More of the Same, Less of the Tame

After my most recent DBT group, I was more distressed than when I had walked in. It appears that has become the new norm. I once again spoke with my therapist about my unease and was shut down by the fact that she had to leave, which left me in the wake of imagined abandonment. My solution was to vent it out with some fellow group members while enjoying a single cigarette.

It turns out, I'm not the only one who breaks down post sitting through a two-hour session of learning how to deal with our emotions in a simple, yet practical way, that most humans should be able to grasp. However, us gifted, emotionally dysregulated peeps just can't seem to conceptualize that it is indeed our choice on how long our emotions hang around. 

So I sat and listened to the other members talk about the same problems I have, and felt a sense of security knowing I am not the only one who feels like a pre-schooler learning how to deal with the simplistic nature of being a human. For a moment, I could breathe.

Then everything exploded in my face once I got home. What started as a grain of anger between my husband and I, eventually transformed into me becoming manic. Skills were out of reach at this point because all rationality had escaped from my mental being. All I knew was I had to be safe, and calling for coaching wasn't an option because things were too heightened and I knew I had to act fast.

So I decided I needed to leave my house and go check myself into the hospital.  My husband thought otherwise and intercepted my decision to give up. Have I mentioned how blessed I am to have him in my life?  I was then able to light some candles and take a bath while exercising my breathing. Luckily, I managed to ground myself back to reality and make a plan for the following day. I began wondering what was happening to me, because at that point, I felt I was backtracking. 

The next day, I kept myself busy by donating plasma, going shopping with my mother and grandmother, getting some new running shoes....but amidst this, a tragedy hit my family. My great uncle Chelo had fallen off a tree while trimming it, and passed away. This news was delivered whilst spending time with my grandmother (Chelo's sister), and my mother and I had to remain vigilant for her.

I was in shock and returned home desperate to avoid a breakdown. I called my therapist for coaching, and wasn't sure why, other than I knew I was mentally and emotionally exhausted from using skills literally all day. I had nothing left to use. The last thing I needed was to wait until it was too late. Apparently, my choice to call was the right one and I was applauded for "coping ahead," which I guess is a skill I haven't even learned yet. A+ for me.

What I learned from my therapist was that feeling emotionally and mentally wiped doesn't mean I have backtracked. It simply means I am just working really hard to survive, so I must be doing something right.