The Octopus of Evil Habits

Don’t want to write this post.  Nope.  But it would be a bad way to go out on the final day of the year by blowing off the post.  I keep thinking that the lesson I’m supposed to be getting is that it doesn’t matter at all and I should just not post because really who gives a shit?

Yay for a panic attack.  It does wonders for people who already suspect you’re mentally unsound.  And it’s keen if you really desire that feeling of wanting to tear your own skin off.  It doesn’t make sense, of course, and since you can’t explain it, it’s not really worth talking about and oy, I feel pain inside about it and confusion and frustration and I have zero answers.  Zilch.  So I’m going to see the therapist on the 9th.  I wish so much there was a switch to flip.  I’m just hoping that 12:00 midnight will have some sort of supernatural power over me.

My positivity is taking it in the shorts today.  I don’t know why.  I’m sure it has to do with blood sugar and caffeine and maybe the fact that blood doesn’t get to my head.  It’s also got to do with empathy and love dreams and this vast expanse of nothingness that I’ve been running in and only found false edges to.  Like a misty moor with only more mist and more moors no matter now many times you run until you collapse in a heap.  This is not when the love dreams come, either.  All you get is this sinking sense that in a year, you’ll be eating soft foods and staring out the window in some sort of agoraphobic haze.

Nothing is completely unqualified. I just, really can’t take my situation right now and while I know it can get better, I feel full of fear and doubt and anger and stress and it’s settled in me like a big head cold.

I was so sure yesterday and whammo, I feel like the rug came out from under me.

Which, I guess, it’s allowed to do every now and then.  It being a curious sort of fate I have cultivated.

I am going to take the unlikely position that maybe being around people and drinking alcohol will do something for me.  Even if, right now I am dreading it completely.  Then, the actual remedies of getting back on board the health wagon.  My half-sister has given me a Door #2 present of a psychic reading which I am taking her up on.  The therapist, of course.  My overcoming anxiety book.  My friends.  My trip to Italy.  Exercise and self-care and tapping and the things that I haven’t been doing because those are for crazy people or people who are broken in some way that I certainly couldn’t be broken.

If it’s going to be a good year, and I hope it is, I want to believe it will be, then it will only be so if I face down some of my problems.  And give up coffee and the things that are making my body generate this level of anxiety.

A promise I can keep: I will see you tomorrow.

A Puff’d and Reckless Libertine

Time to take a breath.

It’s your fault, you know, anonymous person who ended up at my page probably (possibly?) (maybe not at all?) because they too are dealing or interested in some way in the topic of driving anxiety.   I glanced at the list of pages viewed and found a post that someone must have read that was about this struggle back in June of this year. And at that time, I felt very aggressive and cocksure about the whole business.  Now, of course, it’s a different story even if I have less of a real understanding as to why this recent bout of anxiety is so much harder to grasp.  But reading it did give me a certain amount of spur in my side.  So my drive was as good as I could hope.  Spots that seem to trouble me, did so, more because I expected them to rather than because there was something frightening going on (there’s never anything all that terrifying), but I was able to stay sensible.

So, thank you, for that added surge of a desire to get myself right yet again.  To not make myself a misery, and to rise above the whole gray cloud, at least one more time.  To take that leap of faith that once again I can be able to do the things I’ve always done.

This was a good day.  I was worried about things that end of year requires and I got as much of them done as I possibly could and I was clearing my desk, accomplishing more and more almost in exponential speed and force, then the day went pear-shaped.  More rumors to put absolutely no stock in about the selection process, but lots of concern, nonetheless.  It does feel more and more like Game of Thrones where the strangers turn up and start whispering in my ear about who our new Hand of the King will be (though, I suppose in this analogy I’m in the dangerous spot of being the Hand) and if you don’t listen you’re a fool, equally if you do.  I just want to be told.  I can handle it, whomever is chosen, be it some terrible dictator or Mother Teresa, but I need the answer.

