I will come back to life, but only for you…

I’ve been sick for, like, 2 weeks. I have no voice, my throat is swollen shut, I have an earache and I’m generally miserable.

So I got some Tofu Pad Thai, and fried tofu (which I barely ate, so yay for leftovers), and I’ve been sitting on the couch watching news and downloading music ever since.

Lady Gaga’s new song is catchy.  It pains me to say that, because I think she’s played out as hell and seem to be a pretentious fuck.  Love the new Panic! At The Disco stuff that’s emerged so far.  Digging a couple of Big Sean tracks right now too.  He’s made cameos on so many songs lately, I figured I’d give his stuff a try.  Of course, downloaded some country as well.  The Civil Wars, damn.  Some good, melodramatic folk-country. Listening to their cover of “Disarm” by Smashing Pumpkins. Whoa.

I’m bored.  I have nothing to say. My throat hurts to much to talk, anyway. Hmph.

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Give me strength

The Energy in the air around me is off.  Everything is falling apart.  I can’t fix anything, yet it all weighs on me.  I try to hide, and yet I’m found.

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Baby steps…

I haven’t done a lot of writing lately.  I haven’t done a lot of anything lately.  Except eating.  I’m up 6 pounds in a month.

To my credit, I’ve done a lot more walking, jogging, and general work-out type things.  But when you eat (and drink – *sigh* – damn you, Coors Light!) too much, working out doesn’t always help.  Clearly not in my case.

I’m an emotional eater.  A binger.  I probably always have been.  And sure, I’ve gone through my stages of both anorexic and bulimic behaviors, but primarily, I’m a binger.  If I’m sad, stressed, angry…I eat.  If I feel like I made it through the day…I eat. Eating  has been a comfort my entire life.  I’m emotionally…stunted, or something.  I don’t verbalize much anymore.  I’ve always been afraid of being a burden to my friends…eventually I realized that I was.  I’m depressed, manic, anxious, panicky…blah, blah, blah.  Same shit different day.  No one wants to hear that crap.

18000+ tweets that I’ve posted about stupid BS have proven that to me. Heehee.

People want fun and good times.  They want smiles and laughter.  People ask, “How are you?”  My most common answer is, “Can’t complain. Well, I could, but no one would listen…”  (insert laughter here)

There’s only a handful of people that I feel I can truly share with.  Or feel at least somewhat comfortable doing so.  But, I still don’t do it that much.

Ain’t no problem that a big bowl of pasta can’t fix.  Or half a box of Cheerios.  Or an entire sleeve of crackers and entire pack of Laughing Cow wedges.

It’s embarrassing.  Gross. Shameful.  90% of my self esteem is wrapped up in my looks/weight.  And yet, so much of my behavior is counter-productive. I hate myself! I’m ugly! I’m fat! Let me eat ALL THE FOOD and make the problem even worse!

Logic.  I got tons of it. Clearly.

But…today?

I did not binge.

Sounds dumb, but I’ll take my little victories where I can.

Today was particularly stressful at work.  I could have come home and eaten…4 servings of pasta – easily.  Instead, I cooked.  Odd, I know.  But I chopped onions and peppers, added them to diced tomatoes and mushrooms and made sauce.  It was very relaxing.  I made some pasta, but only had a little over 1 cup of it.  The other cup of pasta is coming with me to work tomorrow – covered in my sauce.  Which, other than the olive oil that I sauteed the onions in, just veggies and spices.  HEALTHY.   A little sprinkle of parmesan. Not a mountain of it.

I honestly don’t know how to rid myself of my disorder.  I suppose I can only just go day by day and hope to make the best decisions and choices that I can.

It’s now 8pm.  Since I did not binge, my belly is a little grumbly.  There’s a feeling of NOT ENOUGH in my tummy.  How much of it is in my head, though?  Usually I come home from work, on auto-pilot, and just eat, right away.  Today, I didn’t. I waited.  I cooked. I watched a little TV.  I distracted myself from the weird feeling of OH MY GOD EAT ALL THE FOOD NOW, BECAUSE IT MIGHT DISAPPEAR!

Which is such a ridiculous panic.

Is all the pasta just going to mysteriously vanish off the face of the earth?  Last I checked, the shelves at Vons were stocked.  $1 a box – any type – linguini, ziti, angel hair.  And honestly, if I don’t eat Pad Thai today, will I never get the chance to eat it again?  Considering there’s a number of good Thai places within walking distance (and several others that deliver), I’m pretty sure that I can have it when I want.

