Posted in anxiety, family, kids, Life, Mental Health, motherhood, Musings, women

Challenged

Warning: This post will mention periods- and I don’t mean the kind at the end of this sentence. You’ve been warned.

Yesterday was kind of a disaster. I tried, I really did- I wrangled most of the dishes into the dishwasher and remembered to turn it on. I also remembered to put the chicken I’d thawed out into the crockpot, AND I remembered to turn it on, too, so that’s a win. I managed to get a good chunk of work done, as well, although…I did notice that by 10:30 yesterday morning, I was extremely stressed out, trying to navigate my way through our new system while seeming to have forgotten everything I’d learned over the past two weeks. Everything looked different. I was sure they’d done updates or something over the weekend and forgotten to tell us. I switched from one work queue to another, hoping it would sort itself out. Eventually, I just took a break, if for no other reason than to unclench my jaw and try to turn the volume down on my anxiety. I was just about to take the garbage out when my boss called me- she asked me some questions that I didn’t know the answer to, mostly because I didn’t understand what she was saying- yes, she was speaking English, but my already frazzled brain couldn’t quite wrap itself around this new lingo that came with the new system. Sigh. I muddled through. I must have given her some semblance of a proper answer because she let me off the phone- either that or I confused her so much that she gave up. Either way, the garbage went out. Another small win.

By the time I clocked out, I was feeling incredibly drained and ready for a nap. I had planned on going to the gym, but I couldn’t figure out how to fit in a nap, AND my daughter’s first day of second grade homework, AND the gym, and somehow not die. So the gym was out. This is where things shoot straight the hell downhill. Homework. It’s always homework that pushes me over the edge.

I had such high hopes this year. I imagined Cam and I sitting together, peacefully working through her spelling words, me a bastion of patience and support, her a shining little genius, impressing me with her brilliance. HA! I forgot about the whining, the tears, the outrageous behavior. And that’s just me- you should see how she acts! Hahaha. Seriously though, WTF? How hard is it to trace over some letters and copy a few sentences? Why is this such a struggle? And why oh why oh why have I not learned by now that me yelling does nothing at ALL to help the situation? I am so utterly sick of my yelling…I’ve just had it. I’m the adult, and sometimes I am as prone to fits as a two year old. It’s embarrassing.

There was one moment of grace in all of that, at least. After I completely lost my shit, and after she had lost her video privileges for the rest of the night, we moved on to our 20 minutes of reading. I decided that she would read to me for five minutes, and I would read to her for 15, at least for now. We started “The Boxcar Children”, and to my surprise, she really liked it. For at least those 20 minutes we matched the vision in my head- a mother and daughter, totally sane, curled up together on the couch reading, in a house that smelled like delicious dinner. When the timer went off, she asked me to keep reading! That was a first!

Unfortunately, I was dead on my feet by 7:30 and insisted that we go to bed early. Everything would have been fine if I hadn’t suddenly realized I’d forgotten to take my vitamins and gotten back out of bed. That’s when all hell broke loose. Somehow, on my way back to bed, my cat got a little frisky with me and bit my hand- this is fine, we play like this all the time. Except this time, the cat somehow got his claw STUCK in my little finger. STUCK. I had to pull it out of my own finger while it was still attached to the cat. To say that I was furious would be about correct. It HURT! It was bleeding, and my finger was throbbing like a heart beat. I banished the cat from the room, and Camryn was crying because I was so mean, and I was mad at everyone, and…then I started my period.

And everything suddenly made sense.

Why I was so angry. Why the Kids Baking Competition on TV made me cry. Why homework was the worst thing that had ever happened to me. Why I could not stop eating all day. And why I was so exhausted.

Listen, this is no excuse, I know it. Lots of times I still act up and it has nothing to do with my hormones at all. But hormones are REAL. When they are out of whack, you really do have less room for error, less space to negotiate with before spouting off. At least I do. And I know that is not true for everyone, and congratulations to you if you are one of those rare birds, but I am not. I have to track my cycle like a pro, and even then it can catch me off guard sometimes. Like yesterday.

