Yesterday marked one year since my grandfather passed away. I was going to write a post about it yesterday, but all the emotions were raw and I had no idea how to put everything into words.
I started out my day getting ready for work and did not realize what the day was until I looked at my phone after showering. Somehow seeing the date was like reliving the phone call saying he had died, and an even deeper ache was felt upon realizing that an entire year had passed without his physical presence on earth.
I selfishly wish my grandfather were still here. I say selfishly, because I know that his last two years were a struggle for him. He was always an active man who was able to care for himself, his family, and reach out to those around him; I can't imagine how he must have felt when his lungs betrayed him by growing scar tissue where healthy tissue should have been.
I also wish i could tell him things. I want to tell him how much I love him. He may have known that, but I will never be sure. I don't think he knew how much I looked up to him. Everything was right with the world as long as grandpa was a phone call away. I dreaded every disappointing him, and every time I did it was like ripping out one of my own organs. He gave help and I gave an outer appearance of apathy.
I still want to please him, even though I know that he is no longer on this earth. I believe that he was welcomed into his Father's house with open arms, hearing the words "Well done, good and faithful servant." My grandfather has no more tears and is in the presence of pure love. I have no reason to be sad for him, as he has no reason to be sad himself. My sorrow is for myself and those of us left behind, and yesterday I wanted nothing more than to yield to it completely.
Thankfully a part of our grandfather passed on to our family, and my sisters convinced me that it would be good to go and spend time with my grandma and dad. So after visiting grandpa's grave, then my other grandma's grave as they are in the same cemetery, I binged on some taco bell, pulled myself together, and spent time with family. We didn't talk about grandpa, as we all knew where our thoughts were. We were just together...and it was enough.
So maybe people are sometimes the answer to depression. Sometimes you just need the presence of someone whose feelings, in some ways, mirror your own. I know it helped grandma, and I know it helped me.
This makes one down, and another to go. Come April I will repeat similar emotions for my grandmother who also passed last year. I am willing to bet there will be both slight and vast differences in the methods of coping.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Melancholy Sunday
The melancholy of yesterday followed me into today...as did some dizziness. I'm fairly certain that I have consumed my weight in water to prevent any dehydration, and have spent most of the day sitting on my ass. I also had to call into work once more, which makes four times in three weeks. Needless to say I am not feeling like a winner.
I don't know many ways of coping with depression. Self-motivating is obviously hard when you don't consider moving being worth any time or energy and could quite frankly care less if you were to melt into the furniture and cease to exist. I know that I can fake it a bit; my humor and wit can sneak out in little cracks if I exert a large amount of force, but the feeling of wanting to melt into my surroundings remains the same. I often fall short of lifting the shadows on my own.
When I was a teenager I used to fantasize that someone would come and make it possible for me to see nothing but sunshine and roses all the time. I imagined that my life would be like a country song that was on the radio then; a man would fall in love with me and his love would transform me into the woman I was meant to be, the end result being that everyone would see the beautiful creature hidden beneath my morose and garish exterior.
That was roughly 12 years ago, and I now see my fantasy for the unreachable dream it is. I learned from my one romantic relationship that it is not possible for anyone to transform me, and I learned from my own spiritual searching that if I was to be in any way transformed it would be through the love and care of Christ. You would think that this knowledge would completely dispel the need to spend minutes or hours dreaming of my very own avenger confessing his love and thereby making everything better, but it hasn't. That damn dream still comes quite frequently in various forms.
As far as romantic love is concerned, I fear that it will be something very hard for me to attain. The first and foremost reason for this is due to the fact that I have met very few people who are willing to take that treacherous first step in giving an attraction to me a chance. This thought usually occurs when I think of my fears of being "too much" of something, and therefore undesirable; on very bad days I blame it solely on my weight. When considering my personality, which I think is pretty amazing most days, I wonder if there is anyone in my life who shares my views on what romantic love entails or looks like.
