Recent Lessons

In my last post I talked about the voices in my brain about self worth being the voice of my father. Thinking about it in that perspective has been a game changer.

My partner and I were arguing about something and I was able to talk myself out of self talk from this new perspective. I was brushing my teeth, walked away and was spiraling fast into some negative talk that was bad. —I don’t even remember what I had said to myself, it really doesn’t matter. Mid brushing, I stopped and said Whhhattt. Like what just happened there, and realized that it was my dad’s voice that was plaguing me. It wasn’t me, it wasn’t my voice. It was his. Okay, not his directly, but it became clear that it was another entity other than myself. —Mind you I thought about this the day before I found out he was back in the hospital.

————-As a disclaimer, I have felt this a lot in the past. I have felt that this other piece of me was a different person. Now that I’ve identified that it was “his voice” and not mine, it seems more clear than ever. It was easy to change the perspective of it not really being me.————-

Sunday my partner and I were digging out our fire-pit. We were trying to decide on how we would do something, and we both had ideas about how to do it. In the process I also was unable to help in the way that I wanted to. I got really mad and snotty with him and then just ended up keeping my mouth shut. Suddenly I got really tense and mad about the situation. I started spiraling in my brain… and what I started to do was separate myself from those thoughts and feelings to why I felt them. I realized that I felt those things because I felt criticized and un-empowered to help. With criticism, comes the self doubt of I’m not doing a good enough job.

Separating my thoughts from his thoughts and words… really this other being that I’ve been fighting for so long has helped me move forward from a lot of bullshit. I’m looking forward to growing  more from this new perspective and seeing what happens.

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It’s suddenly spring again.

Grief hit me yesterday as I was driving home from some shopping. It was a beautiful day and as I was driving I noticed the cherry blossoms had started to bloom. It hit me like a ton of bricks, Dad would never see spring again and I nearly had to pull over because of the tears.

The more that I’ve been thinking about it, the more I realize that he stopped seeing spring a few years ago. As he aged he developed Alzheimers, and lost all control of his mind. It’s kind of ironic, because he spent most of his life fighting to gain control over situations and people. —At least that was my perception.

I found out last Monday that he was back in the hospital and it would be a few days before he passed as they were not treating him. I found out while at work, and was in shock. I went home and I yelled. I was so mad at him. I was mad because of his claws that he’s had in me since I was a child. It’s the voices of “You are not good enough” “your voice doesn’t matter’— From my bed, under the sheets, I sat up crying and yelled “You’ve stripped me of my self worth” Because he did. Those voices in my head, the ones that have haunted me for so long were his voices.

Grief is such a weird thing. It comes when it wants and leaves as if nothing every happened. I haven’t told many people, other than those at work and a few close friends. It’s a really hard thing to say out loud. Most of the time I’m okay, and then out of the blue I get whiff of sadness and I don’t even know what triggered it or what to do. I do know that I’m going to be okay. –I’ve learned some things, which I will write in another post.

 

 

 

Today

It became clear how badly I needed to address myself. My body, my mind, all the things…

I’ve been neglecting myself, and my mental health.

I cried to my mother today, and I made a call to my nurse practitioner. I made a decision to follow through. I had anxiety addressing some of my barriers, but I did it. I’m proud, scared and unhappy. Something needed to be done.

Last week:

I’ve been on the verge of a binge.

I have felt it coming on for a few days now.

I have a lot going on in my personal life and some second hand trauma from work that is really weighing me down. I wasn’t sure who to reach out to, to prevent myself from actually binging.

This was me last week.

I was alone in the office when I wrote it. A lot was building up, and at the time my coworker walked by and luckily we have a relationship where he let me vent.

I hadn’t slept well, and I was really just on the verge of loosing it.

I did not go into a full on binge. I did drink, but not too much.

I feel okay… I feel okay right now.

I FORGOT ABOUT FOOD

I forgot there was a bag of chips in the cupboard.

As someone who has been so obsessed in the past, and would know everything that was in the cupboard at all times. —I can’t believe how much I’ve recovered and how much I’ve changed.

I remember living with my friend who had food in her house, so much so it was overwhelming. She would forget what she had and would buy more. So much so that she would have several unopened and opened bags of chocolate chips in her cupboard. But I knew, I was obsessed with food. Always thinking about it, always knowing, always always always.

A few weeks ago, I opened the cupboard, and saw a bag of chips in there. I had forgotten I had them. It was a pivotal moment in my life. It was suddenly as if the gates opened and the light shined through. It was a moment to celebrate!

Invincible

Up until now I thought I was invincible. Or that death was this far off thing I didn’t think would happen for me. I don’t think that I’m going to die anytime soon, but as I grow older… the more I see time slipping and the people I thought would never leave this planet are.

My dad is in the hospital. With the flu. There is a slight chance he will recover and if he does, it seems as if he has less than a year to live. After all this time, after all of this created drama in my brain and now feeling like I have to cater to him one last time??? To give a little perspective, he’s 87. His chances are like 50/50 at this point, and if he does recover, he’s got like 6 months left.

I bought a plane ticket, I leave a week from Thursday. I’m going there, to see him. He won’t know who I am, he won’t know why I’ve come, but I’m doing it anyway.. why? So that in 10 years I won’t regret it. I’m not sure he will make it until I get there. I don’t really know what else to do.

YouTube idea

It’s been a while since I’ve written. Instead of giving you all of the excuses, I’m just going to jump right into it.

I’ve been having some attention issues at work, and part of what has been helping me has been watching these YouTube videos on my phone, or rather listening to them. I’ve started following some YouTubers, one of them plays the sims and records videos, and then creates these videos of her playing the sims. This transpires me into wanting to play when I get home and I’ve become obsessed. Sooo obsessed that I’ve been creating stories in my brain about the families I’ve been playing, giving them all of the money in the world so they could have all of the things they want. I’ve played for hours upon hours over the past few months. Like, maybe 5 hours a day……………. and I will just leave it at that.

