I finally got to watch Silver Linings Playbook. My husband didn't really understand it but I sure did. It was a good movie. It resonated with me.
Part of what keeps me positive is finding the silver linings in things. So, I have been trying to do that everyday.
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Things here are still pretty stressful. I had this horrid nightmare last night that I was on a bus going downtown and people kept touching my face (one of my major triggers). Like a bunch of strangers walking down the isle putting their open palms on my cheeks and mouth.......shudder..... I could feel the anxiety swell and I tried to yell at them to stop. No voice would come out at first but when it finally did, no one listened. It was awful!
Silver Lining: I woke up by rolling of the bed and was relieved that it was just a really bad dream. No one had actually been touching my face unless it was one of my cats and that is perfectly fine.
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I have been stuck in a weight plateau of 195 lbs for six months. It was really bumming me out. No matter how much I tried on my elliptical bike, I couldn't lose anymore. It was starting to really bug me. First I did 10 miles a day. That seemed to do nothing weight wise but I did get some great leg muscles. Then I tried to up the resistance and only do 5 miles a day. That didn't seem to do much, either. After three months an zero loss on the scale I became irritated. I wasn't looking for a huge amount of difference but I was hoping for at least a half a pound. Out of extreme desperation, I upped the resistance to where every ten pedals I feel as if my legs have been set on fire. I push through and do 5 miles a day even though I have to take breaks between every mile. It hurts, I hate it but you don't go to the gym and not "feel the burn" so exercise at home should probably feel the same. I need to lose about 30-40 more lbs to be "target weight" for my height.
Silver Lining: I lost eight lbs finally!!!!! My blood sugar is much better and I look forward to the possibility of being able to manage my diabetes without medication. Although I am not sure I will be able to not have to use the medication, I am going to give it the good ol' college try.
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I haven't had as much time to write and think and do my posts because of all that is going on. It seems like I have lost the "alone time" it takes for me to be able to put thoughts together. I am always busy and I can't even get my house as clean as I would like. I kind of feel like I just can't catch up. I lose the energy to clean when everyone is home. I clean better and write better when I am alone.
Silver Lining: I haven't had time for my OCD to plague me either. Not a bad trade if you ask me. Things will eventually get back to normal at some point and I will have a cleaner house, better posts, and my OCD will be back in full swing (the last thing not being great but at least I am used to it).
So, things are hard but I am getting through it. It is sometimes all about attitude and I am trying to keep a positive attitude going. Or, as the movie says, "Excalibur". Stay positive and keep going no matter what obstacles get thrown in your path. You can either stop in front of them and walk away feeling defeated or climb up them scratching and clawing until you get over them. And I need the exercise anyway....
Silver Linings, people. Silver Linings.....
Neurotic Nelly
Showing posts with label stress. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stress. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
Tuesday, December 30, 2014
Gutted.....
I must have broken a mirror, whilst standing under a ladder, holding an open umbrella in my living room, while a horde of angry black cats crossed my path. That must be what happened and I just don't remember it because I was drunk. (I don't drink) But, clearly that must have been the case.
I am so over Christmas. Hell, I am over this year. This last month was horrible. So horrible in fact, that I have to sit and laugh at it because if I were to sit and cry about I am not sure I would ever stop.
Lots of people do a count down till Christmas. This year we had one of our own but it wasn't the painstakingly hand sewn red felt calendar with the happy motifs of Santa Claus or shimmering glittery snowmen with the candy cane counter. Ours was more of a countdown on moldy torn fabric warily clinging to the nail, praying to God that it didn't blow away in the shit storm that we are weathering.
Before Thanksgiving my husband got hurt at work. He chipped his hip bone and hurt his back. He was in pain but he is a hard worker and so he went to work everyday despite numbness in his back and feet.
The day before Thanksgiving, my grandma became very ill and had to be hospitalized for eighteen days. She almost died on us.
Two weeks before Christmas my Christmas tree (the one thing that made me still feel hopeful for Christmas cheer) dried up. Most people have Christmas trees that sparkle. Mine molted. Most are full and fluffy, mine was crispy and stabby.
Six days before Christmas my husband was laid off. "Merry Christmas to you and by the way, we don't need you anymore....have fun with trying to pay bills and buy Christmas gifts for your kids..."
A few days later, my oldest cat became extremely ill. We did everything we could including taking him to the vet to get shots and medicine but his kidneys had stopped functioning. He had lost six lbs in two weeks.
Two days before Christmas, he had to be put to sleep....He was in pain and was going to die a painful death within the next few days and the vet told us the humane thing to do would be to end his suffering rather than let him suffer.
