Excuses

Recently I heard someone talking about how they were a kleptomaniac. And his friends all agree’d. Now, I’m no true psychiatrist, so I can’t confirm nor deny her disorder. I do have to say, though, you should not call a kleptomaniac a kleptomaniac; you should call them a dirty thief. Everyone is looking to shirk responsibility for their own actions, and by calling a thief a clepto, you are handing them an excuse on a silk pillow. Will has profound effects on mental disabilities, but people are so quick to put their problems on a disorder and say “its impossible for me to fix.” So when you call a Kleptomaniac a dirty thief, you are telling them that there is no excuse for their behavior, and hopefully putting them in a position where they want to help themselves. No one wants to make anyone feel bad, so people forget that negative reinforcement is how we learn. (My step-dad did not forget that negative reinforcement is how we learn)

Look at commercials that sell gum and pills to help stop smokers. They are filled with messages about how it’s so hard to quit, and how it’s impossible. Now, when someone is trying to quit cold turkey, they get that craving. And they say to themselves “I shouldn't be ashamed, after all, it’s SO hard to quit smoking” and then buy a pack of cigarettes.

I’ve had Clinical Anxiety disorder for most of my life. When I was younger my way of dealing with it was to avoid any stressful situation. When I was confronted about my avoidance, I’d just claim I can’t do it because of anxiety. Or when I had an anxiety attack I triggered my flight response and I did everything I could to get out of the situation. Then I got my first REAL job and I got my first REAL anxiety attack. I left crying two or three times before I realized. “If I keep running away, they are going to fire me.”/

Let me tell you this, nothing feels harder then confronting a task, while you are having anxiety over that vary task. It feels like you’ve got molasses in your vains, and your joints are rusted and un-oiled. You grit your teeth and every instinct is telling you to hit/hurt something or run away. It hurts, it’s hard, it’s hellish. But it is necessary… (Continued in my next blog: Fear.)