I've woken up on the wrong side of the bed for the last 3 days. The news has been upsetting me. Hurricane Isaac hasn't helped, it's only made the bad mood worse. I can't stand seeing all the flooding, evacuations, people and pets made homeless, and the unfathomable destruction. It makes my heart hurt.
In my opinion, this unshakeable bad mood has been brought about by dreading the weekend. Yes, the husband's aunt is making us leave for the weekend AGAIN. I'm not looking forward to staying with the husband's mom. I hate his aunt. I can't wait until we leave to go to my parent's house. I just wish I could stay there until the house is done. I honestly don't know how I'm going to be nice to Aunt after we move out. She is the most ugly person I've ever met. Not talking about looks, either...
Also contributing to the bad mood is my weight. I feel so out of control lately. I'm still 11 lbs over my normal weight, and it's driving me crazy! I've been on a diet for the last 2 weeks, and doing an hour of cardio 5 times a week, and yet I feel like I'm continuing to get bigger. The scale hasn't moved in the last 3 weeks, so I'm not gaining weight. But am I gaining inches? I feel like I am. I usually don't have to diet, working out allows me to eat what I want. But not right now. I am drinking more than usual, I think that's a huge factor. I wish I could stay away from the stuff, but sometimes I feel like it's the only way to deal with Aunt. Or the only way to deal, period. I'm just so unhappy. My husband says my weight will stabilize once we are out of here, but I can't stand feeling so heavy during this time period, no matter how short.
My body is so tired. An hour of cardio is hard. I definitely forced it yesterday. My body was sore and screaming at me to stop, but I kept going. I'm paying for it today, I hurt everywhere. I'm at an impasse today. I should do an hour of cardio, since I know I'm going to my mother-in-law's for 3 days and I will eat nothing but fast food. But I hurt. I may do 30 minutes of cardio, and an hour of yoga. To compromise. It's just so frustrating, usually my weight and body is the one thing I can control. I feel like I have none right now.
The urge to cut is high right now. I've held strong, and stayed away, but it's always there. Especially with the impending stay with my mother-in-law. Never do I want to cut as much as I do when I'm there. Yesterday I was smoking a cigarette, and kept having the urge to burn my arm. What would the husband say about that? I don't even know. I do know I would be in a lot of trouble. Also, once I start, it won't stop. Self-control will go out the window and I will compulsively just do it. Like everything else I'm addicted to.
Argh, I just want to scream. Lately, I feel like all the rage and all the frustration is bubbling so close to the surface. I feel like I'm going to explode, and have a massive melt-down. I'm trying desperately to keep that from happening, I know no good will come of it. No good. I've only 3 more weeks until I'm out of here. 3 more weeks. That's what I keep telling myself.
I'm just so mad. Mad at everything and everyone.
Showing posts with label self-injury. Show all posts
Showing posts with label self-injury. Show all posts
Friday, August 31, 2012
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
8 More Days
It will be 8 more days before my first official psychiatrist appointment. I'm feeling bittersweet over this. Happy because I feel like I'm drowning here, but slightly saddened that I'm so obviously not normal. Normal people don't have sick, twisted thoughts like I do. Normal people don't have panic attacks. Normal people don't thoughtfully touch a knife, thinking about one little cut, and then using all their willpower not to. Normal people don't have weeks that they mope around the house, having crying jags, and thinking that absolutely everything is hopeless.
I don't know what a psychiatrist is going to do for me, I don't know how they can help me. A large part of me is screaming that I will always be broken, there isn't anything anyone can do. This part of me wants to cancel my appointment, and keep what's happened to me a secret. I dread sharing anything about myself with anyone. I don't know how I'm going to find the words to say to a doctor what has happened to me. I can't even accept what has happened to me, how can I tell someone else what is only a suspicion in my mind? I can picture myself opening my mouth, closing it because I can't say what I want to say, and my cheeks turning very, very red. Even when I talk to my husband about this, I have a hard time saying it out loud. If I do manage to get the words out of my mouth, a wave of sickening feeling washes over me. Dread. I've always been this way, and I will always be this way. But there is a small part of me that is holding out hope. Hope that the emptiness inside of me could go away.