I made it through today.  I did not give in to the ridiculous panic or misguided cravings.

I did not binge today.

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I need more dreams, and less life

(First of all – buy the new Fall Out Boy CD.  It’s f’n awesome.)

I just woke up from another of my weird-ass dreams.  I continue to have them on a pretty regular basis, but I often forget the details.  I’m going to try and shake the cotton out of my head quickly when I do have them, from here on out, and write down whatever details I can recall.

The other night I had a dream.  The only detail I remember was that there was a bottle of wine – the label said “Pierre’s of California”.   There is no wine with this name.  There’s no anything with this name, as far as Google will tell me.

Tonight’s dream:

I was writing a term paper.  The topic – History and Evolution of Sandwiches.  I’d like to think that Jeff Mauro, the Sandwich King, would be proud of this.  Maybe even Adam Richman!  Anyway…so I was writing this term paper, but apparently in the format of a blog post.  I wonder if that’s even do-able in college these days?  (“Is that how the young’ns are doing it?”)  Regardless, another detail I do recall is that, even though I was writing my paper as a blog, I was sure to use the correct format for citing sources.  I can’t remember of it was APA or MLA format.  I think that back in the day, I used APA format, because I was a Psych major for a year and a half, and graduated with a Sociology degree. I think APA was the format of choice for social sciences across the board.  Of course, it’s been over 15 years since I graduated (good lord), so my memory is fuzzy on that.

I believe I have spent too much time thinking about this, and really, just being AWAKE in general.  Back to sleep I go.

Night night!

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Stomp (out the stigma)!

 

(The motto of the walk is Stomp Out the Stigma of Mental Illness…and for whatever reason, it made me think of the song “Stomp” from back in the day!)

 

The Starting Line!

The Starting Line!

 

 

Yesterday, I did a 5K, for the San Diego branch of an organization called NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness).  To be quite honest, I don’t know a ton about NAMI.  But I do know about mental illness.

Most people who know me well, know that I’m pretty open about what I’ve affectionately termed my “cuckoo-crazy” — I can, and do, joke about it quite often.  I’ve suffered from Major Depression since I was 12 (damn – that’s 25 YEARS).  As I grew up and grew older, more ailments came into the mix – anxiety, panic attacks, Bipolar/Manic Depression, ADD, OCD, Borderline Personality Disorder, Eating Disorders and Self-Injury. I’ve been in and out of therapy, and on and off so many medications; diagnosed and re-diagnosed.  

All in all, I’m doing okay, though.  I have awesome friends and family, a kick ass husband, a career (As much as it pains me to say that, LOL.  Never thought of myself as the “career type” – but bills gotta get paid, ya know).  Truth be told, though, I don’t always FEEL okay.  Sometimes, it gets to be too much, and I don’t know how to go on.  It takes everything in me just to get through the day.  I often want to give up.  As a result, I have a tendency to go into hiding – I’m not the most reliable of friends in that respect.  I often wonder why people haven’t given up on me yet.  I can only hope that in some way, they understand and don’t hold it against me (too much).

In the later part of last year, I fell down a black hole (metaphorically speaking).  I gained back all the weight that I had lost in the first half of 2012, became quite antisocial, etc.  In early 2013, I made a half-assed New Year’s resolution – to do SIX 5Ks.  Yeah, this coming from the chick who hates working out and getting sweaty (EW!).  So, of course, it’s now April, and nary a K has been done! I started looking up various 5Ks (Color Run, Retro Run, and things of that ilk), and came across the NAMI Walk.  I decided to sign up.  I’m not on a team, nor am I pushing to raise funds (although I made a donation myself, as did my mom and one of my mom’s little-old-lady friends from church).  I didn’t tell anyone (except for my husband) that I was doing it UNTIL yesterday, when I arrived at the site of the walk.

I decided to do it for ME. 

  • First of all, to prove that I can stick to a goal, and keep my word.  Somehow, hopefully, proving to myself that I can be reliable and see things through.  I bail on plans/events quite a bit, for a variety of reasons.  I wanted to do this walk by myself.  To overcome the intimidation of going out in public by myself and trying something new.  And to show that when I say I’m going to do something, I do it.  I’m never going to be perfect in that regard, but this was certainly a step in the right direction.
  • Another reason I decided to do it, was to support NAMI and the mentally ill community.  This walk is geared to raise awareness about the stigma of mental illness.  As open as I am (sometimes to a fault) about my “cuckoo-crazy” with my friends and family…I sure as hell don’t disclose that info everywhere.  At the workplace, for example.  I go to the doctor, quite a bit.  Little do my coworkers know that about ½ of my appointments are to see my shrink.  Granted, it’s none of my colleagues’ damn business, but STILL.  Unfortunately, some people can’t even be open about their troubles with their friends or family! And that just sucks.  It doesn’t help anything at all if you don’t have a support system.
  • Third reason, is that I’m trying to get all fitness-y again.  Recommit to fit, if you will.  I’m doing better with my diet/eating.  I’ve joined a new gym that I love and go to regularly.  With the longer days of spring and summer upon us, I’ve started taking more frequent and longer walks.  It seems to help.  I’m sleeping a bit better, and it helps me decompress from work.