No dice.  I’ve sort of just recovered from that disappointment.  Tomorrow, I’m starting to recall I have off.  We’re also going to see my niece and nephew tomorrow along with my half-sister at a bbq place and it’s always lovely to see them and I can ask my half-sister her thoughts about the potential trip to Italy which has to consolidate in my mind into an official this is happening  sort of thing.   And then, after that, we are going to a geeky board game New Year’s Eve party with booze.  So. I am at the edge of a new life or whatever magic will happen when the calendar turns over, and I can only be there when it happens.

More Hobbit to watch, and more steadiness to find.

The Talent

Life begets life and idleness, if it can be bothered to spawn anything, will remain idle.  I’m sure there’s some scientific theories that jive with this, but I was thinking today after just an hour’s jaunt outside in the free air, in the sunlight, and twenty minutes stomping about the living room, how much better I felt.  How much more capable of facing the fact that there is more to come.  More positive and willing to try.  I hope that’s so.

I feel as though I’m standing on the edge between two worlds, two possible futures, after having spent several months in the mirror realm where everything is the same save my willingness to be alive.  Letting the disconcerting possibility that I will be consumed by the desire to panic play out.   I’ve been settled under this giant anvil of self-destruction and not even trying to throw off the tyranny of the car panic.  It is boring and stressful and I want very much, I think, to be as free as I can possibly be.   To be able to say I could drive cross-country on my own if I have to.  To highway drive on a regular basis.  To feel like the queen of the road.  I want to not shudder away from those kinds of thoughts and hopes for myself.    And goodness knows that it’s not going to happen tomorrow, I can’t even begin to expect that it will.  I know I will panic when driving home tomorrow, I will feel shaky, but I can control it and get through it and at this particular moment,  I do feel like I can start putting a percentage of my thoughts towards other things than worry.

We will just have to see.

We’re watching the first Hobbit film which I bought, finally, so I could watch the extended edition and we can get ourselves prepared for seeing the second.  Yes, that did not happen today, but I’m still really pleased with how the day went.  I keep thinking about how the time for resolve and change is coming and how I can make new promises and keep them.  This is a good thing. I’m not thinking about weight loss in terms of numbers, but I am thinking about 10 minutes of physical activity everyday.  Every day for a full year.  Now this could be as little as walking for 10 minutes.   Or being on the bike, but today, that was a great reminder about how sour my mood, how these thoughts turn dark and numbing, and just doing something as simple as having some fruit or a walk or a stretch and that goes away.  It just disappears into thin air.

So I’m thinking about making that pledge.  That could carry me through when I screw up the diet or have inordinate work stress. It could make my weight loss happen because this is the area I’ve always refused to make a real effort in.   This is Sunday night.  Just one more day and then two more days off so we will be alright.

 

 

Grainne

Oh, so we have to do a post today?  We have something going on in our lives other than video games?  I don’t believe it! Not for a second!

Yeah, (the world’s most writerly word: yeah) today turned out to be a snowglobe sort of day where all of a sudden I’m thrown on my head, set aright and I realize I’m trapped in this tiny little world and snow is falling around me.   It’s not much snow, though, and the Hobbit will still be playing tomorrow or New Year’s Eve or whenever it is that we actually go.  So I’m not despairing over my lethargy and desuetude.  My get up and go is going to have to be in overdrive starting on the first (it doesn’t have to, of course, but I’m asking/demanding/commanding it to) so for the record, if I find myself complaining that I didn’t get any rest, we have  it down on “paper” that I have spent whole days playing video games in bed (aside for a tiny amount of cleaning just to keep the thoroughfares passable.    I have eaten the wide variety of comfort foods, I have gone down to bottom of excessive behavior and swam around in the murky depths.  It’s time to come up for air and, I don’t know, eggplant? Air and artichoke hearts?  Air and asparagus.  That’s the ticket.

