An exciting new sippy cup!

I’m feeling rather thwarted today.

First of all, I didn’t get to sleep as early as I’d have liked last night. Not that I’m blaming anyone who was up late grading papers; not his fault that he has that much work to do. How I wish I were one of those people who could sleep easily, who isn’t disturbed by noises and lights, who doesn’t need to wait until everyone else is asleep before she can sleep herself. But I am aware that I do sleep a reasonable amount every night, and that is something to be grateful for.

Then, after some things that went just fine (which we must not mention because we are in a Bad Mood and must minimize the positives — which I will list anyway because I will not let the Bad Mood win: I woke feeling sufficiently rested, got to eat my breakfast and get dressed and make the bed in peace, Amy woke fine and took her bottle fine and ate her oatmeal fine and played mostly fine and I got to spend some time online while she entertained herself with some kitchen chairs and other toys) — after that, we headed out on some fun errands.

First stop, the secondhand kids’ shop, The Lennon Drop, which claims to open at 10:30. I wanted to see if they had a booster seat that would be just as portable as Amy’s current one but would be more supportive and seat her higher. And I wanted to see what the store was like, and maybe ask if they’d be interested in carrying some slings if I were to make them. Amy (in the sling) and I stood, walked back and forth, read a book, etc for about half an hour and gave up at 11:00, which is her usual naptime. We still had other errands to do, and I was miffed at having my time wasted for me. I wonder when they did open. There’s probably some mitigating explanation, but I’m still miffed.

Next, Walmart, since there are no non-big-box stores in Plymouth, to get some shampoo and a second sippy cup for Amy so that she can have one for water and one for formula. A new sippy cup! How exciting! Maybe I could find one she’d like better than the one she already has, one that’s easier to drink from, maybe even one with handles! I looked and selected very carefully.

Meanwhile Amy was showing no signs of falling asleep in the sling, so I put her in the cart.

And I went to pick up my prescriptions — the last remaining refill from the psych nurse in Ithaca. We have yet to clear things up with our new insurance about this psych stuff. When I called, I was told they would send us a form we could fill out about pre-existing conditions. It has never arrived. When Mark called, they said they would cover this last refill, but apparently didn’t tell him anything about getting coverage for a new psychiatrist here. And then Walmart told me the refills were rejected by insurance, and I almost left, even though I only have one of one pill left. But then I “heard” Mark asking if I showed them the new insurance card, so I did, and this time it went through just fine.

Home again, and Amy had her nap an hour later than usual. Lunch went fine except for one thing.

Amy is not anywhere near as excited about her new sippy cup as I was. She is not interested in the purple handles. She does not care about the soft spout that is more like a bottle. She tried it long enough to find out she could indeed drink from it, but never again, never more.

And no, it’s not that she wasn’t wanting the formula. Bitter crying and protest if I brought that sippy anywhere near her face. Bitter crying and protest if I set it down again.

Maybe if I hold her.

Nope.

Maybe if I go sit in the chair with her on the Boppy.

Nope.

Sometimes, even when you are aware that your annoyance is pretty irrational and silly, and even when you are doing a very good job at talking yourself through it, sometimes it erupts anyway.

And that sippy cup went flying across the room (my throw, not Amy’s).

I stomped after it and poured the formula into a bottle and fed it to Amy and continued to fight within myself about my feelings (emotional mind) and my reason (rational mind), trying to find and take hold of wise mind.

After a while I was able to cry some, and to talk to Amy about what happened, and then to even make smiles. As much as I hate the idea of making my mouth assume a shape the rest of me does not feel, it does work — it doesn’t make me feel all happy and hunky-dory, but it does take the edge off and help me get a better grip on wise mind and the positives I know are there.

In the same way, I picked up our book and read to her, and the sound of my voice calmly (pretty calmly, anyway) reading also helped me settle into wise mind.

We will be joining Daddy for dinner at the dining hall, because he has dorm duty tonight. I wonder if he will get all his work done today or if he will be up even later once he gets home. I’m sure all this heavy workload is stressful enough for him without me reacting to it, too, but the reality is that it does affect me, and it’s an issue we both must face and work through.

A possibility

I’m going to write a prompting event sheet. I am contemplating whether I want to continue blogging them. Perhaps it’s helpful to other folks who have done or are doing DBT, or who could use a little help with dealing with emotions. And it’s another little way to round out the blog a bit, to do more than just post cute Amy photos and bits of news.

