Thursday: Today I’m grateful for feeling…

Overstressed/worked enough to be sick. Seriously, I’m sick again and I swear it’s because I don’t give myself a break. I rarely get sick, let alone twice in a month. I feel let down by myself that I know the problem, I know the solution, and yet here I am, sick, because I didn’t act on anything. I don’t know when I’m supposed to find the emotional energy to be present in my growth, be present for my groups, be present for my practices, be present for my partnership, be present for my work, AND be present for myself. I know it sounds ridiculous, all of these are MY things. And I feel like a spoiled brat: here I am with all this time to work on myself and I still manage to make it a problem, manage to overwork. There’s a voice in my head that mocks, calls me a delicate little flower, a pussy child. I don’t even know whose voice this is, I’ve never thought that about literally a single person ever. But it’s vicious and shaming and I hate it. One of the things I’ve let slide is my self-compassion practice and it’s been showing recently.

Grief after dreaming of my cat that I had to put down almost two years ago. There she was in my dream, her face, her eyes, her movements. I could feel her fur, she always had the softest, glossiest fur. I remember relishing the feeling of petting her in the dream, as if Dream Me knew this was a special occurrence and needed to cherish it. When I woke up I half expected her to be nested around my head but she wasn’t. She was my only companion growing up and in all honesty, I was not a good owner. I think it was my failings that ultimately led to her being put down. It was/is a huge loss that I think I’ve purposefully not grieved yet. I feel shut down just writing this. I think this grief is probably massive but I can only handle so much. 

Angry in some nondescript way at my mom for part of our conversation yesterday. For context, I was suicidal from about 11 years old until I was maybe 21, with the worst of it being from 15-21. I don’t remember doing this but apparently I asked her if she could get our family doctor to prescribe me medication for depression during this time. Yesterday she told me the doctor REALLY didn’t want to give me those meds, that she sat mom down and forcibly told her I should be institutionalized, that meds aren’t enough. Once mom told me this, I remembered that doctor straight up telling me the same thing at some point. Then my mom asks in her “I don’t know if I should be asking this” voice (a clear indicator that she should not be) if she should have institutionalized me then. Funny thing, I fucking remember her asking ME that when I was a teen too. Imagine, asking your highly suicidal, overly responsible teenager if they should give up all their responsibilities to live a little longer? I can’t tell if I’m more angry that she asked me AGAIN, making me responsible for a decision that was clearly hers, or if I’m angry that she asked me that as a child and let me make my own decisions. I had to make this choice for her like all the others, even though this one was about me. I remember it feeling surreal, like I was answering for someone I barely knew. Okay, I guess now I know I’m truly just angry at her past actions, and only mildly upset at her present ones. I guess I’ll have to process that one too. This laundry list of things to process is feeling a bit overwhelming recently.

Feelin’ good…

• Had a psychiatry appointment earlier this week and got prescribed for the Vyvanse, the binging drug. It’s super expensive and has a generic form that was out of stock forever. Apparently it’s back in stock and it’s free with my insurance! I feel relief that my insurance didn’t get wacky again, that this is covered. 
• I have been feeling insecure about my work performance the past two months or so (maybe more) so I decided to preempt my manager’s intervention and bring it up. I told her I know I haven’t been performing as I’d like to be recently. That I’ve been struggling, I’m sorry for the dip, and as soon as I can be better, I will be. She looked shocked. She said that of her employees, I was one she wasn’t worried about at all. She said she knows I’ve been struggling and she never feels she has to pick up slack from my duties. She said don’t hesitate to take more sick days, that mental health days are sick days too, and that I never have to explain myself to her. I felt so relieved and taken care of. And a bit silly? Apparently it was all in my head, perfectionism at it again.
• My Po4 was a Po3 today because one of us was out. The meeting was super intense, way more intense than a regular meeting, but also very bonding and releasing. I think I’ve misjudged my group (another humbling lesson) and am not excited to be working with them in the future. Or maybe the people that caused the weird feeling were the ones that left, I’m not sure. Either way, I feel like maybe I’ve started something good here. 
• Feeling sick, I spent the rest of the afternoon watching The Bear in a fever haze. I felt so guilty for not doing something since there’s five million things in this house that need doing right now. It just felt so good to do nothing, to just be sick with no duties. No one would ask me to deep clean the house while sickly other than myself. I’m the one holding the whip.
• Slowly, slowly, we have begun working on the house. I ordered some organizers for under the drawers, got a game plan together to restore normalcy in the most efficient way, and did all the laundry in the whole fucking house since we didn’t have water for a while. Cubu painted the first layer over the patching in the TV room. We’ll find out on Sunday if we have to repaint the whole wall or if the paint matches well enough. I feel productive (and guilty since I’m supposed to be resting). Hopeful.
• I started wearing necklaces again. Along with absorbing their personalities, I’ve always let boyfriends dictate what jewelry I wear. BF doesn’t like rings? I stop wearing the 10 daily ones I had lovingly accumulated. BF thinks nipple piercings make me look “metallic and scary”? I take them out only a year after I went through the pain of *getting them PIERCED*. This most recent partner: BF doesn’t like necklaces because they get in the way? I retire my collection. Since working on my codep, I’m slowly retaking parts of myself that I let go of for another person. So now every day I wear my favorite simple necklace again. Maybe it sounds little but I feel empowered and free.