The Fridge Door

I open the fridge door. I look inside. I see the cheese. I just want to take the whole brick and eat it. I want to eat the left over chicken. The pasta. The chips in the cupboard. The chocolates on the counter, and the rest that are hidden. I want to drink till I fall asleep.

I stand at the fridge door, looking inside. And know that none of them will really satisfy me. No matter if I eat it all. Progress I suppose.

But I don’t want to feel this. Anything but this. Just keep breathing. One breath at a time. It’s just feelings, emotions. They will pass. They will get stronger, ease up, and eventually i will push them to a place where I can take the next breath. And then the next.

And maybe one day I will get to have several breaths in a row with out it being a chore.

I feel like I’m drowning, and all I want is to just get out of the water and walk. Fuck swimming..I’ll just take a boat. Just give me the boat. Where is the fucking boat?

I just want to breath.

I don’t want to eat. But I do want to. But not because I’m hungry. Because I hope that it will make this pain go away. I know it won’t, so what’s the point. It doesn’t work like it used to. Again, progress I suppose. Something to be happy about? But it’s not enough.

So here I am writing, hoping it will ease some of the pain and let me take a couple breaths so my head doesn’t explode.

One breath at a time. Standing in front of the fridge door.

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So what about Meds?

My therapist seems to think I’m managing well.  I’ve been making some decisions, or rather they were kind of made for me.

I’m still stressed out.  I’m nervous at what is coming.  I am usually excited about change and whatever is new on the horizon, but this time I’m scared.I’m worried I won’t be able to handle everything that is about to come my way.  I’m worried I won’t be able to make finances work, or keep it together for my possible new job.

And I don’t remember what it was specifically, but I thought, but maybe I don’t have to be this miserable.  I know Cipralex isn’t a magic pill or anything, and I don’t want a happy pill.  I just want to be able to breath. I want some peace.  I try to do that without meds, but it’s only barely working and I still feel like I’m hanging on to my sanity by a thread..or with the help of my daughter’s smile.  I’m not sure which.

I try to meditate, and go for massages.  I’m trying to start walking more.  Sort of.  And I feel like I’m slowly getting it together.  But I’m exhausted.  I need a break but I’m on a break!

And soon I’ll have to start a regular job again.  I’m scared I won’t be able to keep it together.  

And then stuff blows up and I just don’t know if I can manage.

So I’m debating going on the meds.  So it can be a little easier to work through.  I guess, it’s not the being on meds part that worries me right now, it’s the ‘how am I going to react to the meds’.  What if I have some horrible reaction to them? Or what if I space out the way DH did for a week when he was first on them.  I can’t afford to not be fully functional and be me.  Then again, I don’t really feel like I’m me right now either.

I think I’m tired of making decisions.

And as much as I love sunshine..I really don’t like being sweaty..and that’s kind of ticking me off right now too.

Can someone please make me stop bitching!  I’m getting tired of hearing myself bitch!

 

Why does it always feel like everything happens at once

It’s been a fucking roller coaster the past week. I don’t know how I managed to survive it really. Maybe because the ride is still moving.

All I really want to do is eat. I just want to go to the store and buy three bags of chips and sit on my couch and eat them.

I want my life back, so I’m not going to do that. I need to make some changes. Not even that….stuff just needs to get decided and I need to focus. I need to decide to be happy maybe. I don’t know.

I need to re-learn what makes me happy? I went to a workshop the other day and was balling my eyes out when the guy said everyone’s definition of success should be ‘to be happy’.

I want that kind of success. I want the kind of success that makes me happy to jump out of bed in the morning. I don’t think I’ve ever had that..have I? If I did it feels like forever ago.

Why do I feel like more than a mess than ever? Hhmm..maybe has to do with the fact that as my employer was threatening to fire me in not so few words…all I could think was, ‘Great…someone else I’ve let down.’

I just can’t focus on anything. If I”m doing one thing, I think about the other thing I should be doing. I feel like I have ADD, but I don’t think that’s what it is. I used to be so with it. What the fuck happened?

Where did my happy go?

I’m not happy.

And there are many reasons…I think. Or maybe there are none. I don’t konw. But I do know one thing.

I lost my happy somewhere along the way.

I was driving on Friday. A song came on and I cried. It was ‘You Shook Me all night long..” That used to be one of my happy songs. It used to be one of the songs I would always have to dance to. I would always sing along. It would always make me smile. I’m not sure why it used to do that to me, but it did. A lot of songs did.

But not anymore.

I used to love dancing. Now I just love the thought of it. If even.

I used to be happy. Where did my happy go?

This is fricken hard

I said I was never going to get on the scale again, but something compelled me to get on. I now weigh about 60 lbs more than I did two weeks after I had my daughter. That’s about 10lbs more than the last time I checked. I don’t care about the numbers. But this isn’t healthy. I’m starting to get scared. I know I have a good grip on this Intuitive Eating thing. I know I’m not 100% there yet, but it’s been at least nine months that I’ve been doing okay, and not binge eating. Maybe I’ve only done it once or twice. A far cry from every day.

Why am I still GAINING weight? WTF?

And then there is everything else. It’s so hard. Difficult. I’m so far from dealing with the root of my problems it seems and I don’t know how I’m going to get there if it’s this painful at the surface. I’ve been off work for almost a month now. The thought of having to deal with all this and having to focus on a job and commute and only two hours a day of seeing my daughter, and maybe 15 minutes to myself..how am I supposed to get better? I don’t want to take meds…but what if they make me go back to work? I’ve been spending my time trying to make it so that I don’t have to go back…but I don’t think it’s an option.

I can’t not go back…I need to make money…and nothing better has come along yet. Maybe I need to switch back to looking for a regualr full-time job closer to home. That makes me shake…physically shake.

I don’t want to deal with it. I want to bury my head in a bag of chips or just curl up into a ball and sleep for a week. I don’t want to keep feeling challenged at each turn. I want peace. I want to be happy. I’m not happy. Except for when I watch DD dancing, or playing so innocently.

I’m so scared I’m going to mess her up with my mess. I have to clean up my mess before I screw her up. She is so sweet and affectionate, and kind, and beautiful. And I’m going to mess it up. I’m so scared I’m going to mess it all up. Maybe I already have.

Ok..time to pull it together, DD is home..