So, I did it.  I started off walking, because most of these walks start off slowly, just a wad of people trudging along.  But after about 1/2 mile, I started to jog.  I only took 2 or 3 breaks to walk, about 30 seconds to a minute, for the rest of the distance.  My time was 47:34.  I’m a total novice at this, and hardly a speed demon.  But I DID IT.  And it has given me the confidence to continue to do it again!

The sweaty, flushed face of victory!

The sweaty, flushed face of victory!

 

Today, I am achy as hell.  My knees and quads hurt – I’ve been icing them with bags of frozen veggies.  But I feel so accomplished!  I did actually feel the “runner’s high” afterward.  I was absolutely GIDDY.  It was awesome.  It’s a feeling that I want to continue to chase and obtain.  And this is clearly something that is good for me in so many ways – de-stressing, getting fresh air and exercise, burning calories and fat, clearing my head…so many benefits.  I got one of the Couch to 5K apps for my phone, so that I can train and continue to improve.  I kinda just jumped headfirst into doing this one, and since I’m not terribly in-shape, that’s probably not the best idea.  But at least now I know I can do it.

And I’ll keep on doing it.  Much like my struggles mentally/emotionally.  Sometimes it’s easy; sometimes it’s hard.  Good days and bad.  Triumphs and difficulties.  

You just gotta keep on keepin’ on. 

 

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I’m tired of fighting the good fight

Brief synopsis of my recent life:

Fainted twice about a week ago.  The 2nd one sent me crashing into the coffee table.  4 stitches in my skin, and some gnarly bruising.  I looked muthafuckin’ TOUGH.

My brain still feels slightly scrambled, but I’m healing nicely.

I think I’m getting sick.  My throat is swollen.

I’d love to have a week where I don’t have some sort of clumsy-tumbly, sickly, depression-fueled sludgy feeling episode.  Sheesh.

In other news, I made Irish Potatoes.  A friend of mine used to make them in college…and I nailed it on the first try!  They taste exactly like I remember. NOMNOMNOM.  So sweet and rich and dense and awesome.  I’m getting better (slowly) at this cooking thing.  I enjoy it.  I like taking some quiet time to myself and chopping, mixing, spicing, stirring.  It’s very relaxing.

One of my 2nd floor neighbors broke one of their windows last night, apparently.  There’s glass on his air conditioning unit and all over the walkway below.  No idea how that shit happened, but I do have some theories.  (Drug are bad, mkay?)

merpmerp.

 

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Why are you my clarity?

GodDAMN, I’m in love with this song.  There’s a beautiful orchestral remix as well. Oy vey, just beautiful.

For any of the 3 or 4 people who read this are probably aware, Da Hubz is going through a tough time. Which in turn causes me to go through a tough time.  Which makes me feel terrible to say, because it’s like I’m trying to one-up him in the game of “Who’s More Fucked Up?”

Which is funny, because we had a discussion the other day, about how we’ve both been determined to have “mental illness” if you will (depression, bipolarity, etc.)…but not that bad.

Which pisses both of us off.  We’re both perfectionists and overachievers and champions of work ethic, for lack of better terms.  And if we are not the MOST fucked up, well then…we just simply aren’t doing it right.

Good lord, our LOGIC! *snicker*

So, in any case, I feel terrible, because I can’t FIX him.  Usually he is the one to guide me safely off the ledge.  He is the cheer when I am the sorrow.  Honestly, his mere presence fixes me.  To have the tables turned…well, I just don’t know how to deal with that.  I’m not sure if he wants cuddles and snuggles. I’m not sure if he wants to be left alone.  I don’t know if he wants to talk, or if he wants quiet.  Does he want “real talk” or fun-time distractions?  I HAVE NO IDEA.

Does this mean that I am a flawed/failed wife?  A terrible partner in life?

(and once again, there she goes, making it all about herself…)

I don’t know what to do.

I love.

That much I can do.

 

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