step? I am not going to try to force myself to feel good of course; I am going to continue to try to really let myself feel whatever comes up for me, and I'm going to be conscious of trying to let myself hold/feel both the sharp pains that I normally turn from and the good feelings that I normally truncate. Phew, good luck to me! hahahah