Some Great Spikol Columns

This has been sitting in draft for a while. It's a list of some great the "The trouble With Spikol" columns from the distant past, starting as far back as I could on the Philadelphia weekly website:

The Big Cure, Part IV
Say It Ain't So
In My Head
My Damn Ovary!
The Road Home
We're Still Stigmatized
Chase Your Care Away

"The Big Cure, Part IV" is as far back as I can go, which is disappointing to me. Where's parts I through III? Where, dammit?!

I Like Colororing!

I don't mean to make this site nothing but despressive humor but, dammit, I keep finding all these good examples. Today's comes from the web comic Sam and Fuzzy:

A nihilistic paint by numbers wouldn't contain any numbers, though. Because what's the point?

I Don't Want to Hear Any MS Bashing...

Awesome as hell. From the Uncyclopedia's article on suicide.

"Whither Thine Posts?"

...so asks my more eloquent of readers, all of whom exist solely in my mind.

Honestly, I've been feeling overwhemled by post-worthy material and flush with exhaustion. My 9-5 retail job has me wasted every day, and the side effects from my self-adjusted dose of effexor has me nearly hypomanic early in the day and then sleepy and tired in the evening. I've been sleeping 10 to 11 hours a night, which, since I have little to occupy my free time, hasn't been so bad at all. It's just you, the hypothetical blog readers that suffer.

I've also been avoiding writing about a girl I like... mostly because the topic is so jumbled and confusing and involved and because it's an issue that has been ongoing for the past three plus months and even just thinking about what I'd need to write to get it all out is exhausting.

Let's call her Lucy (not her real name). I'm absolutely crazy about her and the feeling is quite mutual. I haven't felt this way about anyone in over 7 years.

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Too bad she's fucking married.

That's all I'm going to say for now.

But what's my blogging score?

Apparently, it's a slow time for science, as now there's been a study to find out just what the hell kind of person writes a blog anyway?

A team of scientists, led by psychologist Rosanna Guadagno from the University of Alabama, wondered what personality traits made some people more likely than others to write blogs. To answer these questions, Guadagno and her colleagues used the Big Five personality inventory test to measure five key personality traits in college students who write blogs.

The common traits for bloggers, it seems, is an openness to new experience and neuroticism.

Hardly one to go against the word of science, I took the test myself to figure out whether or not I should be writing this at all. My scores:

Extraversion: 1
Your score on Extraversion is low, indicating you are introverted, reserved, and quiet. You enjoy solitude and solitary activities. Your socializing tends to be restricted to a few close friends.

Agreeableness: 80
Your high level of Agreeableness indicates a strong interest in others' needs and well-being. You are pleasant, sympathetic, and cooperative.

Conscientiousness: 24
Your score on Conscientiousness is average. This means you are reasonably reliable, organized, and self-controlled.

Neuroticism: 99
Your score on Neuroticism is high, indicating that you are easily upset, even by what most people consider the normal demands of living. People consider you to be sensitive and emotional.

Openness to Experience: 15
Your score on Openness to Experience is low, indicating you like to think in plain and simple terms. Others describe you as down-to-earth, practical, and conservative.

I don't agree with that description for "openness to experience." The score, totally, but with my crazy-ass hair I can't see how anyone could consider me to be conservative.

I can't say I find the results clear cut on whether or not I should keep writing, but with that neuroticism score I think I could probably get away with writing a few more posts.

How to Talk to Someone Who Is Depressed

From one of my favorite web comics, Basic Instructions.

Hypnotherapy?

During our last session, my therapist suggested that hypnotherapy might be something worth trying. I tend to "space out" often in session, which, he says, is indicative of hypnotic ability.

The idea really scares me. Though he assures me that this isn't at all the case, at the very mention of hypnotism I felt an intense fear of losing control.

Not that I expect anyone to be reading this blog, but I'd be interested in hearing some personal experiences with this.

I know how much I have trouble relaxing as it is, and with the extra tension the mere idea of hypnotherapy caused me, I have doubts about it working.

Is Life Worth Living?

(Warning: Melodrama Ahead.)

This week's therapy session was a doozy.

I began the session by talking about my feelings on how therapy was going, because it occurred to me that the last few times had been rather scattershot in approach (mostly because I directed them that way). I think this sort of rambling about everything and nothing is how my therapy experiences have always gone, which is maybe a big reason why I've never made any progress in the past 7+ years.