I don't believe in any sort of love at first sight, but I know that lust and simple animal attraction can happen instantaneously. I believe that love is something that sort of grows and comes on in time. It surpasses first glances and takes root in things shared between two souls. When I think of men I have been attracted to, it was never quickly; words can make or break how my initial judgement of a person is used. I believe the average length of time for me to form an attachment to a man is three conversations, and at least two of them must carry some weight. This may be why I think that committment comes from the beginning, because you have to commit to even giving attraction, let alone love, a chance. There is an impulsive component to it in the fact that once the decision is made, something must happen. Stagnation is a poor bedfellow. Once attraction is given a chance to occur, it will either be nurtured by both parties to grow and thrive into something more, or will quickly blossom, wilt, and die. Attraction, and afterwards love, is a choice that involves a sort of marriage of emotion and reason. It isn't something that will merely take care of itself, but needs to be given care.
I've heard it said that men are visually stimulated when it comes to attraction (which I see used as a disgusting excuse in this day and age of sexual attraction being the main ingredient to dating, love, mariage, and so forth), so perhaps my views will only be shared by women. If this is the case, it saddens me and adds to my depression; I cannot believe it is so.
Once again, I find myself holding to hope. Perhaps this is the motivator that keeps me from becoming part of a couch, table, or chair. In every situation, even if I'm sprawled out while bemoaning that I can't see an end to the struggle, I know inside that there is hope.
Before I go, you should know that the ramble on relationships was due to a talk with the PLP today about rules and regulations we would have to draw up for any future dating partners about our relationship, so as to prevent any confusion. I wish I had a transcript of the entire conversation. It was a bright point of an otherwise cloudy minded day. Oh, and don't try to read "Wuthering Heights" when you're already depressed, because all the main characters in that book are crazy stupid.
I don't know many ways of coping with depression. Self-motivating is obviously hard when you don't consider moving being worth any time or energy and could quite frankly care less if you were to melt into the furniture and cease to exist. I know that I can fake it a bit; my humor and wit can sneak out in little cracks if I exert a large amount of force, but the feeling of wanting to melt into my surroundings remains the same. I often fall short of lifting the shadows on my own.
When I was a teenager I used to fantasize that someone would come and make it possible for me to see nothing but sunshine and roses all the time. I imagined that my life would be like a country song that was on the radio then; a man would fall in love with me and his love would transform me into the woman I was meant to be, the end result being that everyone would see the beautiful creature hidden beneath my morose and garish exterior.
That was roughly 12 years ago, and I now see my fantasy for the unreachable dream it is. I learned from my one romantic relationship that it is not possible for anyone to transform me, and I learned from my own spiritual searching that if I was to be in any way transformed it would be through the love and care of Christ. You would think that this knowledge would completely dispel the need to spend minutes or hours dreaming of my very own avenger confessing his love and thereby making everything better, but it hasn't. That damn dream still comes quite frequently in various forms.
As far as romantic love is concerned, I fear that it will be something very hard for me to attain. The first and foremost reason for this is due to the fact that I have met very few people who are willing to take that treacherous first step in giving an attraction to me a chance. This thought usually occurs when I think of my fears of being "too much" of something, and therefore undesirable; on very bad days I blame it solely on my weight. When considering my personality, which I think is pretty amazing most days, I wonder if there is anyone in my life who shares my views on what romantic love entails or looks like.
I don't believe in any sort of love at first sight, but I know that lust and simple animal attraction can happen instantaneously. I believe that love is something that sort of grows and comes on in time. It surpasses first glances and takes root in things shared between two souls. When I think of men I have been attracted to, it was never quickly; words can make or break how my initial judgement of a person is used. I believe the average length of time for me to form an attachment to a man is three conversations, and at least two of them must carry some weight. This may be why I think that committment comes from the beginning, because you have to commit to even giving attraction, let alone love, a chance. There is an impulsive component to it in the fact that once the decision is made, something must happen. Stagnation is a poor bedfellow. Once attraction is given a chance to occur, it will either be nurtured by both parties to grow and thrive into something more, or will quickly blossom, wilt, and die. Attraction, and afterwards love, is a choice that involves a sort of marriage of emotion and reason. It isn't something that will merely take care of itself, but needs to be given care.
