Shutting up the voice

A year ago, I started a group therapy called STEPPS (Systems Training for Emotional Predictability and Problem Solving), designed as a treatment program for Borderline Personality Disorder -- one of the lovely little ickies from which my brain suffers. The program is supposed to help me learn skills to battle episodes of emotional intensity and fight the automatic negative thoughts constantly running through my head. These thoughts are my inner voice saying, "You're no good. You're not important. You're stupid and fat and ugly and untalented and worthless." Everyone has run-ins with negative thoughts. Mine are the soundtrack to a motion picture of my life.

The 24-week program did me a world of good. I learned a lot. I dealt head-on with issues surrounding my unhappiness at work and tension at home, and it eventually led me to quit my job and dive into freelance writing full time. But like anything that takes dedication and practice, STEPPS fundamentals begin to falter when you don't work on the skills on a regular basis. So this spring, I re-enrolled at the encouragement of my individual therapist. She said she'd seen much improvement in me during my time with STEPPS.

So here I am again. I'm in a much different place, mentally and emotionally, than I was the first time around, when I'd just gotten out of the hospital following my bipolar diagnosis. I haven't had a complete emotional explosion in weeks, maybe months (not even during the DMV and IHOP episodes). The inner voice, while not silent, has its volume on low and says things more like, "Geez, you're a dork. I can't believe you are going to wear a swimsuit in public. You're being a bit lazy...go for a walk." The voice likes to tease these days, rather than hurl crippling, caustic taunts.

Last week, we came to the chapter I dread most -- Cheerleading and Positive Affirmations. Face it, size zero blondes in short skirts, shaking their sis-boom-bahs, were the bane of my existence in high school. It's no wonder I'm not doing cartwheels over this bit of therapy. I'll need therapy for my therapy, for crying out loud. Anyway, the emphasis is on writing down positive statements about ourselves and really believing what's on the paper.

Just for kicks, I got out an exercise from last time, when I sent e-mails to several friends and family members, asking them to help me out with my "assignment" by finishing two statements. One: "What I like about you is..." and the other: "Your strengths and good qualities are..."

I cringe when I read what they wrote. Because it can't be true. Funny and clever? No way. Thoughtful and caring? That's not me; I'm preoccupied with my own disasters. I'm not what they think I am. I've completely snowed them, right?

I think there isn't much of anything more awkward than getting a compliment. Strike that. Getting is fairly easy. ACCEPTING a compliment -- that's the tricky part.

Maybe we should all practice giving and receiving compliments. And not just to strangers or people at work, but to the people around us who mean the most to us. How often do we turn to our child or sweetie or best friend or favorite relative and say, "You know that thing you do? You do it really well. I think you're awesome." Just give it a shot. You don't have to admit to doing therapy or getting your head shrunk. And my ickies aren't contagious. The treatment might be, though. If we're lucky.

I'm good enough. I'm smart enough. And doggone it, people like me. They said so in an e-mail. Must be true.