Work in Progress

 
Ilustration of anxiety

You might have already seen this page from my sketchbook on Instagram. If you have, please enjoy it for a second time. If not come join me over there, I've all but given up the other social medias but IG is a warm, safe, pretty place where I like to hang. 

So. I'm 12 weeks into Cognitive Behavioural Therapy for Emetaphobia and Generalised Anxiety. It's fucking hard this self improvement gig. Christ, I'm so bored of my own thoughts. I sent my sister a text asking her if she also got tired of being herself and she said all the time. So I wonder if it's normal even if you're not completely self obsessed as a result of CBT. 

This week's 'homework' (if you have a phobia CBT homework means doing shit you hate on your own time) anyway it involved watching videos of people being sick. It was truly, toe-curlingly, disgusting. Why on earth people feel the need to video themselves or their family yacking is beyond me.

The most disturbing one was of a drunk man with his face painted like a clown vomiting copiously - Monty Python levels of puke. I sort of found that one funny it was so very dark. His name was Flip Flop if you want to go check it out for yourself. (My youtube suggestions page was a horror show for few days but I've cleared my history now and feel enormous relief).

I think the therapy is working. We shall see. I'm just working on accepting where I am every moment of every day. Sometimes that's up and sometimes that's down but honestly that's a whole other blog post. I'll get to it when I can. 

For now, let's say I'm a work in progress and that my friends is ok with me. 

Fantasies: then and now (from my sketchbook)

   I’m still waiting for Colin Firth-as-Mr Darcy to come and sweep me off my feet with ardent protestations of his affection but it does seem increasingly unlikely that that particular fantasy will to come to fruition.  However, it’s not all doom and gloom. On Saturday we head off to the Italian Alps to enjoy a week’s skiing holiday without the child in tow. This means no alarms, no chores, cappuccino aplenty and several sleeps in a hotel bed.  It’s the little things people. It’s the little things.   **My thanks go out to my friend Catherine Land who stepped in to offer photoshop support.**

 

I’m still waiting for Colin Firth-as-Mr Darcy to come and sweep me off my feet with ardent protestations of his affection but it does seem increasingly unlikely that that particular fantasy will to come to fruition.

However, it’s not all doom and gloom. On Saturday we head off to the Italian Alps to enjoy a week’s skiing holiday without the child in tow. This means no alarms, no chores, cappuccino aplenty and several sleeps in a hotel bed.

It’s the little things people. It’s the little things. 

**My thanks go out to my friend Catherine Land who stepped in to offer photoshop support.**