I’d like to skip this Friday as things are going so well.
I would like to keep next week’s on Friday the 16th at 11 am.
Ok, see you next week 🙂
Maybe I should come Friday if the time is still open. There are things swimming inside my head that I could use some help clearing up.
Still open! See you Friday at 11.
I feel relief that I finally decided to go. Though during the volley of emails I felt very dismayed at my indecisiveness. I don’t want to need anybody, but I know that years of therapy have put me in a better place. Once the exchanges are complete, and she doesn’t seem to think I’m a complete nutter, I feel better knowing I am seeing someone in my corner.
It really doesn’t matter what I talk about for now. Just having a place to do so has settled me. This new medication doesn’t allow for mid-meal snacking so I added more food to each meal to avoid becoming overly hungry during the 4 hour stretch. That soon escalated into too much, too fast, not chewing, and not really been present.
It was more than my wounded stomach could tolerate. Pain woke me and I slept on the couch laying there in fear until it settled down and I fell asleep. This isn’t something that is going away. Even after six weeks when the temporary medication is finished, I must continue this new path; eating with intention. Slowly. Like how I tend to live my life now. I question my self-discipline which is defeated when up against feelings.
After than night I went back to smaller portions, slower eating, and chewing more thoroughly. Anxiety made itself known immediately, anxiety that had been erased with the bad eating. Anxiety. I was eating anxiety. Why?
I wish I hadn’t relayed to brothers any mention of my true feelings, life, and the book.
As I walk the sunny meadow, humid and hot, wiping my face which had moistened from the sun’s kiss, I question that thought, or feeling. Really? I don’t need to live my life continually regretting every action, word, decision, or move.
Come on! I did what I did because an instinct inside needed to. I needed to move forward. But it was so much more pleasant before yet the pretense became intolerable. How do I proceed as the person I am, not the person they want me to pretend to be?
How do I go forward with this aching to be acknowledged for the woman I am and the true trauma’s I overcame; an aching that cripples and won’t be soothed or relieved? And the only answer seems to be in continuing just as before, with as little contact as possible.
Is this how whistle-blowers feel? Ostracized so completely they cannot get their life back? I’ve been ejected from my life; my life of peace, happiness and calm. I’ve been living and reacting out of fear.
This eating pattern has been my custom since age 8, coinciding with Danny’s attack which hasn’t surfaced though I know I was raped. I eat my fears, anxiety, worries, paranoia…I eat my feelings away. Taking away that crutch means feeling them, dealing with them. Sometimes I just can’t. Or won’t.
There are instinctual reasons I choose to live life slower, here at home at my own pace. I read a blog this morning that speaks directly to my issues. That definite changes occur in a child facing stressors such as the death of a parent, abuse of all kinds, alcoholic parents, etc. I experienced all of them. My brain has been changed.
Being reminded that issues I deal with are real, not a failing or character flaw, brings new life to my morning. The red glow drew me like a magnet to the patio, still pajama clad, hoping to capture the beauty unfolding.