I have begun behavior modification therapy. Which, as far as i can tell, involves looking into my brain and finding all the ways it’s broken.We are looking at my “Core Beliefs” and “*Filters.”

* “A filter is an extremely stable and enduring pattern of thinking that develops during childhood and is elaborated throughout an individual’s life. We view the world through filters.” (Young, 1999)

Not surprisingly i scored very high on many filters that are bad. BAD. Highest on the list were self-sacrifice, vulnerability to harm and illness, emotional deprivation, and defectiveness/social undesirability.

Of course i am pessimistic, at best, about all this hocus-pocus and nobody wants to know how screwed up they are. Do they? I know i’m supposed to be learning from this. Looking at these “filters” and understanding why i feel the way i do. All i see is that i am socially undesirable and vulnerable all wrapped up in an emotional straightjacket.

Lots of homework. Mood logs to fill out. I just have so much trouble being honest. Seeing the benefit in all of this when it leaves me swirling in a muddy pit of despair.

I think the biggest misunderstanding about depression is that a person has control over it.

That i should be grateful for what i have – just get over myself. Believe me i am grateful and i would give every penny i have to just get over it.

Since being in the hospital, which is such a humbling and embarrassing situation to be in, and changing medications my sadness has changed. It’s not right there on the surface anymore. I no longer well up with tears at the thought of any mildly sad thought. It’s deeper now. It’s more all consuming. I just can’t brush it off. I can ignore it, but happiness and laughter completely elude me now.

I am working harder than ever at keeping it all together. Keeping the house clean, doing laundry, taking the kids on adventures. Ensuring that everything around me is not falling apart.

My children are happy. They frolic about in the yard, enjoying the sun that has finally appeared, making up games. Being kids. Oblivious to the giant, often frightening world around them. They have everything they need, including plenty of love from me.

I’m not sure why i feel this need to defend myself, or more aptly my mothering skills. But, when i open myself up to this giant world of therapy it is difficult not to focus on all the ways i am broken. There is little to no thought about the things i have done right.