Processing

My therapist pointed out that when I see her, I’m really good at being in my head and not in my feelings.

I think I’m like that nearly always, which is part of my depression. I’ve learned to disconnect head and feelings, which hurts–but it hurts less than being in my feelings. When I’m in my feelings, I hurt. When I’m not, it’s…numb-hurt, muted hurt.

I think part of it getting worse is that I don’t have a way to dive into a thing anymore. I used to do that with school. School was a Thing In Which I Could Progress, a thing in which I could immerse myself and be surrounded by all these other voices–current and past, living and dead. I could excel in school because I could put all my focus there and none on myself. It felt good. And I was still doing something ‘appropriate’ and ‘worthy.’

Then I fucked it up.

My final semester of seminary, I TAed for a class. I was also supposed to be signed up to take the course for credit, but I didn’t realize that. I’d been given conflicting information: told that if I was signed up for credit, I couldn’t TA, told that if I got paid I couldn’t get credit, told I could get credit in place of getting paid, told I had to get paid even if I was getting credit. All of these things came from different people, and I tried to fact-check myself, and got what I thought was an answer, so I followed it…but it turned out not to be right.

At the end of the semester–after I’d already been given my school’s highest scholastic award, and after I’d already accepted payment for the TA position (and been in almost every class for that position, as well as my regularly scheduled classes, and written my thesis)–I found out that I either shouldn’t have received credit or shouldn’t have been paid. But if I didn’t receive credit, I couldn’t graduate, and my award would have to be taken away–and the school thought I’d well earned it.

I almost wish they’d taken it away and given it to someone else, because knowing what I know now…I want to give all the money back, but of course it was already spent on groceries/bills.

Anyway, there’s part of me that feels like I don’t deserve to go on to get my PhD/ThD, because I fucked that up.

And because school has always been a ‘safe space’for me in terms of being able to hide…with that option seemingly lost to me, I feel at loose ends. I’m not sure there’s anything out there for me. So…I don’t know what to do.

I wish I could fix it.

I did apologize, so much.

I was told it wasn’t my fault. I feel like it is.

I don’t know what to do.

Advertisements

6 thoughts on “Processing

    1. Thanks. I try to remember that. And no one was mean to me about it; they all consider the matter to be closed, etc. It’s just a part of my depression that I can’t let it go, and I don’t know how to move on from it.

      Like

  1. We all make many mistakes love. To human is to be imperfect.

    We have to live with our mistakes and karma will exact the price to be paid. But mistakes are the past and the future is the unknown land. So we are left with the present in which to be our best.

    Some mistakes are of lasting regret to me.

    My beautiful youngest son died and I was not even there to help him. I was half a world away interviewing for my “dream” job. He called me the day before and sounded sad. I told him not to feel down and that if I got this job I’d bring him with me for a vacation. At the end of the call he sounded better and wished me luck. That night he took an overdose of some medicine the doctor gave him to help him sleep better. He was 21. I was offered the job the next day.

    I felt numb for the longest time. Like it was not a real thing. Except it was – the funeral, the cremation, his ashes in a small casket. My big beautiful son gone.

    Somehow slowly I came to realization that if he could wish anything for me it would be to live the rest of my life in a way that honored his memory. So I did – try at least. I wish I could claim it was a steady climb to feeling better, but it wasn’t. Some days (like his birthday) still feel like the day I learned he died. It really hurts then. But knowing I can’t change the past helps as does wanting to be better. I’ll keep trying to be that and live the best life I can.

    I hope you too can accept your faults and realize we don’t love you any less for it.

    Fin

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Thank you. I have a really hard time accepting my faults, and an even harder time not placing others’ blame on myself.

    I’m really sorry about your son. I don’t have any other words for that, but I can offer *hugs* if you would like them. And thank you for sharing, too.

    Like

  3. Thanks for the hug. I never shared that before, but I could feel such sadness and hurt in your post and I wanted you know you were not alone in feeling at fault.

    It is a narrow path to tread. To be aware of ones failings is good – because to become better requires knowing what to improve. But it is also easy to fall into self recrimination which then can result in us falling into despair and doing wrong under the justification that we are already “bad”.

    As for others – how can you satisfy every desire and expectation they may have ? Those are endless. One could change everything about who we are and they would still be unsatisfied. Better to develop love for yourself and you will find others will find more to love about you too.

    Fin

    Liked by 1 person

  4. True. For me–it’s not so much a changing of who I am as a hiding and minimizing of who I am. I withdraw and pull in as tight as I can, because I’m afraid of the ridicule of being seen, and the potential for rejection like what I suffered at my parents’ hands.

    I can talk about social justice all day long, but eventually I stop, because it gets too close to ‘me’–and then I have to go away, get out, stop. I can’t let anyone get too close. I’m just terrified of what might happen.

    It’s hard to love myself when the people who were supposed to love me from birth didn’t really. I haven’t given myself a chance that way.

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s