I also noted that I'd been failing miserably at the exercises and homework assignments he's been giving me. I have so much trouble even doing something as simple as breathing exercises. He agreed that I wasn't doing this on purpose, and he asked me why I thought I had so much trouble.

This brought us to the question that titles this post: Is life worth living?

Always in the back of my mind, since even before I started receiving treatment, the answer has been "no." For me, the problem is a lack of any and all hope—hope that my life will get better, hope that I'll overcome my issues with anxiety and depression, hope that I'll have friends, a decent job, a girlfriend, and, you know, all the things that make life worthwhile, all the things other people strive for.

The thing is, my life has always sucked. I've struggled with these same problems of depression and anxiety for as long as I can remember. I don't have any kind of life other than this one to refer to. When I think about the future, all I can see is more of the same.

(To be continued...)

Things that are Difficult for Me

1) Swimming
According to the story I was told, I used to enjoy swimming when I was young until one day at a pool several older kids decided they were going to "help me" learn to swim by holding me under water. I don't have any personal recollection of this. What I do know is that I don't know how to swim and couldn't do so to save my life. The deep end scares me.

1a) Showering
Yes, I do shower daily. But I can't stand directly under the water—my face must stay out until I'm actually ready to wash it. Even then I only move my head in far enough so my face is only just grazed by the falling water. Sometimes I'll hold my hands up in front of me in an effort to deflect the water onto my face. Getting water in my eyes and ears scares me. Instead of being something enjoyable, showering is more like being defiled. I feel like what I imagine a cat feels when someone decides to give a cat a bath.

2) Wearing Bright Clothing, Patterns, or Logos
My working theory is that, as a child, to defend myself from being made fun of for how I'm dressed, I learned to dress as plainly and as unassumingly as possible to try and not stand out. Or, as an ex once put it, I dress boring. On top of this, if I try to not put in an effort, if I try not to care about what I wear then when people do make fun of me it won't hurt as much because, hey, I don't give a shit anyway.

Clothing is my armor and I always have to be on guard. I never know when I might get attacked, physically or visually.

2a) Clothes Shopping
As much as I try not to care, I have to in order to maintain some kind of wardrobe, even a boring one. I try to avoid buy new clothes as much as I can. I have no "nice" or "dress" clothes and I wear clothes over and over until they are ragged. Only after my current clothing options become unwearable will I go purchase new ones.

2b) Halloween
Me? Wear a costume? Fuck no. And it makes no difference if everyone else is in costume. The same forces behind every day dress apply here. Wearing a halloween costume is difficult because to do so means I have to make a choice about what I'm going to be and the result is visual and plain for anyone to see. And letting people see my choices means leaving myself open for judgment and attack. Even something as minor as what halloween costume I decide to wear is to allow a small piece of myself out in the open, free for all to tread upon.

Of course, going to a halloween party as the only one not in costume is just as awful. It's lose a lose situation.

3) Grocery Shopping
I'm not sure where this particular fear came from, but I find myself afraid of what people think of what I'm putting into the cart. Granted, I don't have the best diet, but it's not like I eat nothing but junk either. Going to the store during the weekend has the added bonus of being crowded, which tends to make me panicky. My goal at the grocery store is always the same: to get in and out as fast as I can. I know what I'm getting before I get there and where to find it. There's no such thing as browsing. On occasion I'll get stuck in thought about something, but that only increases the anxiety.

It is happening more and more frequently that I'll make a snap decision and get something I hadn't originally planned on. But be fooled into thinking I'm more comfortable in the situatiion. My choices, whether sudden or premeditated, have distinct boundaries. It's like I have a master shopping list in my head of things that are "safe" to buy. It's only under extreme circumstances that I'll deviate from it.

Checking out is difficult too. I push the cart back and forth in front of the different lanes at least twice before deciding where I should go. I'm less concerned about how long the line is than I am about who is at the register. I always avoid attractive women. Males are preferred.

Back home, I always carry all the bags, all at once. The strain on my arms and hands and the thought that I must look ridiculous is still somehow better than making a second trip out to the car.

4) Exercising
Growing up, it seemed that the only thing that mattered to other kids was sports. Sports, sports, sports. Gym class, recess, before and after school, teams and leagues. You were nothing without sports and I was certainly nothing to the other kids, having always been overweight and without any inclination towards athletics. I want to get in shape, but going to a gym or student rec center only results in panic attacks. I could do something in my apartment, as long as I close all the blinds and everything (yes, even though I live on the second floor), but with a downstairs neighbor I'm always afraid of what kind of racket I'd make with any kind of exercise. There's always running, walking, or bicycling but then I feel like I'm a spectacle. ("Look at fatty run!")

