Hi guys ,
This is pretty awkward to me talking about anything related to therapy to anyone. I've been seeing my therapist for a month now , we had 4 sessions and 3 walks so far. What i wanna talk about is how i can open up to him and not feel so stiff around him and end up regretting not saying all i want or any of it at all. He says we have a good relationship but it’s different for me. I feel really disconnected. I have so much to tell him but it always ends with me not saying what i REALLY wanna say , especially when we have a walk. There’s that thing i do when i feel "bad" , i pretend that i'm telling him what i'm feeling so i calm down. Maybe it’s the reason i have nothing left to say ?
The reason i'm trying to find a way to be more open is that i feel forced by myself. I’m regretting everytime i see him and end up not saying what i feel at all , and i don’t wanna drop therapy. I really really need it. I had a really unpleasant event by the time of our 3rd session and it made me realize how lucky i am to have a therapist at all. I wanna start fresh and on good terms with him. I wanna trust him enough to be comfortable around him to make our process better and not feel pushed. And he’s just a nice person idk what’s wrong with me
I want to want to get better and not feel so forced by myself.

I unfriended my depressed friend. She was very demanding and refused to accept criticisms, but she tried to be a friend, and that's what makes me feel guilty. She has depression and anxiety, but I'm not the kind of person who's patient and understanding enough to deal with someone who gets angry at constructive criticisms and isn't willing to help herself. She asked me if I only befriended her out of pity, and I said "yeah a little" because I'm a very straightforward person and I'm not a very "empathetic" person per say, and yes that's a horrible thing to say, but I wanted out of the friendship that made me so anxious and unhappy all the time. Our friendship lasted for about 2 years, which was rather long considering that I only befriended her out of pity. It ended unhappily, with her telling me that I was selfish, but I know I couldn't put up a fake front anymore and I feel more liberated than sorry. Can someone tell me if what I did was right? Ending the friendship? I wanted to be a more understanding friend as well and attempted to make it last, but she really made me lose my head, any advice on that?

About me and how I need help psychologically...

So this page is all about me, myself and my book of wild thoughts. Obviously my name is not Bookof!! I’m intending to keep anonymity at least for now; that’s because I’m a bit ashamed of what I write! I did not even link it to my own personal Facebook profile, I preferred to create a different entity, and this is being applied onto all my self-owned social network profiles. Besides, it’s in my constitutional rights to do so and if anybody’s got a problem with that, well…. Door’s open, please go !!

So what is book of wild thoughts all about, I can hear you mumbling… As said above, this book is all about me and my personality and how I’m intending, with the help of all my readers, to achieve in linking them harmoniously. There are other areas I’m looking forward to improve as well: my own English writing style, some books and stories I wanted to publish. So this website is all about gathering enough courage in me to really do what I always wanted !!

I’ll probably add some more text in the future for that’s all I feel like writing at the moment; my wife’s nearly finished with cooking dinner and it’s about time to wrap the napkin around the closet, oops sorry! I meant around the neck;

Just to let you know how it took me days before I started to lay my hands on my own personal blog, I even threw up out of eating whatever came in, I think it’s the stress LOL ! I don’t know why such a reaction would occur to me, maybe I got too lazy to start working on it… So you can guess by now, or I can already hear you screaming, “How am I supposed to know that?? Ain’t you old enough to know it (oh, btw, how rude of me, I’m male, thirties, and married. Where were my manners!?) yourself why are you asking me??”

So here we go: my answer is exactly your question, I don’t know myself enough and this has caused me (and is still causing me) tremendous trouble in whatever I do, whoever I lived with, in all what you can think of! This lack of personality, of self-esteem has brought me to where I am at present, a lousy web developer after 10 years in the field and writing this blog! Of course, I managed to get a nice girl to fall in love with, a little plot of land I managed to get on a good opportunity, but ‘all’ this achievement (LOL) seems so small as compared to the $#%^ I brought to my family, my wife and luckily no kids so far! Imagine the disaster, for my wife: 2 stubborn kids in the house!

So many of my friends have excelled in the field, they took courage, had the balls still have, and grabbed life with firm hands to build their dreams and be happy with their life now. It would have sounded so selfish if I had ended this sentence with “except me”!! I have a great family, wonderful parents whom I never blame for where I’m standing now, a wonderful wife who has accepted to bear me for three years now and a nice work atmosphere, what more could I want? What more would a man need to start flying on his own ship and start his business ‘happily ever after’ ??

So all these lines of thought, these wild thoughts (I’ve got more, don’t worry!!) have led me to share my life and my own thoughts into a small book which I’ll update online of course, from time to time. I’ll be pretty close with it, since I’m intending to use it anywhere I’ll be, using my mobile phone; yes, even when I’m taking a $#%^ !

That’s because it’s better to be writing something than doing anything else #######5, how about that !?

Thanks for reading my article down to here and hope I can get to read your comments very soon!

From what I have been told, I was talking and walking by 9 months old. Perhaps it is an exaggeration, but I can attest to the ease I have experienced in school, with dealing with problems, and assessing the “right” behavior in situations.

I have had one imaginary friend, from what I can remember, since I was about two years old. I remember when he first knocked on the door, a back door with a mud room in my house, and I let him in. I would tease my Dad that he was my boy friend. He kept me wonderful company and was an enlightening, safe harbor. I remember another time when someone entered through this same door. I remember that I was handed a stuffed animal by this man, but I cannot recall any more.