I've been feeling especially low for a couple of days while living with the husband's aunt. She makes us feel like children. Before she left for work today, she told my husband to take a shower if he works in the yard because she doesn't want him sitting dirty on her furniture. Umm, we are adults here. Last night, I got lectured for a good 10 minutes on how to properly clean a crock pot. This does not serve well for my self-esteem. Back when I was working (it's been about one and a half years since I quit working) I was a perfectionist. I hated being corrected at work, my supervisor could tell me something once, and I would always remember. I would go out of my way to make sure all my work was far and away the best, and then wait around like a lost puppy for my praise. When the aunt is lecturing me, she is beating the thought into me that I'm not perfect. That I'm a burden to her. That I'm worthless. That she can't wait to get me out of here.
Realistically, I don't think she actually thinks those things about me. But, that's how she makes me feel. I've already noticed that I feel pretty relaxed during the day when she is at work, and then completely anxious while she is home. I'm afraid to make a step, any step, for fear it's the wrong one. I'm guessing this is not the most healthy situation for me to be living in. Everyday, I just hope the home is done soon and I can get back to my environment. It's such a toss up for me, because I'm anxious here, but I'm also anxious at my mother-in-law's house. There's nowhere we can stay that I won't be anxious.
Argh! I'm feeling very frustrated today. It's going to be a long day.
I don't know what a psychiatrist is going to do for me, I don't know how they can help me. A large part of me is screaming that I will always be broken, there isn't anything anyone can do. This part of me wants to cancel my appointment, and keep what's happened to me a secret. I dread sharing anything about myself with anyone. I don't know how I'm going to find the words to say to a doctor what has happened to me. I can't even accept what has happened to me, how can I tell someone else what is only a suspicion in my mind? I can picture myself opening my mouth, closing it because I can't say what I want to say, and my cheeks turning very, very red. Even when I talk to my husband about this, I have a hard time saying it out loud. If I do manage to get the words out of my mouth, a wave of sickening feeling washes over me. Dread. I've always been this way, and I will always be this way. But there is a small part of me that is holding out hope. Hope that the emptiness inside of me could go away.
I've been feeling especially low for a couple of days while living with the husband's aunt. She makes us feel like children. Before she left for work today, she told my husband to take a shower if he works in the yard because she doesn't want him sitting dirty on her furniture. Umm, we are adults here. Last night, I got lectured for a good 10 minutes on how to properly clean a crock pot. This does not serve well for my self-esteem. Back when I was working (it's been about one and a half years since I quit working) I was a perfectionist. I hated being corrected at work, my supervisor could tell me something once, and I would always remember. I would go out of my way to make sure all my work was far and away the best, and then wait around like a lost puppy for my praise. When the aunt is lecturing me, she is beating the thought into me that I'm not perfect. That I'm a burden to her. That I'm worthless. That she can't wait to get me out of here.
Realistically, I don't think she actually thinks those things about me. But, that's how she makes me feel. I've already noticed that I feel pretty relaxed during the day when she is at work, and then completely anxious while she is home. I'm afraid to make a step, any step, for fear it's the wrong one. I'm guessing this is not the most healthy situation for me to be living in. Everyday, I just hope the home is done soon and I can get back to my environment. It's such a toss up for me, because I'm anxious here, but I'm also anxious at my mother-in-law's house. There's nowhere we can stay that I won't be anxious.
