I am not going to go through everything that has happened since I last posted (a long, long time ago). Things happened, I had a nervous breakdown, some other things happened, I started seeing a therapist, got some meds and here we are. Yay.
What I will say is that there were a few scary weeks in which I cried every day. Mostly just constant tears, but moments of hyperventilating-can't-walk-from-the-bathroom-back-to-the-living-room-and-end-up-on-the-hallway-floor-sobbing. Not okay. So I bucked up and went to the world's best therapist. She's fabulous. Turns out I don't think very highly of myself...which is weird 'cause I thought I thought otherwise. I'm working on it. Among other things. I've started by cleaning up the clutter of my life. The physical clutter, you know, stacks of papers and books, misplaced items and all that. The idea is that by changing my behaviors I can change my internal image of myself. My goal is to reach a moment where I can believe that I'm worth it without having to tell it to myself.
To say I'm a work in progress is an understatement of epic proportions. But aren't we all? I don't think that I'll ever get to a point where I think I've got it all worked out. And that's totally okay. What I hope for is to be present in my life. For many years I've felt as if I'm just living on the surface, getting from one day to the next. It was all I was capable of. Get up, go to work, go home, go to bed, start again. That's if I could manage to talk myself out of bed, most days I could, with the promise of a nap or telling myself that when I get home I can do nothing. And my days off were often spent horizontal staring at the TV with glazed eyes. My escape. My retreat from real life. If someone asks me what I did on my day off and I say nothing, the most often given response is "well it's nice to do nothing sometimes." I wonder if it's so nice when it's all the time. I still struggle with this. I think it's become habit now rather than necessity, but I'm not sure. Right now, in my kitchen, there are clean dishes in the dishwasher that have been in there since Super Bowl Sunday. February 5th. It's the 27th. You can imagine what has become of the dishes that have been used and dirtied in the meantime. I keep telling myself that I'll do it in a bit. I'll do it later. I'll do it tomorrow. I'll do it when I get home. But I haven't. And I don't know why.
I still isolate myself. I still don't reach out to my friends and family. I'm still a work in progress.
What I will say is that there were a few scary weeks in which I cried every day. Mostly just constant tears, but moments of hyperventilating-can't-walk-from-the-bathroom-back-to-the-living-room-and-end-up-on-the-hallway-floor-sobbing. Not okay. So I bucked up and went to the world's best therapist. She's fabulous. Turns out I don't think very highly of myself...which is weird 'cause I thought I thought otherwise. I'm working on it. Among other things. I've started by cleaning up the clutter of my life. The physical clutter, you know, stacks of papers and books, misplaced items and all that. The idea is that by changing my behaviors I can change my internal image of myself. My goal is to reach a moment where I can believe that I'm worth it without having to tell it to myself.
To say I'm a work in progress is an understatement of epic proportions. But aren't we all? I don't think that I'll ever get to a point where I think I've got it all worked out. And that's totally okay. What I hope for is to be present in my life. For many years I've felt as if I'm just living on the surface, getting from one day to the next. It was all I was capable of. Get up, go to work, go home, go to bed, start again. That's if I could manage to talk myself out of bed, most days I could, with the promise of a nap or telling myself that when I get home I can do nothing. And my days off were often spent horizontal staring at the TV with glazed eyes. My escape. My retreat from real life. If someone asks me what I did on my day off and I say nothing, the most often given response is "well it's nice to do nothing sometimes." I wonder if it's so nice when it's all the time. I still struggle with this. I think it's become habit now rather than necessity, but I'm not sure. Right now, in my kitchen, there are clean dishes in the dishwasher that have been in there since Super Bowl Sunday. February 5th. It's the 27th. You can imagine what has become of the dishes that have been used and dirtied in the meantime. I keep telling myself that I'll do it in a bit. I'll do it later. I'll do it tomorrow. I'll do it when I get home. But I haven't. And I don't know why.
I still isolate myself. I still don't reach out to my friends and family. I'm still a work in progress.
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