The day before Christmas eve instead of having happy thoughts of Christmas gifts and sugar plumb fairy dreams, my kids stood outside in the rain as we buried beloved Geves. (We didn't ask them to stay out there with us. They both just walked outside while we buried him. I was very proud of what little men they are becoming.) Instead of cheer my eight year old tried to come to grips with the truth that no, cats do not actually have nine lives. I had to explain to him in detail on Christmas Eve, that even if he did throw a coin into a water fountain and wish for Geves to come back, it wouldn't work because life doesn't really work that way.
Then we had a reprieve and went to my mother's house which was nice. We had a good time full of family and love. We didn't really want to come back home to a house without Geves though. To have to come back to our home and pretend we don't feel the glaringly obvious absence of one of our buddies. The other three cats are grieving just as much as we are. Now, our house is just a big grief sandwich filled with sadness and uncertainty. He used to sleep with me. I can't sleep in my bed because it makes me too sad to not feel him at my feet. My other cats won't go upstairs anymore, so I am now sleeping in the living room.
Christmas morning, my kids opened their gifts and played. A quiet relief of them forgetting for a second that all is not right with the world right now for us. I was thankful for that.
Santa had brought them "stickies" in their stockings. Those little oddly shaped creatures that are sticky to the touch so you can throw them on the wall and watch them "walk" down the wall. One of my kids had flung one on the ceiling in the dining room. It was so sticky it didn't fall down even after hanging there for two hours. When my husband stood on a chair to get it down, it ended up pulling off a plate sized portion of the plaster off of the ceiling.
I laughed and laughed and laughed. Ridiculous. This month has been so bad it has been utterly ridiculous. I asked them not throw them on the ceiling anymore lest my whole damn house start to fall in around our heads when we pull them off.
I was laughing but then I was sick to stomach. So sick of Christmas and dead trees, and sickness, and pain, and loss, and of having an unsure future. I looked at all of the decorations I had lovingly hung and it made me feel even more disgusted. I looked at my husband. I looked at my kids happily playing in the other room and something inside me snapped. I started tearing down the decorations. I couldn't remove them fast enough. It was almost as if they were now, for me tainted somehow. I put away the stockings and dismantled my dried husk of a tree. I threw it off of the porch to let it stagnate in the yard until the trash man comes. I removed the what now seemed to be a sick joke of festive decorations and boxed them in their bubble wrap and tape. I swept the floor of the pine needles like I was cleaning out the negative emotions in my head. Each sweep of the broom was sweeping away the tears and sadness that had become my constant companion these last few days. I was purging this bad Christmas away from my home, my eye view, and hopefully, my recollection. I packed up Christmas and forbid myself to even think about it again until next year, where hopefully it will not be as much of a disaster as it was this year. I left my kid's tree up. I didn't take away their decorations and joy because I am not heartless. I just couldn't stomach one more second of looking at the red a green and gold balls dangling in the light happily or the wreaths proclaiming joy and peace. I couldn't swallow one more cheerful Christmas carol or digest one more sniff of a cinnamon candle. I couldn't tolerate one more paper angel or blinking Christmas tree light. I wanted to erase the unfulfilled Christmas feelings that now felt like lies. I wanted vomit Christmas back up like it was something rotten I had eaten as a midnight snack. It left a bitter bile taste in my mouth. So much wrong in such a short span while the world is happy and telling you that you should be as well, activated my gag reflex. I couldn't take it.
I couldn't even have the lights on the tree plugged in because the tree would catch fire and yet deep down I dreamed of setting the damn thing on fire in my yard myself as a protest. I protest this Christmas and all of the suffering and fuckery that it entailed this year. It was a horrid, horrid year and I wish I could erase it from my memory.
And if things weren't bad enough to ramp my OCD into overdrive, I just went to urgent care for pain in my tailbone and was told that I have a congenital dimple there. When I told the doctor there is Spina Bifida in my family he was concerned that I may have it as well. Now, I have to have an ultrasound done on my spine and maybe a cat scan as well....So, I am more than just a tad bit upset. Fuck this year, seriously.
As always, I am remaining positive. (Ha ha ha.) I should say I am trying my damnedest to remain positive even though everything around me seems to be falling apart. I am trying to remain hopeful and thankful and I am praying. Like I always do. I know that everything will work out eventually, it just has been so hard. So stressful. So devastating. I feel numb. I feel angry. I feel sad. I feel....hollow. Empty. Gutted.
Luckily, I am blessed with a wonderful supportive family and friends and they are helping us deal with all of this...crap. I can't help but think of others going through this and not having that support. It really upsets me. No one in this country, let alone this world, should work so hard only to be one or two paychecks away from losing everything they have struggled for. But that is my opinion and this is reality. I have decide reality blows.
