March 15, 2019

dabbling in hay

I feel like I'm skirting the edge of something dangerous here.  Like trying acid once, or thrill-roller-blading around the edge of an active volcano, just for shits.  This could go bad, and quickly.

I trust my therapist.  That alone should be enough to shake the earth.  I trust him so much that I'm willing to try positive thinking to combat something that is plaguing my life.

Somebody I spend a significant amount of time with is working my last nerve.  No, it isn't P.J.  She couldn't work my nerves like this if she tried.  (Okay, that isn't true, but the effort made would be staggering and would probably need to involve bagpipes and yellow mustard and really bad soprano soloists.)

I suspect that most of this development has to do with my own movement on the spectrum toward significant introversion, which has resulted in that cycle where I pull away and the other person makes aggressive attempts to keep me from pulling away, unwelcome overtures, which makes me pull away even more and become cold and unfriendly and coals-heaped-on-head silent.  It's become so awful that all of the tiny things that I used to be able to filter out now twang on my brain strings.  Stupid, trivial things. 

I swear to Dog, if positive thinking moves me one mere inch toward falling into the Louise Hay volcano ... I don't know how to finish that threat.  Maybe I shouldn't threaten at all.  Maybe I should beg for an intervention.  Watch for the signs.  I'll start painting outdoors and wearing gauzy yellow and orange and surrounding myself with Himalayan salt lamps so their ion fields will conduct energy.

Wait.  Shit.  I already have a salt lamp and also a salt lamp night light, which I fucking love, but only because they look cool, okay?  Glad we clarified that.

Where were we?  Right.  Positive thinking, specifically in the form of gratitude.  Gumby thinks that if I combat a negative thought with an intentionally positive one, no matter how hokey, it might help me stop circling the drain and make things at least bearable.  Bearable is good.  Moving back toward having some sort of filter in place would be ten thousand times better.  I'll take anything.  That's why I'm willing to do this, to find things I can be grateful for and state them out loud mentally.

(I wonder what would happen if I just said them out loud.  That would be most interesting.)


Here is an example of a positive thought I made myself think today:

Thing That Happened:  Notification went off for person on cell phone.  It is loud.  It is the same stupid ringtone that sounds like a piano and lasts a billion years and person refuses to turn down volume and it feels like water torture.

Thing I Thought:  I am thankful that it is not a Mynah bird ringtone, or, worse, an owl.


I'm not going to excel at this, am I?

I also realized today that I am terrified that the person will brace me about this, all hurt and wanting to clear the gravy-thick air, and I don't have an answer prepared, a glib, well-rehearsed deflection guaranteed to avert conflict.  Right now, I'm poised to sit with my mouth open, unable to answer for fear of unloading a litany of grievances like a Tyvek duffel bag full of shuriken.  I can't find the words.  Any writing prowess deserts me in the face of incurable honesty and the fear of confrontation.  Confrontation is almost as terrifying as suddenly being unable to wield my best weapon, my only weapon, my writing, my words.

My only hope is in combating negativity.  It might help.  I am grateful for that.

5 comments:

  1. Negative :- phone goes off with loud ringtone
    Positive :- I'm very glad I didn't shove it up where the sun doesn't shine - (OH!! I must read Pratchett immediately - [it's a place in Splice, an area in Lancre, high in the Ramptop Mountains, where, obviously,the sun doesn't shine...]) :)


    I don't 'do' confrontation either - not for myself, if it was for the Princess, mountains wouldn't be able to get in my way - same with you and the kid.

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  2. Oh my god. That Louise Hay reminds me of the Dove Promises. I'll tell you what, the fucking shit inside of those chocolate wrappers almost make them not worth eating. I can't NOT read them because I apparently only have OCD in that area. They're always like, "You deserve a you day" and "Indulge yourself." They strike me as markety and pandering and vaguely sexist. In defiance, Hannah and I wrote our own. Now, whenever I read "Have a midnight snack" I replace it in my mind with "Get yourself some good cock" or "We're all going to die, why not eat more chocolate." And then instead of making me angry, it makes me laugh.
    Don't underestimate the power of replacing a hellishly positive platitude with something more personally palatable. It can be as evil as you want, as long as it works. Pretty sure you don't have to worry about turning into a sunshiny, trite, walleyed 90-year-old. LOL

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    1. That is the most reassuring thing anyone has said to me in a long, long time. :) I want that inside of a Dove wrapper, but the writing would have to be really small. "Don't worry, you won't ever be a sunshiny, trite, walleyed 90-year-old tart." Hearts and flowers.

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