Skip has been studying counseling theories in his class this semester; it is a theories class. He is currently working on a research paper on Albert Ellis. Ellis espouses (created) REBT (Rational Emotive Behavioral Therapy). Now, I’m not the one doing the research paper, nor reading Ellis’ book, so I am going to try to get this right…but may not have it exactly.
The premise is that the events which led to your dysfunction are of little to no importance. What is important are the beliefs that those events created. For instance, the events which I consider abusive in my relationship with TD are unimportant, but the beliefs about men (they are all dogs, controlled by their peckers) and people (none can be trusted) are what need to be addressed, or changed.
So, because it helps Skip to process and ingest what he is reading, and simply because I am ill, he spends a lot of time discussing these issues with me. He has changed so much from these revelations and, at this point, thinks REBT, or some variance of it, will be his approach to counseling. I am so grateful for his discovery of Ellis; it has changed his responses and, ultimately, greatly improved our marriage…in a very short period of time. It is not as easy for me to practice these because my mind is in a state of flux right now, with the medication change, and because I am not the one reading the material. Also, Skip is a conceptual, abstract, thinker and I am very much a concrete thinker.
However, last night I had my first experience, on my own accord, of changing my beliefs. The woman who does the obedience training I have my dog enrolled in seriously dislikes people. She is a nasty bitch, as a matter of fact. And she is nastier to me than anyone else. Last night she was especially nasty to me. So, I spent the class in my head, getting increasingly upset over what I could have possibly done to piss this woman off so much. I have been nothing but courteous, grateful, and friendly to this woman. What did I ever do to incur her wrath? And so on.
Then, in a flash of clarity, I decided it didn’t fucking matter what this woman thought of me. It didn’t matter how she treated me, well, to a point; if she gets much nastier I will have a difficult time controlling my mouth. I have been at this place, every Tuesday night for about nine weeks, for my dog. The only thing that should matter to me is whether she is giving Tucker what he needs to succeed (which he does b/c he is the greatest dog on the planet…or maybe I’m biased).
At that moment, when I had the revelation, my chest literally relaxed, opened up. The tightness, which I hadn’t even recognized was occurring, eased.
This event creates the opportunity for some serious improvement in my handling of this disease. First, I have finally changed a belief of mine: that people should be generally nice when interacting with a kind and respectful person as well as the expectation that people like me. Second, this action, if I am able to continue applying it, will greatly affect my progress as a person; progress towards self-actualization and ultimate confidence in who I am as a person.
Of course, this possible improvement in my health will depend on increased consciousness of my reactions as well as my beliefs. I have to work to stave off society’s beliefs about behavior and look inward to determine exactly what my own beliefs are. If society has a belief about an issue, it doesn’t mean that I have to subscribe to that same belief. Most people work under this, inappropriate, and likely subconscious, structure.
Not me, not anymore. Wish me luck.
Now, for updates and such.
I stopped the Seroquel. I am too inhibited by the requirements for this drug. I am a young, vibrant, busy, mother of a toddler. The pdoc wanted me to take this drug at 8pm. My daughter goes to bed sometime between 7 and 8, depending on whether she crashes out sometime in the afternoon, which she does sporadically. This drug knocks me out within half an hour so this would mean that I would have approximately half an hour to do ONE FUCKING THING for myself in the evening. And in that half an hour I will be a useless zombie. Conversations with my husband, crosswords, reading, a TV show, will be virtually impossible.
Now, the reason he wants me to take the medicine at 8pm is so that I will be well rested by 8am in order to function during the day. I get up between 5am and 6am. I am a morning person and either get my best workout or best grading at that time. If I take this medicine, I wake up groggy and unable to think clearly. Also, this medicine takes away my personality. I am a virtual zombie, I have no emotion, at all, to anything. I. HATE. IT.
So, after talking with Skip about it this weekend, and making a cost-benefit analysis, we decided the benefit was not worth the cost. I called Dr. T on Monday and he gave me several options: stop the medicine completely; change to a half dose; or continue and wait until our next appointment to discuss. I won’t ever put another Seroquel in my mouth. I am not ill enough to change my life so completely.
On a side note, I have a nasty black spot on my tongue and ugly bumps behind the spot. I noticed it about ten days ago. For a few days after I discovered the spot, it shrunk, but it has not changed since then and the bumps have developed.
I go to an ENT today.