Here's hoping your Christmas was better than mine and that next year is a better and happier year for all of us. Because I have always loved Christmas....just not this one. Not this way and not this time.
Hopefully things will be looking up soon and my next post will be less depressing. You can bet that at 12:00 a.m. on Jan 1st there will be cheers and hooting and hollering like there always is. Only this time the loudest will probably be coming from my house. Screw this crapified year and all of it's heart break. Come on 2015 don't fail me now! We could really use a break here...and maybe even some good news as well.
Until Thursday,
Neurotic Nelly
I am so over Christmas. Hell, I am over this year. This last month was horrible. So horrible in fact, that I have to sit and laugh at it because if I were to sit and cry about I am not sure I would ever stop.
Lots of people do a count down till Christmas. This year we had one of our own but it wasn't the painstakingly hand sewn red felt calendar with the happy motifs of Santa Claus or shimmering glittery snowmen with the candy cane counter. Ours was more of a countdown on moldy torn fabric warily clinging to the nail, praying to God that it didn't blow away in the shit storm that we are weathering.
Before Thanksgiving my husband got hurt at work. He chipped his hip bone and hurt his back. He was in pain but he is a hard worker and so he went to work everyday despite numbness in his back and feet.
The day before Thanksgiving, my grandma became very ill and had to be hospitalized for eighteen days. She almost died on us.
Two weeks before Christmas my Christmas tree (the one thing that made me still feel hopeful for Christmas cheer) dried up. Most people have Christmas trees that sparkle. Mine molted. Most are full and fluffy, mine was crispy and stabby.
Six days before Christmas my husband was laid off. "Merry Christmas to you and by the way, we don't need you anymore....have fun with trying to pay bills and buy Christmas gifts for your kids..."
A few days later, my oldest cat became extremely ill. We did everything we could including taking him to the vet to get shots and medicine but his kidneys had stopped functioning. He had lost six lbs in two weeks.
Two days before Christmas, he had to be put to sleep....He was in pain and was going to die a painful death within the next few days and the vet told us the humane thing to do would be to end his suffering rather than let him suffer.
The day before Christmas eve instead of having happy thoughts of Christmas gifts and sugar plumb fairy dreams, my kids stood outside in the rain as we buried beloved Geves. (We didn't ask them to stay out there with us. They both just walked outside while we buried him. I was very proud of what little men they are becoming.) Instead of cheer my eight year old tried to come to grips with the truth that no, cats do not actually have nine lives. I had to explain to him in detail on Christmas Eve, that even if he did throw a coin into a water fountain and wish for Geves to come back, it wouldn't work because life doesn't really work that way.
Then we had a reprieve and went to my mother's house which was nice. We had a good time full of family and love. We didn't really want to come back home to a house without Geves though. To have to come back to our home and pretend we don't feel the glaringly obvious absence of one of our buddies. The other three cats are grieving just as much as we are. Now, our house is just a big grief sandwich filled with sadness and uncertainty. He used to sleep with me. I can't sleep in my bed because it makes me too sad to not feel him at my feet. My other cats won't go upstairs anymore, so I am now sleeping in the living room.
Christmas morning, my kids opened their gifts and played. A quiet relief of them forgetting for a second that all is not right with the world right now for us. I was thankful for that.
Santa had brought them "stickies" in their stockings. Those little oddly shaped creatures that are sticky to the touch so you can throw them on the wall and watch them "walk" down the wall. One of my kids had flung one on the ceiling in the dining room. It was so sticky it didn't fall down even after hanging there for two hours. When my husband stood on a chair to get it down, it ended up pulling off a plate sized portion of the plaster off of the ceiling.
I laughed and laughed and laughed. Ridiculous. This month has been so bad it has been utterly ridiculous. I asked them not throw them on the ceiling anymore lest my whole damn house start to fall in around our heads when we pull them off.