Now I’m getting to my point, and yes, I actually have one- You know I love nothing more than a good challenge, right? So today, I am going to see if I can go just 24 hours without raising my voice once. Just 24 hours. No excuses. Unless, you know, someone is about to unwittingly walk off a cliff or in front of a car or something. No raising my voice in anger or frustration. Do you think I can do it? Well, I’m about to find out. Wish me luck.

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Posted in fun, funny, humor, Life, Musings, People, women

The Hormone Weasels Have Come to Roost.

pms

I don’t have much to offer beyond that title, there…just a brief note to let you all know that, much like every other month of my life, my body has been taken over by high levels of the unfriendly variety of hormones. I should probably know more about what they are, but to be honest, women’s bodies are incredibly complicated and difficult-even for women- and even though I’ve read all about all of the particulars of what we grossly call the “menstrual cycle” (admit it, that is such a gross word), I can’t retain that kind of information. It just flows in one ear and out the other. Pun intended.

Anyway, generally I know what is coming down the pike for me because I wake up just really unusually angry. Even if I don’t know that I am angry, maybe Camryn can’t find her shoes in the morning, or maybe the dog looks at me wrong, and all of the sudden I am just furious. Stupid little things really set me off. That’s my first clue. After that, well…for instance, my boss said something jokingly to me at work today, something I would normally have laughed at. Today, I seriously considered quitting my job. I literally stopped, dead still, and thought “I’m walking out.” That was my second clue. Later on, I started crying over a loving family scene while watching a rerun of 90210- the WORST show ever in the history of ever (I don’t know why I’m watching it , it makes no sense at all) and I was about to breakdown because Brenda and her family shared a hug. Or maybe it was David Silver and his grandparents. Either way, give me a break. Finally, I was just sitting here, minding my own business, when out of the blue I became very, very upset by how fat and ugly I felt.

I’m pretty sure I’m no fatter or uglier than I was this morning, but it’s this awful feeling…unless you have ovaries, I just don’t know how to describe this sudden gloom of body dysphoria that descends from nowhere. But it’s a SURE indicator of trouble on the hormonal horizon.

I’m going to go take a bath, wash my hideous face, and hide my bloated body beneath a sea of bubbles and essential oils, taking solace in the fact that this will all be over soon. Of course, what comes next is no picnic either, but…this is not the blog to speak of such things.

Have a lovely night. I’m going to rustle up a salty chocolate snack of some sort before submersion.

Posted in anxiety, Depression, Life, Mental Health, Musings, random

Thoughts From a Difficult Brain

I have been having some trouble with my head lately. The last time I wrote, I told you I was feeling restless, and it’s still true- restlessness paired with discontent can quickly boil over into a gummy mess of self loathing. I am trying to avoid that. I’ve sat here and written parts of several posts that I decided were entirely too whiny, and I was too embarrassed to publish them. I have nothing to complain about, really. Or at least, that is what I tell myself- that because I have a particular set of circumstances that might be a little less troubling than the circumstances of “some people” (whoever they might be), I am not allowed to dislike anything about my life.

Although I realize on a certain level that is bullshit- my feelings about my life are absolutely valid, no matter how good I might have it- I also understand that complaining is pretty useless. So I am not going to do that. What I am going to do is tell the truth, and the truth for me is- I struggle with my moods. I am not moody enough to warrant medication, nor is that something I want for myself, but it is a struggle nonetheless. I have a mind that will seize upon an unpleasant thought and spin it into an astounding and terrible scenario, and it can propel me into anxiety the likes of which I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy- if I had a worst enemy, which I don’t think I do. Anyway, I believe this is called “catastrophic thinking”, and it is part of having anxiety, which I thought was something I suffered from occasionally, not something I “had” until I said this to my therapist, and she actually started laughing. I don’t think your therapist is supposed to laugh at you, but I forgive her. Apparently, I’m an anxious person. You know, I masked every single thing about my actual personality with drugs for so long, that I am still figuring out who I really am. Or who I am now, I guess.  So yes, I am anxious. I am moody. I am very hard on myself, most of the time.