5) The Telephone
Sure, we might have exchanged phone numbers but for some reason I can't connect this with the idea that you might actually want me to call sometime. I know that getting a phone number from someone should be conclusive evidence but that just can't compare to the sheer terror of actually picking up the phone. A similar terror arises in less personal situations, like calling a doctor's office, a business, and pretty much everything else. Some phone calls require hours of getting psyched up. And for many calls I need to have some kind of mental script prepared in advance—what I'm going to say and how I'm going to say it. Every day is a performance.

6) Staying in Touch
Please, don't take it personally. It's not that I'm trying to snub you or anything. Actually, I wish I'd gotten to know you better. you seemed like a cool person, we got along just fine, and maybe we even hung out a few times. But something happened. Life butted in and either I moved far away or you moved far away and now the only way we can connect is through email or the telephone. I have a list, inscribed in my brain, of people I wish I'd gotten to know better. It's a list of pure regret.

As ridiculous as it is, I have trouble believing that I exist for people when I'm not around. The idea that someone might think of me or talk about me without me being physically present feels like pure fantasy. Once, years ago, an I-sorta-kinda-know-you-from-the-few-times-we've-spent-together-while-hanging-out-within-a-larger-group-of-people friend told me, "I miss you." I was flabbergasted. I just sat there dumb with no clue how to respond. It wasn't even two hours later that the memory fogged over and I wasn't sure if I'd just dreamed it.

So I'm sorry for not calling or emailing. It's just that I figure I don't exist for you anymore.

7) Remembering
It's frightening and sad how bad I am at forming long term memories. Looking back on my life is much like the visual effects of atmospheric perspective: The farther away I get, the memory loses more and more contrast and focus until it's indistinct from the empty, open sky. I have a few moments here and there but that's all they are—moments without context or chronology. Just snapshots of half-faded dreams.

I can't say I think this is a bad thing.

8) Forgetting
Every time I've been hurt, every time I've made a mistake, and every time something bad happens, even if it's something I merely perceive as bad, the memory lodges itself in my skull. Sure, given long enough they eventually join the fog with all my other memories, but they stick around long after their welcome is over. There are events from over nine years ago, incredibly minor ones, that still manage to worm their way back into my conscious thoughts today.

Not that I Believe He Exists, but...

"If God has a sense of humor I'm pretty sure he thinks my life is funny." —saveyoursanity

A Helpful Resource on Emotions

It's EQI.org. I'm not exactly sure what the "EQI" stands for, but the site is primarily about emotional intelligence. ("EIQ" would make sense to me—"emotional intelligence quotient"—but EQI? Emotional quotient intelligence?)

Especially interesting is the page on invalidation, where I found some lengthy excerpts taken from this page on hiving advice:

Then there's the other side of the coin...the friends who do not know what to say and do, so, they avoid their friend altogether...the friend in pain. Well, you don't need to say or do anything...just 'be there' for them. They do not expect special words and solutions....they only want to know you care.

They know that not all of their friends are poetic, graceful with words...know 'just what to say'....this isn't a contest of who can make them feel the best. They just want to know you care...that you will merely listen, if they need to talk. And believe me, even if you don't think so at the moment, if you have a hard time facing your friend, you can get a little blank note card and just put the words 'you are in my thoughts' and that is enough...it does show you care. Send it to them. No one ever expects anything 'fancy' or 'just the right thing to say'....please believe that.

Basically, for me, I just need to talk...or type....just 'get it out'...then I can look at it, process it, deal with it, begin the healing, and move on. The very best words a friend can ever say to me is "I'm here for you if you just need to talk". My close friends know that I am not coming to them for answers.....I just need to talk it out ....hear myself say it....

...

Why is it that when a person feels momentarily sad, their friends think it's their cue to stop them from feeling and grieving? Who in the world told them that was healthy? When did they become an expert at how long a person should grieve, and feel, and cry and remember? And just because I do cry from time to time over something, that does not mean that for the rest of my life, each and every day, I will sit and cry, just like this, forever....and that I have ruined my life....forever. Allow me to be sad, just as you would welcome and allow me to be happy....I need it.