I've heard it said that men are visually stimulated when it comes to attraction (which I see used as a disgusting excuse in this day and age of sexual attraction being the main ingredient to dating, love, mariage, and so forth), so perhaps my views will only be shared by women. If this is the case, it saddens me and adds to my depression; I cannot believe it is so.
Once again, I find myself holding to hope. Perhaps this is the motivator that keeps me from becoming part of a couch, table, or chair. In every situation, even if I'm sprawled out while bemoaning that I can't see an end to the struggle, I know inside that there is hope.
Before I go, you should know that the ramble on relationships was due to a talk with the PLP today about rules and regulations we would have to draw up for any future dating partners about our relationship, so as to prevent any confusion. I wish I had a transcript of the entire conversation. It was a bright point of an otherwise cloudy minded day. Oh, and don't try to read "Wuthering Heights" when you're already depressed, because all the main characters in that book are crazy stupid.
Hard Days and Lonely Nights
I had quite the day today. After a near fainting episode during a nosebleed, then a trip to the emergency room, my thoughts are wandering towards loneliness. I realise that this may seem odd, and that my thoughts should be more centered around my health and so on, but I can't help but be stuck in the emotional zone.
After I fell today, I had a time of confusion and did not know who to call. I called my sister, who was at work, only to find out that pretty much all of my people I contact in an emergency were at work. Finally it was my mother who was sent to pick me up and take me to the emergency room. Obviously, this was not my ideal situation. Of all the people I could have chosen to be there with me, my mother was definitely at the bottom of the list..a very short list.
There are very few people that I let into my confidence, and I found myself making a couple phone calls to people I normally would not talk to when feeling as vulnerable as I was. Now that I have done this, the only thing I can think of is those people now leaving.
A consistent fear that I have is of people thinking I am too much to handle, too emotional, too weird, too anything, and deciding that my presence in their life is something they can go without. I don't know where this fear comes from, probably from high school isolation or something, but it is one that I have struggled with. This isn't a nice feeling to have, and right now I am fighting the impulse to make more phone calls with explanations for my vulnerability, gibberish about why I feel and act the way I do, and pleading for their remaining presence in my life. It doesn't help that my core group of people are out celebrating my PLP's birthday while I continue to hydrate and rest.
So I'm lonely. I want someone to see my weakness and hold me to lend me some of their strength. People say I am strong, but it doesn't always feel that way. I need people, I need care, and I need a fair amount of affection.
This post was more of a rambling than a well put together stream of thought, but my mind is moving much faster than my fingers. Hopefully this feeling will be gone by the morning, and I can happily go to work and have a good day. In the meantime, I will try to distract myself from this feeling I can't handle. There is always the hope that tomorrow will be a better day.
After I fell today, I had a time of confusion and did not know who to call. I called my sister, who was at work, only to find out that pretty much all of my people I contact in an emergency were at work. Finally it was my mother who was sent to pick me up and take me to the emergency room. Obviously, this was not my ideal situation. Of all the people I could have chosen to be there with me, my mother was definitely at the bottom of the list..a very short list.
There are very few people that I let into my confidence, and I found myself making a couple phone calls to people I normally would not talk to when feeling as vulnerable as I was. Now that I have done this, the only thing I can think of is those people now leaving.
A consistent fear that I have is of people thinking I am too much to handle, too emotional, too weird, too anything, and deciding that my presence in their life is something they can go without. I don't know where this fear comes from, probably from high school isolation or something, but it is one that I have struggled with. This isn't a nice feeling to have, and right now I am fighting the impulse to make more phone calls with explanations for my vulnerability, gibberish about why I feel and act the way I do, and pleading for their remaining presence in my life. It doesn't help that my core group of people are out celebrating my PLP's birthday while I continue to hydrate and rest.
