Black Lives Matter, let's unite and speak up to correct injustices, to fight for equality and bury racism
I had my fifth CBT session this morning and it was quite conclusive.
Since my last session, I was supposed to continue asking for information and directions in the street, stores and transports, and also invite newer friends - those I know less - to my home, which is next on my relative social situational anxiety scale.
I know it's an odd choice to start talking about it right now, but this is a post that shall be updated periodically, to include a number of acronyms that I use, their meaning and if I can, link to fuller definitions - especially of terms that I often use and shorten to save some time and space.
Previous entries :
111 ; 112 ; 113 & 114
7 years is a long time not to make any art. But, I hadn't felt any kind of inspiration or will to act on any rare images that did reach my mind... I didn't feel particularly good, nor that I'd ever improve.
I thought my art was far in my past, and that living in the present meant not dwelling on my lack of talents and skills. I thought I was mediocre and would remain it, because I had no patience to learn and improve, and didn't accept the frustrations of the ugly phase - that phase where everything that I could make would appear wonky, crooked, out of focus, and immature.
I had in my mind the end product, not the journey...
In my previous installments of this art to art-therapy series, i discussed the origins of this project and proposed some of my art pieces from 2004-2007.
If you want to read those previous entries, they are
111 ; 112 & 113
The ongoing series of art related posts continues with this travel through time.
If you want to read about the beginning of this series, read posts
111 & 112
In post 111, I mentioned how I've been suffering from emotional numbing and dissociation, as part of my cPTSD.
To help me revive my emotions, I thought of using art as another self-expression tool - aside for my blogs and photography. But, as I lacked self-esteem regarding my art and the feeling that I was too much of a novice and wouldn't share it outside of my inner circles, I hadn't initially planed to post any of it online.
A couple months ago, I mentioned how part of PTSD issues pertain to emotional numbness, which is part of the dissociative nature of post-traumatic stress.
As far as I can tell, some people have more or less permanently emotionless (emotional numbing) and others, like me, have recurring periods of it.
I am going through one such an episode right now. Actually, I think it's been going on for a few weeks, with peaks every few days where my emotions go totally blank and I cannot know or fathom what it is that I'm feeling, if at all.
I know that my psych is very busy with nostalgic memories and thoughts regarding my paternal grand-father. I wrote about it just last week, in my Sacrifices entry 107.
This past week alone, I've dreamed about him 4 times, and I think there were a few more this past month.
But, the overall atmosphere the past 3-6 weeks have been a growing emotional void, that numbness and dissociative nature of PTSD.
Read on post 109 to know what happened to me these past few days... and now :
Today was a difficult day in the world. One more of those you wake up to and read horrible news, but I try to remain focused and not read too much as I cannot change anything in this hatred and it's not sane for me to get all that distressing news about death - not that I don't feel sad or horrified, but I just cannot lose sight of my own sanity and mental health.
So, I managed to eat better today, from cold rice, alone, then with corn- right from breakfast to lunch.
Update to 108 : expansion, to answer what the hell happened to me?
I am not well. I emotionally ate junk food (one that is made from corn, peanuts, oil, salt & pepper), that I am quite addicted to...
I now remember why I had stopped buying it, years ago... I now just paid with my emotional eating : I just threw up 3 times in a row, because I also have emetophobia, because once it starts, I feel it and makes me nauseous and I go on.
I am not well. I emotionally ate junk food (one that is made from corn, peanuts, oil, salt & pepper), that I am quite addicted to... I now remember why I had stopped buying it, years ago... I now just paid with my emotional eating : I just threw up 3 times in a row, because I also have emetophobia.
I am not well. But I cannot type more right now.
Read the update here
We all make sacrifices in life - some by choice, and many are forced on us by circumstances or people.
I came back from my fourth session with my new CBT therapist, very happy as she congratulated me, and I quote ''you did a very good job with your assignments'' for these past couple weeks.
Indeed, as I detailed my Paris trip in post 104, I had to ask for information, directions and so forth in stores, the street and public transports, at least once a day.
I want to discuss a topic I have been brooding over for the past 2 years already.
Two years ago, I was at the doorstep of celebrating 3 decades of my intellectual passion for astrology. Two years ago, all over a sudden, I totally lost interest and inspiration.
At first, I assigned this drop on a depressive episode I was going through. A few months later, my mother-in-law passed away and I sank further in depression and disinterest. I wasn't doing much of anything for a while.
But, time ticked away, my depression subsided and I regained interests and intellectual pursuits - except for astrology, which was supposedly my biggest passion.
I could read again, thanks to new glasses. Still, I haven't felt the need or inclination to go back to it.
This past week, I spent a large weekend (from 30/6 to 4/7) in Paris.
My wife convinced me to go with her and visit two of her friends who invited her to stay at their place.
We were supposed to also meet an american friend travelling in Europe, but there were some complications and it didn't happen.
Each day, I had to ask for some directions or informations, at least once a day, at stores, buses or the streets. Each day, I had to write down my anxiety levels - which I would do every evening once back to our hosts' apartment, or during my travels.
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