My therapist and I haven’t seen each other much so today we were discussing my penchant for routine. I thrive waking up at 4-5 a.m., eating my healthy breakfast taco, putting together my monthly medicine pill box, etc. But what’s weird about that is I start to feel trapped and claustrophobic after a while, so I’ll jump ship and my nervous system takes the brunt. Read: I self-sabotage and depression grabs a hold of me until I can fight my way back. I’ll be doing so well, and just like that, I’ll erase weeks and months of progress. Often I write in my blogs and in my Caller-Times Mind Matters column about “walking the line” — how exhausting it is to be mentally ill and have to do everything I have to do to be healthy. Hell, to even just live. Things like drinking enough water, taking my pills religiously, going to therapy, getting enough sleep, practicing self-care, keeping up with my other doctors’ appointments and so on.
That phrase stuck with my therapist.
“You’re not Johnny Cash,” she said. “Living your life isn’t a punishment. ”
She then wrote down on her white board all the psych labels I’ve been given:
– major depressive disorder
– generalized anxiety disorder
-avoidant personality disorder
– binge eating disorder
– substance use disorder
On any given day, she said, you might have behaviors that might match these diagnoses, but that’s not who you are. She told me that I don’t have to lug all those conditions around. That there’s nothing wrong with me — that’s just the way I am and part of my makeup. It’s the same with diabetics — nobody tells them they’re wrong for being that way.
As far as the things I do to “walk the line,” that stupid line, are extremely healthy, proactive things to do that improve my life and health. I believe she used the words, “persistence and commitment”, words that usually are associated with little old me. I mean, I don’t have to do those things, and I’m not a failure if I don’t. But I do do them because I want to. My therapist said that so many people don’t even try.
So screw that line. And screw the labels. I think I’ve been trying to define myself with those diagnoses, and boxing myself in. I let the line think that my life was so difficult to live, and that it was so exhausting being me.
But it’s not. It’s actually kind of fun.
I’m not saying I’m not mentally ill or that it’s not difficult — it definitely can be — but I don’t need to focus on the labels or thinking something is wrong with me. Actually, my therapist said that maybe if I didn’t experience so much rejection/judgement about my depression and anxiety, I might have a whole lot less. So I’m going to rid myself of those insecurities.
And when I go rogue, it’s always the same. When I feel accomplishment, I want a reward. But when I feel pain and am uncomfortable, I also want a reward when really I should process. In the past when I’ve experienced pain, I’d go for a reward in the form of food/overeating, shopping, getting a tattoo, etc. But it’s never on a small scale. And that’s what gets me in trouble.
So processing is going to be a priority of mine. Next time I’m loading up my shopping cart, I’ll know that it’s not a reward I truly seek.
Before our time was up, my therapist told me that I was not a broken person. That I was actually a badass, and I didn’t even know it.
But I do.
I just can’t let myself forget.