Prompting event for my emotion:

Amy wouldn’t let me feed her pieces of green beans but wouldn’t feed herself either. She just played with them.

Emotion names:

Annoyance.
Frustration.
Anger.
Hurt.

Interpretations (beliefs, assumptions):

I’m not as patient, understanding, respectful, and compassionate as I would like to be and as I would like others to be.

Physical sensations:

A little warm.

Body language:

Frowning.
Abrupt movement.

Urges:

To punish and reject Amy somehow.

Actions:

I ended lunchtime. I took Amy out of the high chair and set her down among her toys. I put myself in the kitchen where I washed dishes, waiting to cool off. I worked through this prompting event sheet in my head.

After effect:

It took a while for the emotion to wear off, but I felt pretty good about how I handled things.

Challenge to the interpretations:

No, I’m not as respectful, patient, etc as I’d like, but it’s okay to practice, and I did practice.

I knew and reminded myself that Amy was not deliberately rejecting me or scorning my efforts to make her a tasty and healthy lunch, even though her behavior felt like rejection.

I also knew and reminded myself that at this age she is still getting her main nutrition from formula, and solids are about tastes and textures and learning the skills of eating. I knew making this into a battle would be unproductive.

Because Denise told me to

Prompting event for my emotion:

Yesterday, Amy got hungry woke up a half hour before I wanted her to, and crying about it.

Emotion names:

Anger
Resignation
Meaninglessness
Sorrow
Guilt
Shame

Interpretations (beliefs, assumptions):

I am ridiculous.
I have added yet another emotional scar to Amy’s list; how long is it going to get before I die?

Physical sensations:

Limp
Tense

Body language:

Avoiding eye contact and unnecessary movement, tears.

Urges:

To stomp and slam, to do nothing, to cry, to give up, to yell.

Actions:

After trying to distract her with various things, I fed her — stomping and slamming a bit as I prepared things, not making eye contact with her, crying silently, but talking to her a little. Then I put her in her entertainer while I lay down for a bit and thought about what I was feeling and how silly it was and what must be underneath.

I didn’t have (or recognize) the urge to yell until I got to her. I did yell at her. I carried her carefully into the nursery to change her — I stomped, but was careful not to shake her. I went to get my earplugs (stomping some more) and returned to change her, not as gently as I’d have liked. I calmed down a little and explained to her what I was feeling and why, and apologized and told her it’s not her fault.

After effect:

I feel reasonably okay now.

Then the guilt and tears and sorrow and shame waved in and I tried to comfort the child I’d just yelled at and stomped with, and I felt like a hypocrite, inconsistent, unreliable, for the rest of the day. I also felt sorry for myself, because expressing my anger in that way hurts me. And angry at the fact that there is such a thing as anger, and that I don’t yet know how to be angry in the right way, probably because part of me does not yet believe there is any right way to be angry. And tired of myself and my failures.

Challenge to the interpretations:

Irrationally intense emotion … (snip) … is a good thing.

It is not inconsistent or unreliable to turn around when you realize you’re going the wrong way. It’s responsible and caring. My sorrow and apologies and attempts to comfort are good things, not a mockery, even though they can’t erase my yelling and stomping.

It is possible to turn back even once you’ve started going the wrong way (thanks, Austin) — i.e. I could have put Amy in a safe place as soon as I started yelling at her, and gone somewhere else to finish yelling where she wouldn’t hear me.

I am not ridiculous for getting angry about her crying and short nap. She had been fussy all day so far, and I had been trying to tune, and both things wear down my patience and erode my self-confidence and sense of perspective. There are also other things on my mind that could have been contributing to my edginess.

It is best not to have or cause emotional scars. (If you’ve heard of the “Prayer of Jabez” book, forget about it. I think Jabez, whose name means pain, prayed the way he did because he was wounded by having caused pain, and asked for blessing so as to never cause pain again.)

It is worst to have or cause emotional scars without acknowledgment.

It may be sort of “good enough” to have or cause emotional scars but to acknowledge them, make apologies and reparations as much as possible, to keep communication open, to allow and accept after effects, to keep up hope and efforts to avoid as much scarring as possible.

Jonah

Prompting event for my emotion:

Amy got hungry a half hour before I wanted her to.

Emotion names:

Anger
Resignation
Meaninglessness

Interpretations (beliefs, assumptions):

I am ridiculous.