So I'm lonely. I want someone to see my weakness and hold me to lend me some of their strength. People say I am strong, but it doesn't always feel that way. I need people, I need care, and I need a fair amount of affection.
This post was more of a rambling than a well put together stream of thought, but my mind is moving much faster than my fingers. Hopefully this feeling will be gone by the morning, and I can happily go to work and have a good day. In the meantime, I will try to distract myself from this feeling I can't handle. There is always the hope that tomorrow will be a better day.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Reunited and it feels so good
I was going to check the last date that I blogged so that I could say exactly how long it has been, but I forgot and decided not to go back. I do know that I have been off of here for a while. It was for good reason; I got a job and have been pretty busy with that. Also, I found a school I decided to apply for and have been filling out the necessary paperwork and going to the appointments. As far as making some plans for the future, I'm doing fairly well.
However, with the good comes a little bit of the bad. My current work schedule required that I miss the appointment I had with my new therapist as well as my psychiatrist. These aren't good things, especially seeing as my psychiatrist keeps me medicated. Yet, I think I miss the therapy more.
I actually enjoy therapy in a strange way. I admit that I don't always like the emotions that come up during sessions, but I like learning ways to deal with my specific issues. I have behaviors that I need to change, and I am more than aware of the fact that pills don't change behaviors.
So I'm thinking about being my own therapist in the interim. I know that you aren't supposed to self medicate, but I haven't heard anything about not teaching yourself how to change your behaviors. I have some tools that I can use, including handouts and a binder from my former therapist containing different coping skills and ways to name and deal with different emotions. I could work on those during the time that I am waiting to get an appointment.
I am also depending a lot on my best friend, the before mentioned PLP, to help me talk things out and remember to use certain skills. She's doing a good job, but I don't want this dependence on her to go on for too long and find her burnt out. Therefore, I am going to need to spread out the talk and do things with people who aren't her. I'm not talking about cutting her out of my life (I know you read this PLP) and I will still spend a large amount of time with her...but I don't think it's the best idea to put all my crazy in one basket.
So that's my plan for now, and we'll see how it works. Hopefully I will fit blogging into my new schedule better, as I have had tons of ideas for different things to write about with new experiences coming my way. Stay tuned...I promise for more to come.
However, with the good comes a little bit of the bad. My current work schedule required that I miss the appointment I had with my new therapist as well as my psychiatrist. These aren't good things, especially seeing as my psychiatrist keeps me medicated. Yet, I think I miss the therapy more.
I actually enjoy therapy in a strange way. I admit that I don't always like the emotions that come up during sessions, but I like learning ways to deal with my specific issues. I have behaviors that I need to change, and I am more than aware of the fact that pills don't change behaviors.
So I'm thinking about being my own therapist in the interim. I know that you aren't supposed to self medicate, but I haven't heard anything about not teaching yourself how to change your behaviors. I have some tools that I can use, including handouts and a binder from my former therapist containing different coping skills and ways to name and deal with different emotions. I could work on those during the time that I am waiting to get an appointment.
I am also depending a lot on my best friend, the before mentioned PLP, to help me talk things out and remember to use certain skills. She's doing a good job, but I don't want this dependence on her to go on for too long and find her burnt out. Therefore, I am going to need to spread out the talk and do things with people who aren't her. I'm not talking about cutting her out of my life (I know you read this PLP) and I will still spend a large amount of time with her...but I don't think it's the best idea to put all my crazy in one basket.
So that's my plan for now, and we'll see how it works. Hopefully I will fit blogging into my new schedule better, as I have had tons of ideas for different things to write about with new experiences coming my way. Stay tuned...I promise for more to come.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Lazy days and mixed thoughts...