I was laughing but then I was sick to stomach. So sick of Christmas and dead trees, and sickness, and pain, and loss, and of having an unsure future. I looked at all of the decorations I had lovingly hung and it made me feel even more disgusted. I looked at my husband. I looked at my kids happily playing in the other room and something inside me snapped. I started tearing down the decorations. I couldn't remove them fast enough. It was almost as if they were now, for me tainted somehow. I put away the stockings and dismantled my dried husk of a tree. I threw it off of the porch to let it stagnate in the yard until the trash man comes. I removed the what now seemed to be a sick joke of festive decorations and boxed them in their bubble wrap and tape. I swept the floor of the pine needles like I was cleaning out the negative emotions in my head. Each sweep of the broom was sweeping away the tears and sadness that had become my constant companion these last few days. I was purging this bad Christmas away from my home, my eye view, and hopefully, my recollection. I packed up Christmas and forbid myself to even think about it again until next year, where hopefully it will not be as much of a disaster as it was this year. I left my kid's tree up. I didn't take away their decorations and joy because I am not heartless. I just couldn't stomach one more second of looking at the red a green and gold balls dangling in the light happily or the wreaths proclaiming joy and peace. I couldn't swallow one more cheerful Christmas carol or digest one more sniff of a cinnamon candle. I couldn't tolerate one more paper angel or blinking Christmas tree light. I wanted to erase the unfulfilled Christmas feelings that now felt like lies. I wanted vomit Christmas back up like it was something rotten I had eaten as a midnight snack. It left a bitter bile taste in my mouth. So much wrong in such a short span while the world is happy and telling you that you should be as well, activated my gag reflex. I couldn't take it.
I couldn't even have the lights on the tree plugged in because the tree would catch fire and yet deep down I dreamed of setting the damn thing on fire in my yard myself as a protest. I protest this Christmas and all of the suffering and fuckery that it entailed this year. It was a horrid, horrid year and I wish I could erase it from my memory.
And if things weren't bad enough to ramp my OCD into overdrive, I just went to urgent care for pain in my tailbone and was told that I have a congenital dimple there. When I told the doctor there is Spina Bifida in my family he was concerned that I may have it as well. Now, I have to have an ultrasound done on my spine and maybe a cat scan as well....So, I am more than just a tad bit upset. Fuck this year, seriously.
As always, I am remaining positive. (Ha ha ha.) I should say I am trying my damnedest to remain positive even though everything around me seems to be falling apart. I am trying to remain hopeful and thankful and I am praying. Like I always do. I know that everything will work out eventually, it just has been so hard. So stressful. So devastating. I feel numb. I feel angry. I feel sad. I feel....hollow. Empty. Gutted.
Luckily, I am blessed with a wonderful supportive family and friends and they are helping us deal with all of this...crap. I can't help but think of others going through this and not having that support. It really upsets me. No one in this country, let alone this world, should work so hard only to be one or two paychecks away from losing everything they have struggled for. But that is my opinion and this is reality. I have decide reality blows.
Here's hoping your Christmas was better than mine and that next year is a better and happier year for all of us. Because I have always loved Christmas....just not this one. Not this way and not this time.
Hopefully things will be looking up soon and my next post will be less depressing. You can bet that at 12:00 a.m. on Jan 1st there will be cheers and hooting and hollering like there always is. Only this time the loudest will probably be coming from my house. Screw this crapified year and all of it's heart break. Come on 2015 don't fail me now! We could really use a break here...and maybe even some good news as well.
Until Thursday,
Neurotic Nelly
Thursday, December 18, 2014
Go Suck An Egg OCD....
I was so busy yesterday, finding time to write was like putting socks on a rooster. I have a bunch of things going on right now and only about 1/4 of them are positive things. Most of them are depressing, and maddening, and just down right unpleasant. But me being me, I am trying to stay positive.
I would list the bad things going on but I don't want to depress myself any further. A few good things are that my grandma is finally back home after eighteen days in the hospital. She is doing well. My youngest had a school Christmas performance. It was really adorable as all little kid school performances are. We haven't frozen to death this winter....yet. Christmas is just around the corner. We still have a roof over our heads....
It is the small things like this that keep me going. Because the bad stuff just seems to pile up and add on and procreate until it starts to feel like they are physically laying on your chest smothering you last breath out of your lungs.
So what did I do? Well, first I had a good ole cry. A big one. Like one of those migraine inducing from the snot moving around in your sinuses because you have cried so long and so hard kind of cry. Then after that I looked at myself in the mirror, in which I realized no one should ever have to look at themselves after that kind of cry....scary. Then I prayed and gave it all to God, because I am at a complete and total loss as to what I am supposed to do to fix anything or change any type of outcome. Then I made myself get up, shower, dress, and slather on my "war paint" and went to my kid's play.
I refused to dive into the rabbit hole of OCD today. Even though there is this really odd errant smell of old beans in my kitchen (we haven't had any beans). I did not allow myself to search it out and clean the whole kitchen with an old toothbrush and bleach. I refused to let my anxiety act up when the person behind me at the play was coughing and sneezing. I wouldn't go so far as to say I would lick their shoes or sit beside them or anything, but I didn't change seats or cover my mouth and nose with the collar of my shirt like I wanted to. I did not vacuum away my anxiety or hand wash till my hands bled. I guess that is a good start.
