It started with the fact that I need one more piece of paper work to process the legal document to enable me to teach two courses. That added to uncertainty and anxiety.
I tried to convince myself that I was cool about the situation by consciously reminding myself that I should treat this opportunities like my delusions. I also attempted to brain-wash myself by repeatedly telling myself, “Life is wonderful!” I further applied the biofeedback technique of putting a smile on my face, wishing that the happy expression will trick the brain.
All measures sort of calm me down a bit.
Unfortunately, when I found out that the color printer was not working and I could not fix it, the volcano exploded…. And, I started to go Meow Meow Meow….
As a result of these, I came back to the old office, picked up the paper shredder and started to fix it again.
By the time I was done fixing the shredder, it was also time to see my therapist.
It was a good thing that we had our meeting today because it helped me to keep my small rat brain in place.
Ended up, the issue that triggered my meowing was the parenting of my parents who are turning back into adolescence.
The two of them have been fighting about continuing to live in the city or to move to the suburban area up on the hill. Dad wants to move up to the mountain, growing his plants and chicken. Mom wants to live in the city, closer to every thing, provided she could, beyond a doubt, manage to climb up the hill on a daily basis.
The solution I provided when I went home was… “Then why doesn’t each of you go ahead and stay where you want to stay? I will try to really find a steady job to support your expenses.”
That sounded like a good idea then…
The only problem is that my dad is recently found to have an heart condition and he just had a small preventative surgery. The day I came back to New York and days after, he reportedly actually had some tough days as a result of his heart condition.
So, how could I not be concerned about leaving him alone up on the hill with his vegetables and chickens? :-O
This and many other things, apparently, were not too well-digested in my mind last night. As a result, it took me at least 2 and a half hours trying to fall asleep after I took my Seroquel last night (and that was the first time).
The inability to resolve the parenting issues (lol), inadequate amount of sleep, and uncertainty about the teaching position, plus a printer that does not work, all contributed to the showdown of Ratprincess’ King Kong.
If it is really true that depression is anger turning inwards, it might be healthiest to show my anger externally rather than putting a cap on it and let it secretly broil.
In order for me to continue the healthy expression of my externalized anger, there has to be a receiver of my vested attention so that it would be turned inwards towards and neither will it turn into Generalized Anger Disorder (Don’t think it’s available in DSM… lol).
After thoughtful deliberation, it is concluded that the helplessness that came with uncertainties is the root of the problem.
At the same time, the uncertainties are a result of situations and situations are situations.
With the legal issue regarding my work status, for instance, I find it absolutely understandable for a country to put forth legislation to set constraints on the aliens so as to protect the employment opportunities of its people.
It was me who chose to keep myself in a state of constraints, be it consciously or unconsciously.
In the mean while, since my parents have allowed me an insurmountable degree of freedom when I was growing up, I shall be in no place to say to either party whether they should live up on the hill or down by the city, regardless of the impacts that I perceived about their choices.
In a sense, I could see the situation clear… Yet, such clarity does not resolve the issue of locating an object for the lingering anger…
Putting the blame it on myself is no way to go (depression-related), I could only blame it on fate.
Yet, fate, in my definition, is made possible by my choices… It is me myself again that is incriminated in the trial…
Such dialectic and recursive discussion sort of adds to a sense of anxiety…. And, I have long known myself to have the propensity to experience my delusions and hallucinations in a state with higher degree of anxiety.
Since nothing could ever be so grand as the contents of my delusions of grandiosity, the loss of nothing material would be as great as that of the delusional sort.
So, to be able to teach or not able to teach; a match point.
To parent my parents; a position not for me.
The moral of the lesson: Life is not really a piece of shit. However, if it does make you feel shitty, think delusionally. lol
P.S. On my way back from my therapy session, someone mentioned, “She is not going to do work.” I am going back to do some more work regardless whether she was addressing my intention.
8:30 PM
No comments:
Post a Comment