One Year Later and Challenging Automatic Negative Thoughts

It's been over a year since my suicidal thoughts came barreling back into my head after over a decade of relief from them. How am I doing now? Well, that's probably pretty obvious. I'm doing really well compared to where I was a year ago. Leaving my job at the time was the best thing I could have done, even though to this day I pine for my old agency. I really loved it there, but I needed to scale back and I needed time to heal. Nowadays I'm going harder than ever and rockin' the hell out of it.

That's not to say I don't have my bad days, obviously, but being suicidal - at least, the way I've been suicidal - isn't necessarily a constant thing. It just pops up, mostly in response to a stressor. I think it's been a month or two since the last time I can remember having a clear thought about it, but it's never been quite as strong as it was a year ago when the sudden, strong impulse overcame me as I was sitting in traffic and vividly imagining how I'd use my car to do it. It would have been so easy. Just one small gesture, and it could be over. I'm so glad I had the wherewithal to stop myself and get help.

Part of what drives suicidal thoughts are the automatic negative thoughts - I sometimes call them tapes - that play in the mind over and over again, on loop, all day, every day, sometimes at a low volume, sometimes on full blast. This is part of why I constantly stream entertainment - to drown out those thoughts. This is a sample of some of those thoughts:

"You're an evil person and you deserve to die."

"People hate you and just don't have the courage to say it."

"Everyone will leave you and that's what you deserve."

"Nothing you do is ever good enough."

"Your loved ones are annoyed by you and wish you'd change."

"No one would miss you if you were gone."

They've been basically the same since I was a teenager. Now, along comes this new trend, the Sarahah app. I saw some of my younger friends doing this and thought, "Oh, hell no. I don't need it anonymously confirmed that all of my worst thoughts about myself are exactly what people have thought about me and have been too afraid to say to my face." But then I started seeing the most lovely messages people were leaving for my friends and I thought... maybe it was worth a shot.

Well, I've been floored. I can't believe it. There hasn't been a single even remotely negative message - some weird and random ones, but none negative. Here's what I got so far (excluding randoms, all spelling and grammatical errors included):

"I think u r very gr8 and am sometimes intimidated by how awesome u r but u r a very good fren"

"You're an amazing and wonderful person, and I don't know what I would do with my life if you weren't apart of it"

"The first impression I thought you were mean (I'm sorry) but after that, I've found you to be a very nice and hardworking lady.  I admire your strength and endurance in all those really hard hitting LARPs. I don't know how you keep fighting through injuries but it's inspiring."

"You're gorgeous and brave and I admire you so much. You work so hard and a lot of people notice."

"The amount of love I have for you is dangerous."

"I looked up to you before I really knew you, and after becoming real friends I just look up to you even more. You're tackling your mental health issues and kicking ass at work, and I love it."

"I like how fiercely you stick up for those you love"

"You're the one person in my life that has given me the strength to talk openly about my anxiety."

"I wish I knew how to gain your favor. You are such a rare beauty."

"AND THERE WERE NO SURVIVORS. <3 br="">

"You helped during a very dark time and have made me confident enough to not put up with the ex (abuser) crap anymore. I'm still gaining my footing, but you seriously are a godsend in human form. Thank you for being amazing"

"You are unpredictable. It's super entertaining. Keep doing you!"

"Your a beautiful person, both inside and out"

"Keep being a badass"

"You are one of the strongest and most beautiful people I know. I'm so glad to count you as a friend."

"You're pretty rad, and I am happy that you are in the legion."

"You are easily one of the most beautiful people in my life"

"I definitely enjoy that the first thing you do when you see me I'd give me a hug."

"I think you are lovely. Your transparency about your struggles has helped me be more honest about my own, both with myself and others. Thank you."

"You are beautiful and fierce. I've never been prouder of a near stranger than watching you endure your trials. Your open struggle with mental "illness" is uplifting and inspiring."

This wouldn't be the first time people have been sincere in telling me how they feel about me, but it can be hard to internalize, and that part of my brain that plays those automatic negative thoughts comes in with, "Yeah, well, anybody who would have anything negative to say about you wouldn't be your Facebook friend in the first place, sooo..." But whatever. I choose to believe. For today.

Am I Smarter Than You?: Reflections on My Privilege/Elitism

You know, it occurs to me that some people who read my inner thoughts such as I present them in blogs must have some opinions about me. Hm. Oh, well. I guess that's one way to weed out those in my social circle who aren't well-equipped to be in my life. It's not like I'm lacking there.

Anyway, this is a rough subject. I've been a bit amused that both the highly educated professionals I consult (my therapist and my husband's therapist) and some in my friend circle have put forth this idea about my interpersonal issues with my co-workers: "Well, are you smarter than they are?" When my husband's therapist asked this question this morning my reaction was, "I don't know. I really don't even think about that." But, I guess, is this not part of the problem? Is this not part of my privilege that blinds me at times?

