Tuesday of this week was difficult.

It ended up being a full day of therapy for me, and that can be overwhelming. I normally don’t have both DBT and individual therapy on the same day (for that reason), but that’s just how it worked out this week.

I had DBT from 10:00-12:00, then had to go back for my individual appointment at 2:00. By the time I had picked up a flower box hanger at Menard’s (a big box home improvement store) after DBT, I still had like an hour and a half to waste. I wasn’t having a very good day, so I took that extra time to eat my fast food lunch at a park where I play tennis. I sat at a picnic table and watched kids from a local high school gym class try to hit the balls back and forth. It was entertaining.

However, I was unable to access most of the skills I’ve been learning in class. My anxiety was sky-high (I’m still not so sure why) and I felt melancholy. It’s confusing – at least to my body – when I feel restless, jittery, and sad all at once. But that’s where I was.

THERAPY

My session with Kim was difficult and draining. I don’t even remember what we started off with, but at one point, I asked her if she happened to have a stress ball I could squeeze to (hopefully) release some tension and energy.

She did, of course.

I squeezed the hell out of it for the next forty minutes.

As can happen with anxiety, innumerable thoughts were swirling around in my head, not one of them landing anywhere so I could examine it and make some sense out of it.

There were two things I noticed in my session: That it was not as difficult as I expected to tell her the nature of some of my thoughts (what am I thinking? what am I feeling? what should I say next?); and that one thing she said really hit me hard.

She said something like, “I have the feeling you’re one of those people who doesn’t give yourself credit for anything you do.”

And we have a winner.

Now, this was not in itself a revelation. I’ve known that about myself for decades. But my visceral reaction to it was a surprise. The butterflies in my stomach started creating whirlwinds inside me, my headache came back, and I think my body froze. I stopped squeezing the stress ball. I stopped fidgeting.

And I couldn’t look away from her. Now, I’m really big on eye contact, but it’s much harder to do that in a therapeutic setting, for me anyway. But I felt like I’d been caught red-handed doing something unsavory, or that she had figured a part of me out. In only three sessions.

I tried to think of something clever or profound or lighthearted to say, but nothing like that came to mind. I felt like a deer in headlights. I think I just said one word: “Yup.”

The tenor of the session shifted a bit at that point. I felt even more uncomfortable than I had earlier. I felt like I needed to guard myself against – what?  Something about that simple truth about myself that I’ve known for so long just blew right into me.

So the eye contact was pretty limited after that, but I did tell her I was feeling really uncomfortable. We briefly dove into the cause of my discomfort – was it our interaction, or the topic, does she ask too many questions?

I said it was both the interaction and the topic and quickly rambled some nonsense – maybe that means it was, specifically, the topic that I didn’t like. (I am nothing if not transparent in my efforts to change the subject. 🙂

I take my time when answering a question because I want to be able to say exactly what I mean. I love words, and choosing just the right ones is important to me. I try to be very efficient and offer clarity with my responses.

So after considering the situation, I offered this insight: “Maybe we’re getting close to something?”

I just wish I knew what it was and where it was hiding. Then maybe I could get on with my life.

SELF-WORTH (OR THE LACK THEREOF)

I think never giving myself credit for the positive, helpful, and thoughtful things I do (or for the challenges I have overcome) has something to do with my not feeling worthy as a person.

Let’s just say I’m not where I expected to be in my life. (Are any of us?) Many years ago, I pictured myself as a tennis pro (teaching), working with talented pre-teens and adults and having a great time. As I got older, though, I lost touch with that dream (because of my depression) but I was able to go on and get a Master’s Degree in Sociology. I’ve long had a personal goal of getting my Ph.D., either in Sociology or maybe Public Administration or some such animal.

For a great many reasons, though, that’s never going to happen.

So I embarked on a reasonably fulfilling career in social services. Unfortunately, about nine years into my career, the mother of all depressive episodes swooped in and changed my life.

This episode would end up lasting six years, during which time I got a divorce, moved from California (which I love and miss greatly) to Minnesota, where my brother and sister-in-law put me up, and didn’t have any kind of health insurance for six months (which meant I had to pay about $1500 out of my own pocket – er, credit card – every month for my meds.)

Although I was terribly depressed, it took nineteen phone calls to find a psychiatrist who would take me. I had to start over with a new job, a new support network, make new friends, and learn how to really interpret “Minnesota Nice”.

I realized I was gay, got my own apartment, relapsed fiercely after fifteen years of sobriety, was hospitalized 5 or 6 times for my depression, and fell in love with the woman who would become my wife.

That was my life from late 2000 to mid-2006. (And that’s not all of it, either.)

Again, not what I expected.

The self-worth thing is a biggie. Because of my depression and subsequent hospitalizations (there have been many more), I have not been able to work since August of 2005. That’s twelve years! I’ve been on Social Security Disability and Medicare since that time.

I am not a productive member of society.

Talk about a reason to feel inadequate.

I especially feel it when I’m with my family – nuclear, extended, or otherwise. I just feel like I’m a big old fuck up. They all seem perfectly “normal”; most are married, some have kids, they – you know – work for a living. They “earn their keep”. They deserve what they have.

But rather than just go with it, relax, and be my charming self, I sit in judgment of myself. I compare where I am with where they are. Or with where I would like to be.

And that never has a happy ending.

PUTTING IT ALL TOGETHER

So, when Kim said that about not giving myself credit for anything, my head started spinning. My brain said (silently), “Well, of course, I don’t! Look at me! What the hell do I have to offer?” And I started comparing myself with friends, family, even people I hardly know.

Feeling worthy (or not) is a big topic in my life; it just may be the basis of all my insecurities and doubts. I know it will be talked about often and in great depth in therapy. The question is, how do I do that and stay above water? How can I prepare my psyche for such an intrusion? How can I get comfortable enough with myself to approach the subject, dissect it, and learn from it?

I don’t have all those answers right now, but that’s a big reason I have the professional support network I do.

I’m a big believer in karma. Since this is coming to the surface now, it must be time to deal with it, right? I’m lucky enough to have a great therapist, a fantastic psychiatrist, a kick-ass case manager, and friends and family who actually care.

I can do this, I know I can. I’ve made it this far – I must be doing something right.

Stay tuned.