So I am telling Mildred that things are going to change and she’s smirking and I hate that I can feel the smirk in the back of my head, because I know the shape of it is not unlike the smirk you would give if you were reading this and waiting to see if this madness is ever going to stick.  You’re betting against me and I can’t blame you.  Not when I have Mildred weighing me down with her self-satisfied dissatisfaction.  I figure if there’s no Mr. Rochester (though lately I’ve dreamed of his copies and his descendants and dreamed of kisses and children) I might as well dwell on her, the beast n the basement.  I’ve tried to be empathetic with this portion of myself, but it’s much easier to do when she’s down there, rattling around as a sad and sorry character.  But she’s been so sly that suddenly she’s Littlefingered her way into the catbird seat and she’s telling me what’s what right now.  Especially with regard to driving and my autonomy which she’s gelded and snipped off like a malformed split end.  Cooing about sure I get to drive, you know, when it’s time.  And sure I can have a family and kids and a future, so long as it knocks on the door and presents itself in a gift-wrapped box.  And she knows what she’s doing and I have to shove her down the stairs, this Sloth Demon of mine, and remember that she is full of shit.

And my life is thattaway, around the corner, at the bottom of the snowy hill, just breathless and grinning and waiting for me to join it.

Calma

Life…

It is peeking just around the corner.

I don’t know what else I can say, but it’s coming.  I am doing what I need to do to get myself ready for another run at serious self-improvement.  I am feeling the momentum build and my desire for more than what I am allowing myself to believe I  can have is asserting itself.

I was invited to lunch today with three of the board members who are taking part in the selection committee to help find my new boss, ostensibly to talk about my feelings  and my thoughts on what the future should be as far as the way my job should be structured.   Beforehand, my current boss and I spoke and he said I should just be strong and speak my mind, referring, I thought, to the potential for someone we know to be selected that I had expressed serious misgivings about.  I said that since they were coming to me and asking, I would tell them what I thought.  However,they never brought up specific candidates, only mentioning that they felt that I would be comfortable with the direction they were leaning and they had more people to interview.  What comfortable means, I don’t think is as open to interpretation as it seems on its face, but I am worried they mean that I should be comfortable with the person I expressly don’t want to get it  because I know them.  But there was no way to say, hey, that one person who applied?  Don’t give it to them.  That’s not something I get to do.

So  the meal started off rather quietly and they talked amongst themselves though they basically said I could ever I ask them whatever I wanted.

But finally, I got the nerve up to ask about insurance and told them, once they asked how much mine is a month and they didn’t seem put off by the idea that maybe I could have a stipend or something towards it.  That it could be considered, anyway, and I realize that I’m essentially asking for a raise (even from people who aren’t the ones who are going to give it to me) and I don’t even care, because I could use it.  I’m doing that part of things on my own, and they needed to know as they talked about ushering in change.  It sort of opened the flood gates and I talked about being interrupted, even things down to where my desk is positioned.   They seemed to take it on board even if I didn’t get the clearest picture as to what it all means.

I at least said my piece about that side of things and more waiting will take place.

In the interim, we settle in the darkness, in the light.  The drive was a little bit better today, maybe it’s the lengthening of the day, a few minutes of brighter light making a difference.   Still this feeling of panic permeated everything, but I held it mostly at bay.  That’s what I’m looking forward to most about low-carbing again: calmness.

Luctor et Emergo

 

Luctor et emergo.  I struggle and emerge.

This little phrase is pulled from Alain de Botton’s thoughts on the value of resolutions.  I get really angsty about the fact that I have to make them again.  It seems to me, you know, that if you resolve to do something, you should do it and clear it from the list.  It should get a check mark and be forgotten.  Somehow, I want having a body and being alive to be two of those things and every time the maintenance light goes off on my reality, I get this little trigger that deflates me and I think somehow I’ve done something wrong.  Weird, huh?  And entirely unhelpful.

