Ariel's Workbook

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My therapist said that it would be beneficial to work through my thoughts with some printables. I already ruminate, so I figured it wasn't that big of a change in pace for me. I'll upload some of them here as an archive of sorts, I guess? Hopefully I can see some progress overtime, or figure out something about myself or whatever. It sounds kind of cheesy to me, but hey, I'm not the head honcho in a white coat. I just do what I'm told.
A worksheet on stuff the doc wants me to try out. Mostly kind of depressing.
Look what you've done to a perfectly good human being, you've fucked it up with agoraphobia.
The bad weather hurts my head. At least in winter I don't have to deal with these swinging headaches-no headaches-headaches.
I hate how they always highlight getting help from other people or being around them. I'd rather be miserable in the woods until it passes.
It was really nice outside.

A sunset I managed to catch.

I'm usually too nervous to actually head outside of my house super early, or super late- joggers tend to love blazing past on the trails when the sun is just rising, and people are returning from their trips out to the park or back from school or work or wandering around on dates aimlessly around the city, and it's kind of a nightmare to dodge. If I bring my camera out, most people stay out of my way, at least- so long as I look busy and pretend to set up or snap shots, otherwise they might try to approach to ask about what I'm doing and if I have a business card and other nightmarish small talk that makes me want to peel my skin off. Usually when I get too agitated I go and walk into the woods, because it's really peaceful out there. You'd think that the gurgling of the rivers or the crunch of leaves underfoot would bother me, but there are certain places in there that go absolutely silent, and it's wonderful. The buzzing of the little insects and birdsong overhead, against a backdrop of cicadas humming: that's nice, too, but I live for those slices of time where everything seems to fall quiet and there's a shushed lull beneath the canopy. Even the leaves seem to come to a standstill. I'll never understand it, but it's so soothing.