After a long day of sitting on the couch with my computer while Netflix played television shows, I find that my thoughts are not wanting to slow down or shut off. I find myself thinking of the excuses I used today to do what essentially amounts to a whole lot of nothing. Today's was that I had worked hard the past two days at my new job, and due to being sore and worn out, I was entitled to a day of "relaxation".
The excuse of being sore only lasted until early afternoon, as the soreness wore off with some quality heating pad time for my legs, back, and shoulders. After that, I could have done things that needed done. I did not. I instead sat on my computer going back and forth between Facebook and games. I did not go to the store to buy shirts and pants I need for my job, did not do any housework that was crying out to be done, and definitely did not attempt to do anything about the disaster that I call my bedroom. Any of these things would have left me with a good feeling, that "I accomplished something and now feel a bit fulfilled" feeling, which I honestly needed to feel today. Instead I sat and listened to my head telling me that I was a lazy slob who would never amount to anything.
The thing that really gets me is that, intellectually at least, I know that I will amount to something. The problem is looking at the facts and being fair with myself (according to my therapist). Today I was lazy. I could probably technically be categorized as a slob as well due to the state of my bedroom and lack of housework done. I can't mentally beat myself up for these things though.
I've been trying to look at it this way: when I walk into some one's house and see that it's a mess (or even filthy), my first reaction is to see if that person needs help. I don't automatically classify them as slobs or anything, but try to find out what their situation is. Even if they are being lazy, I will usually cheer them on or try to motivate them to do some work for themselves. In fact, if I talked to others the way I talk to myself, I would probably be called a bitch...or something worse.
I want to find a way to cheer myself on and find motivation when I feel low. I know that my depression makes this a bit harder for me than the average joe on the street, but I can't keep using that as an excuse.
I want to be productive. I want to be someone that I can be proud of. There are moments when I feel proud of myself, and I do see tiny improvements in some areas. I just need that inner me to stop telling me that I'm not improving fast enough. So here we go, here I am stating what I know that I believe about myself and what I am capable of.
I believe I am worthy of love.
I believe I am capable of loving others.
I believe I am capable of loving myself.
I believe that I am intelligent.
I believe that I can learn to ask others for help when I need it, and accept it when they are unable to help me.
I believe that I have the love of a great God and personal Saviour.
I believe that the love of my God and Savior are available to me 100% of the time.
I believe that I can learn things and apply them to my life.
I believe that I will never reach perfection on this earth, but that I can strive to be the best me possible.
There's much more, but it feels good to get this much out...and also to take it back in.
The excuse of being sore only lasted until early afternoon, as the soreness wore off with some quality heating pad time for my legs, back, and shoulders. After that, I could have done things that needed done. I did not. I instead sat on my computer going back and forth between Facebook and games. I did not go to the store to buy shirts and pants I need for my job, did not do any housework that was crying out to be done, and definitely did not attempt to do anything about the disaster that I call my bedroom. Any of these things would have left me with a good feeling, that "I accomplished something and now feel a bit fulfilled" feeling, which I honestly needed to feel today. Instead I sat and listened to my head telling me that I was a lazy slob who would never amount to anything.
The thing that really gets me is that, intellectually at least, I know that I will amount to something. The problem is looking at the facts and being fair with myself (according to my therapist). Today I was lazy. I could probably technically be categorized as a slob as well due to the state of my bedroom and lack of housework done. I can't mentally beat myself up for these things though.
I've been trying to look at it this way: when I walk into some one's house and see that it's a mess (or even filthy), my first reaction is to see if that person needs help. I don't automatically classify them as slobs or anything, but try to find out what their situation is. Even if they are being lazy, I will usually cheer them on or try to motivate them to do some work for themselves. In fact, if I talked to others the way I talk to myself, I would probably be called a bitch...or something worse.
I want to find a way to cheer myself on and find motivation when I feel low. I know that my depression makes this a bit harder for me than the average joe on the street, but I can't keep using that as an excuse.
