Two Hundred Seventy Five Bones For 75 Minutes of The Rapy

I went to therapy yesterday. It was time. The last three or so years were spent expending a tremendous amount of energy to tread mental water in an effort to break even emotionally. I've managed to get pretty comfortable at zero on a mental number line. I don't feel sad, but I don't feel happy. I feel manageable. So, here are some highlights.

We started off just going through some aspects of who I was and got to the point where the therapist asked if I wanted to work with the divorce or my childhood. I told him that the divorce was pretty much locked down and dealt with so we moved to my background starting at the beginning. He asked me what my first childhood memory was and I told him that it was my race car blanket as a kid. It's funny because I've used that line to pick up a girl before and let him know that. The blanket thing carried on to a gray blanket that I had and finally let go of when I moved out of my apartment when I separated with my ex. It's gone. I have no blanket anymore, but my mom was nice enough to make me a new quilt. It's not a security item anymore, though.

He then asked if I've always been a sad a person. I told him that I think I actually have always been a sad person internally, but never let anyone know if I can help it. I mentioned that as a kid my mom had referred to me as Eeyore for being a sad little kid and that I often identified with Charlie Brown. It turns out that I use humor and self-deprecation as a result of an emotional trigger as soon as I feel myself getting sad. Internally, it's an unaccepted emotion that sends me into a flight mode. The way he described it is that as soon as I feel it and recognize that my toe is in a depression puddle, I jump out and away from it and try not to experience the sadness. This results in what some have seen as the "HughVoltage" show. It's almost manic, but is very entertaining externally as I'm pounding the shit out of internal sadness. This has resulted in me building layer upon layer of other feelings on top of the bad ones since I was about five. Fighting sadness for much of my life because I felt alone in the world. Total sad clown.

So, as homework, I was told to connect my mind to my sadness and to try and experience it rather than fight it. I tried it last night and it was super freaky. It went like this. I got ready for bed and tried to tap into it a little bit. I made the connection as I lay in bed in the dark. At first I could feel it trying to creep in and actually feel myself fighting it and then stopped myself after about five minutes and the sadness just completely overwhelmed me. I let it go for a little bit and then just turned it off again. It was really weird and uncomfortable, but I've seen it now and can actually feel it underneath everything now. It almost physically resides two inches behind my face while I smile at you and make jokes. The real creepy thing is that I recognize it now and it has been there forever. I just compartmentalized it and have refused to recognize it for what it is. It's hard to explain. I guess it might be like having a mole on your arm that you never really paid attention to and then you saw some news story on skin cancer and can't stop noticing it.

So, the next thing we covered is going to be a little disturbing for those close to me, but he said it, not me. I've written about the little crazy inner demon that is about five years old and takes things over occasionally before. Apparently, I was right on with that. Here's how it works and I need to preface this with a warning that no one is to blame for this, but it's there. He said that because of my dad leaving at five and having such a young mother, I never had a real childhood because I felt that I had to take care of myself. I never really felt safe or that I could trust anyone to take care of me. This separated me from those close to me including my parents. It created a part of me that wanted to be taken care of, but never believed anyone could. It's why I feel separated even among family and friends and even more so around strangers. I have a hard time accepting help or gifts from people because of this. I try to do everything on my own and have a hard time developing empathy for those that can't keep up with me because I feel that I worked so hard to get where I am and they should have to, too. I see this now. It's why I subscribe to social Darwinism so much. So, I want to be taken care of, but won't let you. I'm a wounded bird.

We then covered the "What makes you happy/when have you been happy?" question. This is pretty standard and I think about it all the time. Music, writing, soccer and being with family were the four topics. There was also a tinge of the work project successes. I genuinely love figuring out complex problems at work. This was encouraging as I thought work was the stem of all my problems. Fuse may be a better word than stem for that one. By not participating in those things as much as I'd like, I get frustrated and self-medicate with alcohol until the feelings subside. This also coincides with an internal voice that tells me that I'm not good at them anyway. Happiness is only experienced through the eyes of others acceptance. If awesome falls in the woods and no one is there to see it, did awesome really matter?

I discussed happiness in the workplace with a friend the other day. I asked him if he liked his job and he replied, "Fuck no." I then asked him why he went everyday and he said to pay his mortgage and other assorted debts. I followed that up with "What's your dream job then?" He said he didn't know. That's exactly where I am. I've been beat into submission so hard by the expectations of work and the status quo that I don't even know what would be a dream job anymore or what makes me happy. I'll say that I want a happy life, but I don't even know what that would be at this point. I want to travel. Well, fuckin' where? I want a girlfriend. Well, what would she even be like? I want things, but at this stage none of them can be defined. It's really frustrating.

The therapist followed up the happy talk with "Have you ever felt guilty for any successes or being happy in life?" Sadly, he totally hit it on the head with that one. Somehow, I've developed guilt for things that happen to me that are good. I never feel that I deserve anything good to happen to me. This explains why I have a hard time accepting relationships with the oppo sex. If a pretty girl likes me, I honestly, have no idea why. This is not good, but I think we will work on this.

We discussed my relationship with my ex-wife and what I liked about it as it lasted a long time. I told him that it was the "nothing" part of it that I loved dearly. I really loved the time that myself and the ex spent doing nothing. That was the true test. If you like someone so much that being in line with them at the DMV or sharing a crossword puzzle on a Sunday morning completely satisfies you and you never want it to end, you've won. Congratulations.

So, let me see, he complimented me on being extremely self-aware of myself and what happens to me internally. I identify things that happen internally and have learned how to control many of my self-destructive tendencies and at the very least can recognize them. It's kind of why I'm seeing him. I know that some things are not right. Sadly, this works against me in some instances because I recognize my fallibility too clearly at times and will attack myself for it.

So I think that about covers it. I go again next week. The ironic part about this whole exercise is that I've always thought boozing was my main problem, but that's actually pretty controlled at this point. It could be better, but it's been way worse as recently as a year ago. Anyway, the therapist is right across from my bar that I walk to from my apartment. So, my self-medication destination and my cry for help destination are 50 yards from each other. Brilliant.