It's obviously you.

So it's been since October that I've seen Ranjana. She said she had some vacation time and some health stuff to take care of, but it seems it's been quite long now. 

First, I hope she's well. 

But of course, the second assumption is that it's obviously something I did or said. Maybe she rolled her eyes into another province.

It's reminiscent of that fear of going to see an esthetician for a bikini wax and them being so disgusted with your uniquely fat and horrible body that they quit and kill themselves. 

It's not that dramatic, but it's a "you're the worst I've ever seen" fear. 

I've been feeling okay lately, but there's still a twinge of rejection there. 

Illustration by Hallie Bateman over at BuzzFeed.

I've been trying to work through things through writing and ore creative work, and better self-care practices, but there are still heavy themes I'm stuck on, so I still think therapy could be helpful.

Movement over time.

Image by cwote.

So yesterday I had a session with Ranjana. It had been a few weeks since we'd seen one another, and the conversation flowed well, I've been in a good space lately, and she said it showed. We talked about what may have contributed to that better space.

Things are better. They're better then they were last year. And they're worlds better than in my early 20's. That's not nothing.

I know I have a lot of work to do on certain sore points for me, mainly my body and my nomantic/social life, but I feel better about my ability to address those things. That's new for me.

*one hour later*

Unexpected break-time! My friend V showed up down-town and we went for a coffee and a cigarette! Fun times!

I'm all cigarette-and-coffee-high! Yahoooooooooooooooooooooo!

It's a nice day today, so it was nice to get some sun and some not-fresh air.

He and I have been talking a lot about salary these days. Basically, with the election of the new Liberal government here in Canada, there will be tax breaks for the middle class, but the middle class starts at the $44,000 salary point. I'd say the majority of my friends make under that. We're all struggling to make ends meet. It's not great. He's in a position to re-negotiate his salary, and he's not looking forward to it. Instead, he might leave for Toronto, where salaries are better, and where his girlfriend already has a high-paying job.

This is the second friend this week who is considering leaving the province, E is thinking of going to Halifax to live by the coast, and get away from the city. And that's on top of J who is thinking of Toronto because she and her partner have better job opportunities there (as two anglophones in the music industry).  And of course, my buddy C already left for Victoria, and she's bought a house there, so she's rooting.

I'm not excited about my job prospects, or my finances. I'm not looking to have a ridiculous salary. I understand I chose something related to the arts and that certain types of creativity are not valued. I'm also not that kind of talented that blows peoples minds. I'm also not "good at business,"or monetizing myself or my work.

Source.

I would, however, like to live above the poverty line. I don't think that's a ridiculous desire for someone who is hard-working and competent. I would like to be able to live off of a full-time job. At this point in time I'm living paycheck to paycheck, and saving is excruciating. I could absolutely live on an extremely tight budget and save more, but I want to be able to live my life.

Now that I'm trying to take better care of myself, that incurs additional costs. Therapy, even if it's sliding-scale, costs money. A vitamin regimen costs money. Healthier food costs both time and money in meal-prep and ingredients. Skincare. Aesthetics. Clothing for work. Books (much to do with mental health and self-care). Money.

If socializing is a large part of combating depressive tendencies - generally that also incurs costs. Granted, most of my friends are as broke-ass as me, so we're pretty frigan good, but going out and engaging the world often costs money.

Maybe seeing Star Wars: The Force Awakens will help my mood. And getting advanced tickets in VIP seating at the 18+ theater costs many peanuts. LET ME LIVE.

This has been a bit of a weird post. All of this beginning with my writing about Ranjana's remarking a difference in my body language and attitude.

I hope it all isn't temporary. A weird hole in the clouds. I hope to continue moving forward with my recovery and self-care.

It's just weird how "dealing with" my mental health situation also goes along with "dealing with" other aspects of my life. Nothing goes on hold. I still worry about finances and job security when I'm depressed, it's just diluted. I'm feeling better these days, so I'm thinking of it more actively, this financial situation I'm in. I just see things differently when my brain is unclogged and my vision isn't blurry. It's like removing a pair of dark shades.

So yah, these problems were there before, these money problems, they were just further down my list of priorities, under not killing myself and getting through the day.