When I was seven, I remember feeling sure that I could survive on my own, if only my parents would let me alone. In kindergarten, I could read chapter books and would forge my mother’s signature on the homework list each week. I remember wanting the independence from my mother to moderate my own life.

My favorite thing to do at that time was read. I had a children’s encyclopedia and learned about sexual reproduction in this fashion. I discovered an obsession with looking at Michael Angelo’s “David” sculpture. I would sit and look at it for different durations each day.

Between seven and nine, my parents split up (though, I had suspected it for over a year). At this time I began having very sexual, very vivid dreams. One dream I remember was of my self in a hotel room, seducing a much older, ugly man. I believe between six and seven I was sexually abused again, by the same close friend of my family that had been in my life much earlier, and that I had let into my home through the mud room door. I cannot remember it happening, but I have returned to a certain event when I remember I was alone with this person, and there are blank spots in my memory.

I started touching my self with my dolls or stuffed animals around this time, I don’t really understand why. I would “tell” my sister’s fortune by looking into my crystal ball. Around the same time I stopped feeling normal. When I saw myself in the mirror, I felt an intense, unnatural feeling. It was almost disgust. It increased when I had on feminine clothing. I still feel it, sometimes seemingly random and sometimes by noticeable triggers, to this day.

When I was nine, I realized that my father was not scary. I saw that he would raise his voice to intimidate me- and, I saw that it was just that- and that I was capable of it too. This led me to a strange relationship with aggression. I began to “dominate” my siblings, feel an anger that was confusing and overwhelming. I felt as if something in me was red fire hot, and I had no control over it, nor the ability to stop it, nor the knowledge of how it started. I felt like a victim while I victimized other people. And still, though less frequently and with more control to mask it, I have this sensation of being a puppet. At this time I also began trying to study witch craft and wanted to be a vampire. I would mediate and attempt to make spells.

By the time I was eleven, I was not only participating in on-line sex and wishing to be kissed by a boy at school, but I was finding attendance at school more difficult, as well as having increased bouts with anxiety and depression. This only worsened as I got older. And by fourteen, I was full blown suicidal. My parents attempted to get me help, but the doctors, therapists, teachers, and medication were so easily manipulated that no one could touch me.

I would get into these crazed, raging fits of frustration and aggression. I would yell, scream, shake, cry, weep, sob; I was frightening. I started “cutting” which was mostly scratching. I started messing around with older guys. I started lying and going out and trying to drink/party as much as possible. When my father would have a chance to sit and talk to me, he would try to hug me, but I would yell insults until he would give up. I remember ...

[ Continued ]

Rightio, guys! Welcome to my world! It's great in here, albeit the landscapes may appear a little cerebral and neurotic sometimes. I lead the fine young life of an Irish student. Yes, student life is... well, chaotic. Effective organisation is always precluded by the necessities of student life (i.e. sleeping erratic hours, inconsistently meeting inconsistent deadlines, and an all-round simultaneous lack of planning and spontaneity). I am doing what I love (that's binge-reading on metaphysics and critical theory and writing highfalutin essays on it all), and even if it doesn't make me happy, that's okay, because I'm doing the right thing with my life right now. Clarity helps.

Happiness (whatever it is) is a thoroughly overused term these days. Why on earth should I be happy just because I have everything and my life is pretty darn good?! 'Erm... perhaps because you have everything and your life is pretty darn good...?' This is called circular reasoning, a logical fallacy. In fact, the entire pursuit of happiness in itself is both illogical and pointless. For a fact, nothing makes me happy. Ought I be stricken now by an avalanche of guilt? Not really. It's okay to feel whatever you feel and it is absolutely ridiculous to feel what someone else (or society, in fact) tells you to feel, because that's even more absurd that not feeling good, when life's good. In fact, the pursuit of happiness makes people depressed, because it's cheating logic and breaking down the faculties we rely on to make clear distinctions between things!

I like my life. I don't like my depression. I live life with depression. I do not live a depressed life. When I am really depressed I am not living my life, but this has nothing to do with my life and everything to do with my depression. It is important when I am very depressed to never wish my depression to end, because this would mean ending my life. And I like my life. It is much more likable than my depression. It only makes sense to say, then, that I like my life more than I can ever dislike my depression, because depression requires life in order to exist and wishing my life to end because it will end my depression is completely absurd, because it denies the origin of depression, which is not life, but absurdity. Yes, depression is absurd, but life is not and in order to affirm what is true and meaningful (i.e. the fact that depression is absurd) we must affirm life.

Of course, it may appear to be problematic when philosophers say that life is absurd and melancholia is a natural reaction to the absurdity of life. This may be true (and if it is it becomes difficult to distinguish depression from life), but even these philosophers find a way of affirming life, even if only in spite. For Camus, absurdity must be affirmed because our lucidity is the basis of all that we have. According to him, we must continue to push the boulder up the hill knowing it will fall back down, because acknowledging the pointlessness of this task liberates us to accept it. For Kierkegaard, it is defiance: rejection of help or escape which gives us strength to be our own and endure. For Nietzsche, life, suffering and all the tragedy in the world must be relished in order to rise above the adversity of slavery and become masters of ourselves through strength and creativity.