My new therapist is a really great lady. While I haven’t been able to be totally comfortable in the office physically yet, I have been able to be more open verbally and emotionally than I have been in the past with other therapists. I feel a little more willing to help help myself.
Recently, we went over different mind thoughts and their controllers. I’ve posted about mind thoughts before. They’re those things you say to yourself without really realizing it half the time. They’re those things that make you hate you when they’re not kept in check. From the material she gave me, I’ve found that there are 4 basic personalities these mind thoughts have: the worrier, the victim, the perfectionist, and the critic. I rated myself as a “mostly critic” due to all the “you’re worthless”s and “wow you’re a failure”s. Next to my unintentional “I should just die” thoughts, I figured I was the perfect critic. (She said we have a little bit of each basic character in us at different points; this is just my stronger character.) No more figuring out required.
Then the other day she suggested I map out my priorities. If I were forced to eliminate things from my life one-by-one (jobs, work, personal relationships), what would be left? Or, what is worth most of my time? Out of the list she gave me, we found that I do value Matt, family, and my personal wellbeing above school, work, and other responsbilities. Not saying those aren’t important, but she suggested I not try to give100% to everything. This opened up an emotional, anxiety-ridden can of worms.
How can I enjoy things without putting 100% into them? How can I enjoy things fully, without anxiety, while still taking care of myself financially? I find it difficult to read a book without worrying about how fast I’ll read it or how many other books I want to read. I find it difficult to play a video game without knowing when I can next play that video game. There are things I need to do. I can’t just stop in the middle of a family (Sims) or building a house (Minecraft). It’s hard to enjoy myself knowing I have limited time to do so.
Which leads me to journaling. How can I possibly enjoy letting my feelings out through paper when no one’s going to read it anyway? Why do I care what I write? What’s the point of journaling if I can’t even fill up the whole journal? What’s the point of journaling if I don’t have a shelf full of filled-up journals to show off?
Seeing all this flash in my mind sitting on her couch, my therapist let me in on a little secret: I’m also a bit perfectionistic. I didn’t really ever think of myself as a classic perfectionist who needs to get 100% all the time or they’re worthless; I get a low 90-something% and I’m fine, y’know? I didn’t think my desire to be the time-devoting hobbyist meant I was perfectionistic. I thought I was lazy and obsessive. Though, I guess those are thoughts of perfectionists.
I just thought I’d share this new tidbit with you. I guess we’ll see what comes from it. Happy Wednesday.