Why does bored time alone equal mentally beating myself up time? Why am I so damn hard on myself all the time? I do not like being alone because I beat up on me ((((POP)))) Damn that hit like a backhanded bitch slap that was meant for someone else and you caught it.
Okay. Well I know now. I kinda always knew but had not put it together let alone written it down somewhere for the world to see. Are we back to the low self esteem issue? Does it matter? Not really. What matters is that the information is now at the front of my brain and I can use this information. Damn does that last sentence make me the crazy bitch or what?When i get bored, I beat on me. I pick me apart. I can jump from topic to topic. I find everything that I consider wrong with my life and I rip into me for it. I can move myself to tears just thinking about how horrible I am and how I should just drop away from my entire life and live a quiet barely surviving fat womans life.
Damn. That’s a serious problem when you have an injury like mine and a food / eating addiction. I often wonder if I will ever stop the self hating tapes. I have to find distractions for my mind and hands. I am happiest when crafting or making art. Music and not television. I have to be careful not to let myself sit and beat on me while my back heals. I used to be able to happily waist days watching television. Now I lose my mind and feel like the biggest piece of shit on the planet. Funny how we change.
So I must decide what I want to learn while passing this time. Ohhh yes I should find something I want to learn and spend this down time engaged in mastering that “thing.” Emmmm hmmmm…..
So far, I think I am. I have been a very good girl with regards to my back. My pain is minimal but so is my faith that it is only temporary. Our beloved Seahawks are in the Super Bowl for the second year in a row tomorrow and I intend to do my duty as a loyal 12. I grew up listening to football in the other room for as long as I can remember. Wanna know a secret? I played Powder Puff Football in high school during my senior year. I was team captain and quarterback. For a short time in my life. I could throw a football. I never learned the details and finer points of the game. I learned how to throw and catch and get the fucking ball to the destination under pressure. Yep, thats still what football is to me. But I will admit that eventually I became a sports ball person. I got fat. Really fat. I got no pleasure in watching athletics because all I could ever think of was “not me.” So I ignored sports in my twenties and would attend but ignore the sports balls in my thirties. But last year the city of Seattle came alive with a fever that burns so hot you want to catch it and when you do it’s a permanent hook. Everywhere you go from the smallest parts of the country roads to the burbs and to the city there is a blue & lime green fever. The people here yell GO HAWKS randomly and you are instantly answered with the same or just a loud SEAHAWKS! We 12’s are untied and I admit I absolutely love being a part of it. I openly admit I am new and can not tell you much….. yet. Give me a year.
Back to me being ready. I have chosen wisely. I am going to a close friends where there will be about six people all whom I am safe to be in pain in front of. My friends have a big soft cushy chair for me and I can bring my ice pack. Yes I would like to go to the bar near my house. But I prefer for this injury to heal. So yes I am ready and I am grateful for true friends, a big comfy chair, the game projected onto a huge living room wall, yummy food and SEAHAWKS! OMG food…. I need to go to the store and get something awesome to share.
I just had a realization. Every romantic relationship I have had I have started the relationship with my sexuality. It felt right at the time because it was important to me. It was a heightened and loud part of me so I made it clear up front who I am.
Sitting her this morning it was like a light came on. I am not saying I am bad or that my sexuality is bad. I am saying that making my sexuality the thing that attracts my Partner has not gotten me the result I desire. Is this something I should wait to share or perhaps put away for awhile? I guess you need to know what I am talking about.
I’m kinky. More then a little. I’m Dominant ~ a FemDom to be clear. This will be my thought for the day…… Hmmmm???
It’s almost euphoria, when the pain suddenly stops. As you know I just had a few days of waiting for the hellish pain to stop. I woke this morning to no pain. Seriously I have been awake two hours and no major pain.
