Monday, October 22, 2012

Imagine a beautiful angioma

I am in a weird place right now. I want to write to move ahead. I want to write to let go. I want to write to prevent myself from saying or doing anything I might regret.

My reaction time is fast. Whenever someone speaks to me, my brain prepares for an attack. Anger, fear, sadness, and rejection rise to the surface. The thoughts that fire rapidly across synapses are the articulation of these emotions. Having grown up in a house where words were sacred, I find it difficult to refute these irrational thoughts.

During the most recent presidential debate, I yelled at the television. NOOOOO! It was only 5 minutes into the program. My husband made me turn it off since it was too upsetting. I talked to my cognitive therapist about the event. I was angry at the moderator because she had promised to make sure the rules were followed and the questions were answered. She buckled so quickly and I was furious.

The election makes me worry about my future. I worry about money and health care and injustice and corruption and pharmaceutical companies and my daughter and clean water and the list goes on and on. My cognitive therapist asked me if I could trust that things would be okay, that the people would be smart enough to make the right decisions. No way, I replied. Trust is a big deal. History has shown me that I am the only reliable place to put any trust whatsoever. I guess it is one of those hot button words.

Imagine, on the other hand, I can do. I survived made it through my childhood by using fantasy to escape. As an adult, I worked hard to be grounded because I had more control. A job with insurance, a savings account, a mortgage, no credit card debt. These were all the ways I built a fortress of security so I would not be afraid. And now? With the future so bleak and my castle in ruins, I will retreat once again into the land of make believe. Can I imagine a serene and comfortable future? Yes, I can see it and that will have to do for now.

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