![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Kitten is trying to help me do an online jigsaw puzzle by alternately sitting on the mouse and trying to bite the cord. (after the seventeenth time I found my wireless mouse in a weird place in the house, I decided I could no longer be trusted with something that wasn't physically connected to the computer.)
One of the problems with setting myself a go-dark-by deadline is that if I blow past it, I feel like I need to somehow make it count and stay up forever. And Light's in bed, and Abundance is out at his game, and the dog's asleep which means the kitten is extra friendly and all I want to do is stay up playing on the internet until my brain turns off.
It was a rough, rough therapy day. Julie ended up asking me about times I'd felt good in the past couple weeks, and one of the things I could come up with was being praised for how something I cooked turned out, and how I had my usual angry-at-self reaction to praise making me feel good. Julie then asked me about how I felt about having the homework of saying one nice thing about myself a day and I started crying and told her that it had never really worked for me. When I could come up with things to say, which wasn't very often, I'd no sooner try to put them to words then I'd start to dismantle them as well. Even when I could think I did something well, I would immediately follow that up with either mocking myself for recognizing it, or remind myself how I could be doing it better.
Discarding that, Julie sort of pondered out loud how gratitude wouldn't work for me, it would feel too much like scolding. I was ungrateful for a lot of things, according to my parents, and while I've done months of gratitude and been sincere, I don't think it's in the cards these days. I know what I'm supposed to be grateful for and I feel shitty for being this depressed despite all of the things I should be grateful for.
I feel like I don't know how to curate my emotions properly right now, which people get which sets, what it's okay to admit to and what to shove deep, deep down inside. I'm so fucking earnestly devoted to appearing mostly functional, I can't remember when it's okay not to be.
One of the problems with setting myself a go-dark-by deadline is that if I blow past it, I feel like I need to somehow make it count and stay up forever. And Light's in bed, and Abundance is out at his game, and the dog's asleep which means the kitten is extra friendly and all I want to do is stay up playing on the internet until my brain turns off.
It was a rough, rough therapy day. Julie ended up asking me about times I'd felt good in the past couple weeks, and one of the things I could come up with was being praised for how something I cooked turned out, and how I had my usual angry-at-self reaction to praise making me feel good. Julie then asked me about how I felt about having the homework of saying one nice thing about myself a day and I started crying and told her that it had never really worked for me. When I could come up with things to say, which wasn't very often, I'd no sooner try to put them to words then I'd start to dismantle them as well. Even when I could think I did something well, I would immediately follow that up with either mocking myself for recognizing it, or remind myself how I could be doing it better.
Discarding that, Julie sort of pondered out loud how gratitude wouldn't work for me, it would feel too much like scolding. I was ungrateful for a lot of things, according to my parents, and while I've done months of gratitude and been sincere, I don't think it's in the cards these days. I know what I'm supposed to be grateful for and I feel shitty for being this depressed despite all of the things I should be grateful for.
I feel like I don't know how to curate my emotions properly right now, which people get which sets, what it's okay to admit to and what to shove deep, deep down inside. I'm so fucking earnestly devoted to appearing mostly functional, I can't remember when it's okay not to be.
