Fencing Bear at Prayer

"Although the outward picture of depression is quite the opposite of that of grandiosity and has a quality that expresses the tragedy of the loss of self in a more obvious way, they have many points in common: A false self that has led to the loss of the potential true self A fragility of self-esteem because of a lack of confidence in one's own feelings and wishes Perfectionism Denial of rejected feelings A preponderance of exploitative relationships An enormous fear of loss of love and therefore a great readiness to conform Split-off aggression Oversensitivity A readiness to feel shame and guilt Restlessness... " Depression consists of a denial of one's own emotional reactions ... "It is usually considered normal when sick or aged people who have suffered the loss of much of their health and vitality or women who are experiencing menopause become depressive.  There are, however, many people who can tolerate the loss of beauty, health, youth, or lo...

I have a theory. Let's call it "God is glucose." Or "sweet," if you prefer. It's been just over four months that I have been keeping myself (as well as I can count) to 25 net carbs or fewer a day. I've lost I don't know how much weight and gone from not being able to fit into my size 12 stretchy jeans to needing to buy a new pair of 8s. (My goal is still the size 6s that I have from the last time I was my ideal weight, but I threw out all of the 8s that I had in last summer's decluttering, so I needed something to wear in the meantime other than my now-too-big 10s.) I am feeling not just less heavy but (every so often) almost positively thin (it comes and goes; my thighs are still quite heavy, but my waist is nearly firm). Even better, I find myself able to move on the strip in ways that I had thought I had lost forever along with my (relative) youth. When I look in the mirror, my face looks like my real face again (not the slightly puf...

...but isn't it interesting when this concept came into being?  Does this mean that prior to the mid-twentieth century, everyone's responses were appropriate to the stimulus?  Maybe if I had been born before 1965, I wouldn't have had so much trouble learning how to regulate myself.  Sorry, therapist-speak here.  This is a work in progress....

When I was little, you used to tease me when I got frustrated and/or upset about something that I was trying to do. Perhaps you thought it would make me stop crying if you embarrassed me enough, but in fact all it did was teach me that it was wrong to feel threatened or scared at the thought of trying something new. If only you could have sat down with me and shown me how to break down the new thing into its parts. Then it might not have been so scary. Then I might not have been so afraid. Then I might have believed that it was possible for me to learn to do something new. Without all the weeping and wailing. If only. Mind you, I'm all grown up now.  So you can tease me all you like.  'Cause I know that the teasing says more about you--and your fears--than it ever did about me.

Two beers, a Batman double feature on the DVD, and a night on the couch later, the demonic storm seems to have passed, but as with all real-world weather systems, I know it is likely to be followed by others, even if I can't always quite predict when (although, to be fair, there is a certainly monthly cycle to them, if you know what I mean).  But there is truth in hormones just as there is in emotions, even if in our calmer, less estrogenic moments we can keep them under control. Or is there?   (Truth, that is.)  Because, you know, one of the things that I find hardest about weathering such storms is the uncertainty: is what I am feeling based on anything external or am I just crazy, layering onto things people have said to me intentions that they never had, assuming indifference or criticism where there was rather confusion and lack of self-confidence, sensing hurt where there was simply insensitivity, malice where there was only selfishness or fatigue?  More impo...

Food  I used to believe that if I were thin, I would be loved, indeed, that being loved depended on my being thin .  Now, thanks to a month's-plus worth of reading Geneen Roth , I appreciate that this is not the case.  Being lovable has nothing to do with the size of my thighs or the strength of my appetite.  What I eat and how much and when is nobody's business but my own; likewise, my weight.  I will never please those who would judge me on this basis, particularly the members of my family who made it their business to comment on my weight when I was growing up .  Further, their need to comment on my weight and eating is their problem, not mine.  It is an expression of anxieties that they have about themselves and, as such, has almost next to nothing to do with me.  It is, therefore, not my responsibility even as their relative to respond in any way to such comments, either to correct them or, even worse, to apologize for being myself.  I ...