My OCD seems under control outwardly and is only noticeable when I am not stressed but let's be real, who is never stressed? I am completely stressed. I am overloaded with it, hung up by it, strangled from it, and drowning in it. So, yea my OCD is going to flare up. It is going to try and rise from the ashes as the proverbial mental illness phoenix and take it's ugly smelly wrath out on me and I am not having any of it. I am unafraid. I am not about to give this damn bird another hour of my life, another day, another week, another month, another year. It will try and I may fail but it is not going to do this to me without a damn good fight on it's hands. I just hope it has it's boxing gloves on because I mean business.
I am just going to do whatever I have to do and keep plugging along taking back my life from OCD bit by bit. Centimeter by centimeter until it becomes inch by inch. Inches until it becomes feet. Feet until becomes miles. I will never be OCD free but I don't have to accept being OCD enslaved. This is me breaking my chains. This is me cutting the ties that bind. This is me retaking back my life. Go suck an egg, OCD. I have enough issues going on without you bothering me relentlessly. I got this. I got this.
I would list the bad things going on but I don't want to depress myself any further. A few good things are that my grandma is finally back home after eighteen days in the hospital. She is doing well. My youngest had a school Christmas performance. It was really adorable as all little kid school performances are. We haven't frozen to death this winter....yet. Christmas is just around the corner. We still have a roof over our heads....
It is the small things like this that keep me going. Because the bad stuff just seems to pile up and add on and procreate until it starts to feel like they are physically laying on your chest smothering you last breath out of your lungs.
So what did I do? Well, first I had a good ole cry. A big one. Like one of those migraine inducing from the snot moving around in your sinuses because you have cried so long and so hard kind of cry. Then after that I looked at myself in the mirror, in which I realized no one should ever have to look at themselves after that kind of cry....scary. Then I prayed and gave it all to God, because I am at a complete and total loss as to what I am supposed to do to fix anything or change any type of outcome. Then I made myself get up, shower, dress, and slather on my "war paint" and went to my kid's play.
I refused to dive into the rabbit hole of OCD today. Even though there is this really odd errant smell of old beans in my kitchen (we haven't had any beans). I did not allow myself to search it out and clean the whole kitchen with an old toothbrush and bleach. I refused to let my anxiety act up when the person behind me at the play was coughing and sneezing. I wouldn't go so far as to say I would lick their shoes or sit beside them or anything, but I didn't change seats or cover my mouth and nose with the collar of my shirt like I wanted to. I did not vacuum away my anxiety or hand wash till my hands bled. I guess that is a good start.
My OCD seems under control outwardly and is only noticeable when I am not stressed but let's be real, who is never stressed? I am completely stressed. I am overloaded with it, hung up by it, strangled from it, and drowning in it. So, yea my OCD is going to flare up. It is going to try and rise from the ashes as the proverbial mental illness phoenix and take it's ugly smelly wrath out on me and I am not having any of it. I am unafraid. I am not about to give this damn bird another hour of my life, another day, another week, another month, another year. It will try and I may fail but it is not going to do this to me without a damn good fight on it's hands. I just hope it has it's boxing gloves on because I mean business.
I am just going to do whatever I have to do and keep plugging along taking back my life from OCD bit by bit. Centimeter by centimeter until it becomes inch by inch. Inches until it becomes feet. Feet until becomes miles. I will never be OCD free but I don't have to accept being OCD enslaved. This is me breaking my chains. This is me cutting the ties that bind. This is me retaking back my life. Go suck an egg, OCD. I have enough issues going on without you bothering me relentlessly. I got this. I got this.
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
Here's For Hoping Anyway...
I am back. Sorry for not writing on Saturday but I really needed the time off to reflect on things. Loss in the family, mental stressers, things I needed to do at home. This last week has been really trying for me. I have felt overwhelmed, sad, and a little apprehensive. My writer's block came back and well, I just decided to wait until I could form my thoughts on paper better. So I am back and I thank you all for being patient with me.
I am hating this weather. The ice and snow has made it almost impossible to do anything or go anywhere. The salt used to melt the snow is tracked all over the place, mainly through my living room. It is almost as if everyone in the world has stepped in rock salt and took a quick once over in my home. It is slowly driving me insane. I sweep. I mop. I vacuum. I sweep. I mop. I vacuum...you get the picture.
Then there is the dirty baseboards that are the thing of my nightmares. They are old and marred. Covered in decades of bad paint choices. No matter what I do, they refuse to clean up or even to remotely appear that way. I know that most people don't look at baseboards but I am not most people and I can't look away from their ugliness. It haunts me like a bad B movie. It is just like a horror flick except instead of Freddy Kruger waving around his glorified razor glove, it is a dirty baseboard flailing it's dented arms at me laughing in high pitched creaks and pointing at me accusingly.
