Call me crazy, but my new "assignment" from my therapist is to NOT make my bed at least one morning this week, to NOT make lunches for me and Zach one day this week, to at least consider not running one of the days I run if I don't feel like it, and to try to stop the worrisome thoughts I have of what I'm eating-is it too much, not enough, balanced enough? Sounds crazy, right, like it's the complete opposite of healthy?
I've begun to accept the fact that I seem to be highly energetic and have trouble sitting still. In fact part of me gets a rush from getting so much done every day. The problem, though, is that at some point I start to feel tired and overwhelmed. I'm trying so hard to keep everything contained in a neat, little package wrapped in a pretty red bow, and it's bursting at the seams. I imagined it exploding, but then everything was strewn across the floor of a white room with no escape. I'm working on building myself mental shelves. That way I can keep everything on a shelf, nice and neat, but not bursting at the seams or scattered all over the place.
I've always been a worrier. I worry about the silliest things. For example, what if I forget to replenish the supply of cups at work? In reality, the kids would just drink from the water fountain that day, but the reality of the situation eludes me. I might just have to intentionally forget the cups one day to prove to myself that nothing catastrophic will happen. The irony in all of my worrying is that one of the ultimate terrible things that could happen to me has, that being the death of my sister. What could compare other than another death? But I've been worrying about things for as long as I can remember, starting in preschool. I've heard it said that awareness is the first step toward change. That may be true, but at this point all awareness has done is make it harder for me to live my life. At least before, without the awareness, I could live me life in a way that felt good, even if it wasn't healthy. Now I know better. Knowing better sucks, and that first occurred to me when I was three and Ashley was a baby, and I realized that she couldn't get in trouble, because she was a baby and didn't know any better. I'm not sure where I'm going with this, so I'll end on that note.
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2 comments:
I like how nice and rambly this post is...reminds me of me.
you'll figure something out from it.
In the meantime, want to comeover and make my lunch & my bed I don't think I have done either this week.
I agree with the awareness thing you were saying. I didn't know just how odd some of my habitual behaviors were until I started living with someone who noticed too. Not that Keith teases me about the odd things I do but his knowing makes me more aware and then I start to feel like maybe I am crazy. My biggest fear is running out of toilet paper. I stock toilet paper in the house like there is 30 people living here. Not exactly a helpful comment but I just thought you should know you are not alone.
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