I want to be productive. I want to be someone that I can be proud of. There are moments when I feel proud of myself, and I do see tiny improvements in some areas. I just need that inner me to stop telling me that I'm not improving fast enough. So here we go, here I am stating what I know that I believe about myself and what I am capable of.
I believe I am worthy of love.
I believe I am capable of loving others.
I believe I am capable of loving myself.
I believe that I am intelligent.
I believe that I can learn to ask others for help when I need it, and accept it when they are unable to help me.
I believe that I have the love of a great God and personal Saviour.
I believe that the love of my God and Savior are available to me 100% of the time.
I believe that I can learn things and apply them to my life.
I believe that I will never reach perfection on this earth, but that I can strive to be the best me possible.
There's much more, but it feels good to get this much out...and also to take it back in.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
My Safe
I think that I have sort of meandered away from the point of this blog, which was to talk about how I am learning to function despite my depression and anxiety. So, on that note, I am going to discuss some coping I have been doing lately.
One of my favorite things my therapist taught me was a certain type of visualization. See, I have the habit of repeating negative things over and over in my head, as well as obsessing about certain things in my life. One of the things I obsess about the most is how others view me and how I can fix their problems. Oh, also how they annoy the living crap out of me.
Back to the visualization. In this visualization I am to envision a box. I don't know what other people make their boxes out of; cardboard, wood, a nice reed weave would be quite popular I imagine. Not mine. My box is a safe made of the strongest metal I know of...mithril. I don't care if it is fictional, that shit is not letting anything in or out. My mithril safe has a combination on it that is super secret; no one knows my combination but me.
So what do I do with my box? Simple. I put things in it that are causing me anxiety at the time. Let's use an example. Sometimes I think of a certain man; I think of him a lot and it is often not helpful to my relaxation. To deal with this, I put the man in my safe and I lock it shut. When the man is in the safe, I cannot think about him. If I do think about him, I throw him back into the safe.
Now we come to why I like this visualization the most; I have to set a time when I will let the thoughts out of the safe and deal with them. Example: if I can't stop thinking about something when I am trying to fall asleep, I put it in my safe and allow it out in the morning. Another situation would be when I have to work or go to an appointment. If I am thinking of my sisters' problems or how much I can't stand my mother, I lock them in the safe with their release date being when my task is done.
I find this to be something that has been a help to me lately. I can't think of everything at once, and if I am anxious my concentration level falls fast. It's nice to be able to get things done while also giving myself time to deal with my emotions. I still dissociate a bit by zoning out into the television or playing games on the computer, but I find my productivity rapidly improving.
The real test of this exercise will come with this start of a new job that I am facing. So far I haven't had to use my safe due to being too busy, but I know the time will come when I will have to. It's harder to do when there are other people around, yet I have faith that I can do it. If people around me keep telling me that my faith inspires them, it is sure to be true, and I will succeed in what I need to do.
One of my favorite things my therapist taught me was a certain type of visualization. See, I have the habit of repeating negative things over and over in my head, as well as obsessing about certain things in my life. One of the things I obsess about the most is how others view me and how I can fix their problems. Oh, also how they annoy the living crap out of me.
Back to the visualization. In this visualization I am to envision a box. I don't know what other people make their boxes out of; cardboard, wood, a nice reed weave would be quite popular I imagine. Not mine. My box is a safe made of the strongest metal I know of...mithril. I don't care if it is fictional, that shit is not letting anything in or out. My mithril safe has a combination on it that is super secret; no one knows my combination but me.
So what do I do with my box? Simple. I put things in it that are causing me anxiety at the time. Let's use an example. Sometimes I think of a certain man; I think of him a lot and it is often not helpful to my relaxation. To deal with this, I put the man in my safe and I lock it shut. When the man is in the safe, I cannot think about him. If I do think about him, I throw him back into the safe.
