Jobs, anxiety, PTSD and more

Between my "fear of getting trapped" (which is itself a part of what CBT talks about as awfulizing or generalizing), and my not liking some particular things here in O-dessa, I looked at a job in Buffalo, Wyoming! A place where a fully rational me would never even think of living, and never acted to live there.

Fortunately, a nearly fully rational me, at least, is saying no to that. And, I hope, taking a few steps to boost my sanity and emotional well-being here, while working with renewed vigor on getting out of here.

The yelling? It's not quite yelling, but a certain person who has one personality when dealing with underlings and another otherwise, literally to having MPD-like multiple voices.

But, without taking this the wrong way, I have an opportunity to work on working with other ppl while still here, and either work with this person a bit more/better, or work around her more or better.

Anti-depressants beat CBT on personality change

I'm not a fan or touter of Big Pharma, nor do I denigrate talk therapy.

But, it seems that SSRI antidepressants are better than cognitive therapy in lowering neuroticism and raising extraversion in depressed people. CBT helps make changes there, too, but the changes are neither as profound nor as lasting as with medication.

This somewhat lonely, somewhat vacuous feelings

Earlier tonight, a portion of myself from within said that, in part, I haven't felt this bad since the year after I graduated divinity school rejecting following in my dad's footsteps. I lived in an old, kind of barren studio apartment.

Well, "lived" might not be the right word. "Existed" might have more accuracy. Damn, I want out of here.

Holidays not so helpful

I came (to Big Bend National Park to get out of the apartment in Odessa I still refuse to call home, since I had belated Thanksgiving holiday days to burn).

I saw (I was more burned out on Big Bend than before, in particular, and on desert hiking in general, for whatever reasons).

I conquered (nothing, even with primal screaming f-bombs to echo off canyon walls, and even briefly entertaining thoughts of throwing my cell phone against one of those walls, or my camera bag off a bridge, since I couldn’t or wouldn’t let go of my anxieties and other issues enough.)

'Picking' as 'cutting lite'

I've never been a "cutter," but I have been a "picker" in the past. Picking at scabs. Picking at fingernails, or biting, until I strip them down into the quick and they start bleeding.

I've gotten kind of bad at it since my recent move. I have a spot on top of my balded pate that got a bit sunburned this summer, and I've been picking at it a lot. I want help!

Rabbi offered cocaine for sex

This news of the weird story is certainly more proof of the power of, ultimately, multiple addictions, not just one.

Work co-dependency?

I saw this phrase on a recovery blog today, namely from someone responding to a post of mine about my frustration with my new job, job hours, one supervisor and more here in Odessa, Texas.

For people like me who, by nature, nurture or some combination thereof, are somewhat loners in general, and/or who focus either on the world of ideas or the world of things rather than the world of people, our jobs often give us a fair amount of person-to-person interaction.

So, his phrase was eye-catching indeed. But, when you are more of a loner, is something like that possible of happening?

A stressful last couple of days

Free-flating anxiety still running in my head.

Did some fairly serious "picking" this afternoon.

(I never did "cutting," but, picking at my fingernails down to the quick, then, picking at the skin until it bleeds, or a hangnail bleeds? Yes.)

Here’s a couple of great asexuality resources

New Scientist has a very friendly article on asexuality. From it, I found this informative forum.

A dysfunctional marriage, in poetry

Influenced by Charles Bukowski....

MOM AND DAD AND MARRIAGE AND KIDS

A marriage — a painful silence.
An isolated, somewhat schizoid mom,
And an angry, temperamental dad,
Who married each other trying to solve some old psychological puzzle,
But stopped trying after very long,
Perhaps not even conscious of the puzzle at hand, or in mind.
Instead, they burrowed into and intensified
Their old psychological roles and stances,
Topping that
With old conservative Midwestern religious values and stereotypes
About sexuality and gender roles.
After three boys and a miscarriage
They took a child-raising break.
(Not that either was doing much to raise those they already had.)
Then, after a move
With an attempted geographic cure for their unconscious puzzles perhaps not enough,
They started on baby-making again,
Or at least did nothing to prevent it.
Nine months later, without any choice in the matter,
Out I popped.
I want my money back.

— Oct. 27, 2009