Rocket based anxiety and more cats.

I like stumbleupon

I like this article which it kindly threw out into my net-o-sphere for me today; it’s not all about you

It is a good idea, and a good study – I am all for things that may lesson anxiety – but I fear there are many people out there that will not believe it. Or rather, there are so many people out there whose negative thinking habbits will not allow them to believe it.

The problem with anxiety is that it seems to be rooted in negative thinking, so people who suffer from this kind of disorder are self-obsessed in a self depreciating sort of way. Automatic thoughts are common.

To take the example of dropping a drink as used in the above article;

Person without anxiety disorder; OMG I just dropped my drink in my lap. I bet everyone is looking at me and laughing. I feel stupid. *goes to get another drink*

Person with anxiety disorder; OMG I just dropped my drink in my lap. I bet everyone is looking at me and laughing. I feel stupid. I am stupid. Everyone is going to hate me, eveything good I have done ever now counts as useless. I am an ineffectual and pathetic person because I cannot even remind my fingers to grip a drink, talking of fingers, my fingers are much more stupid than everyone elses. Everyone is going to be looking at my stupid fingers and my stupid face and that girls over there looks sad and i think it is because of me..and I bet that the war was because of me and that no-one can get a cardboard rocket to space because I am here and and ohgodIcantbreathe…*is mortified and replays situation in mind for ten years*

Obviously this aboive scenario is an over-dratization and anxiety/depression is not that simplified…similarly, normally, I and other anxious people are aware that we can not single handedley be held responsible for the War/lack of cardboard rockets..but I do worry about it. If you do worry about war/rockets/fingers and your involvement in such things this may help – a site with good stuff about automatic thoughts and anxiety LOTS OF CAPITAL LETTERS!

As may this –

Anxiety UK

It has been a few months since I have had the pleasure of spilling a drink down myself but nonetheless anxiety is still a huge part of my life. I remember when I first began therapy I was given so many graphs promising that the horrible vile feelings of anxiety would not out last my distress and that I would NOT spontaneously combust before I ever felt calm again. Nine years after first seeing one of these graphs I am beginning to understand the theory but the ‘IneedthisfeelingtostopNOW’ is a very difficult to crack. Despite turnig into a vertiable medication chest at various times over the last decade I do think I have made more progress using ACT Therapy as well as DBT Therapy (more about the fun of group therapy experiences to come in other post.) This has all worked better than the drugs for anxiety I have been on, although the drugs provided a short term gratification it was my thinking that needed to alter. I am not stamping on the idea of medication for anxiety as I know when my depression is bad I need them for a chemical kick up the arse but I think there is a tendency to rely on them and therefore to utterly ignore the fact the you feeling like you cause all the bad things that ever happened ever is a slightly misplaced logical leap. 

Today I saw my CPN (community practice nurse) she is lovely and kind enough to come to the house so I can sit in my dressing gown at 9:30 am and moan about my insignificant issues rather than having to complete the death defying task of getting on a bus with other human beans on it. In return for her seeing me looking, frankly sexy, in my Primark dressing gown with unwashed hair I make her a mean cup of coffee with just a tad too much Nescafe. (I like to think of her going to her next appointment on a bit of a high.) She is trying to convince me to begin to volunteer for the Mental Health Board in my county meaning I’d get to help do exciting things like sit in on interviews for new Therapists and pitch ideas for new support groups. I tried to tell her I am too worried about how-much-glue-to-put-on-rockets to use my time constructively but I looked through the paper work she left and it actually looks pretty exciting. (I also like the idea of conferences, mostly because they may provide biscuits and free pens. Biscuits and Biro’s are the way to my heart.)

I like my CPN a lot. I know that for me working out what sort of therapy works best for me has been massive to my recovery. For instance talking for hours about all the stuff that happened years and years ago does not help me deal with it, it just makes me sad and weepy and liable to isolate myself for everyone so I can hide in a pit of duvet and cake crumbs and feel sorry for myself. Clever words about the Pros and Cons of Psychotherapy

Hidehidehidehide

It feels a bit lame that therapy is something I could talk about for a long time but I DO think it is Very Important that people who do go to Shrinks and Doctors and Therapists know that they have a choice in what treatment they get. There is no shame in needing help and it is more than okay to squeeze the best you can out of that help – all the professionals are there for you and to not exploit all their learning, thoughts and help is counterproductive. It is a bit like microwaving an ice cream cake, you are just not going to get the best from it if you do not follow the instructions on the box. (Eat from freezers, with spoon all to yourself.)

I’m going to draw some pictures. I will be back later.

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