But lately, this has all morphed into this weird blah-ness, this kind of “meh” feeling, and it just sucks. Half of me wants to run off and have this big, juicy, adventurous life, and the other half of me is like “Just watch TV, Courtney. There’s no point in having to put on shoes.” And of course, I am making it sound funny so that it doesn’t sound that bad, but in truth…in truth, I am grappling with some dangerous thoughts. Things like quitting my job, which would not be in my best interest right now, and quitting recovery, which might not be in my best interest ever. Sigh. I don’t know what is going on. Perhaps I’m having a mid-life crisis? Is that applicable for women? I don’t want to run out and buy a street bike and date a blonde half my age, so…it’s hard to say.

So, rather than do anything drastic that might shake up my life a little more than I am bargaining for, I am going to go back to the things that have worked for me before. I am going to do the things that make me feel good by default, such as- going to the beach. Going to the gym (it really does feel good after you actually get there). Eating less bacon- I know this sounds counter intuitive, but trust me, too much bacon does not a happy girl make- it’s one of those pleasures in life that needs to be spaced out a little bit. Also, clearing my space- I swear to God, I accumulate possessions at the speed of light. Oh! And that’s another thing- stop compulsively ordering shit I don’t need off of Amazon. It’s just another attempt to self-soothe, I know this, and yet…no, I don’t need anymore books right now!

I am capable of great happiness- I think we all are. But the trick, I think, is realizing that no one feels perfectly happy all the time. And maybe some of us feel the bumps in the road a little more than others, and that’s okay, too. But the big truth is, we are all responsible for creating lives that feel good enough for ourselves, and when life doesn’t feel good, we have a responsibility to ourselves to fix it, or to figure out what isn’t working and make adjustments. I am impatient, so I want everything to be better RIGHT NOW- I want to throw it all away and start over. Oh, I’m having a bad week? Well, obviously, I should quit my job, move across the country, and become a homesteader who makes her own soap, right?

No…no, I don’t think that’s how this is going to go down. I think, today, I will just start with taking a walk, washing the dishes, and being a little more gentle with myself. And maybe tomorrow, we’ll see where I’m at. Maybe tomorrow, it will feel a little better.

Posted in Addiction, anxiety, Depression, faith, Life, Mental Health, Musings, recovery, twelve step

Life on Life’s Terms

life on life's terms

 

 

I am having the hardest time ever with this post right now. This is the third blog I have started, and I am determined to finish this one, no matter how much I may hate it. Here’s the thing: I am having a shit time right now, for a number of reasons. None of them are big things, but a bunch of little things strung together, causing me stress and a general feeling of unease. I don’t feel comfortable with my life or in my body right now, and it’s bumming me out.

Here’s the thing, though. I understand that this is temporary, just like everything always is. My face has erupted like Mount Vesuvius, but…it is going to go back to normal. Eventually. I had a bunch of unexpected expenses come up all at once, but…they are going to be dealt with. Financial ruin is unlikely. I haven’t had time this week to buy groceries or get to the gym, and it sucks, but I will get back on track. It’s not the end of the world.

In my addict mind (and maybe in normal minds, too, I have no experience with living in one of those) everything is extremely black and white, all or nothing. Every time I get off track, I feel like I have failed utterly, and there will be no coming back for me. Which is ridiculous- I have millions of examples in my own life where that has not ever, not once, been the case. And yet, I persist with this wrong thinking. My mind often works against me, and it can be exhausting.

The solution? I believe it must be to just acknowledge that my wrong thoughts exist, be aware of that, and then work around them. Sometimes, I can think myself right into a corner, wedged so tightly that I can’t even move. Like, moving a muscle seems impossible, seriously. That is when I need to find the strength to haul my ass up anyway, and get some shit done. If I let myself sit in my mess for too long, that is when depression comes calling. And if you’ve ever dealt with depression, you know how hard that can be to get out of, and how scary it feels when it’s breathing down your neck. Inaction is not my friend in this situation.

I keep thinking about how, four days ago, I wrote a post about laughter, and how weird it may seem to any attentive readers that I am now writing about something quite the opposite of that. Maybe you will think I am nuts…hell, maybe I am. But here’s the thing- life doesn’t care how great I felt last week. Life just shows up, and does what it does. What I have learned in recovery is that I am supposed to be living life on life’s terms, meaning I deal with what life serves up, to the best of my ability, without taking anything to change the way I feel. This is harder than it sounds sometimes. Not the part where I don’t take anything, I’ve grown used to that. It’s the part where I cope with it well that eludes me sometimes.