I see everything with a greater sense of clarity, yes, but I'm also less irritated. I have more energy. Not in a let's skip to the bakery kind of way. More in a, wow, I can listen to you talk and not want to kill myself, kind of way. That's major. Since I have to interact with humans to live my life.

So yes, maybe I am doing better. I hope, deeply, and with a morose gripping in my chest, that that continues to be the case. I could stand to have good days like this. It's so very nice. And yes, maybe part of me is mournful that these days have been so rare, and I'm envious, and in awe, that there are those who lives lifetimes of good days, but that part of me is microscopic. Overall, what I feel is gratitude for the lighter feeling, and elation that the darker parts of my life are not as permanent as they often feel.

To good days. 

"Active recovery."

Image source.

Yesterday I had a therapy session that was slow to start. I could feel Ranjana struggle to engage me. I left there feeling deflated, like I was "too fucked" to help. We ended on some of the traumas I can't seem to let go of, and how they eventually, over time, morphed into something completely different.

Ranjana wants to explore those, which I'm game to, but I don't really understand it. I don't know where it comes from, and I don't know how to grow-away from something so - formative.

The above quote spoke to me today. I need to remind myself that it's one day at a time, and that it's an ongoing process.

It's everyday. And I am changing. And I'm better to myself than I was. And I'm trying.

The paralysis of analysis.

I had a difficult session with Ranjana a few days ago. Really languid. I felt intellectually vacant and distant from our conversation. 

--

It took me another couple of days to get back to writing this post.

Every once in a while I get to this place where I ask myself about the perils of self-reflection. Am I not hyper-critical of myself? Can't self-reflection eventually turn into masturbatory flagellation? It's like I'm a chimpanzee enamoured with my reflection, stuck in this space of first-time discovery of the self.  

Is this what I look like? 

Like a magnifying mirror where unseen pores are now as large as the moon. 

Is this what I look like? 

Isn't the body disgusting?

This selfie culture of best angles, Oprah-lighting and 45 shots to get one where you don't look, like, well, like yourself. 

I don't want to look like me. I'd like to look like her please. 

This place where my mistakes are some easily remembered and my triumphs are so quickly left behind. 

How can I be so aware of my flaws, but know so little about other parts of myself? 

Why is my depressive muscle so much stronger than the other parts of my personhood?

How do you practice something that is alien to you? 

How do I live a life?

I'm in my 30's. Haven't I already wasted so much of it? The experiences I've collected are not happy ones. But is that permanent? Can I serious, shitty time be moved away from? Can I grow, up and out?

I reject my maturity. 

Be nice to the baby.

Two nights ago I had a session with Ranjana. It was a good session, in that we had a good report and the conversation flowed well.

We touched on a lot of issues. First, she had asked me to practice looking at myself in the mirror naked and thinking about what I appreciate about my physical shape. What I find beautiful.

I find this very difficult. I can compliment myself, but rarely physically. And never when I can see the fullness of my body.

She asked that for the next couple of weeks, I try and talk to myself, as if I were a child. Picture myself, as a baby, or as a toddler, and what would I say to myself then? What would my tone be? How kind would I be?

I explained that I still find this difficult, because me as a baby would be described as cute, and I'd want to reinforce intelligence and be kind.

The body I struggle with today, is how it's perceived as a female, sexual being. If anything I do see myself as a baby now. I'm like a large, fat toddler. I'm cute. I'm asexual. I'm funny.

I have a lot of trouble seeing myself as a woman. As feminine. As wanted. Not that I overly relate with these terms. But I would say my gender presentation is female. And I'm primarily attracted to masculine presentation / energy. Dudes. Dicks.

What I see, is a body I've destroyed through disordered eating and self-loathing. I don't see how anybody could be attracted to it, or me.

I have a lot of work to do, and it just all seems to unfathomable to me.

Working on body positivity.

In yesterday's session with Ranjana, she tasked me with body positivity homework. She'd like me to take the time to look at myself in the mirror and say kind things about my body, and about my face. She said that when I lie down in bed at night, I should think about my body, how it feels and what I like about it, and also what I want.