I am planning to fix my dining room into a formal dining room. Something that I have always wanted. A nice table to sit with the family and discuss the day over spaghetti and meatballs or homemade chicken noodle soup. A beautiful pace to have Christmas dinner and Thanksgiving at. A place that makes me feel proud and not embarrassed. You see, I have a tendency to only see the imperfections. I notice what others do not. I can not simply enjoy the meal I have with family when I see smudges on the wall or a dirty wood floor that is desperately crying out for carpet. I can't truly be present in the conversation if I am subconsciously thinking about all of the unfinished things in my home.
And it has become quiet a double edged sword. I love to design interiors. I love antique and vintage pieces, mixed with some newer pieces. I love bold paint colors and warm reds and soft grays. I love everything about designing a room in my home. And because I have OCD I get caught up in it. I end up ruminating on it over and over and over and over again. Do I want this paint color or this one? I search google for images of the look I want to achieve. I greedily read articles about whatever aesthetic I am going for. I am constantly obsessing over it.
In a way I find it helpful to have this as a distraction. If I am obsessing over paint colors and baseboards then I do not have time to obsess over intrusive thoughts. I am not able to think about my deep sadness of a loved one passing, or listen to my OCD trigger about germs and contamination in the middle of flu season. If I cant quiet my mind enough to sleep, I can go through every change I want to make in my house, in minute detail until I fall asleep. It allows me to block all of the bad and hold onto happy exciting things, like making the improvements I have always wanted to do.
Then again, my constant questioning and rumination over such minor things can be irritating and annoying to those closest around me. I can end up talking about the same paint colors ten times before I realize what I am doing. I can debate over which rug to use or where to place the furniture for hours. Because OCD is very much a disorder that just can't let anything go or let anything rest, I am almost always ruminating about something. It is the ravenous beast that must be fed constantly.
I am excited to start painting and fixing the things I have obsessed about fixing for the last few days. I can't wait to do it. I can't wait to see the finished project. In fact, unlike the negative things I have ruminated over, I find ruminating about these things quiet nice. I like to plan, after all, and rumination allows me to plan well in advance and in great detail. Being creative has always been an extremely important outlet to release my anxiety, my doubts, my fears, my emotional stability, and to create the peaceful moments that I so desperately need in times like this. I need to get my hands dirty. I need to change something around me to break up the monotony. I need to escape for a few minutes into the creative side of my brain and abandon the logical, hardwired, unforgiving OCD side of my brain. If only for a few moments.
I have been feeling so down lately. Not a depression, just a numb kind of acceptance. I am happy to finally be excited about something again after a week of feeling lethargic and hollowed out. Excited that I am finally coming out of the fog and back into my original spunky self. I mean, I am still sad at the passing of my Aunt and am still dealing with that but I am no longer an emotional zombie walking around with my mouth agape and my eyes droopy with exhaustion from crying.
Tomorrow I paint, and then new carpet, and then new baseboards! Yay!!!! I am hoping that this excitement will help keep me away from the negative feelings and depression. I have already started to clean with a gusto like I used to. Which is a good thing, because you can't let yourself get too far behind living with four cats, a man, and two boys. That's a recipe for a cat hair covered, bomb of toys going off in the living room, dirty laundry on the floor that failed to make it to the laundry chute kind of disaster. And trust me, no one wants that.... I am hoping that by replacing my sad ruminations or painful intrusive thoughts with ideas on how to improve my dwelling, it will help save me from the funk I have been in and keep me from plunging down the rabbit whole any further. I am hoping that a couple of Valspar paint cans and this nifty and thrifty chandelier I found to jazz up the place, will help keep me occupied while I am at this vulnerable state. I am hoping the new carpet will allow me to quit seeing every imperfection of my unfinished hardwood floor. That new baseboards will let me finally concentrate on the things that matter most, like family. I am hoping that the antique dining table I got for a freaking steal will ease the worries about not spending enough time with my kids and husband. Ease the anxiety that we may have become disconnected somehow between all of the computer games and cell phone texts. That I can finally let go of the fear that I am missing out on their daily events because we don't eat together at a big table and talk, like I did when I was their age. I am hoping that all of these small improvements will make our house feel more like a home. Our home. And that we will feel peaceful and safe and at ease because we have taken the time to make it as comfortable as possible. Maybe it is silly to think that way. Maybe it is unhealthy to obsess over paint colors and carpet textures. Maybe it is, but then I would rather ruminate on something that doesn't involve me feeling tons of guilt for something I didn't even do, or can't help, or don't want; than on something harmless like house improvements. It may very well be silly. It may be odd. It may be just be the proverbial putting lipstick on a pig, but right now it is what is keeping me functional. You know, dreams and wishes, and what have you. Hope is a powerful thing. You have to have hope to dream. And having and believing in your dreams can get you through almost anything.
