fast away the old year passes

[jazzfish]

I paid off my student loans, bought a shiny new laptop, and still have substantially more money in savings than I had this time last year. Being a DINK is pretty much the best thing ever for financial stability. I suppose I ought to go talk to Bill the financial advisor and see what he has to say about things.

I visited Vancouver, and Madison, and Key West, and Seattle. Columbus and the Outer Banks, too, but those barely count as 'travel' anymore. (Madison only counts because it's the first year I've been to Wiscon.) I still love going new places; I'm a little sad that, with one big obvious exception, I'll be doing a lot less of it next year.

I wrote. I wrote less than I wanted to, and more than I expected to. I finished first drafts of one ficlet, one story, and one "novel." I'm still in a bit of shock that other people thought the ficlet was pretty good, too. Overall I'm reasonably happy with how the writing went.

As for everything else, Victoria and Liz have the right of it. In early July I hit rock bottom, hard, in response to two or three triggers I didn't know I had. This time, at least, I could ask for help, and could get it. So I'd been doing a credible job of pulling myself up by my fingernails and bootstraps when I got the rug yanked out from under me in mid-October. It's been a hard slog since then.

And yet. Last year I wrote that the nuances of close relationships between equals elude me, at least when they're any more complicated than "what can you do for me?". I still go to pieces at the thought of being forgotten. I still chafe at the threat of stagnation and freeze at the threat of change. That's... less true now than it was six months ago. The changes and forgettings I feared most have happened, and I know some of the things I can do to avoid stagnating. And what I don't understand about 'close relationships between equals' boils down to 'yes, but why do these people care about me?' I may never understand that, and it doesn't matter: they keep caring anyway, and I can just about accept that.

I'm terrified of where I'll be this time next year. I'm more terrified of not being there.

So let us rest and do our best
To forget the coming morning
Because the hard light of the truth of things
Is the only thing I fear.

Comments

[tam_nonlinear]

'yes, but why do these people care about me?'

Because you are a kind, thoughtful person who cares about those around him and takes responsibility for his actions. Because you have similar interests to your friends and you make an effort to weave stronger ties between people in your chosen community ("hey people, come over for food & movies!")*. Because you are a decent human being, which is sometimes a rare thing, and ought to be valued. Because we are all deserving of compassion and respect, as the base state of being on this planet, and you no less so than any other person.


*I, for instance, suck at this. I'm very good at feeding people I love, but I'd prefer not to have them in my house.

[jazzfish]

I... thank you. (wow.)

That all seems good and sufficient and believable when things are going well. It's when I start needing support and caring and compassion that I feel like I have nothing to offer, and no good reason for people to provide those things. (They keep doing so anyway, which is the part that baffles me at those times, but like I say, I can mostly accept that.)

[tam_nonlinear]

I have managed to teach myself that delusional thinking is a hallmark of depression, and therefore when I am in a deep blue funk, I am not allowed to make judgments about my own worth or whether or not my friends really love me or are just tolerating me for reasons I can't fathom. This is like not driving when I've had too much to drink, or not filing taxes when I have bronchitis and a fever over a hundred degrees (one day I may even learn to not undertake home improvement projects as part of the grieving process, but this summer's losses have still left me with a back porch that is in pieces and not going to be reassembled anytime soon, so there are still areas I need to work on. At least I didn't go after the shed as well). I will not do things that require balance when I have had no sleep.

I am not capable of doing these things rationally or responsibly under circumstances where I am under the influence of either internal or external influences that have altered my perceptions and abilities.

So I can't necessarily stop myself from suspecting that I am, for one reason or another, unworthy of the unexpected kindnesses of others when I am feeling low, but I have at least stopped that voice from winning out- if it's true, it will still be true when I am better, and I can deal with it then, and I refuse to make such important conclusions when I know my thinking is impaired.

It's a bit of a hack, but it works well enough for me. For what it's worth.

Depression v. Learned optimism?

[selki.livejournal.com]

I found comment # 1 of http://geekfeminism.org/2010/12/27/re-post-self-confidence-tricks/ very interesting. It sums up research that shows pessimism v. optimism is associated with mental habits along 3 axes:
"personal – impersonal
general – specific
permanent – temporary

When failing at a certain task, typical pessimistic thoughts are:
I am too stupid (personal), I don’t know anything (general), I will never be good at this (permanent).
Optimism would look like this:
The question was ambiguous (impersonal), I don’t know enough about this topic (specific), I can try harder and do better next time (temporary)."

etc. And then the reverse, for pessimists who explain away successes as impersonal (wasn't me, just lucky), specific (just this one tiny thing I was good at), and temporary (aberration), v. optimists who look at successes as personal, general, permanent.

I don't think pessimism is the same as depression, but I do think there might be some overlap.

Re: Depression v. Learned optimism?

[jazzfish]

Hm. Interesting. There's definitely stuff in there that's useful for general self-esteem-building, regardless of whether it's helpful for 'depression' as such. Thank you!

[jazzfish]

That sounds highly effective.

I'm still in the very early stages of being able to treat the statement "I cannot do this thing right now" (or similar) as something other than an admission of failure. Admitting, even to myself, that anything is more than I can handle takes a great deal of mental energy, which I don't often have when I'm stuck in the brain death spiral.

I can see the way out of this, and it mostly involves coming to grips with it being okay to not be perfect. This is the point where I say "okay, and i have no idea how to do that," and my counselor says, "that's what i'm here for."

[tam_nonlinear]

While I assume it's something you've already discussed with your therapist, I find that one easy corrective measure for that sort of thinking is to ask yourself "How would I respond if someone I loved dearly was saying these sorts of things about themselves? Or if someone was saying this about my dearest friend?". We're so often more compassionate towards others than we are to ourselves, and it's heartbreaking that we have to learn to treat ourselves like someone we love and care for.

I recently lent my copy of The Sparrow out to a friend (with a warning that maybe it's not a great wintertime book), telling her that while it was a great book, parts of it were brutal and heartbreaking, but I love it because there were parts that have stayed with me. One of those is the advice given to the main character when he is pushing himself too hard, as if in punishment for his self-perceived failures in life. His superior chides him on it and gives him the instruction, to be taken as an order, that he is to treat his body with kindness, "as if it were an old friend to whom he owes a very great favor" (quote approximate). Which was a perspective I'd never had in my life, but have tried to adopt since.