Often going to bed at night is when I feel loneliest. I miss affection. I miss being liked be someone. I miss being someone's favourite person. It's just so sweet.

So, body positivity is my homework. It's going to be difficult. I have a lot of negative associations to my weight gain. I also feel like I "fucked up" my body, which I have in a lot of ways.

But I am lonely, and the way I feel about myself is a big part of my isolation and inability to engage anyone romantically, so I have to try.

A big problem for me, is that when I get depressed I completely internalize and detach from my life, and my body. Hopefully working on appreciating my body and practising being grounded in it will help me take better care of it and myself.

I don't mind being round. I've always been curvy. I'll be shaped like an hour-glass no matter what. I do not want to be so overweight that it limits my ability to socialize though. Being fat means "being fat" everywhere. Fat on an air plane. Fat on a bus. Fat going up several flights of stairs. Fat trying to sit in a weird stool. Fat in tiny movie seats. Fat at the theatre. It's in these spaces that I am conscious of whether or not I literally fit in.

It's also a question of being comfortable in movement. I want to be able to take exercise classes in order to help myself stay healthy. I want to be able to move with relative ease.

It's hard. I'm not saying all sorts of bodies aren't beautiful. They are. But my own body has seen such little positive reinforcement, it's a habit that might not feel genuine at first.

How can I expect anyone to be attracted to me, if I can't see it myself?

I guess ultimately this is the goal:

Illustration by MooseKleenex.

Also, this one made me laugh:

On disrupting patterns and déjà-vu.

I had a session with Ranjana yesterday. It was hard. Not because of something necessarily difficult to discuss or move through, but because I'm really tired these days, and yesterday I was a little despondent. She even called me on it. I tried to explain that it was difficult for me to engage her, and that sometimes I get stuck in myself, and that she might need to pull me out. She said she felt she needed to lead the conversations. I agreed.

Oooooof. I just ha a déjà-vu and now I'm nauseous and confused.

That was a nice little pause. I checked out Wikipedia, and it basically goes over a lot of the assumed reasons behind déjà-vu but there doesn't seem to be any real data about it.

For me, I think they're things I've dreamed that I remember / overlap with something as it's happening. Sometimes I'll remember the dream as the déjà-vu is happening, and it's overwhelming and I get nauseous.

All of this, the ways in which we don't understand something that two-thirds of people experience, something routine yet almost metaphysical and magical, is extremely interesting to me. We just know so little about the brain, and it just seems like there is so much left to unlock. Déjà-vu feels like something else. Like something outside of the conscious, left-brain/right-brain experience.

A déjà-vu is such an odd, out of body experience, it's no wonder that in the past it was attributed to be prophetic. Left alone in the woods - I would have accepted it as being something bordering superstition and instinct.

Off-topic!

Yesterday's session was good. Ranjana talked to me about patterns of thinking, and ways of talking to myself. For this week, she'd like me to make a point of doing things for myself, out of pleasure and self-care, and not as acts seen through a lens of negativity.

For example, I explained to her how I often self-isolate when I'm feeling overwhelmed. I describe this as a type of quarantine. A quarantine, to me, because during this time I'm despondent, detached, and so internally distraught that I might not be particularly open or pleasant for those around me.

Ranjana re-framed that as maybe just needing some alone time, and just telling yourself, "I'm going to go read for an hour," and it ending there. It being something you're doing for yourself, because in that instance it's what you want for yourself.

We talked about cognitive behavioural therapy, and what I've read on the subject. I said that I read a few books, some being too clinical and difficult for me to really relate to and absorb. That conversation lead to a funny exchange:

R: You're very conscious. You're very bright. You're not like other depressed people. 

K: Well those things and depression aren't mutually exclusive.

R: I know, but with you, it's different.

What does that mean!? Ranjana sometimes says things bluntly, and then when I challenge her on it she explains it. But this was at the end of the session, while she was filling out my receipt. I told her there is a seemingly high depression rate with authors, artists, comedians and creatives of all types. That maybe my being highly sensitive mutated into something darker through trauma. . . . But we didn't talk about it much. Time was up.