My telling someone of an event or something that I am going through, does not mean it's their cue to try to 'solve my problem'...I didn't ask for advice or ask how to grieve.

...

You may help them, upon hearing them explain their situation, to even agree that 'you can understand how and why they would feel that way', even if YOUR OWN thoughts are different...try to understand the way THEY are seeing it.

To your friend, all of what they are feeling is very real and very painful....it's affecting their life.

As a great friend, all you need to do is just lend a listening ear....'be there' for them....don't try to make them look at it differently. If that needs to be done, they will do it on their own, you can't rush it. They have to see their OWN way through.

If you take it as your cue to minimize their situation, 'make excuses' for their enemies, or the ones who are hurting them and causing them grief, what you are now doing is making them feel defensive .....they already feel bad enough, but now they have to further frustrate the situation by defending their feelings and emotions to you.

So, while they try, once again, to tell you why they are hurting, you have just sent them on a detour of the path they are on....now they have to get it all past YOU. And, not only are they upset at the original situation, now they feel alienated and unsupported by you....their friend...the person they just needed to talk to.

Okay, so I'm still bothered by the email exchange with my friend.

An Email Exchange: On Giving Advice

Aug 7, 2008 at 10:24 PM, AA wrote:

...while I know you're just trying to help me and that you mean the best, I feel angry and frustrated when reading your advice. I mean, I haven't specifically asked for any. I know it's hard to listen to other people's problems and not try to help solve them—I saw many different people learn that lesson in every single quarter of group therapy—but all I want is someone to talk to. There are no answers for anything.

Aug 8, 2008 at 10:08 AM, Friend of AA replied:

I am an optimist. I see the silver lining 90% of the time. I know sometimes that people find this annoying, but when I cannot see the silver lining then I know it is time for me to make changes. Lately, I have been having problems--headaches, stress, etc. And it is only through the nuggets of advice from friends that I have gotten any calming thoughts. Because I am dependent on such advice, I think other people are too.

You are a friend. I care about you. And that is where giving advice comes from-- I just plain dont want to see you upset/sad/stressed. I am sorry that I said things that were frustrating and in the future I will try to stick to advice-free phrases such as 'that sucks' and 'im sorry'.

So I'll admit that I was in a pretty bad mood when I wrote that bit about getting advice. While I think the bad mood is definitely apparent, I haven't changed my stance on anything I said.

My friend's reply makes me angry and frustrated just as if she'd sent me more advice. I feel like she's given me two options: either I hear her advice of I get superficial responses of "that sucks" and "I'm sorry." Is there no in-between? And with either option I don't really get any kind of discussion or conversation—both have the likely unintended consequence of dismissing me and my problems.

Maybe I expect too much from her. Maybe I expect too much out of friendships in general.

Brain Zaps of the Future

And I feel like this is my just desserts for having issues with anxiety.

Several months ago I found myself at one of those major life junctures—I graduated from a master's program—and I had to say goodbye to the therapist and psychiatrist I had been seeing through school to start fresh with a new ones.

The new therapist was easy enough to find and start seeing. Hell, I was able to start seeing this guy the week after I called. The psychiatrist front was different though. I was given a few names by my brand spanking new therapist to try but, for some reason, anxiety got in the way and I put off making the simple phone calls.

And now I'm at the point where I have a little more than a month's worth of meds left—my last psychiatrist gave me three month's worth to give me the time to find a new doctor—and I still don't have a new doctor lined up. Of course, all the doctors I've now been trying are scheduling two or three months in advance.

So here's where I am, sitting here typing away with brain zaps faintly nipping at the edges of my body. I'm spacing out my doses, taking not even half of my prescribed regimen, with the hopes that I can survive till an appointment that still doesn't exist. Maybe I'll try seeing a general practitioner to get new scripts to tide me over till then.

But really, I just want off of all these meds—Effexor, Wellbutrin, and Lamictal. I've been on them for over seven years and I don't even know what I'd be like without them, which makes the idea of getting off of them scary. They were really helpful when I started them but, let's face it, I'm still depressed and anxious and wondering vaguely if I'd be better off dead. And the side effects I'm having from all these drugs—major sweating, light headedness, weight gain, receding gums, sexual dysfunction in several flavors, and more—make sane life look pretty damned unattractive.

I'm tempted to not even bother with a new psychiatrist, to just go alone and taper off everything at once using the last month of meds at my disposal. I know this would be disastrous, but I still have trouble imagining any kind of better life after all these years. Something does need to change.