I also know not to do anything big, to move slow & steady and to continue the treatment. I know the pain will be back. (((Deep breaths)))
I accept my body & the injury I currently have. I accept that I need to learn to be alone and not turn to food to entertain me. I am working hard to exercise the muscle that is self discipline with food. I slipped yesterday. I did not allow it to turn into a multiple day slip. That is a major break in the cycle. I literally threw away the left over pizza & pasta rather then eat it for days. I also ate a salad for dinner rather then make the entire day a loss.
I am dating myself. What would I do for a girlfriend who was facing the next six months I am told I am facing? This is my new mantra. I am in love with me & I will honor me above all.
I’ve always loved animals and they have always loved me. I am the friend that even the most scared dogs and cats comes and gets love from when I visit. In Hawaii I have had wild birds, untrained wild dolphins and sea turtles come to see me while scuba diving. When I opened my business I marketed myself to people who’s pets are family members and treated as such. Many clients have remarked how it feels so good when they see or hear their dogs reaction to my arrival.
A year ago Lil’ Bit (the black dog) wandered into my life. She was found at seven weeks old in a box at Goodwill. She was well cared for and not afraid. To this day we don’t know if she was left there or if she crawled into a box of blankets for a nap. But I know she was meant to be with me. She makes me laugh everyday and she loves long walks.
The red head is Peanut. He joined LB and I one month ago today. I had watched his picture on our local animal shelters web page for two weeks and could not understand why he was not rescued. I went to see him and he clung to my coat collar with all of his four pound weight. Little did I know that he would become my ultimate snuggle partner as I recover from this injury.
Here I sit with my back packed in ice and four dogs snuggling me. I’m house sitting for a client who also has two small dogs. I am trying to see the positive and be grateful for what I have. It could be far worse. Yep this sucks…… I have meds and cable TV. It will stop. It will stop. It will stop. It will stop.
I’m watching Dog the Bounty Hunter, playing Sims on my iPad, drinking tea and snacking on Thai Lime nuts. Seriously I need to pull my head out’a my ass and remember that I WILL BE BACK and get some hand weights….. Yeah hand weights while I sit here sound like a plan
It’s pretty nasty in my head right now. It is very hard not to be depressed and down on me with this pain coursing through my body. I am having the talks with myself, pushing water and blah blah blah ya know what? I am just sick of this. I want to throw a major temper tantrum and part of me thinks it will help. But I am literally incapable of getting on the floor and thrashing around. I can not get comfortable. There is no position that is pain free. My choice is drugged to a vegetative state or sit in hell.
I don’t deserve this. I am insanely jealous of people who will never know pain like this. I would not want anyone to experience this just to understand. Pain is lonely. It is isolating.
This where I have to fight hard against the depression. I have to tell myself this is not the end and it will stop. It is the hardest thing in the world to believe that this pain will stop.
This is a hellish form of torture. The pain in my back is so bad I should not be walking. I would like to swallow multiple pain pills and chase it with whiskey. But I can not. I am at a clients house sitting while an employee does all the work. I hate this feeling. It’s all I can do my to panic and leave. About an another hour of sitting here feeling the pain in my back shoot down my left leg. I will count the mins until I can leave. Then drive my employee home and make my drive home to ice packs, meds and something to distracts mind on TV. I have a clients house for a week so what is usually a mini vacation in a gorgeous house now becomes me laying on the couch waiting for the pain to stop.
I feel a melt down coming. Should I fight it or just give in and cry for awhile this afternoon? I am at my max with life. I am scared of this pain. I feel very alone & unlovable. I hate my body, how it feels and how I look right now. It all adds up to me dying in pain alone someday. I’m starting to face my reality and it is pretty fucking ugly. My god I want to panic…..
Pain + PTSD = torture
I hate being me today. Truly deeply and wholly hate being me.
I talk to myself. Often. Out loud. I have done it for as long as I can remember. I have lost track of the times I have been caught. I have learned to just admit it and move on. Most people react well to someone just admitting they have been caught in a quirky behavior and can laugh it off.