Argh! I'm feeling very frustrated today. It's going to be a long day.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Out of My Element
My husband and I are staying with his aunt and uncle for a couple of months. We are having a house built, and it won't be ready for about 4 months. To say that staying with his family has been difficult would be an understatement. My husband's aunt is anal. She is very, very particular about her home. We have 2 dogs, long-haired chihuahuas, and since they shed, I have to vacuum the house and the furniture every day. Our dogs have specific places in the backyard our dogs can relief themselves. How do you tell a dog to pee on this bush, not that one? We have to dry our dog's private areas before we let them in the house. Purses can't be placed on the counter. Shoes can never be on. Plates must be wiped down with paper towels before you can rinse them in the sink. There are plenty more rules, but I won't continue.
To say that we don't exactly feel welcome would be true. Hence, I'm feeling very out-of-control. I'm having a hard time refraining from cutting, from self-injury. I feel like there is nothing I can do without making her mad. Her house is not homey. One thing I have learned is how I'm not going to act about my new house.
To give Aunt and Uncle a break, they ask us to go to the husband's mother's house for a couple times a week.
I'm very unhappy at her house. She is a very dirty person, she never cleans. I get an uneasy feeling in my stomach when I go there, and all I can focus on is the filth. My eyes dart around her bathroom, from the dog hair on the baseboard, to the cobwebs at the ceiling, to soiled-on dirt in her sink and around the faucet. I cannot handle it. We spent Friday night there, and I didn't sleep a wink. I lay awake all night, and much to my disgust, was haunted by memories.
I didn't recover anything new. It was all a repeat. The main memory that plays and replays in my mind is a memory of my uncle creeping in on me at my grandma's house. This is the first memory I ever recovered, and the one that continues to haunt me the most. The bed I'm sleeping in is always the same, the nightgown always the same, the moon shining through the windows always the same, the actions my uncle takes always the same. I can't stand thinking about these things, yet they come into my head whenever they choose.
I think the fact that my husband and I are so obviously nomadic right now is affecting me greatly. I don't have a home base, I don't have somewhere I can go to get away from it all. I'm almost always with people right now, and I'm having a hard time processing it. I'm used to alone time, time to recharge my batteries. I won't have that for a couple of months. I'm hoping I can make it through this time without blowing my fuse, and without exploding at someone.
It's hard feeling so out of control, having no place to hide. We'll have to see if this time passes my smoothly. Fingers are crossed.
To say that we don't exactly feel welcome would be true. Hence, I'm feeling very out-of-control. I'm having a hard time refraining from cutting, from self-injury. I feel like there is nothing I can do without making her mad. Her house is not homey. One thing I have learned is how I'm not going to act about my new house.
To give Aunt and Uncle a break, they ask us to go to the husband's mother's house for a couple times a week.
I'm very unhappy at her house. She is a very dirty person, she never cleans. I get an uneasy feeling in my stomach when I go there, and all I can focus on is the filth. My eyes dart around her bathroom, from the dog hair on the baseboard, to the cobwebs at the ceiling, to soiled-on dirt in her sink and around the faucet. I cannot handle it. We spent Friday night there, and I didn't sleep a wink. I lay awake all night, and much to my disgust, was haunted by memories.
I didn't recover anything new. It was all a repeat. The main memory that plays and replays in my mind is a memory of my uncle creeping in on me at my grandma's house. This is the first memory I ever recovered, and the one that continues to haunt me the most. The bed I'm sleeping in is always the same, the nightgown always the same, the moon shining through the windows always the same, the actions my uncle takes always the same. I can't stand thinking about these things, yet they come into my head whenever they choose.
I think the fact that my husband and I are so obviously nomadic right now is affecting me greatly. I don't have a home base, I don't have somewhere I can go to get away from it all. I'm almost always with people right now, and I'm having a hard time processing it. I'm used to alone time, time to recharge my batteries. I won't have that for a couple of months. I'm hoping I can make it through this time without blowing my fuse, and without exploding at someone.
It's hard feeling so out of control, having no place to hide. We'll have to see if this time passes my smoothly. Fingers are crossed.
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