Page 3 of 5
#
 Monday (20th) was my first CBT appointment.

It's taken a while to write anything as I've still been mentally processing it.

The session was primarily a 'getting to know you' exercise with the new therapist, ensuring we were comfortable with each other, but we did talk about a few things.

One of the things that came up was my sense of frustration. I know and understand my mental state and how I should be able to alter it. I understand the psychological concepts at play yet I just don't seem to be able to follow the steps I know I should be taking. I suppose that's why one sees a therapist so can they help you along the journey.

We also discussed my possible autistic traits (not that she is an expert) and she mentioned how a lot of people who present with some kind of 'social anxiety' are actually responding to an autistic trigger like noise or lights. It's a lot more common than I expected.

The example she gave was someone at a wedding. They might be okay at the service as it is usually more sedate but might struggle at the reception where there are more people. Often, social anxiety is considered the cause but it may well be the extra noise, due to the more relaxed environment or a disco, or flashing lights from said disco.

Apparently, the key is to try things but give yourself permission to stop or leave at any point so as to remove an element of pressure going in.

I was pretty exhausted by the end of the hour as I was forcing myself to make eye contact (see here). but didn't want to seem rude in our very first session. I should have just explained from the outset and saved myself the worry. She's probably used to it.

I have my next two sessions already booked over the next month or so and hope to start some serious work.

#
 It's been pretty quiet here for the past few days.

I've not had anything to write about or felt a compulsion to post. Normally I would see that as a red flag (although probably way too late) that my mental health was on a downwards slide but I genuinely don't feel that is the case right now.

Tracy wrote about "reclaiming intentionality in browsing and blogging, being less passive with consumption and less reactive in her blogging. It's pretty much how I've been feeling about things recently.

I suspect my balance of intake is off: I need a greater amount of what I read to be something I've actively sought out ... To claim ownership of my attention, I should more proactively choose what I spend time thinking about.

So much this, although the irony of me reacting to that is not lost. 🙃

I realised that a couple of recent posts (wishing I was outside and wanting my UI to get out of the way) were both about feeling trapped in their own ways. I think that's part of my problem – feeling constrained within my limitations and wanting to spread my wings more creatively. I want to do something different or unique with the blog but don't know what.

It's the old excuse: I'll be able to do X when Y but X isn't really the problem. I can't match the vision or sound in my head – the old spectre of perfection.

I can't focus on music because I've told myself that the early 90's techno time warp I'm stuck in requires that Roland TR 909 sound so I 'need' a modern clone.

I'm painfully aware that writing about tinkering is just a surrogate for 'proper' posts. Now that I've been regaining my ability to focus I want to put it to good use again but am not sure how. I go back over old posts from my 'very social era' (2008-2011) and am still amazed at the passion and creativity on display. I need to get back to writing like that. Microposts and writing about code are all well and good but I miss the depth I used to have.

I want to regain that passion.

Part of my depression is a degree of apathy; the more I can focus and get excited about something the more I feel I'm on the right path. I do worry, however, that it's a mask and I'm just distracting myself.

And that's how I feel about all this in a wider context. Treatment and therapy don't magically make you a happy person. Instead, they mask the symptoms or provide better coping strategies, ways to head off the worst of it before it can take hold.

I'm not entirely sure how I feel about that.

On the one hand it's good to know that improvements can be made, that you can feel 'less bad', that you can manage your condition more effectively. But then there's knowing that, no matter how much treatment or therapy you have, the underlying condition is still there, may always be there, just less obvious to others and, maybe, yourself.

#
 Stephen wrote about experiencing anxiety at a petrol station and explains why anxiety might occur for him in any given scenario:

"... it's about being observed, often from multiple directions, it requires a level of performance"

He goes on to say that processing information is harder because his brain is too busy "looking for the exit, the need to escape."

He wasn't sure if the whole post made sense (I advise reading it all) but I understand where he's coming from.

There are times when I feel anxious in an environment or situation that I would normally navigate perfectly fine and I can't readily explain why. Maybe that sense of performance is what does it but something triggers me and it's often impossible to say what.

I've written before that the only way I can describe it is a feeling of claustrophobia 1 and the need to get out of the place or situation.

What I think of as my first proper anxiety attack was when in Westfield shopping mall, Stratford. Something previously done without issue both there and elsewhere in other very busy malls. I experienced a sudden sense of panic and being overwhelmed, almost like everyone was watching me, and a need to get away from the people and the noise.

I have no idea what caused it and equally no idea why that time should have been any different to others before and since. All I know is the irrational fear I felt at that moment and the lingering memory it left me with.

While it may not be obvious from the outside that I am feeling anxious, I have a giveaway visual indicator: is fiddling with the hem of my jacket or jumper, even a fold in my jeans. It's not so much a comfort thing but a distraction, perhaps. The only way I can describe it is that the sensation of having the material between my fingers (along the lengths, not fingertips) seems like it's something to focus on, maybe almost calming. I do it subconsciously, especially while driving, and my wife points it out as I just don't know I'm doing it. Maybe it's some form of stimming.

We were watching a programme about autism, fronted by the naturalist and presenter Chris Packham, and were nodding along with so many aspects of what was being described by him and those featured.

Something that came up on the programme was eye contact. I always find it hard to make eye contact but sometimes I'll do so without realising. Then, as soon as it registers, I become incredibly self-conscious and have to avert my gaze. Trying to force myself to maintain eye contact is exhausting and usually ends up with me losing track of the conversation or what I want to say because I'm having to expend my energy elsewhere.

I was shy as a child, insecure, and hated being the centre of attention. I've always considered myself an introvert. I would get flustered and blush when being asked questions about myself. I still do from time to time. I now wonder if, in my younger years, it was actually an early manifestation of anxiety. Or more.

Bix wrote about assembling an "introvert's toolkit" to help cope before he was ever diagnosed as autistic. While the two might not be directly related there is a definite similarity in language surrounding them. How many introverts are actually undiagnosed autistics?

The subject of performance came up in one of my sessions with the psychiatrist. I explained that it might seem strange that such an introvert as myself might want to put myself in a situation where I was absolutely the focus – like when DJing in nightclubs. Not so, apparently. Part of the reaction to these things is the presence or lack of control. By placing myself in front of an audience I was controlling who would see me and when. Most importantly, I was controlling the context – an environment I enjoyed and felt comfortable in, doing something I was good at.

Part of a coping toolkit.

This rings true for me with regards to blogging: sharing as much or as little as you want, at your own pace and, crucially, according to your own rules without external pressure to perform. The author of a blog controls the context within which others get to 'observe' them.


  1. at least, what I imagine claustrophobia to feel like not having experienced it – as far as I am aware