Physical sensations:

Limp

Body language:

Avoiding eye contact and unnecessary movement, tears.

Urges:

To stomp and slam, to do nothing, to cry, to give up.

Actions:

After trying to distract her with various things, I fed her — stomping and slamming a bit as I prepared things, not making eye contact with her, crying silently, but talking to her a little. Then I put her in her entertainer while I lay down for a bit and thought about what I was feeling and how silly it was and what must be underneath.

After effect:

I feel reasonably okay now.

Challenge to the interpretations:

Irrationally intense emotion generally means there’s something else bothering me, not so much the particular thing that triggered the emotion. I was already experiencing an attack / wave of meaninglessness earlier in the afternoon — one of those times where despite all that I’ve accomplished today, even things I felt good about, my life just suddenly seemed pointless — repetitive, fruitless, and even if there were change, progress, results, that would all be meaningless, too.

This reminded me of that dream where I went into a suicidal rage over a parking space.

It also reminds me of Jonah. In the last chapter, Jonah is in a suicidal rage because God not only gave the city of his enemies an opportunity to repent and be saved, but used him to give them the message. Then, as Jonah angrily waits and watches to see what will happen, God makes a plant grow to provide shade (apparently better shade than the shelter Jonah built for himself — what God gives is usually better than what we make for ourselves…), which makes Jonah ecstatically happy. Then God kills the plant and sends a hot wind, which sends Jonah back into a suicidal rage.

God asks, “Do you have good reason to be angry?”

I don’t think God asks this question in order to condemn Jonah, nor to berate him for his irrationally intense feelings. I think he’s sort of doing some cognitive behavioral therapy with him — gently working with Jonah to integrate feelings and cognition — to truly feel his feelings and share them with God, but also to know that God’s compassion and mercy (for himself and for his enemies) is a good thing.

Mood chameleon

Prompting event for my emotion:

We got home from Amy’s doctor appointment, me all excited because she is ready to start baby oatmeal and drinking water, and because it has been a beautiful spring day. She’d fallen asleep in her car seat, but then woke up not much later. I didn’t realize how much time had passed since she’d last eaten, and it didn’t occur to me that she might be hungry. She was just acting tired and fussy, not surprising since she had another four shots today and a lot of handling. Mark suggested a bottle, so I changed and fed her. She continued to be whiny and fussy, not very distractable / engageable, but not really sleepy either.

Emotion names:

Frustration
Disappointment
Shame

Interpretations (beliefs, assumptions):

I change feelings / moods too quickly and easily, at least when changing towards the negative side. I am not quick enough to let go of or postpone my goals when they conflict with her needs.

Physical sensations:

Limp

Body language:

A little avoiding eye contact and unnecessary movement, a little gruff tone of voice.

Urges:

Some urge to hit or throw something.
More urge to just go away.

Actions:

I continued to half-heartedly play with Amy. I told her how I was feeling, too. After a while I figured she didn’t care if I was there or not, so I left her in the swing and did the dishes. She fell asleep.

After effect:

I don’t feel too bad. I wonder how much of that is because she’s asleep — i.e. the thing that was stressing me is gone. That makes me feel a little bad, because it makes me think my distress tolerance is too low and that I can only be in a good mood when everyone else is.

Challenge to the interpretations:

I’m not sure there’s a right frequency for changing moods / emotions. I can work on skills for distress tolerance and decreasing vulnerability to negative emotions (not the same thing as avoiding negative emotions — more about minimizing their power over me). I can also work on better time management and better balancing of my goals and Amy’s needs.

Subdued

Subdued is an interesting word.

I was going to do a prompting event thing and as I was thinking about the emotions I would list, I thought about subdued and then thought about how it could easily be misinterpreted.

My first thought was a fairly positive one — that sense of quiet stillness, a pause, for remembrance, for solemnity.

You see, we got take-out tonight from the local Chinese place to celebrate signing a contract to sell our house (which is very exciting but of course not final until the inspection and mortgage approval).

Last time we had Chinese food here was early in Amy’s life when my PPD was in full force. I don’t even remember whether it was when my parents or Mark’s were here with us, helping Mark take care of Amy while I — well, while I dealt with severe anxiety and other such.

That memory hit while I was doing the dishes afterwards. Made me pause, to remember, to feel again how awful that period was, how debilitating, how terrifying, how guilt-laden, etc.

I’ve come so far since then… not all completely free from psychological woes, but no comparison to those days.