Now we come to why I like this visualization the most; I have to set a time when I will let the thoughts out of the safe and deal with them. Example: if I can't stop thinking about something when I am trying to fall asleep, I put it in my safe and allow it out in the morning. Another situation would be when I have to work or go to an appointment. If I am thinking of my sisters' problems or how much I can't stand my mother, I lock them in the safe with their release date being when my task is done.
I find this to be something that has been a help to me lately. I can't think of everything at once, and if I am anxious my concentration level falls fast. It's nice to be able to get things done while also giving myself time to deal with my emotions. I still dissociate a bit by zoning out into the television or playing games on the computer, but I find my productivity rapidly improving.
The real test of this exercise will come with this start of a new job that I am facing. So far I haven't had to use my safe due to being too busy, but I know the time will come when I will have to. It's harder to do when there are other people around, yet I have faith that I can do it. If people around me keep telling me that my faith inspires them, it is sure to be true, and I will succeed in what I need to do.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Getting motivated
Today my anxiety is attempting to get the best of me. I don't want to leave the house, I don't want to get ready to leave the house; I just want to hang around my house and maybe clean something if I get the hankering to. Is this an option today? No. It is not.
I have to leave my house today for multiple reasons. One of the biggest reasons is that I have to go fill out paperwork for my new job, a job I am excited for and terrified of at the same time.
It started last night; my brain began thinking about what could go wrong over and over again. Different scenarios went through my head; I went to the place without pants on, I went to the wrong place, I got there and they had no record of who I was or what I was doing there, etc. In addition to these thoughts were the thoughts of me doing something wrong. It was to the point that I actually had a nightmare about not being able to stop talking. I just kept saying these intesely personal things, and no matter how bad I wanted to stop it, I couldn't.
My morning did not go much better. I kept looking for excuses to not get ready. It helped that I had stayed at the PLP's house (PLP will now stand for platonic life partner). There was plenty to do. I did her dishes, switched her laundry, took multiple breaks to sit with the dogs, and told myself I had an enormous about of time before I had to leave. Sadly, the biggest inner push to leave came when I realised there were no more cigarettes. (For the record, I know I shouldn't be smoking and that it's bad for me, and am also aware that other people are supporting this terrible habit. However, I have no doubt about my ability to quit.)
So now we get down to business. How am I going to motivate myself? First, I am going to get up off this chair by reminding myself that I can write in my blog about actually doing something. I will then get a CD that gets me going (probably some OK GO or some Sia) and blast it while getting ready. Then I will do one of my grounding techniques that my therapist taught me before leaving the house.
Today is about to become my bitch.
I have to leave my house today for multiple reasons. One of the biggest reasons is that I have to go fill out paperwork for my new job, a job I am excited for and terrified of at the same time.
It started last night; my brain began thinking about what could go wrong over and over again. Different scenarios went through my head; I went to the place without pants on, I went to the wrong place, I got there and they had no record of who I was or what I was doing there, etc. In addition to these thoughts were the thoughts of me doing something wrong. It was to the point that I actually had a nightmare about not being able to stop talking. I just kept saying these intesely personal things, and no matter how bad I wanted to stop it, I couldn't.
My morning did not go much better. I kept looking for excuses to not get ready. It helped that I had stayed at the PLP's house (PLP will now stand for platonic life partner). There was plenty to do. I did her dishes, switched her laundry, took multiple breaks to sit with the dogs, and told myself I had an enormous about of time before I had to leave. Sadly, the biggest inner push to leave came when I realised there were no more cigarettes. (For the record, I know I shouldn't be smoking and that it's bad for me, and am also aware that other people are supporting this terrible habit. However, I have no doubt about my ability to quit.)
So now we get down to business. How am I going to motivate myself? First, I am going to get up off this chair by reminding myself that I can write in my blog about actually doing something. I will then get a CD that gets me going (probably some OK GO or some Sia) and blast it while getting ready. Then I will do one of my grounding techniques that my therapist taught me before leaving the house.
Today is about to become my bitch.
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