Here are my top five reasons I might hand you a mood diary at the end of a CBT session.
5. You’re not sure what you’re feeling.
4. I’m not sure you know what you’re feeling.
3. You think your feelings don’t make sense.
2. You think your feelings are stupid.
1. I ran out of time for us to properly plan a task for you to try between sessions and I thought this would probably be helpful and I couldn’t see how it could possibly go wrong. Continue reading →
It’s rare that I hear procrastination referred to in a positive light. Perhaps at high school, when some of my esteemed classmates would exhibit their extreme cool by saying they were procrastinating studying for exams. They didn’t actually mean they were putting off studying, they were implying that they had no intention of studying. More than that – they were implying that only dickheads cared about school. Of course, only us dickheads could appreciate the irony of misusing the term procrastinate in a sentence intended to demonstrate the insignificance of a good education.
For three weeks, the following visuals triggered a flash of pure rage in me: running shoes, technical fabrics, my Garmin, shorts, the gym, food with “energy” in its name, emails from the charity I’d run for, and anyone who was out running or might have just been running or was possibly just about to go running, or could have run at some point in their life. And Top Gear, but that may have been unrelated.
Most infuriating were those smug, leap-out-of-bed-types bounding across Primrose Hill regardless of the weather, too smitten with running to be even remotely bothered to judge those foolish enough not to have caught on to their miracle remedy for the crushing reality of adult life. What was their problem? Who the hell did they think they were? How on earth could I become one of them? Continue reading →
Yesterday I asked running to give me a second chance. I know I spent some time with the sofa but, you know, we were on a break. Continue reading →
Roughly six weeks ago I decided I hated Running. In that moment, it seemed like a pointless activity in which the minimal gains were far outweighed by the physical, mental and time investment required. Running had convinced the world it was accessible to anyone, but when anyone got involved, they were no longer anyone, they were now a Runner. They cared about wicking, they could convert speed to pace and miles to kilometres, they engaged in the barefoot debate, they used marathons to sort out their brilliant-older-sibling issues, and they couldn’t run a phenomenal distance without telling everyone how freaking phenomenal the distance was that they just ran. Running wasn’t a pastime, it was a cult. I wanted no part of it. Continue reading →