And so I felt subdued — among other things like hurt, regret, sorrow, grief.

But not the other meaning of the word; not conquered, oppressed, held captive, beaten down. I’ve certainly felt that meaning in the past (like in those earlier PPD days) and I’m sure I will again, but tonight it was the first meaning, just that quiet pause, a moment of silence and inner tears, mourning for those lost days and grieving how they hurt me and those around me.

Other people’s feelings

Prompting event for my emotion:

Once again, Amy was tired and having a hard time getting to sleep. This time it was also late for an evening nap, i.e. close to her bedtime, which may therefore be later tonight. I was able to be mostly patient while I tried to help her soothe herself with the pacifier, but I was also irritated and impatient.

Emotion names:

Grieving
Mourning
Deep sorrow
Fear

Interpretations (beliefs, assumptions):

The fear is mostly about Mark; I have such a hard time tolerating when he has negative feelings, and so I fear anything that might lead to that. I feel responsible for his feelings — to protect him, myself, and Amy from them.

I am too reactive to other people’s emotions. I’ve been noticing lately how much my mood depends on the atmosphere around me, and therefore how other people are feeling.

I hate that.

The sorrow, mourning, and grief are for myself and for everyone who has had anything to do with me.

For everyone, because I am so difficult, such a burden, so high-maintenance; because, like Amy might be, I am sensitive and intense and willful.

For myself, because if and when I feel unloved, abandoned, and betrayed, it’s because I drive people away — I am not sufficiently or consistently pleasant to be with.

Physical sensations:

Inward

Body language:

Crying, hunched up

Urges:

To cry.

To withdraw from relationships for a few days or longer.

To escape. (Don’t worry, no concrete plans for running away or worse.)

Actions:

I finished doing the dishes, told Mark I was experiencing a major wave of depression, and came in here to cry and write this.

After effect:

I don’t feel a whole lot better, but I guess I’m a little more composed / integrated / accepting.

Challenge to the interpretations:

I am not responsible for Mark’s feelings. I do have to live with them, which is distressing, but I can work on developing better distress tolerance.

As for my reactivity, I’m not sure what to say. I guess it’s part of my sensitivity and intensity that I’m so vulnerable to what others are feeling. Perhaps there’s things I can do to handle it better, to allow it less influence on my own mood. More distress tolerance.

It isn’t really possible to defend against bad things in advance. I may be able to work on being less willful about trying to do that, and more accepting and open to whatever is at the moment, whether good or bad.

Joe has talked to me before about love and duty and tolerance. In my black-and-white, all-or-nothing thinking, I am tempted to believe that if someone does something for me out of a sense of duty, obligation, tolerance, politeness, service, and so on — because they have to — it’s not really love. Joe says love and tolerance can — must, in this life, among fellow humans — coexist. It’s okay that there are times when I am annoying, burdensome, difficult, unpleasant, and so on — the people who really love me will handle it as gracefully as they can, with their love mixed with, but not negated by, negative feelings towards me.

I have applied the same standard to others, including Amy — when I feel annoyed or burdened or impatient with someone, I am tempted to believe that I don’t really love them. But my feelings of annoyance, etc., are okay, and they don’t negate my love.

Another note on reactivity — being reactive to Amy and Mark doesn’t make me a bad mother or wife, nor a hypocrite.

Meaningless II

(I’ve written about this before.)

I think all my prompting event sheets, except one, have been about getting angry when Amy is especially fussy.

This week, I’ve had a little of that, but mainly my stronger emotions have been quick waves of fear and smoky undulations of meaninglessness.

It’s hard to keep on keeping on when it feels like nothing — even positive things — matters.

It never ends on a high note

Prompting event for my emotion:

Amy’s new thing seems to be getting really tired and refusing to go to sleep, crying for half an hour or more. Sometimes she will get calm or even happy if, after twenty minutes or so, or longer, someone holds her or changes her or plays with her, but that doesn’t last either.

This morning I played with her after Mark left, and we had a good time until she started getting tired. I tried to adjust my playing to suit her mood, and when it seemed she was ready, I put her in a swing to go to sleep. She cried. After a while I got her out again and held her, which seemed to calm her a bit, and again she seemed ready and wanting to sleep, so back in the swing. Earplugs in. No luck. So maybe she’s wet or poopy, so I changed her diaper, which calmed her. Into the other swing, door closed, and I took a shower.

