Ugh, I’m SO Disgusted With It
These days have actually been pretty hard on me. I’m entirely to blame for that and I admit my culpability. I’m not sure why but I’ve managed to invite an old friend to my party named self-torture. And like the proverbial ‘guest that wouldn’t leave’, well, he won’t leave.
It’s my own fault. I let him in when he knocked. And once he’s in the room that’s the end of any rational conversation in my brain. It’s the end of being fair to my feelings and thinking while it’s here. It’s the end of balance, the end of self-love and that bastard just won’t get lost. That’s why it’s called torture.
So I’ve been making myself miserable just like I used to do. It’s odd but when I slip back into this frame of thinking it’s almost like an old friend.
If you like miserable, cranky, horrid, nasty, vicious and very difficult old friends that mean to harm you.
What, Why Can’t You Get Somewhere With This?
I’ve discussed this at length with my therapist and she’s a smart cookie. She insists that it’s a learned way of thinking, and she’s right, no doubt about it. I spent plenty of time making that thought trail established in my brain. I spent years making sure I was as miserable as I could be and that misery was a finely-tuned instrument; both painful and destructive it was nonetheless the only real and well-defined emotion I allowed myself. For years, and years, and years.
But now I see that emotion for what it is: failed thinking. Emotional dead-end. Self-induced pain.
It isn’t just the pain of it. It’s the shame, guilt, regret and they way the echo in my head like a bell that won’t stop ringing. Because of this negative thinking and allowing it to constantly erode my self-respect and self-esteem I paid a particularly high price in years of therapy.
If it weren’t for all that pain, however, I would not have learned how to deal with myself. How to learn to change my thought processes, how to learn to come to accept my reality and how to be grateful – yes, grateful – that I went through that horror and came out the other end. Not unscathed, to be sure, but certainly in one piece, however battered.
You would think that with all the times I’ve mentioned overcoming negative thinking in this blog, I would be a wizard at positive thinking. Nothing could be further from the truth. When that kind of thinking, that dangerous and difficult thinking resurfaces it takes something of a miracle to make it stop. And I have to make it stop.
It makes me feel that guilt, shame and failure all over again. Of course, I think to myself that I’ve learned nothing. That all this work, all this effort and knowledge that I’ve done, have obtained or was inspired by was for nothing.
And that is exactly what my disorder wants to do. Bipolar disorder is, for me, a form of self-destruction.
Did You Order A Cat O’ Nine Tails?
Self-delusion, self-abduction. Self-torture. Might as well put on restraints and whip me. My brain would like that. That part of me that is so very difficult to overcome would enjoy nothing more than to finish the job of hastening my demise.
However, I really have learned that it’s not true. That these negative emotions and self-absorbed garbage pails are liars. They are simply not to be believed and there’s a good reason for not believing them because why would a healthy person want to be harmed? But to be anguished in this way is to accept a thing that you do not deserve: lies.
I know what hurts me. I know how sadness can disable and derail you from your forward momentum. I know how the constant hammering in your head of the negative spewing crap can make you so very miserable. And if it continues, if you don’t deny it, fight it and disavow it, then you are going to do something truly horrid – you’re going to believe it. You’ll give in to your fears and the harm they create.
I don’t claim to understand all the methods of overcoming this thinking. I’m just learning how not to brow-beat myself into a pulp. I’m learning how to be better to myself, how to reduce stress, how to interrupt myself when I begin negative thinking patters.
Now Tell Me All About It
And I fear I will never get it right but I believe in therapy, I believe in the direction my therapist is guiding me and I believe that I can work to overcome this negativity and come to some success with it. But it hurts. I hurt. I have to admit and experience the bad with the good. I have to be honest.
You see, it’s easy to be dishonest with yourself when it comes to this kind of thing. It’s easy to just dismiss the work, to dismiss the need for the work. It’s easy to lie. It’s easy to just give up. It’s easy to surrender.
Yes, I’m tired. I’m tired of always being on my guard. I’m not a person that thrives well when it comes to this kind of emotional disarray. I want stability. I want happiness, love, trust, all the things that a truly blessed and happy life should provide.
But no one’s going to hand me that on a platter.
So I will gripe about it. I will expend some temporary disgust at the thought of all that work, the never-ending work, the endless parade of approaches and the toil I feel I must do just to make it to a single step forward.
And I will be happy about it in the end. If it means another step forward, I will do what I must.
Still, that doesn’t mean I have to like it. Not one bit. I’m doing all I can to throw out that unwelcome guest and start thinking positively right now, right this very instant. From now on I’m not going to invite him to my party if I have anything to say about it.