I was able to make this habit happen because it was small (though it sometimes seems like moving a mountain with a tea spoon) and it was steady.

Losing 30 pounds this year is doable, but what I need is to mark out the path to that.   Part of that, I was thinking today, as I was a passenger in the car and trying to just gauge where this anxious feeling is coming from and making myself just sit still and pretend I was at the busy intersection (where I’ve been both panicked and “normal” before), noticing how just the lights and the cars passing by were bothering me, were raising my heart rate a little bit, that I need to calm down.  Holy run-on, Batman!

I need deep, actual calm.   And getting rid of the sugar and the carbs and the things I’m overdosing on now has to help with that.  It has to.  Giving myself more water and sleep.   Self-care and pushing through, nevertheless, even if I spend half the day worrying about how much I worry while I’m driving now, how the little demons seem to get giddy when the feeling begins to prickle and I start to leave my body to escape the panic.   Because I manage to get myself home, one way or another.  I manage to make it.    Even if I can’t tell anything to myself while I get in the straits, I can tell it to myself now.  Calm and distracted is what I need to be.  Distracted, I’d like to think by the mantle of getting healthy once again.

More wigging about wigging.  

My mentor/colleague was apparently talking to someone involved with the selection of my new boss and was casually mentioning how really they should re-evaluate the whole system so that I could focus on things I’m good at and like.  That was the gist I got when she called me to ask if that was okay.  I don’t know if it’s okay, I mean, it seems fine not only because I’m sure that they aren’t going to make any changes but would work through whoever was hired if they thought there should be some, but also because that is what I want.  Less stress, less worry, less feeling like I’m Atlas.  I don’t know .  Just a slice of curiosity today.

I feel like there’s a head of steam building.

The Disparaging Eye

Back on track?

That’s the question I keep asking myself today.  Is it time, is it about to be time?

And yet, I’m wholly offended when I mention the popcorn’s been absconded by my father and my mother’s immediate response is that it’s time to start scaling back.

It can’t be about her opinion.  Or yours. Or anyone under the sun save myself.

So I keep asking the question and trying to arrive at the same answer more than twice in a row.

I’ve watched the whole of the The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey, albeit in two sittings today.  It’s made me eager to see the second which I thought might have happened today, but didn’t because I’m a bit disorganized and I really didn’t want to bother the universe outside as the universe outside does not have readily available cream puffs.   But the idea that my only motivation was the presence of dessert and goodies was equally as unpleasant so I got myself involved in a walk with my sisters and the weird little dog.  Just to prove to myself, I suppose, that the way forward is at least marginally accessible.  That I’m not so chained to the addictions I’ve been indulging myself in that I can’t even walk on my own two legs out in the broad daylight.

Like everything else, this is a matter of the mind.

You start a new year, you want to start being a new person. You want a boyfriend, a clean house, a will to go anywhere and everywhere without this constant anxious feeling in your heart or stomach or head that the timing is wrong, that they’re judging you (this was a big one today, for no reason at all), that your choices are the wrong choices…simply because they’re not what someone else would do.  And you can trust other people’s judgement, but not your own, because your own is what got you here, on the precipice, once again.  A girl with a plan but no real follow-through.  All of that is the power of the negative.  The shadow, the fear, the critic.

It all gets very boring.  It gets very boring to have to convince yourself you know how to breathe and you know how to eat and swallow and sit still and you can trust in those things and move on to harder tasks.  The fear says prove to me that you can handle this minute, this one, and this one, sit here with me and let the world go by while we see if you can pass this test.  It becomes unbearable from time to time.  Never be drunk or kissed or published or broken-hearted because we are still waiting for the A grade on waking up and dressing yourself and feeling sentient in this body.  It’s an ouroboros.  I can never be perfect in this body because this body can never be perfect.

So all I know how to do is to buy the shakes and turn on the wii and do some exercise come January 1st.