I have watched this YouTuber so diligently that I’ve been thinking about, how awesome would it be if I started making videos of my sims play. I mean, get paid to play video games and and make videos? Duh Genius!

As I was talking with my therapist today, I realized…Duh, I’m just giving justification for my newest addiction.

Hilarious, back to reality. 🙄

It’s September

So I haven’t written all summer… and I should have. I’m getting over this idea that I go through these periods of writing and not writing. It’s okay, I’m writing again, and I’m grateful for these moments of clarity.

I moved out of my ex’s house. I wrote earlier that I probably truly wouldn’t be able to take care of myself there, knowing that it would never end the way that I wanted it to. So I had to leave. It’s not something I really want to write about right now, but I’m sure it will come. Just know that it was one of the hardest and easiest things I’ve ever done.

I spent the majority of August, playing and taking care of my new place and the fucking fleas that still live here. I’m calling my landlord Tuesday in hopes he has better news and hopefully send these fuckers packing, they are not welcome here..

Either way, it’s September now and I’m trying to look up into the world in a new light.

Yesterday was tough, I cried all day because I didn’t feel good about things. I was sad because it suddenly sunk in how lonely life can be with out waking up to your person, and going to sleep with them by your side. You are suddenly solely responsible for yourself. Your own eating, your own waking up on time, your own bills, your own everything and not to mention your emotional well being. I ended my day among friends, while watching friends, drinking diet coke with vodka and smoking a cigarette. It was exactly what I needed, and I felt okay about it. I don’t make a habit of smoking, but I’ve been known to throw back a few every once in a while.

I went to sleep last night with this new mindset in mind. I was going to go for a run. Well… Walk run… okay mostly walk. But I did get a wave from a cute guy recognizing I was out taking care of myself. Now I’m not going to dive too deep into this because I want to write a post in a bit how I hit a deer with my car probably 3 Christmases ago…. It will make sense when I write it and the weird symbolism in it.

Anyway, It’s September, I have a lot of ideas, I have a lot of things that have changed besides my current relationship status, and I have goals to write more often.

 

 

Shattering effects.

I smashed my scale a few weeks ago, on the pavement in my driveway with a sledge hammer.

What I learned from this experience was more than what I anticipated. I wanted to do it as some sort of relief, and ritual in order to finally stop the worry and get rid of the thing in a way that was more fun than just throwing it in the trash. If you decide to take on this endeavor, I suggest put it in some sort of container before you actually do it, wear long pants, and goggles.

What happened: When the sledge hammer hit the glass, it exploded. I didn’t realize until after I had cleaned it up that it had actually hit me, and made my knee bleed. Also, the glass was everywhere, under our cars, in the grass, on my body… everywhere. I did not expect this to happen… But I guess I’m not surprised either.

When I was cleaning it up, it became this metaphor of eating disorders and weight obsession. Anything could trigger me at any point, which would leave this shattering effect on my life (or so I felt). When ever I felt like I had accomplished something (weight loss goal, conquering food goal), things would come up that I hadn’t fully addressed and then more would unfold, and then suddenly I was entrenched in food again and the obsession.

When I was cleaning the glass up with the broom, I would find new patches of glass I hadn’t quite gotten and would find more as I would push it to the main pile.

And after all the glass was swept up, all that was left were shards that were glimmering in the sunshine. Letting me know that the issues will probably always be around in some form or another.

Few weeks, or months later—–I can’t believe that I didn’t actually post this or finish it when I had written it… At this point it’s just this distant memory of shattered memories. Unrecognizable and I’m glad I thought It was something that I deemed important to write about. Smashing it was liberating and super telling. As I moved into my new place, I no longer have a scale to determine my worth. I’m not sure if it’s liberating or if I’m just curious. At this point, I am not in a mind set to be curious. I’m pretty stressed about my weight.

May 6th

My childhood home has been vacant for the past three years, and recently I had a realtor friend of mine take me there. It was a weird, time warping experience.

I lived there from ages 6-14. What I remember from this experience was a collection of memories filled with community, grief, sadness, solidarity, joy and well all of the things. My house was white, the tiles were pink, the master bath had a jet tub, and it was two stories. There was a back yard, and my dad had built a swing set for me to play on where I spent many hours alone conjuring potions and sweet memories.

The road up to the house was over grown, uncomfortable and sad. I think I had this weird underlying expectations, at the same time had no expectations. The house itself had one large change, and other minimal changes. It was green on the outside with a purple door and the land surrounding was overgrown and changed (there were more outside changes than inside changes).

The person had rebuilt the back deck, added a hot tub and a door off of the back master bedroom. They had also taken out the swing set my dad had built, the garden beds, and planted trees where my dad’s RV use to live. My memories of the space though were so present, the nostalgia was there and then it hit me: I cannot get back any of it. It was gut wrenching.

I wasn’t really expecting to get any of that back by visiting there, or even by dancing with the idea that I could even buy the place.

What I did get out of it, was that no matter how sad I was there because my dad was so yelly, it was a reminder that he did do nice things for me. As an adult I value that swing set memory more than I ever had. I appreciate it more now because when I was a child I didn’t understand or value the time it took to him to build that swing set. At the time I was fairly selfish, and impatient. It was the one memory I had of him that didn’t include traveling, playing video games, or sourdough pancakes. It was the one thing he did that was outside of his comfort zone, it was something he did for me. In all that I’ve processed about my childhood, him doing nice things for me wasn’t something that I’ve been able to see.