Life in my head
So I’ve been working nights, and working nights usually leads to me getting on a path of staying up too dang late … and it’s a horrible cycle of horribleness.
I ususally feel more depressed for less sleep. I often feel like my simple diagnosis of “Depression” and “Social Anxiety” isn’t enough. (Well for good measure and accuracy I guess we could toss ADD in there too. Someone this week asked me if I was dyslexic… I felt like asking him if he was always stupid. That would have been rude of me, wouldn’t it have?) ANYWAY. This kind of goes hand in hadn with my diet issues. My considerable diet issues. I learned of a new mental disease (i collect mental diseases like an old woman collects doilies and cats.) called impulse control disorder.
Now I’ve been to therapy a time or two in my days, and it seems to me a lot of the time doctors don’t like to put names to things you have. Because once I started reading about it, I realized, my last therapist (the gem that told me that I needed to quit my job or I was for sure going to get divorced, HAH. Jerkwad. I don’t have to do anything you say I am going to do. SO THERE.) had basically told me the “steps” of this disorder as a discription of something I had. I have. Because the thing is… it doesn’t matter what I’m doing this is how it goes:
an impulse> growing tension> pleasure from acting> relief from the urge > guilt
That’s how it goes in the grocery store, or on the way to work … usually with food now days. There were dark days where it was alcohol. I’ve never drank, I’m glad for it. Because this is what my life would turn into “I want a drink. I shouldn’t drink. Why not drinking makes you feel good, and you relax and you let go. Ok let’s get a drink. YAY THIS BEING DRUNK IS FANTASTIC! Oh see wasn’t that great… No it wasn’t. I should never do that again.” and then REPEAT. Instead, I usually insert sweets. Candy, cake, sugar, soda, etc. If it will make you sick from eating it, I’ve eaten too much of it and vomited. JUST SO YOU KNOW. So it goes like this “I should buy some candy (or eat candy if I already have it.) No, that’s not a great idea, because I’m trying to diet. But, I was really good today, I did all that work, and I deserve the weekend off, and (JUSTIFICATION JUSTIFICATION, RATIONALIZATION) Ok, i’m going to eat this candy (sugar whatever junk) THIS IS SO DAMN TASTY. I will never regret this (then it cycles a bit until I’m nauseated. SERIOUSLY.) then the guilt of why do I do this to myself. I’m trying to lose weight.”
This is why, i don’t drink. THIS ^^^^^^ I’ve always (on some level) known this about myself. I knew if I took a drink I’d never stop. I wish I could go back in time and never have candy (among other things I wish I could go back and never do) but I can’t. I can’t undo what’s been done. I can only make a choice. That after I get the impulse, that I don’t give in. Because I don’t want to be the person who has to be lifted from their house with a crane when they die. You know?
I was, as a teen, fairly tightly wound. You know. BORING. I never partied, and as I’ve mentioned like a million times, I have never drank. Never did drugs, a little straight edge whatever. (think of it as you will!) I didn’t date, I hadn’t kissed anyone (until I met my hubby) I was a plain jane vanilla girl.
I’ve always hated myself for it. For a lot of things. Scott and I were cleaning up and I found a journal of mine from 2010 when I was in therapy. I wrote down all the things I hated about myself. I wrote PAGES and pages. I wish I could say I’m free of it now. I’m not. I still really REALLY struggle with my depression! I’m trying though. I am in love with Scott, who constantly reminds me that I’m an awesome mom, and that he loves me. He encourages me in my dreams, and wants me to be an awesome writer. I told him the other day that I wanted to take a whole day off from everything (no chores, no kids, not even him) and he didn’t blink an eye and just said ok. I don’t know if he was hurt by that, but I’ve become increasingly more attuned to my social anxiety. I act Like Suzy Social skirt, but it’s a waring facade to project. I can’t be that girl who chats to everyone and remembers everyone’s names. I am NOT the girl who is engaging all the time. I am occasionally charming and funny. I’m glad I didn’t decide to be an actor, I’d probably have died by now.
AND. Like an alcoholic who drinks too much when they’re stressed, I eat too much. I do. I have made my self sick tonight on Pizza and gummy butterflies. I have made myself nauseated at least once every week this past month. And while my former therapist wasn’t right that I would get divorced or I would need to quit my job… the reality is, I need to quit my job or I’ll eat myself to death. (Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, But someday, I’ll get sick from it, and die.)
GOD THAT’S BLEAK.
So I say NO. I’m not going to let stress eat me into a diabetic coma. I’m going to put myself higher on my priorty list. I will do something for myself besides eat. Food isn’t my enemy (I need it duh) but I don’t need to eat Fudge striped cookies and gummy butterflies. I can make healthier choices and NOT feel sick every weekend and I can choose to not die from poor choices. I want to be better. I can be if I try harder. I will say NO more. I will NOT force myself to be suzy social skirt, and I will still be great at what I do without OVER doing it.
Derringer Meryl [331] out