Haircut? Or sad

 

Mental health is so weird. Being a therapist is too. Yesterday I woke up feeling anxious, then felt depressed, then pulled myself together aa the sun broke through on my walk to work. I got to my office and drank coffee and used a happy light and got some work done. I felt prepared for my first client, I had a good time with my new supervisee, I joked with another client, and with the last I felt overwhelmed and urgent and like i fucked up by giving unwanted advice. I sat in my office for 30 minutes doing nothing as the sun began to set, then walked home trying to remind myself I’m not a fuck up. Awed by the swings my mind can do in just moments, trying to be grateful, trying to let go. 

I got home, made dinner, did some Spanish, some physical therapy. I went to bed at like 8:30. Woke up three hours later with my mind doing 5 things at once, all of them kind of stupid (replaying a song I saw 30 seconds of at some point in the day, playing risk, trying to reassure itself). 

I spent like 20 minutes in bed half wanting to go back to sleep and half trying to convince myself that there must be something more to this recent bout of shame, fear, vulnerability and insecurity. Why am I suddenly swinging all the time between these things? Why does it feel like work just to have a cogent thought. 

I have some big fears that keep surfacing. I’m afraid I’m really unhealthy and don’t even know it. Like maybe my heart is gonna give out. I’m afraid I can’t stop eating sugar as evidence by the half a lie I’ve eaten even before thanksgiving, the constant candy etc. I’m afraid I’m not gonna find someone to love, or maybe that I’m not even interested sometimes, I’m afraid if I do find someone that I will have to give up other people to love, im afraid I’m fucking up at work, I’m afraid I’m not doing anything with my life, I’m afraid I’m wasting my life, I’m afraid of how others perceive me and that they are judging me as harshly as I judge myself. I’m afraid I’m doing harm.

I dunno… I just feel so ungrounded in these moments and in the next totally logical and even optimistic sometimes. 

I feel like I’m picking up way too much of other peoples stuff… some of this doesn’t even feel like me. I also worry that I’m totally off, and not really hearing anyone, lost in my own world. 

I feel very insecure physically. I think some of it is the haircut and people noticing. 

I’ve been wondering if I should be on meds again. Maybe that would make things easier. But I’m also like… why am I afraid of feelings? Nothing is actually wrong, nothing is on fire. I’m literally just reacting to my own thoughts and feelings… like oh? You’re uncomfortable with your hair cut or your body? You can work with that. Oh you are worried you’re addicted to sugar or screens? You can work with that. Be bored, be creative, read a book, draw, write… do something besides distract yourself, meet someone, travel, pick up an instrument dance.    So many options and you’re trapping yourself in the smallness of your mind rather than embracing the wholeness of reality.  

I’ll probably distract myself after writing this. 

I remember during covid some of these feelings would come up. I’d go to work and be “helpful”, and then wonder whether it mattered that I lived or died, and then wonder if it mattered  that I couldn’t answer that question with anything that felt important.. like yes and no, no and yes, and so ultimately meh, not really. 

So replaceable, so intangible and weightless in the larger sphere of things…. I think about plague victims, human beings with every bit of beauty and awe, and awful, as us… dying, suffering by the thousands, millions. Families and villages and nations wiped out in the span of days or months. And each of them wondering why? Why their life did or didn’t matter. Why their life became consumed by a different life, the gnashing of teeth. 

Change is the constant.

I think about how dismissive I’ve been of my life lately. Someone gives me a compliment because of my hair cut and because I don’t like it, I tell them I’m not sure yet. 

Someone gives me a congrats on starting a business and I tell them I don’t really care about it. 

Someone tries to tell me or show me they love me, and I don’t have the time for them.

I dunno… this ivory tower living sure isn’t it. But I also don’t know what else to do. The thought of moving again -even next August, seems like a lot of work. The thought of finding a new job or office space… meh. 

I think ideally I find a project or an organization to dedicate myself to, maintain what I have and throw myself into something else, so that I’m not feeling lost and disparaging myself. 

Men alone, become sicker statistically. 

I figured I’d write this stuff down not because it means anything in particular, but just because though I’m not sure it’s good to dwell on, it’s also not good to avoid. I fear I’m avoiding something, and I don’t want to do that. 

Maybe more vitamin d tomorrow.