There are other ways I have privilege, of course. I have a paler complexion - far from the threshold of melanin that seems to draw so much ire in this country. If anything, some people gather that I have Asian heritage, also known as the "model minority." If you don't know what that is, this explains it much better than I could in my little blog here. But in general, I could also pass as a nice, white lady. My husband has informed me that we are considered an upper middle class household for the Syracuse metropolitan area (which blows my mind). We have dual incomes, and then some. We can comfortably pay our bills, afford leisure activities and hobbies with the little bit extra we have kicking around, and when emergencies come up we're not in impossible financial situations. 

Most of all, for me, I am highly educated. I graduated fourth in my class in high school, and with some sort of high honors for both my bachelor's and master's degrees. I used to struggle with this idea that I was "smart." I remember once that I told a friend that I wasn't smart, I just figured out what teachers wanted from me and gave them exactly that to which my friend responded, "Yeah, that makes you smart."

I really think this comes from an incident that has resonated with me since the second grade. I pretty much always had good grades, but in the second grade my teacher saw fit to write on my report card, "Amanda is a bright girl, but sometimes she has a hard time understanding why people don't understand what she does." Now, that was true. I used to have a really hard time explaining how my thinking worked to get the right answers to my fellow students who struggled to follow. Now I think to some degree that problem has continued, but the frustration I feel at the lack of understanding seems systemic.

How can you be so glib about mental health? Don't you know the chemistry and biology behind these very real conditions? (Of course not, Amanda. You're a psychology geek. You care about this stuff. They don't. You might as well be asking the laymen how they don't have strong opinions about Professor McGonagall.)

How can you so willfully erase and degrade persons who occupy another end of the gender, sex, or sexuality spectrum than you? Don't you understand the history behind the way these things have shown up since damn near the beginning of recorded history, or how your precious religious text that condemns these things was constructed? (Of course not, Amanda. Not everyone grew up a Christian geek who sought education beyond the text of the Bible. Not everyone has the exposure to academia about human sexuality, history, or feminism.)

How can you not care about people who need help? (People are just trying to survive, Amanda. Advertising/media/propaganda shapes much of what people "know" about any given subject without access to the level of education you've been able to obtain. Some people are more preoccupied with, you know, putting food on the table or knowing where they'll be living in the near future. Not everyone has the luxury of critically thinking like you do.)

Well, am I smarter than you? I honestly don't think about that, and as much as that might be my privilege blinding me, I'm still not convinced it's something I need to be focused on. Instead, I think the more important question is why do I think the way that I do while they think the way they do? I think that still addresses the privilege issue. At the same time, I don't think it totally gives anyone a free pass to remain willfully ignorant.

So, I guess that's where I am.

What Saved My Life

I certainly don't speak for all people with mental illness, depression, or suicidal thoughts. I can only share what I've been through. Suicide has been coming up as a topic of discussion ever since Chester Bennington's highly publicized suicide, and while this makes me very sad I am also struck by how lucky I am.

It was just over a year ago I came the closest I'd ever been to taking my own life, but I was fortunate enough to have some protections in place at the time. First of all, I'd been going to a therapist for years and they were easily accessible. Second of all, I knew where the resources were to get me emergency help - and I look like a nice, white, middle-to-upper-class lady next to a husband in a business suit. You bet I got what I needed. I had insurance. These are some obvious things my privilege had afforded me. This was one layer of protection.

My natural supports were and still are phenomenal. Dozens of people came out of the woodwork - some I know very well and some I'm not so familiar with - to express their support, or how they were inspired by my openness in the process. People would check in, or literally sit with me while I watched mindless television or surfed the web, not saying anything. I think this was important because I had professionals to talk to and often the things the layman will say to try to help only exacerbates the problem. What you say is, "Well, have you tried this?" but what I hear is, "You're such a waste of space. You're not even trying. You should feel guilty for putting them through this." It's not logical, but suicidal thoughts are not a logical head space.

Actually, the mindless television helps too. To some degree all mental health problems are a thought processing problem. The brain is always thinking, and not all of it is relevant or helpful, but for people with depression we might struggle specifically with suicidal thoughts - not just content with letting them pass by, we invite them in for tea and cookies and entertain them for a while. My husband has been concerned about my constant need to be streaming entertainment throughout my day, but it's one of the best ways I've found to keep my brain from entertaining the wrong kind of thoughts for very long.

Writing about my experience helped, even making videos about it when I couldn't write (most of which I didn't share). Getting some sun helped. I remember going on a particularly long walk with the pups last year when I took the long weekend from work. The problem is that that takes a lot of energy and I was useless for the rest of the day. I had used up all of my energy capital.