She then gave me a piece of writing. Why Habits Are Hard to Change by Dr. Kelly McGonigal, written sometime in 2010. The article discuses a research study that showed participants a tennis match, and gave them a computer program that made default in or out calls. They were to then accept the default call (is the ball in or out) or actively disengage from he default call.

These brain analyses suggest that going against the default in difficult decisions requires some kind of extra motivation or confidence. Otherwise, the decider in our mind is puzzled, and the doer in our mind is paralyzed. 

Knowing this can help explain why changing habits can be so difficult. If you aren't sure why you're changing, don't fully believe you're making the right choice, or question whether what you're doing will work, you're likely to settle back on your automatic behaviors. That's why self-efficacy-the belief that you can make a change and overcome obstacles-is one of the best predictors of successful change. The decider and the doer need a boost of confidence.

All of this makes sense, being depressed comes with an automatic assumption that things will not get better, and that you're doomed and hexed. Ranjana was trying to get me to see how making active choices can lead to changes. She referred to it as "making a dent" which I appreciated. One dent at a time. Let some light in.

So next time you're trying to make a change, figure out what your current default is, and remind yourself exactly why it isn't working. Then look for ways to change your default (clean out your fridge, set up direct deposit) so you don't have to fight the old default as often. And feel free to be your own cheerleader when the going gets rough. Look for the first evidence (a pound lost here, a dwindling credit card statement there) that what you're doing is paying off. The status quo is seductive, and we all need a little encouragement to lift our fingers off the keyboard.

I mean, the concept of "being your own cheerleader" when you're already down or in the midst of a depressive episode is laughable. But I can understand the value in re-setting habits and trying to re-route patterns that are disruptive or painful. But it's so very difficult. If you're in a painful space, the default also represents a tried and true way to self-sooth. Maybe it isn't ideal, but it's known and there's comfort in that.

I don't know where to begin with all this. I can try to make dents, and I have been, but it's a big ask. It's so much work. I'm so tired.

An okay day.

Today is an average day. Montreal is going through some type of heatwave/humidity party so it's hot as shit everywhere, but other than that it's just an average day.

It's always an odd kind of feeling when I feel okay. I always wonder if this is what the neurologically privileged/neurotypical feel like. Those "normals."

I've been thinking lately about possibly working on something with the people in my life, about how I'm perceived, and my reaction to that. I'm still thinking around it, I would need to think about what my intent is, and where I want to go with it as a piece of writing. I was thinking of it featuring a question/answer format, dispersed between personal stories.

I'm not a writer. but these days I feel my writing has value due to how little I come across from the point of view of someone who is struggling and ill. It's a rarity. It's often written from the point of view of a professional writer, who went through something. It's enclosed. It's a piece in time.

It makes me wonder about what makes a memoir about struggle or stories based in experience interesting. For me, it's usually the prose. That's why I loved Lidia Yuknavitch's The Chronology of Water. She writes beautifully. I also really enjoyed her voice. Her experience. It just spoke to me. Her resolve. Her grit.

If you have ever fucked up in your life, or if the great river of sadness that runs through us all has touched you, then this book is for you. So thank you for the collective energy it takes to write in the face of culture. I can feel you.

It is for me. I can feel her. Granted, I read this book a while ago, but it left an impression, it really moved me. I plan on re-reading it.

You see it is important to understand how damaged people don't always know how to say yes, or to choose the big thing, even when it is right in front of them. It's a shame we carry. The shame of wanting something good. The shame of not believing we deserve to stand in the same room in the same way as all those we admire. Big red A's on our chests.

Shame has been an ongoing discussion with my new talk-therapy person, Ranjana. I have a session with her later today, and she asked that I prepare by thinking about my relationship with shame, and what I think about it, and when it presents itself. It's almost too much. I can barely even begin to think about it and where it comes from and why it lives in me.

This is something I know: damaged women? We don't think we deserve kindness. IN fact, when kindness happens to us, we go a little berserk. It's threatening. Deeply. Because if I have to admit how profoundly I need kindness? I have to admit that I hid the me who deserves it down in a sadness well.

