Rufus the Therapist

Today I had an appointment with my therapist. I've been seeing my therapist for a couple months now since I had a complete mental breakdown the likes of which I didn't think was possible. Work was missed, facilities were called to admit me for horse therapy or something, I chopped off all my hair and barely remember it, I drove three hours to my grandparent's with no recollection of doing so, and it was just a generally shitty situation. I have since stepped down at work and am enjoying my day to day a lot more. I started feeling like a piece was missing though. Something in my life of being a lead teller at a major bank my anti-capitalist spirit animal despises, writing another novel that won't get published, logging unhealthy amount of hours on World of Warcraft, obsessing over my dog... There just was something missing. Of course there was, there had to be. It isn't normal to feel like this every day. Exhausted before even waking up. Struggling to get out of bed because it's just going to be another day where I procrastinate the dreams, drudge through the present, and ultimately go to sleep before my body is ready to because I just can't anymore. But the last couple weeks I've been slowly realizing nothing is missing. My depression does this to me. Every day it slowly chips away at my being. That isn't a hyperbole or dumb imagery about the monster depression is literally chomping away at pieces of my happiness. (That was dumb imagery about it though, by the way.) Depression is a fucking bag of dicks that is constantly trying to choke the happiness out of me. I'm on all the medication and have been for a few months now. I go to lots of therapy. I have an appointment with a psychiatrist next week. (One that I was supposed to go to last month but chickened out and didn't show up because... Reasons or something. Anxiety. Yeah, that.) Anyways, back to today's activities,,, These therapy sessions usually go fairly standard. I talk about my feelings. He ties the way my brain works back to life experiences. Analyzes how my reaction to certain things can be improved or conversely reaffirms my healthy reactions. Occasionally he will play a guided meditation from the youtube and talk about the importance of meditation and concentrating on the breath. Today though... Today I told him what I needed to talk about. Two realizations I've had in the last few weeks about behavior I would like to change, if it's possible. Behavior that I know affects my relationships that mean something to me. The first: I have constant negative thoughts about myself. Like all day. It's all negative up between my ears. My inner voice which is often sarcastic, bitter, and generally disparaging toward society has turned on me. Now I'm being sarcastic about my body, about my ability to converse, I've developed a slight stutter out of no where because I am constantly trying to get out the billion thoughts going on in my brain, my eyes are struggling to make contact with any one on one conversation I have with a person, and I put myself down constantly. "Hey fatty, why don't you get up and walk instead of leveling your Troll Warrior on WoW." "Girl. Know your body. Those pants look like fucking shit on your body. You can barely button them up. You can't button up any of your pants anymore because of how fat you've gotten." "You could hide before with your long hair. Your hair is so short now everyone can see how round your face is, how greasy your skin gets by the end of the day. They literally can see the oil glistening on your face." "Did you really think that bright red lipstick was a good idea? Now they are drawn to your face instead of away from it, Idiot." "Why did you post that on facebook? No one cares what you think. You're so fucking dumb with your liberal angst. Just get over yourself." "Delete that post. Delete it. People are going to call you on your bull shit You are so dumb. You dropped out of art school. You didn't even go to a real college. People don't think your opinion matters. What have you done? Published a book on amazon? So has everyone's rando cousin Greg. That doesn't make you special." "Oh, by the way, that 'novel' is a piece of garbage. I'm surprised they are still even allowing it to be sold. If it weren't digital they would burn it. It shouldn't be read by anyone. Just... Just go hide in a corner so no one can be disgusted with you." This is constant. These are my demons. Often appearance based because I'm actually quite comfortable with who I am personality wise. I have my nerd tendencies and wear them like a badge of honor. I watch too much TV but I'm okay with it because it makes me happy. I log too many hours of WoW, but again, it brings me happiness. I write. I read. I over analyze but I think that helps my writing, or hopefully will one day when I can learn to channel it. Anyways. I was telling, let's call him Rufus, because I want to. Rufus the Therapist told me that depression will cause these negative thoughts plaguing every second of my day. Then he wrote some things on the white board (yes, he has a white board. It is awesome. Don't judge.) about positive existence and how to try and live a happy life. Great. We're getting somewhere. I took notes on my legal pad. We made a plan of action. The second thing I'm not going to talk about today all that much because it is a beast of it's own. "I get too upset about politics and social media and... ALL OF THAT." Probably the exact quote I told Rufus today. Yes. That. The stuff Aunt Janice says. The "articles" people share from Fox News, Conservative Daily, I HATE OBAMA FAN PAGE, or whatever. The click bait from the bacteria filled pool of polarized politics, the lures geared to enrage the liberal populous that I am the mayor of. That stuff bothers me. No, it doesn't bother me... It enrages me. I shut down. I see red. I have no emotional tether to reason most of the time. That isn't productive for anyone. Me especially. Because I have to interact with humanity on a daily basis. Especially since I live in the bible belt. I don't have the luxury of hiding in the blue sea of the PNW where I was raised. I am in the part of the united states once identified as the confederacy. Heritage Not Hate banners are everywhere. Confederate Flags that back home mean instant racism down here are worn as a badge of honor. It's confusing for me. I grew up in a liberal's wet dream. It seems that way to me now anyway since I literally have had multiple people (especially since the election) tell me all about how the "Libtards" are scum, etc. At work. To my face. The stories I can tell could... They are bad. People are bad. It's overwhelming. But, like I said, I'm not going to write about that today because I'm still figuring that mess out. I'll write about it down the road... But not today. Today I'm writing about my depression and the task my therapist gave me. To keep a positive journal. "Write down three positive things that happen each day." Or how about I don't do that and whither away in my depression hole until I have alienated all of my loved ones. How about that? How does that sound? Obviously I'm going to try the positive journal thing. I'm going to put it in blog form. Because it gives me an excuse to write. It gives me an excuse to post. It gives me an excuse... To emote.