Staying well hydrated, eating comfort foods (I'm talking literally white rice with water - what my mom gave me when I was sick as a child), even bathing were all things that helped.

Cuddling the pets helped.

Don't get me wrong, I've heard nothing but great things about the suicide prevention hotline and I used it once when I was younger (like, 15?) but someone posting up the number did not help. Maybe it helps someone, but it didn't help me.

I'm glad people are willing to start the conversation about suicide at this time, but we need to finish this conversation. We can't just tuck it away after the feelings have faded until the next time someone isn't as lucky as I was. That's all I have to say for now.

Self-Care is the First to Go

I know what I'm doing.

This morning I slept in instead of doing my workout. I'm averaging about one day off per week, which isn't bad. Most workout plans have at least one rest day, just not this plan I'm doing. Anyway, I knew I was going to wake up with little time to get ready. I was late going out the door with my hair barely in a ponytail, my face unwashed (but I brushed my teeth and flossed!), my sandals unzipped, forgetting one important thing and needing to double back, and no breakfast or caffeine except a Red Bull I drank on the way to work (I since scrounged up a banana and an ice cream bar).

I know. I'm not taking care of myself. It's classic me. I have a bit of a commute, so I had time to think about this.

A dear friend of mine is really struggling right now. Despite feeling as though I have run low on give-a-fucks this week, there are some things and some people for whom I will always have an unlimited supply (my husband being one of them, by the way). I jumped right into action, doing what I could to help. It's what I do. I think that some of this has to do with the way I grew up. I know what it's like to go without, to be alone, and to watch my mom suffer in silence to provide for me and my brother.

Side rant, it's not like our own fucking government actually gives a fuck about its citizens. I'm not some magical "good person" or "great friend" as some of my friends might claim, sweet as that is. I'm a human being who believes in helping other human beings because I FUCKING NEED HELP TOO and when the tables turn (god forbid it, of course) I hope - no, I believe - people will step up to help me out too. So if not me, then who?

Anyway, I was thinking about how much this is going to bite me in the ass when I become a mother. I see it all the time - it is nearly impossible for parents to prioritize their own health or happiness above their children's' needs. It's almost hard-wired. Even with the logical understanding that not taking care of themselves could eventually lead to not being able to take care of the people they love, they can't bring themselves to take care of themselves. That could so easily be me. I'm bad at self-care now, and I'm pretty sure I'll be worse at it as a mother.

Then again, maybe I don't need to be better at it. I have the most amazing support system a girl could ask for. My friends all but drag my ass to get help when I can't see that I need it, or I stubbornly put it off. Then there's my husband. That man takes care of me. Sometimes I feel embarrassed by what I perceive as a deficit in reciprocity on my end, but I believe he doesn't see it that way. Alex will always take care of me and our future children because that's the kind of man he is and the kind of marriage we have, but maybe it's not good to rely on that or on my friends. (Also, I don't mean to humblebrag about my relationship - if it comes off that way.)

I don't know. Just thinking. Mental health day in T-minus 7 days!

Compassion Fatigue or Righteous Anger?

Most of you know I'm a therapist. Some of you know it's been recently brought to my attention that my co-workers are not my biggest fans. This has probably affected my mood and patience more than I'd like to admit. This is what I'm going through this week.

I'm kicking ass and taking names, of course. Sometimes stuff like this really motivates me to perform better than ever, but I find myself losing patience with some of my clients but especially some people in my personal life and my attitude boils down to this: "Get your fucking shit together! You're a goddamn adult! I know it's fucking hard! You think it's not hard for me too? I do battle with my own motherfucking brain every second of every motherfucking day and I am getting shit done and I am getting my shit together and I'm not perfect but at least I'm fucking trying. You have a problem? Fucking do something about it! FUCK!"

Now, I realize that's not very compassionate or loving or holding and I really don't care right now. I'm a damn good therapist and a great friend. I am supportive and patient and holding, but right now I'm just tapped. Plenty of friends in the field have warned me about compassion fatigue.

Maybe it's because I put myself in a position to try to help some of my friends and I've watched multiple friends more or less spit in my face and turn their nose up at my help - all behind my back. They say they'll do the thing to my face, and then come up with a million excuses or ignore me or pretend we never had a discussion about what they were going to do to get the help they need.

I guess it's the behind my back thing that really irks me. I understand not wanting to do the thing. I really do. But like, have some fucking courage. Say it to my fucking face, "Hey Amanda, I hear you but I don't want to", "Hey Amanda, I don't like the way you say things and think you're better than me", "Hey Amanda, fuck you." Whatever. Whatever it is just say it to my motherfucking face. FUCK!