Usually I have something to say to someone and I am afraid of the reaction I am going to get. Often it is a situation where I need to stand up for myself. So I am rehearsing what I need to say. Practicing and finding my voice. People who only know the me that was leading things would never ever guess how hard it was for me to do that. How that after ten years in the community I would still have to focus and take deep breaths and force myself to be there let alone speak when asked. I have always worked out my thoughts out loud. I have always been ashamed of it. I have believed it makes me all the more weird. I am done with that belief. I am done not accepting my own quirks when I so readily accept them in others as just who they are. I cherish my quirkiest of friends to be honest. They are so genuine.
Internal dialog for me is still a battle. Good and evil. Emmmm maybe somewhat but not the right feeling. More of a you can and you can not possibly battle. I still have to remind myself quite often that the frightened weird fat girl grew up to be someone who is kind, compassionate and cares deeply for people who are suffering. And that makes me pretty bad ass. I still have to remind myself that i am not stupid and yes I can do that. I still have to stop the tapes and argue back. I know that sounds really crazy but it really is not. The critic in my head goes on tyrants and just beats the living shit out of me. I have picked up some tools over the years of therapy and talking with other people who have the same critic. And sometimes, when you are just trying to get through your day and you suddenly realize that every single thing you have done today, you have had to hear how you did it wrong and what a piece of shit you are in your own head it helps to stop and acknowledge it (sometimes out loud), call it a liar and tell it to fuck off. Seriously, out loud. You get the point by now I am sure. I don’t turn and speak to an invisible person and freak people out. But I do tell myself to stop criticizing myself and move on. Because there is no one in the word who can beat me down like I can.
And finally I encourage myself. I started doing that in a purposeful manner in my twenties. I met people who wrote life visions and hung motivational posters in their homes. I hated myself to a level few can understand. So I spent some time in front of the mirror telling myself I was beautiful and that I loved me. Think it’s easy. Try it. These days I should do it again in the mirror. Glad I wrote that. I encourage myself when I am doubting my business skills and so on. And yes, sometimes out loud. It’s just who I am.
So yes, I talk to myself. I don’t know how it starts and I often catch myself just talking something through out loud. I am who I am and that’s all that I am. Apparently it is not going to change. So when i am old and just talking away all the time, I warned you.
Yep I still don’t like hospitals or seeing her so sick. Sitting next to A as her IV was started for a procedure today I felt fear and anxiety start to rise in me. I pushed it down. I felt an urge to cry and hold her tight. I pushed it down. Today is about her and her health, not me and my BS.
The PTSD wants me to fret and worry and be upset that she is going under. I am currently sitting int he lobby with a smoothie telling it to fuck off. Good times I yell ya really good times.
Today I received one of the scariest letters you can receive as a person who lives with a chronic illness and pain. I got a letter from my primary care doctor telling me she is leaving the big University hospital that her clinic is a part of and blah blah blah here’s a list of other doctors in the clinic and blah blah blah it has been a privilege and blah blah blah. This what I read: The doctor who has managed your care and written your pain medication prescription every month for ten years is leaving and you are completely fucked but hey good luck with that….
Anyone with Fibromyalgia and/or chronic pain knows the panic that went through me. Thanks to the people who have abused the meds I take to actually block the pain so I can function (sometimes), finding a new doctor who will give me the pain meds is going to be a fucking nightmare. I have been prescribed the same meds for fifteen years and the last ten from one doctor. I will not allow other doctors to give me narcotics because I so closely monitor and control what I take. I have trusted my doctor with every detail of my life….. fuck fuck fuck. How the fuck do I start over in the middle of a serious injury and the PTSD is active. This is just what I fucking needed.
What if I can’t follow her to wherever she is going?
What if I can’t find a doctor that believes me?
What if I run out of pain meds? Am I supposed to just crawl into bed and give up?
I want to be positive. One day at a time. Take the steps. But this is just plain scary.
I sincerely hope I am overreacting and that a simple solution comes to light. That would be fucking awesome.