Cognitive Dissonance Existence

Cognitive dissonance- mental stress or discomfort experience by an individual who holds two or more contradictory beliefs, ideas, or values at the same time. or is confronted by new information that conflicts with these existing beliefs, etc.
Humans strive for internal consistency, and when inconsistency (dissonance) is experienced, individuals become psychologically uncomfortable and are motivated to attempt to reduce this dissonance as actively avoiding situations and information that is likely to increase it.

Sounds like my entire existence.
But how is not supposed to be disturbing to believe someone is a decent person who truly cares about you, only to be proven wrong?
Life is one big experiment in cognitive dissonance because we are constantly torn between what we want to believe (people are good, I am loved) yet being proven wrong.

Oh, damn you Google and Wikipedia for your suggestions, now I have diagnosed myself with another issue yet I consider it more of a life thing than a me thing.

I got an awesome Christmas gift last night while my daughter was at my dad’s. Seven hours solid sleep. I’d planned on an early start but when the alarm went off shortly before six…It was like, fuck this, I am beholden only to myself, I am sleeping in.
And I did.
Then I forced myself up and about and to the shop, with all the enthusiasm of one going to be a fry cook.
Or face a firing squad.
Sometimes doing what *has* to be done just sucks the life out of you and you regard things as…Burdensome.
Tick tock, snail speed went the clock.
Sometimes, he has so little for me to do, I don’t even know why I am there. Probably so he can feel like a selfless martyr who can throw out “I do so much for you” when I piss him off.
I did apologize for the PMS monster thing, even if I think it’s crap I am always apologizing for shit that’s not my fault and not in my control. Seriously, if the worst thing I do during shark week prelude is cry randomly and take offense easily…Consider yourself lucky.
I used to throw shoes.
And scream. a lot.
Now I just get extremely moody, teary, and take offense if you tell me I look nice. Horrormones. The gift that keeps on fucking everything up.

I was on some Reddit thread and it went on about the benefits of cognitive behavior therapy.
I tried it. More than once.
To say I was underwhelmed is an understatement.
Trying to retrain behaviors and triggers is one thing.
But expecting someone to correct a mental illness by self criticism, self analysis, and pep talks…Absolute shit.
But this is the cup of tea thing, I don’t believe cognitive therapy works because it didn’t do shit for me. I guess for others it does miracles.
I am truly offended by this notion that I can identify my triggers and “tell” myself not to have a physical panic response. I may be able to keep myself in check and spin out privately but the sweating, trembling, pounding heart, weakness…
Whatever it is that sparks that, I will insist to the death that it is not by my choice. I loathe anything that makes me come off as weak. I am anything but weak.
Fuck cognitive therapy. It worked as well as hypnosis, aromatherapy, color therapy, light therapy, chakra therapy…I guess I am just a special kind of fucked up that none of the old classics work for me.

Now…Countdown to Christmas. I haven’t done fuck all. I did buy most of my kid’s stuff at the start of the month, just gotta wrap it now. I am spending tonight painting little wooden flowers so tomorrow I can glue a Christmas picture of Spook and a magnet on to create gifts for everyone because, well, I’m broke and I never asked people to buy for me so I resent having to reciprocate when everyone knows I damn well can’t afford to pay attention, let alone be generous with gifts.
And even when my dad asked what I wanted…
I said, don’t worry about me, just get some cat food and litter so I can take care of my furchildren.
And I even got the cats some catnip mice and each of the four indoor ones will get their own can of Fancy Feast, while the outdoor cats will get leftover chicken from when I make my noodles.
Cats treat me better than people, it makes sense my worry would be for them.
And of course, there will be the non pet lovers who can’t grasp this and say, “Oh, you’re being dramatic, I am sure the people in your life are good to you.”
Surface, maybe.
But I have yet to have a cat walk out on me because my mood and tears made them uneasy.
THAT is what counts.

Babble babble.
It’s what I do.
Panic is setting in at the thought of all I need to do by Wednesday night. We do the shindig Xmas Eve at Mom’s so that’s when it all has to be set to go. Christmas day is veg day ever since my grandma went into a nursing home with Alzheimer’s so we pack the whole holiday into a single evening with all family factions.
I do this every year, wait until the last minute, then freak out.
The anxiety is going to be there anyway, so I guess I rationalize that I might as well wait til the last second then my ass will kick into panic powered gear.
I am a mystery even to myself sometimes.

I have cognitive dissonance even toward myself.
The shrinks say if you think you are special, it’s some kind of magical thinking or narcissism.
But honestly, I am starting to think I truly am special, in the way of “how is it even possible for one human being to be so fucked up and such a contradiction?”
Short bus special.
Wait, that was probably offensive to someone.

The human mind’s complexities are no doubt why alcohol and drugs were invented.
It’s the only way to escape your own mind.
Please send bottles of wine to my address…


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