I talked to my mom about this last night and her answer was more or less, "No one confronts anyone. That's just the way it is." Alright. Fine. Whatever. I guess. I just expect better from people. I want to see people do better. I certainly want my co-workers to be fucking professional about their conduct with me when they should know better than to go behind my back and cry foul instead of maybe checking in with me about whether I meant to come off the way I did. Cowards.

Sorry. I know this isn't nice. I know I'm probably wrong. This just needed to leave my body. I'm glad my friends convinced me to take a day off for my mental health. I need it. I'm just... tapped. Seeing my therapist next Wednesday. Maybe he'll have some helpful insight.

Fighting with my Husband

I've explained this to people before, but I thought it would be important to share more widely. I don't expect everyone to understand, and I am not making a judgement about the confrontation styles of other couples. This is just the way we do it, and it works for us.

Saturday night I was frustrated. Alex was having a hard time figuring out if he should take the financial plunge of replacing his computer, which is very much long in the tooth. While I love my husband wanting things (sometimes he has a hard time identifying his needs), I was concerned financially. The thing is, he takes care of the lion's share of our finances because it gives me serious anxiety. All I do is pay the bills he tells me to every two weeks when we get paid. I asked him to consider out current financial plan, which if we pursue aggressively has us paying off our credit card debt (which was monstrous, by the way) April of 2018. The reason we have this plan is because that is the goal that marks the beginning of us trying to have kids (well, after/during a trip to Disney World in the fall). He was having a really hard time making a decision, and, like I said, I was frustrated.

There were other factors at play here, of course, not the least of which was an ongoing pattern over 7 years together where Alex would financially commit to something in some way or another and then abandon it. In the meantime, excited he had made a decision, I would enthusiastically encourage this new thing in his life, only to be left feeling like the fool once it had been abandoned. I felt at a loss for how to help him or support him when he was so unsure about everything. He has his reasons, of course - childhood and all that. That's his story to tell, not mine.

Anyway, we had communicated mainly through online chat at the beginning of this fight because I had gone up to bed to lie down, but he came up and then we had the rest of the discussion face-to-face. I knew we were fighting, but to the outsider looking in, it might not look that way. We never raise our voices. We never demean each other in any way. We have a civil discussion and communicate our feelings and the reasons behind it. That's the way we've always done it. That's not to say we always communicate everything we should, or that we don't sometimes go to less-than-productive places with our discussion ("then why should we even stay together/maybe we need a break/why do you even love me?"). Alex is really good at soothing those fears. Apparently, the only thing he's really sure about is that he wants to stay with me.

I have commitment issues. I have my reasons, of course - childhood and all that. When there is conflict in relationships my brain automatically goes into panic mode. "RED ALERT! RED ALERT! ABORT! ABORT! ABANDON SHIP BEFORE THEY GET A CHANCE TO LEAVE YOU! THEY ALWAYS LEAVE BECAUSE YOU'RE AWFUL AND UGLY AND EVIL AND NO ONE LOVES YOU!" Yeah, it's bullshit, but it's a learned response. Maybe I can unlearn it some day.

So we talked it out, and came to a conclusion, and stayed together. In two and a half months we'll have officially been together for 7 years, married for two. This works for us. Maybe it doesn't work for everyone, but for two traumatized kids who grew into caring adults, it works.

This is what I mean if I ever say, "We had a fight." It's all really less dramatic than you might think. Anyway, just thought that was worth sharing.

Day 1 of 21

So, it's been about four months since I started working crazy hours, causing me to abandon my 15k training. I hadn't really replaced it with any other kind of workout. I simply didn't feel like I had the time. Well, now that my husband has started to approach the 100 lbs. lost mark post-bariatric surgery, it's time for me to buckle down and get serious.

I'm doing 21 Day Fix which is one of those Beach Body programs and day 1 kicked my ass. I am, without a doubt, out of shape. How I managed to endure four hours of one-on-one fighting is a mystery to me. Anyway, I did the workout and I ate sensibly today.

For breakfast I had an egg fried in butter topped with cheddar cheese on a whole wheat bagel thin and coffee with creamer. Breakfast tends to be my big meal, calorie-wise. For lunch I had a chicken-and-chickpea burrito I had made - same for dinner. For snacks I had a banana before lunch and then a few slices of aged swiss at night, bringing my total calorie count for the day to a round 1500 according to MyFitnessPal. Of course, I had cravings. Didn't help that there were chocolate chip baked goods in the kitchenette at work, but I didn't find it terribly hard to turn them down as I stayed busy during the day. I even took a walk around the block during lunch (it's a fairly large block). Nice neighborhood, pretty houses. Steps came out to about 5,300 for the day according to FitBit.

Not bad for day 1. I took pictures to see how my progress goes over time. Check in later.