Fumbling
The past few weeks have left me in a state of fumbling. I’m allowed to live at a building not my own out of kindness, as I have nowhere else to go. Said building recently had the gas shut off. It will have been off for over a week through no fault of my own. There was money, just no payments were made. Things timed poorly, I suppose. Accidents happen after all. This combined with continual working on my divorce have been extremely stressful, and the evil demon that always lurks in my medicated mind has been slowly clawing its way back to the surface.
Because the gas can only be turned on one day this week, it inconveniently is the day my therapist appointment was. This is another huge source of stress, as the therapist is often, literally, the only person I see for weeks at a time. He doesn’t have any appointments this week, which isn’t his fault. He’s a busy guy. And hey, it’s my problem. It’s frustrating, though, unspeakably so. I’ve been, to be honest, fumbling much of the past month.
My birthday in May was sort of alarming and unexpected. It dredges up unimaginable sorrows that are hard to express. I remember five wasted years, the past five, in which I slowly was letting myself drown in depression. I’m scared, because I feel that familiar trace returning. I feel the fingers of sorrow and aching mental pain daring to return.
What to do, what to do? The alternative is unquestionably a Bad Thing, so Dear Reader, know that I am tightening the belt and stepping forward, as the Japanese expression goes. Right now, tonight, a part of me wants nothing more than to give up, to shrink into the inconsolable mingling of darkly ecstatic pain and self-abuse that depression can be. If it gets worse, I won’t hesitate for a moment to go to the hospital. My life means too much to me to gamble it away, even when the waters that normally float me home are threatening to drown far more than my spirits.
If nothing else, the peonies are starting to bloom – ironically, a symbol of the Japanese samurai reminding me of my little joys, such as they are, and I want to be here to see them at least. So, for tonight, happy thoughts are in order, with a phone kept nearby, and a friend’s stories to keep my attention focused.
There are many people all over the world that live one day to the next, barely surviving. Sometimes that’s all I can do. One step forward is still forward. Even if I must sit tonight and rest lest my progress is prematurely halted, I force myself to walk once more. As long as I keep moving ahead, it doesn’t matter how slowly, it doesn’t matter the bleak and bleary nights such as this…I know in my heart this storm shall pass. Now it’s merely a matter of reminding the creature lurking in the shadows of this as it tries to kidnap my thoughts.
It Goes On
“In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: it goes on.” — Robert Frost
I’ve struggled fairly badly the past week. The binge eating has returned. I’m slowly coming to cope with the fact I have an addiction to fight with, and it hasn’t been easy. No one wants to be an addict. Before there was food, it was alcohol. I’ve just replaced one with another. High volumes of food I’m not supposed to eat make the depression and anxiety worse. It becomes a ranting and raging cycle I get caught up in. I see it for what it is. Despite that, it’s easy for me to get caught up in. Just one more day of binging, I tell myself, and am knee-deep in chocolate and pizza, and thirty or fourty thousand calories later I hate myself and want to die.
Times like this, I try to pick myself up as soon as I realize it. Life goes on even in the face of our foibles and reticence. Today I woke up, ignored the desire for crap and pushed forward to work towards something else. It’s going to be a long week of doctors and visitors relating to my room mate. I can’t always control my anxiety. I can’t always control my sadness. I just have to remember to keep walking, one step at a time. It sucks and it is harrowing, and I’m not sure right now if I’ll be successful.
So, here’s my list of what I must do this week:
- Up at six every morning.
- Healthy food every day.
- No take out.
- Every time I want to get take out, I’ll deposit the money into savings instead.
- No candy.
- No soda, even diet.
- Write everything down.
- If mood wavers and thoughts are suicidal, immediately call the doctor.
This makes me feel like a child who doesn’t know better. I generally have enormous willpower. Just sometimes I am aghast at how quickly the addictions and bad habits kick in and hold me prisoner. It happens. It’s life. I must do my best to focus on the positive.
Some days I can only do one thing at a time, living minute to minute, hour to hour. It’s going to be one of those weeks. I won’t let it break me.
Waiting
I hate waiting. It galls me. I seem to spend most of my life in a state of transition with no closure. Today is especially bad in some respects. Crippling anxiety is no fun, and I seem to be drowning in it today.
I’m paralyzed and can’t make a phone call I need to. I have to go get groceries at one of the busiest times of the day. I have to keep pulling it together…keep pulling it together. There’s an old Japanese proverb that goes something like, “Fall down seven times, stand up eight.” I’m just so damned tired of falling.
I know I’m on the edge of an attack. It just means I need to push myself more. So today I’ll push, and hopefully not have a panic attack or become suicidal. I feel like I’m skirting the edge of the Dark Place, so I’ll throw myself into the middle of my life and push past it.
Some days I can’t thrive – it’s all I can do to just barely live. Time to turn waiting into movement. It’s hard to remind myself that I can’t control the things outside of my head, but I can focus on what I can change. So, we’ll give that a whirl, today.
Kokoro Is Blue 