C.B.T Third Session

Hello Escritori,

I’m going to be in trouble soon stylistically. I’m running out of letter combination visuals for this Tuesday series about C.B.T. Time to get creative!

I went to C.B.T. without having lunch first. Conveniently there is a Co-Op nearby the venue so I went in and was all set to buy a Ploughman’s (so hard sometimes to find a non-meat sandwich) when I literally gasped and went:

“No! Must resist BREAD! And cheese!”

Arrête! (Because I scold myself in multiple languages inside my head.)

Did I tell you my Dad broke the weighing scales so I appeared to have lost half a stone (7lbs) in four days? I snorted, got back on, saw the zero reset was dodgy and lost another 14lbs in less than three seconds. Hilarious. In the Co Op I decided I didn’t want a sweating Ploughman’s. (No objection to British yeomanry obviously.)

So then along came Continental pain au chocolat. I didn’t seem to care that it was literally called bread. But it is not just bread. It is patisserie. French bread. With chocolate. And covert butter. I was powerless as it hit my lips.

“Oh, laissez moi, non… non…. mais oui…”  I ate it. On a park bench.

Only ever be unfaithful to your diet.

Before that I had scrambled eggs on toast for breakfast earlier in the first week and realised too late that TOAST is also bread. *tuts*. I’m working to resist.

The third session of C.B.T (due to my patisserie afterglow) passed too quickly really, but was one of the most vital sessions. It was about combating negative thoughts. We were asked to identify a recent situation in which we had had a negative thought and then find a way to challenge ourselves and find a positive. Because I cast myself in life as everyone’s Agony Aunt (sometimes unasked) I have got a lot of empathy and ability to see both sides when it comes to other people. Regarding myself however, I tend to be a very labour-saving, black and white thinker.

No shades of grey here! 

So to quote Knock You Down… my view of life is ‘what we gon’ have dessert or disaster?’ This is obviously going to be a very hard tic to rewire, but it involves going into the situation in an open way, rather than predicting impending doom because of apparently tiny clues, which are essentially paranoia. I’m nice, I don’t have to worry.

I blame Sherlock for this hyper-awareness and for my innate need to protect myself by being avoidant. (Okay, not all Sherlock.) I’m sorry that this post was not as informative, it just felt a bit more personal and tough but hard to explain to others.

Hence defensive humour. Breakthrough possible.

Keep scribbling,

~ Pola ~