Creating, designing, and crafts have always helped to calm me and keep me focused. I am hoping that this will do the same. Here's for hoping anyway....
Until next time,
Neurotic Nelly
I am hating this weather. The ice and snow has made it almost impossible to do anything or go anywhere. The salt used to melt the snow is tracked all over the place, mainly through my living room. It is almost as if everyone in the world has stepped in rock salt and took a quick once over in my home. It is slowly driving me insane. I sweep. I mop. I vacuum. I sweep. I mop. I vacuum...you get the picture.
Then there is the dirty baseboards that are the thing of my nightmares. They are old and marred. Covered in decades of bad paint choices. No matter what I do, they refuse to clean up or even to remotely appear that way. I know that most people don't look at baseboards but I am not most people and I can't look away from their ugliness. It haunts me like a bad B movie. It is just like a horror flick except instead of Freddy Kruger waving around his glorified razor glove, it is a dirty baseboard flailing it's dented arms at me laughing in high pitched creaks and pointing at me accusingly.
I am planning to fix my dining room into a formal dining room. Something that I have always wanted. A nice table to sit with the family and discuss the day over spaghetti and meatballs or homemade chicken noodle soup. A beautiful pace to have Christmas dinner and Thanksgiving at. A place that makes me feel proud and not embarrassed. You see, I have a tendency to only see the imperfections. I notice what others do not. I can not simply enjoy the meal I have with family when I see smudges on the wall or a dirty wood floor that is desperately crying out for carpet. I can't truly be present in the conversation if I am subconsciously thinking about all of the unfinished things in my home.
And it has become quiet a double edged sword. I love to design interiors. I love antique and vintage pieces, mixed with some newer pieces. I love bold paint colors and warm reds and soft grays. I love everything about designing a room in my home. And because I have OCD I get caught up in it. I end up ruminating on it over and over and over and over again. Do I want this paint color or this one? I search google for images of the look I want to achieve. I greedily read articles about whatever aesthetic I am going for. I am constantly obsessing over it.
In a way I find it helpful to have this as a distraction. If I am obsessing over paint colors and baseboards then I do not have time to obsess over intrusive thoughts. I am not able to think about my deep sadness of a loved one passing, or listen to my OCD trigger about germs and contamination in the middle of flu season. If I cant quiet my mind enough to sleep, I can go through every change I want to make in my house, in minute detail until I fall asleep. It allows me to block all of the bad and hold onto happy exciting things, like making the improvements I have always wanted to do.
Then again, my constant questioning and rumination over such minor things can be irritating and annoying to those closest around me. I can end up talking about the same paint colors ten times before I realize what I am doing. I can debate over which rug to use or where to place the furniture for hours. Because OCD is very much a disorder that just can't let anything go or let anything rest, I am almost always ruminating about something. It is the ravenous beast that must be fed constantly.
I am excited to start painting and fixing the things I have obsessed about fixing for the last few days. I can't wait to do it. I can't wait to see the finished project. In fact, unlike the negative things I have ruminated over, I find ruminating about these things quiet nice. I like to plan, after all, and rumination allows me to plan well in advance and in great detail. Being creative has always been an extremely important outlet to release my anxiety, my doubts, my fears, my emotional stability, and to create the peaceful moments that I so desperately need in times like this. I need to get my hands dirty. I need to change something around me to break up the monotony. I need to escape for a few minutes into the creative side of my brain and abandon the logical, hardwired, unforgiving OCD side of my brain. If only for a few moments.
I have been feeling so down lately. Not a depression, just a numb kind of acceptance. I am happy to finally be excited about something again after a week of feeling lethargic and hollowed out. Excited that I am finally coming out of the fog and back into my original spunky self. I mean, I am still sad at the passing of my Aunt and am still dealing with that but I am no longer an emotional zombie walking around with my mouth agape and my eyes droopy with exhaustion from crying.
