At least, that’s what I thought when I saw it said our page had “1 follower” but it was us. At least there’s two of us so it doesn’t sound completely insane.
Let’s talk about reality and coping and how ne’er the twain shall meet. At least not often. I find it very frustrating that I can’t seem to cope with stresses/traumas/nonexistent crises in my life, internally, without either reaching for help/hiding of some kind, or either trying to go it straight on my own and ending up a mental/emotional/physical mess. I would cry on and on about how unfair it all is, except that it wouldn’t do any good. This little pseudo-cleanse I’m going on until Valentine’s Day, is making me realize (again, always the epiphanies with the cleanses) how often I reach for/lean on/hide in external things, in order to make it through life’s tsunamis/earthquakes/stubbed toes.
It makes me feel like, deep down inside, I’m not trustworthy, at least, not for myself. It would almost be easier to be schizophrenic than try to explain how I seem to simultaneously exist as two of the same person in my head and heart, at once. I wish I had a movie-type therapist who would be full of profound insight that would launch me onto a path of recovery from everything that would eventually lead to the sunshine state of mental balance. (I hate my husband’s dogs, fyi, I’ll just put that here because I can hear the male heavily sighing in the hall, just around the corner from the bedroom door. It’s like nails on a chalkboard.)
It’s like, life can’t be just simple. There’s always some trigger warning, some booby trap, that normal people waltz right by, but I have to get all ensnared in or have to tightrope walk around the edges whilst fighting the urge to fling myself gleefully down into whatever strange abyss may await. For example, I’m still trying to lose my weight from my last pregnancy (sweetpea aka beelzebub just turned 9 mos) and it has been a trial this time. I’m finally down 14 pounds, but I have at least 40 more to go for me to even be close to where I need/want to be. (Yes, I’m one of those lucky women who are genetically programmed to gain 50 pounds every pregnancy, no matter how little I ate nor how much exercise I got. Hurray.) So, you would think, how hard can it be, right? All you have to do is diet and exercise and voila. Which is, in effect, true. Except, that it’s not. It’s not, because I am a “recovered” eating disordered person. I can only assume this is what a drug addict must feel like, except that I don’t get to avoid my “drug”. I have to find a way to eat healthy and exercise without it becoming some slippery slope back into the gap again.
(I had to go look for Tool memes and this is what I found)
This is getting long, but, the point is that most weight loss regimens do have a focus on calorie restriction, and that is what I was (once) queen of. I could exercise the exact amount to burn off a specific meal. The numbers were soothing to me; hell, numbers are still soothing to me. I spent a portion of work adding and subtracting potential and estimated sick and vacation hours through the end of the month, just because. I can’t restrict calories however, because restriction is a dare, it’s a challenge, and it makes that bad monkey rattle its cage in my head and start chanting old thinspiration quotes at me. I know a lot of it has to do with how out of control things are at whatever stage in my life. Okay, actually, it pretty much always has something to do with how out of or in control of things I am, at any given moment. To sum up, dieting is more exhausting and exhilarating as an emotional battle, and quite frankly, I should lose weight more easily based on that fact alone. Plus, having to deal with all that makes me grumpy. (Sorry in advance, Irene.)
At some point I’ll have something pithy or witty to say, but maybe the late hour and the fact that it’s cold as a hell pigs are winging through in my bedroom, are currently affecting my posting abilities.
Or maybe, it’s like Ani Difranco once sang:
“I’m afraid I’ve said to much, I’m afraid of who has heard me” & “I’m afraid I can never say enough, I’m afraid no one has heard me”