Petrichor, Interrupted

On Thursday I finished Week 3 of my intensive Dialectical Behaviour Therapy class. Two more fucking weeks of 12 hours of therapy to go. I spent the first two weeks simmering in resentment that I was there, which didn’t make sense at all because it’s not like anybody was forcing me to go. The classes have been useful but it’s pretty hard to get much out of it when you also have to hold down a full-time job, and do overtime on top of it.  The classmates who appear to be making the most improvement are the ones who are currently not working, and so who have the time to think about what we’ve learned inbetween lessons.

The best thing about the classes is the other women. It’s nice knowing that there are women out there with similar issues to my own. The most surprsing thing I’ve learned is that my mother is apparently a secret Asian-American tiger mom. There are, bizarrely, three Asian-American women in the class (a surprisingly high number given there are only six of us in total) and all of them had the clichéd over-involved, smothering, driven Asian mother. I might not be Asian-American but, boy, can I relate. I think I need to write a whole other post about mothers and how they fuck their daughters up. I could be wrong, but it doesn’t seem like fathers fuck up their sons quite so badly.

The woman who runs the group thinks that I have some sort of rapid cycling mood disorder. I don’t think my psychiatrist believes her (I think she still thinks I’ve got Borderline Personality Disorder), but she put me on Seroquel anyway, which is a fucking anti-psychotic (!) used to treat schizophrenia initially but now also bipolar disorder. One of the major side-effects of taking an anti-psychotic is weight gain. I swear to God if I put on so much as a pound I’m coming off that shit. I’d rather be crazy and beautiful than sane and ugly. Yeah, I’m superficial, so sue me.

My life revolves around work and therapy, so there is not much else to write about. I saw RG last weekend. He was four days “sober” at that point, if you can call replacing alcohol with shits loads of weed “sober”. I’ll spare you the details but we didn’t even shag and he still managed to make me feel like a worthless piece of shit. I’m done with him. His number’s erased and, even though I could technically look it up in my AT&T online phone records, I know I won’t. If he contacts me I might respond. Honestly, I just don’t care anymore. I feel that I had to go through a “men phase” and that I’m out of it now. The Chilean-American dude I half-assed dated seemed nice, but even he has issues/baggage, and I can’t be bothered dealing with them.

The main point of Dialectical Behaviour Therapy is to teach you the skills to deal with your crazy emotions/moods without fucking up your life and alienating people around you. One of the skills is called “checking the facts”. For example, earlier today I felt so incredibly lonely and I started to imagine that I would feel this way forever.  This is the point when you’re supposed to be, like, “Woah, woah, woah, girl! That’s catastrophic thinking. Snap out of it!”. The only problem for me is that I can’t remember a time when I haven’t been lonely, and it really is hard to imagine that one day I’ll feel whole, happy and connected to people around me. Loneliness has been my constant companion since the age of seven, and it feels like it’s almost a part of me now. How the fuck can I “check the facts” and believe that things will be different when, for almost thirty-five years, they’ve always been the same?


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10 thoughts on “Petrichor, Interrupted

  1. Pandora Viltis November 4, 2012 at 2:07 pm Reply

    Motherhood is such a loaded thing. I know mine seriously screwed me and my siblings up. But if you ask her, my mom would say she was perfect.

    • petrichoric November 17, 2012 at 10:59 pm Reply

      Yeah, my mum would probably say the same thing. I imagine it must be hard for a woman to admit she was lacking in the motherhood department. Like you say, it’s such a loaded thing.

  2. williamx November 5, 2012 at 10:16 am Reply

    For some reason I love this post and am encouraged by it. I get that old lonely feeling too and it is a . . . problem. I don’t know if there is a solution other than try and focus on the positive things around you while remembering everyone dies alone anyway so it’s not soo bad . . . but at least you’ve got some real chance and getting right in the head. Seems like to me.

    • petrichoric November 17, 2012 at 11:00 pm Reply

      Glad you liked the post, williamx. Yeah, hopefully things will be better in my life now that I’m working on myself a bit more.

  3. cathtravelsandteaches November 5, 2012 at 2:59 pm Reply

    I had the same issue!!! In fact, a few of us in my group DBT did. when you’re in that state it’s like “when the feck haven’t I felt like this?” which in turn makes you spiral even more. It’s a stupid solution, but it works for me… sometimes… write yourself a letter when you’re having a good day (they do show up occasionally – even when you’re working 60 hour weeks with night classes) and go back and read it when you’re in a down. Or I’m a listmaker, so I do the “10 things that matter more than feeling like shit right now” list.
    Those are probably the only two real solutions I got out of DBT, other than “Just go with the feelings at the time, and analyse them later”.

    • petrichoric November 17, 2012 at 11:01 pm Reply

      Yeah, you’re totally right about writing yourself a letter when you’re having a good day. It is important to remind yourself that life is not always lonely and dark. As cheesy as it sounds, it’s important to be grateful for the small things.

  4. arekino November 8, 2012 at 12:35 pm Reply

    Hey interrupted one , nice to see you.

    it doesn’t seem like fathers fuck up their sons quite so badly.

    I’m sure some of them manage to do so.

    she put me on Seroquel anyway

    What’s that like? Being on medication? Are the colors more vivid or something?

    • petrichoric November 17, 2012 at 11:03 pm Reply

      Ha, no, antipsychotics do not make the colours more vivid. 🙂

  5. xul November 8, 2012 at 6:14 pm Reply

    I would definitely like to read a post about how mothers fuck up their daughters. My mother was definitely a tiger mom before someone even came up with that label. It’s all about them and the child being a direct reflection of them as a parent. Fun, isn’t it?

    • petrichoric November 17, 2012 at 11:03 pm Reply

      Maybe we should both write a Tiger Mom post? I bet they would end up sounding scarily similar.

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