Tomorrow I paint, and then new carpet, and then new baseboards! Yay!!!! I am hoping that this excitement will help keep me away from the negative feelings and depression. I have already started to clean with a gusto like I used to. Which is a good thing, because you can't let yourself get too far behind living with four cats, a man, and two boys. That's a recipe for a cat hair covered, bomb of toys going off in the living room, dirty laundry on the floor that failed to make it to the laundry chute kind of disaster. And trust me, no one wants that.... I am hoping that by replacing my sad ruminations or painful intrusive thoughts with ideas on how to improve my dwelling, it will help save me from the funk I have been in and keep me from plunging down the rabbit whole any further. I am hoping that a couple of Valspar paint cans and this nifty and thrifty chandelier I found to jazz up the place, will help keep me occupied while I am at this vulnerable state. I am hoping the new carpet will allow me to quit seeing every imperfection of my unfinished hardwood floor. That new baseboards will let me finally concentrate on the things that matter most, like family. I am hoping that the antique dining table I got for a freaking steal will ease the worries about not spending enough time with my kids and husband. Ease the anxiety that we may have become disconnected somehow between all of the computer games and cell phone texts. That I can finally let go of the fear that I am missing out on their daily events because we don't eat together at a big table and talk, like I did when I was their age. I am hoping that all of these small improvements will make our house feel more like a home. Our home. And that we will feel peaceful and safe and at ease because we have taken the time to make it as comfortable as possible. Maybe it is silly to think that way. Maybe it is unhealthy to obsess over paint colors and carpet textures. Maybe it is, but then I would rather ruminate on something that doesn't involve me feeling tons of guilt for something I didn't even do, or can't help, or don't want; than on something harmless like house improvements. It may very well be silly. It may be odd. It may be just be the proverbial putting lipstick on a pig, but right now it is what is keeping me functional. You know, dreams and wishes, and what have you. Hope is a powerful thing. You have to have hope to dream. And having and believing in your dreams can get you through almost anything.
Creating, designing, and crafts have always helped to calm me and keep me focused. I am hoping that this will do the same. Here's for hoping anyway....
Until next time,
Neurotic Nelly
Saturday, March 16, 2013
Stressed
Stress is a constant in our lives. It is sweaty palms and feeling faint. Tightness is your chest and shortness of breath. The world spinning around and feeling drunk. Nausea and physical pain. It is panic attacks and depression. It is falling down the rabbit hole head first and ending up in wonderland. Except instead of happy bunnies and mad hatters drinking tea you are met with mad bill collectors and cranky telephone salesmen demanding information and explanations. Instead of potions that make you small and cupcakes to make you big, you are left with bills that make your wallet small and cupcakes you can't afford. Stress is the red queen and she wants to lop off your head. She wants your time, your money, and your fear. She revels in being sadistic and mean. She wants to harass and badger you to death. She sucks. I am really tired of stress.
Sitting here watching bad reality t.v. like Operation Repo, I have decided that I would like to repossess some of my sanity. Not all of it mind you, as I never had all of my sanity. Just the amount I used to have before I started to know stress at such a familiar level. I would like to lighten the load a bit. I have no idea how to do this as of yet. I am just trying to stay positive. Sometimes I find being positive almost impossible but I keep trying. I try because I want to be anything but sad and depressed. I try because I want to set a positive role model for my children. I try because I truly believe it will get better in time and with a lot of work. In a world of Alice's and red queens, we owe to ourselves to keep trying. To keep getting up in the morning and face the day no matter how stressed out we are. It's hard. It stinks, but it is necessary. Whether, it is stress because of bills, medical concerns, worries, family issues, or all of the above we can prevail. We can take back some of our sanity one grain at a time.
So my blog today is a message to the stressed. We can do this. We can get up and face the day.Hard as it may be. We are worth it.
And on a side note I would like to wish George ST. Pierre good luck in his fight tonight. I do not know him personally but he is my favorite MMA fighter.
Sitting here watching bad reality t.v. like Operation Repo, I have decided that I would like to repossess some of my sanity. Not all of it mind you, as I never had all of my sanity. Just the amount I used to have before I started to know stress at such a familiar level. I would like to lighten the load a bit. I have no idea how to do this as of yet. I am just trying to stay positive. Sometimes I find being positive almost impossible but I keep trying. I try because I want to be anything but sad and depressed. I try because I want to set a positive role model for my children. I try because I truly believe it will get better in time and with a lot of work. In a world of Alice's and red queens, we owe to ourselves to keep trying. To keep getting up in the morning and face the day no matter how stressed out we are. It's hard. It stinks, but it is necessary. Whether, it is stress because of bills, medical concerns, worries, family issues, or all of the above we can prevail. We can take back some of our sanity one grain at a time.
So my blog today is a message to the stressed. We can do this. We can get up and face the day.Hard as it may be. We are worth it.
And on a side note I would like to wish George ST. Pierre good luck in his fight tonight. I do not know him personally but he is my favorite MMA fighter.
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