That's what it boils down to. Just writing this today, spur of the moment, transforming a rant about depression into a post about what I'm doing to combat the monster (or trying to anyways) is something. It's something. So today my three positive things are as follows:

1. I had a dude legitimately stalk me in the grocery store this afternoon. He followed me around corners. I thought it was a joke at first but he kept following me. I was texting my best friend, as I do all hours of the day, telling her about the situation. Sending her a few creeper shots of the rando stalking me like prey. But then he kept literally following me. All he had was a giant water bottle and a pack of toilet paper. He followed me down the dairy aisle on the far wall, the cereal aisle, the back of the store to get my ground turkey, the produce section... So obviously I doubled back to make sure I wasn't being crazy. THEN HE STARTED CREEPING AROUND CORNERS. SEEING IF I WAS STILL LOOKING AT HIM. I'm not even joking, it was some crazy shit going on. So. I told the front counter. I stood my ground, took pictures of him on my phone, and told management that they needed to address the issue. Pointed him out as he blatantly walked by YET AGAIN because he was following me. Normally I would have talked myself out of being bold and talking to store associates, chalking it up to be my paranoia and nothing more (who would want to stalk me, anyways, Overweight Shayla is dumb. See how I'm tying it back to those negative thoughts in my brain? Yeah. Anyways.) Plus, I knew I could take him if it really came down to it. My handy dandy pepper spray combined with my foot to penis kicking skills would come in handy. So, while that wasn't the most ideal situation, the fact that I addressed it, alerted those around me, and risked looking like a paranoid freak, I did it. I got over it. And when I boldly pointed him out he dropped what he was carrying and went in the opposite direction, so obviously he was up to some shenanigans. Anyways. Positive thing one: Alerting store management about a creeper and not being embarrassed to do so.

2. I told my therapist about my negative thoughts, and I guess the internet void now since I wrote this post. I've never really told anyone about the self esteem battle to the death going on in my brain until today. I've always tried to show myself in a light that I am confident, strong, independent, and I don't need anyone to tell me any different. When inside I am literally crumbling. I have been for some time now. Those closest have probably known about my deteriorating mental state for some time, but I'm finally being more transparent about it and trying to actively knock it off. So I think it is important to acknowledge these realizations and tell my therapist about them so we can make a plan together to kick some ass and knock that shit off right now.

3. My third positive is creating this blog. I was just going to keep a paper journal but I'm excited to see where this goes. Whether I share it with my social media, keep it just for myself, or whatever. I am just happy to have somewhere I can go daily to type out a few sentences, rant about whatever is bothering me, or just tell a story. I have this space. It is my own.

Anyways, since this is the first official post of The Shaylaverse I would like to welcome all of you readers (if there are any of you) to a little slice of me. I like movies, reading, writing, being lazy, television, WoW, discussing all of the above, Star Wars, telling stories, hiking, my dog, etc. I don't know if etc. applies here since I'm not sure what etc. is in regards to a list of things I like... Because I like a lot of things. 10-4. Over and out. Or something? Who knows. The first post is done. Goodbye.