Blessed

I often repeat myself. I do it in therapy. There seems to be themes or "kicks" I go on. One theme that continual arises is that of positivity. Like, when did negative thinking every help anyone out of a bind? I think some people are addicted to feeling like crap. It's such a crucial part of their identity and way of getting pitiful attention, that even if they could give it up, they wouldn't. 

I have an awesome co-therapist, Eric. And I could just sit as his feet and catch all the pearls of wisdom that role from his tongue. This week he made an awesome point in a group therapy. No matter what has happened to you in life, you have to take responsibility for it. If my childhood was so messed up that I can barely function and it was not in any way my fault, I still have the responsibility to go to therapy, daily if needed, get the right meds, reads all the books, and do whatever it takes to make myself well. It's not my fault that my life sucks (maybe) but it is my fault if things aren't taken care of.

Today I just had an experience with a person that is do hell-bent on feeling like #$%^ that I want to murder this person and say "Tell me now what sucks." And this person is doing a grand total of squat to take care of things. So I have about a poop's worth of empathy. This is the place in my story where my supervisor refers to DBT and tells me that all people are doing their best... maybe they need to do better, he says, but they're doing their best.

Swear words. Radical acceptance. 

I'm not speaking about people with serious illness. I understand depression. I really do. I'm talking about something else (although depressed people have the responsibility to take care of that too). I struggle to accept people who make it everyone else's job to keep them happy. It's entitlement. It's never being satisfied with what you have. Look around, sister/brother, you don't deserve any of it. We all don't. You are so focused on what God hasn't given you, that you ignore what He has given you. Enjoy the misery but please don't tell me about it. 

There is so much good in life. And you, dear friend, have it so good. You are asleep right now and not worried about if you will eat tomorrow, or if you will be caught in the cross-fire, or if your government will suddenly decide that they'd be better off if you were dead. You aren't worried that your dad is going to come into your room tonight and mess up all the intimate relationships you may ever have. You know where every single family member is right now. Every limb works. You can be whatever you want to be because your brain functions at a high capacity. You have expendable cash. Your family loves you. You have free time to sit around feeling sorry for yourself. There is gorgeous snow and in a few months, beautiful flowers, and warm summer evenings, and clouds and sunsets, and dirt, and the smell of freshly cut grass or when the heater comes on for the first time that season. You aren't thinking that your husband is going to leave you, that your kids will despise you. You aren't alone somewhere waiting to die; you just live like you are. Your house is warm in the winter and cool in the summer. I could go on but I'm about to get into my large, warm bed, and sleep soundly so I can have energy at my job that I love. 

I hope you can see the beauty that is already around you. One day. And when you do, I'd love to talk.