Summer, Solidity, and Skills

After we experienced a horrendous Winter here in these parts, it is no surprise that Summer was welcomed with open arms. I, for one, was excited to have the sun back in my life, as I thought the extra light would lessen my misery. But I'm going to be honest and say so far, summer, you suck.

In previous blogs I have mentioned how my social life has been chiseled away to almost nothing, and that my readers, is all because of summer. The sun comes out and every one leaves. I typically don't do anything particularly exciting in the summer, and when I do, like my vacation to North Carolina, it is usually filled with some type of unbearable anxiety that ruins the whole adventure.

My only social interactions, besides my family, are included in work, my therapy sessions, and my DBT group. 75% of that isn't authentic. I miss my friends, a lot. I have been dreading the lonely days at home with my little boy, and while I could go out and keep myself busy, it isn't the same as having those nights to myself with my girlfriends.

Summer is about the beach, camping, grilling, and hella amounts of watermelon. While I do like grilling and watermelon, the beach is anything but appealing and camping is something I only do when in a complete comfort zone because of the ties to my childhood. So what am I to do? Let peeps have their fun, and pray for the end of summer when availability reappears.

In spite of my solidity, my emotions build up faster and stay with me longer. Dialectical Behavior Therapy is all about skills and my therapist relishes in piling them on. Her answer to everything is in the form of a worksheet. Most of the times this makes sense, but some days, it gets annoying and makes me feel even more helpless.

Yesterday (July 3), regardless of the amazing weather, I was in a super depressive and angry state. I have been suffering from some continuing nightmares that put me into sleep paralysis, lowering my amount of healthy sleep and resulting in increased vulnerability. So when one of my ceramic plates fell out of the dish-rack and shattered into pieces on our kitchen floor, it was my breaking point. My answer, instead of using a book full of skills, was to start punching things.

I tried to attack gentle items like my pillows and mattress, but it wasn't satisfying enough. So I punched a door, hard. The pain shot through my knuckles and I fell into a heap of tears on the floor, realizing crying is probably all I really needed to do to feel better.

In an attempt to be honest, I spoke with my therapist after DBT group about the nightmares and what had happened that day. Part of me was hoping she could see I was in turmoil, and I'm sure she did, but her reaction was one of which I'm too familiar with. "Well I can give you a sheet on nightmares, and here are some skills you can use."

What I heard was, "I wanna go home, like now."

I realize I over analyze things, which is a trait of my BPD. Now I have to utilize skills in order to not be royally pissed off that my therapist told me to use skills.

How warped is that?