There's also so unsettling about kindness because it's so - alien. And it's a comfort. And there's always that fear that I'll grow attached, and be disappointed. That it'll give me some relief, and sooth me, and be ripped away. So kindness in trickles, in the kindness of strangers and in smiles and nods, is fine. But true loving kindness is terrifying. It just feels like it could be . . . a trap.

Am I the fly?

So, Tuesday of this week, two days ago, I had my third session with Ranjana. It was, intense. Both of us were on point. I was open and really able to verbalize a lot of stuff, and she has a point of view and approach that is very different from what I've experienced in the past, so it allows me to be directed and questioned in ways I haven’t experienced before.

We talked a lot about shame, and guilt, and how you can be traumatized by something you want to let go of. How people are associated to these events, and you then become haunted by people that become ghosts. These ghosts, the people behind them are irrelevant, it’s the trauma of the experience that imprints on you.

I guess that’s where I'm at now. I'm trying to understand, and grow away from these imprints. I think that became clear in my session.

I got home, drained. It was raining, and I opened my patio door to let some fresh air in. My attention was drawn to a fly who kept hitting the glass pane of the sliding-door. He just doesn’t see the glass. He sees the world, he sees outside. He sees where he wants to go and just can’t comprehend this blockage - this interruption. Can he comprehend the window? Is it outside of his frame of reference?

I stared at the little fly, and became lost in thought. It’s as if I was pulled out into the sky, receding back into the universe, while asking myself if the fly and I are that different. My glass barrier is probably all internal. Maybe it’s my ego. Maybe I am completely unable of picturing it. Maybe it is beyond my comprehension.

So the fly and I were one in that nanosecond. I opened the door and let him out.

There was a melancholy in watching him fly away, because he got out, and I didn't.

Meeting Ranjana.

After an ongoing attempt to access free mental-health services (specifically therapy) I've had to settle for the sliding-scale services offered by The Argyle. If you're unfamiliar with my journey attempting to access mental health services, just check out the "access" label to the right of the page.

I called the Argyle several weeks ago and was told I would be called back by an in-take professional. A week or two later they contacted me (they basically ask why you need the services) and I was asked to e-mail them my tax return for last year, which would establish my income and thus the hourly rate they'd charge me.

They're charging me 50$ a session. I can't swing that weekly, but I should be able to bi-weekly for now. Some of that 50$ will be reimbursed by my private insurance. Since our first session last week, I also saw her yesterday. She asked to see me next week and I told her I can't afford it, that our sessions would have to be bi-weekly. She seemed surprised by that, but she accepted it.

I wasn't sure at first if Ranjana and I would hit it off. The last two therapists I've seen were roughly my age. In my previous intakes, I mentioned wanting a young-woman who was atheist identified (or at least had an understanding of an atheist/non-religious mindset). That might seem like an odd stipulation, but if you're a non-believer and your therapist uses underlining themes of faith or divinity it can be patronizing and completely dismissive.

My request for female-identified, atheist-friendly therapists with an understanding of eating disorders, sexuality, gender and depression resulted in both of my therapists (over the last decade) being young jewish women.

This time, I just stipulated a woman. I think gender is a significant part of my experience, and an understanding of being a woman, a girl, sexualized, and feminism is an important fundamental starting point for shame, identity and body-awareness.

The only other request I made was that it be permanent staff. I saw Alexa for ten session last year and I thought the world of her. But, she had to go back to school and I wasn't able to keep seeing her. I don't want that to happen here. I want long-term, on-going therapy. Even if I lapse for a while, I want follow-through. I want to be able to go back and see the same person, or for there to at least be a file on me.

I'm tired of starting over. At some point you're "telling your story" in a way that seems completely impersonal because you feel as though it's lost its value in repetition.

Ranjana is an older (than me) Indian woman, her website describes her work with the local Indian and Hindi communities. Our first session went well, I think it'll be good for me to move outside of my comfort zone and to have conversations with someone who is outside of my realm of reference, and who can see things in a different way.

My goal in this round of therapy is to be more of an active participant in it. With Putterman I was a mess. With Alexa I was also in crisis. Now, I've plateaued, and I think it'll be helpful to move through certain things, with help.

We'll see how things go.

Onward.