So far so Good

Today has started out to be a good day.  Got up early (thank’s to Mom…she needed help to dress), ate breakfast, I’m on my third and final soda for the day, I’ve taken my handful of pills and am contemplating getting up and doing my projects for today… hour in each bedroom and office.

It would be so nice to have an office to go to to snuggle with instead of my bedroom.  We can read, or I can play with her but I wouldn’t be anywhere near my bed.  As much as I love my bed, as I’ve stated before, there’s a Monster in my bed!!

Facing my Fears

Let’s see if I can get this to post again….my computer ate my last post.  Little bastard!

When I left therapy on Thursday Connie challenged me with going to the gym three times and working in my rooms for a few hours.  The instant they were on my plate I was overwhelmed.  How weak is that?  Seriously, I must be the most frail person on earth.  Needless to say, they didn’t get done.  Tomorrow is the last day to do anything and I’ll try to get something done, but again, no promises.

I have my excuses, very good ones if you ask me.  For exercise, I’ve had gastrointestinal distress, not the normal IBS, but a flu like distress.  I have a standard rule that I need to curtail any and all possibilities of fouling my britches in public.  I’m just now getting over it and things are back to a some-what solid footing again.  Yea me.  Working in my rooms?, too tired and just not wanting to.  It doesn’t help that I’ve been plagued with the feeling ill and then the whole dumb-bunny move of not taking my pills.  I need to not do that any more.  I didn’t take it yesterday because I didn’t want to take them too close together, but I think that needs to be for-gone with because I don’t think it would do me any harm to have extra calm in my system.

I’m feeling the effects of not having my pills.  I hate that the anger returns to quickly when I go off them.  I know I don’t have a lot of lead way with these little white life savers, and so I push it anyway.  I’m irritated to be around Mom so much and I wish the sisters would be more supportive and take her off my hands from time to time, but as the closest unemployed person in the family, they feel it is the least I can do.  It just irks me that I’m stuck.

I need to get better about these things.  I can’t just hide behind my overwhelmed self forever, no matter how much I’d like to.  I want to re-enter my life and take it by the horns and drive it to my desires, not to the worlds whims.  The start of that is to take my therapy more seriously, to take my drugs regularly and to participate more in my life.  It’s so much easier to say, so much harder to do, but I need to make the strides necessary, no matter how hard and/or painful.  It won’t kill me, or so I keep telling myself, and luckily I’ve gotten to a point in my life when I realize I won’t kill me either.

I’ve stopped crying….

The last blog was written over a week ago. I ‘drafted’ it until I calmed down and then I forgot. I don’t cry, as a rule and I certainly don’t cry in public, it’s humiliating enough to blubber behind closed doors. The stress caused a massive IBS attack and, trust me, you don’t need details.

Therapy today is about taking control of the idea that you have no control and to step consciously into you fears. So, I have to exercise three times before next Tuesday and call my therapist and finish up my office and bedroom. Which are on my check-list.

I’ve been trying to figure out what it is I need to do to get from the I’m-back-on-my-feet-but-don’t-know-where-to-go-from-here? to the next step. But by small things can  all things come to pass. This week it’s eating three meals and taking my meds and BSL to employed and writing again and, dare I say it, even happy and at peace again. I’m not a coward, I know I’m not, but I am afraid of the moving forward part of this
process. Why? I dunno, maybe it’s because I’m afraid of making a giant fool of myself.  I’m afraid that everyone knows that I’m in the Void….again….and know that I can’t make ends meet no matter what I try….that people just won’t like me.

So, working out this week and finishing my rooms…..maybe roll out the yoga mat too.

Connie put up this interesting diagram today about fear, despair and anxiety and their
polar opposites…..


Fear – Trust

Anxiety – Peace

Despair – Hope

I have always believed that depression is a profound loss of Hope, peace is one of the fruits of the Spirit and trust is something I need to learn to have with Heavenly Father. I’m going to try the basic lessons I used to do on my mission. I’m going to give to the Lord what is His and trust He will help me get the money back to Cyndi for the rent. Sometimes walking in faith means you have to take the fist couple of steps without seeing where your foot will fall. And I’m talking about all faith, no “back-up” plan, no consequences for Him if He doesn’t come through the way I want Him to. I’m just going to trust that everything that happens will be for my benefit and good. Heaven help me!

Crying Is For Sissies

I want to make something clear: I DON’T CRY.  Mostly because I’m afraid I won’t stop.  Something triggered the water-works today and for a while I couldn’t get in control of myself.  I screamed, silently, hoping to clear the crying but it only made it worse.  Not until I got down on my knees and pled for the floodgates to close did I finally calm down.  I put a cold damp cloth to my face to hide the evidence.  I don’t cry pretty, and the tell-tale blotches and shiney eyes announce to the world that I’m unstable and will bust into tears at a moments notice.

The trigger was simple enough: I was late on the rent and my ever-patient landlady said I had to stop paying late and I needed to fix it or go to a smaller apartment.  I’ve never felt more like a compete failure as an adult before.  I felt weak, useless, frail and angry all at the same time, and … they come again.  I can’t cry here, I’m in public…..

Monsters in my Bed

I know, it wasn’t too long ago I was raving about how much I love my bed.  And I do love my bed.  It’s my own private island.  But now, I’m sensing a more sinister presence, a monster of sorts, in my bed.  When I need to get up, and I’m wide awake and I sorta want to get up, I feel these arms go around me, pulling me back down to the feather bed.  “Oh, five more minutes won’t hurt,” it would whisper to me and I’d close my eyes.  The cycle repeats itself until I’m more exhausted from sleeping and just surrender myself to the monsters arms.  The next thing I know I’ve slept the morning and half the day away and am so torpid and sluggish I feel as though I should just stay there until tomorrow.  I think I talked about tomorrow too.

Yes, I know how demented it sounds to say there is a monster in my bed.  Delusional and paranoid is the clinical terms, I believe.  No, there really isn’t a monster in my bed.  I just can’t deal with the idea that I am the monster, I’m the one who surrenders to the depression or anxiety, (I don’t know which one keeps me abed).  I guess I’m the monster…….