I don’t even know. Just like, coasting.
Here are some drafts from my phone and voice recorder. Just for kicks.
“if i wanted to be sober, i wouldn’t have gotten drunk!”
sometimes i think the only reason people even go out instead of staying in is just to be able to say they went.
TODAY I TOLD A COWORKER THAT HER CROCK POT PIZZA LASAGNA SOUNDED LIKE THE MOST LUSH, AMERICAN SOUNDING FOOD…. WHILE I WAS PRACTICALLY BATHING IN CHEETO DUST.
watching lotro streams at work cuz i got the withdrawals
*WATCHING LOTRO STREAM*
“oh, yeah i’m here and it’s – why is that cat on fire?”
there was a cat on fire. but he was just running along just fine.
i want a fire cat.
i think it’s been at least a week since i last purged. Suck it, bulimia.
Here’s a drunk poem:
punishment for eating
now i’ve switched to crosses
? to disappear?
punish the fat
rejection of self
For some reason Iike to talk about how I hate organized religion when I’m drunk.
dear self: stop talking about theology while impaired.
My nightmares can be pretty brutal: i had a dream i was a famous lead vocals/guitarist in a cool metal band with matt and off’d myself onstage during a cover of SWEET CHILD O’ MINE.
I’m late for work *aaaannnnddddd post*
This medicine has me at the worst I’ve been since I was in and out of the hospital 8 ish years ago. I have my fingers crossed that the new mood stabilizer works with it so I stop going down these depressive spirals. It’s a shame that anti-psychotics literally do nothing but make me physically miserable, because they show promise in a lot of people with persistent depression/bipolar etc.
The antidepressant I’m on is a newer drug, and when I asked my therapist about it she said she’s heard nothing but good things. I’ve been on it since December? January? And I think I’ve cut more in that time that I have in the previous 5 years of my life. It’s not good. It’s not good at all.
I’m not always aware that there are other options. It does feel like all my other coping mechanisms leave me at the last minute. It’s not like I haven’t tried “working on it” or whatever. These last however-many months have been really difficult again.
Overall I feel really normal. Almost hopeful? But I’m just so easily “triggered” now. I use that word as a descriptor only, because I don’t mean it like in the “safe space” sense, but rather certain things someone says or if I get an intruder (subconscious memory or thought process that weasels itself into your conscious, and is usually caused by having repressed a lot of stuff) then a flip switches and I’m gone for a while.
Which of course leads into the next morning/day/hour that “oops I got pathetic again” and that is not a very good feeling. I don’t like feeling whiny, or like people should be wary of my feelings. That’s not the case. I used to be able to reflect on stuff when I wanted to, but overall I was pretty stable. Now it’s this crazy 50/50 chance every day that I’ll ride the slippery slope down to depressionville on a whim.
Everything is frustrating. I’m starting a new medication (another new medication) tomorrow morning, and hopefully that’ll give me the mood boost I need to get back to the old Shley, but a slightly less depressed version. That’s my hope. It’s difficult to function when you casually hate yourself.
So everyone knows that I work out regularly enough, and that there are a lot of roadblocks that annoy me and stop me from going more often and being more active.
What I talk about primarily is my foot/ankle/hip problems. Y’all get it; that stuff sucks. But I’m medicated and it’s manageable now as long as I take my pills and do my stretches. I just can’t go overboard. I’ve increased the ROM by 15% 🙂
What I want to complain about now is the rut I’m in. Call it depression, or laziness, or working 2 jobs and going to school full time, or whatever. But it’s so difficult to convince myself to go to the gym. I don’t mind working out at home. I have like a bajillion dumbbells and those ball things. I have exercise mats and a jump rope and resistance bands and some other stuff.
But all I can really manage to do at the gym is cardio. I can’t even blame the meatheads, because I don’t care about them and making fun of them in my head gives me strength. So it’s possible that I can do my strength training primarily at home and my cardio primarily at the gym… It’s just difficult to plan/manage. When I get home all I want to do is consume substances that make me forget I’m alive with responsibilities.
Also I hate being such a scaredy cat because there’s a huge, PERFECTLY good trail RIGHT DOWN THE STREET that I never use because people are horrible and terrifying. I have a bike, I like to run, i could even walk, but NO. Fear runs my life because everything is terrible and bad things can happen to anyone and I have a cat to take care of.
So I depend on the gym. It’s scary in its own way. People look at you in the gym. Some will try to convince me that everyone is busy doing their own thing, but that’s not always true.
Since I’ve gotten fat again I only have sweatpants and a few tshirts/hoodies that I can wear because all my cute workout stuff is too small. So I’m the frumpy nobody who looks like I’ve never been to a gym before. Not to mention once I’ve started actually working out. Then my hair is stupid and my face is stupid and people i know go to the gym!
I don’t want people i know there!
Last time i was able to drop 30 pounds (my weight has fluctuated a lot in 15 years which is about normal, i think) we had a treadmill in our basement, which was 20 feet away from my bed. EZPZ. Then running outside was fun, because at that point i lived in a more-flat neighborhood.
This post is just me whining about how ‘hard’ it is for me to go do exercises i enjoy doing.
Also the tennis courts by our house are always taken over, and when we wait there patiently they dont’ seem to care and just keep on tennis-ing forever until we decide to leave. Plus i can only get like 2 people to play tennis with me.
~this was a post~
This isn’t a real blog post. I just didn’t have enough room on Twitter.
Edit: It turned into a blog.
What I wanted to say was:
I always thought it was hilarious growing up how therapists, school counselors, family friends and even some family would tell me that when my parents fought (pretty much everyone knew. They weren’t subtle) that they weren’t fighting over me.
Maybe for a lot of people this is the case: parents usually fight because they take issue with each other.
Growing up in my family dynamics the fighting was almost always because of me. All 4 of my parents fought with all the other parents. The only pair that didn’t fight was my dad and stepmom. Everyone else fought with everyone else. Screaming matches that would end up in someone slamming down a phone or pacing back and forth muttering. Etc.
My own home experiences were slammed doors, objects thrown, awful curses exchanged, sobbing, someone leaving and not knowing exactly where they were going or for how long or to do what….
But so often it was me. I did something wrong and got disciplined in a way that didn’t please everyone. I accidentally gossiped about another parent about something that wasn’t ok to a different parent. Who got custody over me and when. Treatment of me and my weird issues from an early age.
Even with home life one parent was far more strict than the other and one parent far more lenient and protective. That caused almost as many fights as custody and stepparent rifts.
Everyone fought with everyone and it was always my fault. I knew it was my fault. Fighting started after I said something or did something. Wrong or otherwise. So when these well-meaning adults would say “They’re not fighting because of you” I basically just learned early on that people lie trying to make you feel better and nothing is ever ok 🙂 Also: don’t trust.
I’m in a bad, broody mood. Can you tell? Is my honesty showing?
This is my Grampa. ❤
On Wednesday, February 12th, 2014, Pleasanton students in the eighth and eleventh grades connected via Skype to Dr. Fred Kader, a World War II Holocaust Survivor. The Skype connection linked Dr. Kader from The Institute For Holocaust Education (located in Omaha) to Pleasanton High School.
At the age of four he became an orphaned child of the Holocaust in Belguim. Dr. Kader shared his story of being the lone surviving member of his immediate family, being placed in an orphanage, and later found by his uncle. Dr. Kader learned that his family was part of the mass deportation of Jews in Belgium that began in September, 1942. His father had been rounded up with other Jewish men and sent to a forced labor camp in France. His older brothers were deported to a death camp. Kader later found himself with his mother at a rail station in Antwerp, Belgium, where…
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