I’m still here. I haven’t blogged in a while, and for that, I apologize. More of my life ended up on Facebook than I had been sharing there. In theory I have it correctly sorted now.
I got caught up with my life, and dealing with a rather sudden “sad family business” trip for my husband.
I have…had been fighting with the last 10 lbs that I needed to lose to reach my weight goal. It’s difficult for me to share my feelings about that. It’s 10 lbs. So on one hand I feel like I am just being a whiny baby to even mention it, when so many others have so far still to go. On the other hand, then I start thinking that maybe I should try to lose more than that so that I am well within my healthy weight range.
The truth of that issue is that I can’t lose the 10lbs so why even consider more as an option? In fact, I am up by about 5 lbs. Go me. Wrong direction on the scale, dumbass.
I have been blaming that +5 on lack of sleep since my husband left town, lack of a normal meal plan, lack of…sanity, I suppose. I am most certainly lacking sanity. Reason, rationality, logic, maturity, normalcy…they all left with the sanity.
I’m exercising. I’ve missed a few of my regular classes, but made up for them with others. I’m not eating enough vegetables or drinking enough water, I”m sure. That whole sleeping thing? Just forget that. I sleep, or I don’t sleep, around the clock. I’ve caught myself nodding off while driving a few times. Oh well, more caffeine for me, I guess.
I didn’t take the news that my husband’s trip needed to be extended another week very well. Part of me has recognized that my thoughts are…irrational, I suppose, that I am looking a full blown PTSD episode in the face. Part of me doesn’t even care…which is how I know just how close I am, really. Not caring, not feeling, shutting down, those things happen when I can’t handle the emotions involved. If I don’t feel ANYTHING and just accept the pain as my due, then it’s all okay, right?
It’s difficult to describe, really. But that becomes my reality. That I hurt and I am overwhelmed because that is what I deserve. That if I submit to the pain, and accept it as normal, accept that I just do not matter, and let go of even wanting to, then it will all be okay again. Everyone will be happy again, because I won’t be unhappy, because I will have accepted the pain as right and normal. I simply…check out. Don’t care. Don’t feel. Don’t be. Then it’s all better.
Scary, isn’t it? I’ve been saying for years that living in my head is a very scary place. Usually people tell me that it’s not. That I am just being stupid, or selfish or childish, or any number of other things. Whatever. I’ve been called names and labeled all of my life. I can’t change the fact that I consistently disappoint people. In fact, I expect to now.
See? I flip back and forth between the recognition that an episode is oncoming and fighting it and just being caught up in it. Easier to see why I have spent so many years terrified of being locked away in a mental institution when I share some of my mental demons, isn’t it?
My husband told me to go back to bed and try to sleep. There are monsters in my head that get to come out and play when I sleep. It’s not a good thing.
On the other hand, if I sleep, time passes. The tiny rational part of me that is currently in the back of my head is berating me quite abusively about what a big fucking baby I am being, about how weak I am for even letting an episode get this far, how I am letting everyone down, I have responsibilities and obligations, and how I DAMNED WELL BETTER KNOCK THIS SHIT OFF AND BE A WALLACE AND SUCK IT UP.
Whatever.
I’ve decided that the best thing is to stop hoping and planning. If I don’t expect my husband to come home, and don’t plan for that, then I can’t be devastated again if (when?) it doesn’t happen. So, no more numbering the days on my calendar. No more paper chains hanging on the wall. None of that sappy crap. No more. What good does it do anyhow? Hope. Just sets you up to be hurt when life slaps you with a big reminder of how little you really matter in the grand scheme of things. I’m done.
I’m focusing on doing whatever Gareth wants and needs me to do. Whatever the kids need me to do. Today. Getting through my schedule for today. Checking my tasks off of my daily task list. Clean the air conditioner filters, check. Call to get medication refilled, check. Take my daughter in law to work, check. Babysit granddaughter, check. Pick up my daughter in law, check. Go to the chiropractor, check. Take the Redbox movie back, check. Don’t think. Don’t feel. Don’t cry. Don’t hope. Don’t plan. Just do the tasks. Check them off.
That’s all. That’s all I can do.
Sweetie pie..don’t beat yourself up.
You’ve dealt with a lot and you are kicking ass.
3 more days, right?
Yes ma’am. I am starting to feel hopeful again and honestly it scares the crap out of me. I can’t do that whole “rug yanked out from beneath me” thing again, and I especially can’t deal with it while my kids are. So…cleaning. Much, much cleaning….
Woman you do so much more for everyone else… Make a list of tooooo duuueeesss for youself….