Emotion names:

Frustrated
Angry
Tired
Defeated
Incompetent
Needy
Rebellious

Interpretations (beliefs, assumptions):

I’m not making enough progress fast enough, since all my prompting event sheets are about the same thing.

I’m bad because I’m tired of doing prompting event sheets and gratitude lists and I haven’t even bothered with diary cards because I don’t like the way they are set up and I can’t think of a good way to redesign them to work for me.

I’m bad because I’ve cried hard at every DBT group so far and talked too much, and no matter how determined I am not to talk at all tonight and to be calm, I bet it won’t work, because I can’t control my neediness and emotional intensities.

I’m bad because I don’t find it wonderfully fulfilling to end every awake session with Amy with her crying.

I’m bad because my patience and compassion always run out.

Physical sensations:

Tired.

Body language:

Slumped, furrowed.

Urges:

When I picked Amy up to go change her, I had a sudden and strong urge to throw her, even as she stopped crying and molded herself against me sweetly.

I guess I should consider it an urge that I want to not talk and not have emotions at tonight’s DBT group.

And I wanted to take a shower.

Actions:

I didn’t throw her. I did take a shower (and she fell asleep while I was doing that). We’ll see what happens at group.

And here I am doing a prompting event sheet even though I didn’t want to. (There are two or three others I “should” have done — two about fear, one about something else I forget.)

After effect:

Still a lot of the same emotions, less intense. Some tension as I anticipate her next waking, which could be any time now. I wish she would sleep longer right now, but I can’t control that.

Challenge to the interpretations:

If she is teething, or working on any new skill, even a social skill like starting to realize the difference between alone and with people and separate vs. being held, then she may regress in other areas like hand control or sleep patterns. It’s part of the learning process.

It is possible to regret without judging… that’s what repentance should be. It’s not groveling and begging before God to earn forgiveness, it’s approaching the throne of grace with confidence, knowing that our sins are already forgiven, and that God is already reconciled to us, and that our movement of repentance is simply movement towards him.

I’m not trying to say my sin is not really sin — just that I’m allowed to recognize it, regret it, and turn and be reconciled — I don’t have to flagellate myself over it or do any other kind of penance.

It’s reasonable to get frustrated with a relationship where every meeting ends on a bad note.

——

Guess who’s awake? Guess who is hungry and will have to wait until somebody is changed and finishes a bottle before I can make and eat something?

Fuss

Prompting event for my emotion:

Amy is obviously tired — had a too-short nap earlier this afternoon. Neither swing is helping. It’s been over an hour since I fed her, and she really really seemed still tired this whole time and yet won’t or can’t sleep. She keeps crying at various volumes, mostly moderate to low, but pretty constant.

I only got a minute or so of laughter and not many smiles today. Some non-crying times where she seemed reasonably content. And lots of fussies.

Emotion names:

Frustrated
Self-doubting
Resentful
Angry

Interpretations (beliefs, assumptions):

I’m not a good enough mother after all.

I’m bad because I wish she were happier more often and because I don’t like to be with her when she’s unhappy.

Physical sensations:

Tired.

Body language:

Slumped, furrowed.

Urges:

To leave her alone and wait for Mark to come home and deal with her.

Actions:

That’s what I did.

After effect:

Not much different.

I wish the balance of happy Amy and upset or indifferent Amy was tilted a lot more towards happy. As much as I hate the fact, it’s just easier to be around people who aren’t miserable. I hate that fact because I’m miserable so often, and I need people to be willing to be around me anyway and not avoid me until I make nice. I don’t want Amy to fake happiness, and I don’t want to avoid her when she’s unhappy, but it’s just plain exhausting and no fun to have so much either upset or indifferent, and so little smiling and laughing, when I put so much energy into trying to play with her and pay attention to her and all that.

Challenge to the interpretations:

I’m doing fine. It’s not surprising to be tired and frustrated in this situation — date aftermath, lots of fussies, sleep loss. All the signs pointed to Amy being tired, and I did what I could to help her sleep.

Also, I have an empty week ahead, and that often makes me feel tired, empty, and meaningless. I sent out email to some friends to try to make some plans, and hopefully something will work out.

And I think she might be teething… lots of effort to chew on things the last day or so. She still doesn’t have very good control of getting an object to her mouth and keeping it there, and we don’t have anything quite right for her — the teething ring is still too big, and the teething tabs on her toys are either too small or too big and, again, hard for her to get and keep in her mouth.