I get nervous. I get scared. I feel like a lot of people depend on me, and I don’t know if I am up to the task. I retreat. I close up. I shut down.

But I always, always, always (so far) pull it together in the end. I always find a way to come out the other side of my feelings intact. I have a 100% success rate so far of not destroying my life completely, as long as I stay clean. I may not be feeling my best today, but tomorrow…who knows? Hell, later today I might feel better. You just never know. My job is just to hang in there, do my best, and wait for things to change. Because they always do, for better or worse.

Posted in Depression, Life, Musings, People, random

Sigh…I Can’t Fake It.

I have been really trying to work up some enthusiasm for blogging, flipping through the file cabinets in my own mind, desperately hoping to stumble across SOMETHING worth sitting down and rolling my sleeves up over. The sad truth is, I got nothing. The even sadder truth is, even when I do come up with something that I can generate an iota of interest in, I am just too unmotivated to sit down and flesh it out. I keep thinking things like “Why bother dumping all that energy into something you will end up not posting anyway?” and other self defeating thoughts of the like.

I have been doing that, too, the few times I have tried to write- struggled through a post from end to end, only to decide, after all that, that I don’t feel like posting it after all. Up until this past month or so, I had never done that before. I don’t know what the hell this new crap phase is I am in the middle of, but I can tell you this- I do not like it, not one little bit. It just bites ass.

I want to come on here and post something witty, or hopeful, or a piece that makes me seem more scrappy and unflappable than I really am, but that would be a big fat lie. I am just completely void of joy right now, which is even more unfortunate considering Christmas is tearing towards us at the speed of light. I don’t have an explanation for it, there is nothing really wrong, or at least, no more wrong than usual. Yet, I feel far worse than I ever feel, even when my life has been in much worse shape. I have no energy, I don’t want to watch TV or read, I don’t want to go anywhere or do anything, talk to anyone, or see anyone. I get hungry, but I can’t figure out what to eat, or what to buy at the store, or if I do, I end up feeling too listless to actually make anything. I feel like there is an invisible force field around me, keeping everything out, leaving me with just total ambivalence about everything. It’s very strange, and contrary to my mercurial nature, and I can’t seem to do anything about it.

It dawned on my just before I started writing this, that the only thing I haven’t considered doing, so far, is to just accept that I am feeling how I feel right now. I always, always, want to resolve things- even things within myself- and I will beat something to death trying to arrive at a solution. If you don’t believe me, ask any of my ex boyfriends…I’m sure I’ve driven more than one dude beyond his capacity to cope with my never-ending quest to get to the bottom of things. But it is a very rare occurrence for me to let go of the struggle and say “Fine!”, to just leave things alone. I wouldn’t consider doing that now if I just plain hadn’t run out of ideas. I want to feel better, but I don’t know how, so I am going to try to feel how I feel and see if there is a purpose under all this blah. Maybe I am missing the lesson because I am so busy trying to minimize and strangle my unpleasant feelings. So, here I am, little hovering storm cloud! Descend upon my head! Lets do this, then…

On the other hand, it could be clinical depression, in which case this method probably isn’t going to be successful. I guess I will have to figure that one out, too. I still don’t want to take weird prescription drugs for my moods, for reasons ranging from vague to superstitious, none of which are based on legitimate facts. As always, I find this quite amusing, considering my drug addled history. Secretly, though, I fear I am one of those crazy people that refuse medication stubbornly, while everyone around them clucks and shakes their heads, exchanging pointed looks behind my back. Perhaps this does happen, who knows? I can’t add that to my list of shit that messes with my head, I just can’t. I’m too busy accepting my doldrums, in hopes that we might be able to work out some type of truce.

In case you were at all curious, this is why I haven’t been around much. I will be sure to update you all relatively soon, hopefully with better, less boring, depressing, self centered, news. Trust me, no one is sicker of me than I am, my friends. So send me good vibes, and maybe I can get out of this stupid funk. Please? And Thank You!