I put too much hope in my shrively corn. Did you think that I found it and my journey towards happiness had ended? For a moment I thought (hoped) this was true. Wouldn't that be the shit? It is far from true. It is only just the beginning.
I didn't post yesterday. That is because yesterday was a dark, dark day.
I should tell you first that Sunday was a happy, normal day - I read, I went shopping, rode my bike, had happy hour beers without guilt, made a healthy dinner, and relaxed on the couch with my boyfriend. Happy, fucking, normal. IT IS POSSIBLE FOR ME.
And then there was Monday. Monday I woke in a startle because I didn't set the alarm and my boyfriend was going to be late for work (he lives in another city during the week for his job). My energy was off from that very moment. I fucking knew it. I knew what was happening to me and I didn't know how to stop it. My heart was pacing and all I could focus on was my boyfriend clanging around in a rush and my head spun around and around - which workout classes I should attend - what time are they? what is best for my body? should I do one or two? what should I eat for breakfast? I have OCD - these thoughts spin and spin and spin for fucking hours upon hours and IT IS EXHAUSTING. There is never a resolution. Only a build up of negative energy.
I tried to stop it, I really did. But, by 8:00 yesterday morning an ugly binge started. I hate writing about it because I feel ashamed. But, there shouldn't be any shame. My binges are just another way to mask my negative emotions - which are so fucking strong they entirely take over my body. By 10 in the morning I was on my couch eating a tub of Ben and Jerry's. It was coffee-flavored, though, so appropriate for the morning?!?! The only way I know to stop it is to try and restart my day. Pop 2 pills and fall asleep. Wake up and try again.
I woke up, forced my fat ass bloated self outside for a 2-mile run and long walk with my dog. I began to feel alive. Guilty and like a fucking fat ass - but alive.
I forced myself to go to my first movement and mindful meditation class. I was nervous. My stomach was bloated. Even though I entered conspicuously broken, they welcomed me. The class was beautiful. I felt peaceful. I felt alive.
At the end of the class we sat and meditated and focused on our breath. I, however, was battling my brain thoughts the entire time. Fucking brain thoughts. I think I will get better. At the end, my instructor hit a gong and I felt it resonate through my tired body. She smiled and told me I did great. She told me it isn't about being perfect, but about doing what feels right. My entire fucking life is about being perfect. Her words washed over me in relief and I smiled.
Day 6. This is Day 6 and this is what I know. My body is tired, really tired, from the abuse I put it through yesterday. All I can do is pick myself up and try again. Here I go....
This is me, readjusting.
Yesterday was a good day.
It is Sunday so you have time on your hands. And if you don't you should make time (whether it be for this or for something else, YOU deserve time). So if you choose to spend some time with me, read this. Like seriously.
My dear, dear friend that I met through blog world shared this with me after my first 'Shit Just Got Real' post. Long story short - this girl is depressed and hasn't laughed or felt happiness in a long time. Then, one day she is lying on the kitchen floor (been there, done that) and spots an old piece of shrively corn underneath the fridge. It strikes her, she laughs, she laughs uncontrollably, and all of a sudden she feels the thing she has been searching for - happiness. It came about with something so simple as a piece of fucking corn.
(before)
So, on Friday I was in my dark emotional spot and called a local salon on a depression-induced whim to see if they had any openings for hair color. They had one, I took it. Yesterday afternoon I went. I went in without a clue what I wanted, but knowing I need a change and I needed it bad.
(during)
My stylist was amazing when I told her the reason behind my hair color change was more a conceptual thing than an actual hair thing. We spent three hours together and it was a beautiful and releasing therapy (insurance should totally cover this shit). I told her my story, she listened. I remember lying in the shampoo chair staring up at the chandelier above me and thinking how free I felt, how inspired.
(after)
As she was blowing my hair dry I began to feel this weird sensation. My entire body was reacting. I am so used to the horriblefuckingbrainspinintodepression body reaction, but this feeling was completely different. My heart felt warm (I am not fucking kidding) and my mouth formed this weird unknown shape - a smile. You know what it was? It was excitement, anticipation - it was happiness.
I got home and told my boyfriend about the experience. He looked at me and said simply, "you found your shrively corn". I started to refute him, but then paused and realized he may be right. I cried and laughed and smiled all at the same time and agreed with him, "I did. I found my fucking shrively corn".
Day 4. This is Day 4 and this is what I know. I was excited to get out of bed this morning. There are no birds chirping because the rain is falling. And it is beautiful. I am hopeful.
This is me, readjusting.
Family, friends, blog readers - I cried this morning reading some of your comments and realizing that a lot of you are dealing with depression, anxiety, and OCD and just not talking about it. It is time to TALK ABOUT IT. It is nothing to be ashamed of - it is what it is. Keep the comments coming because it means the world to me and I bet there are more people reading those comment that appreciate this small community of crazies (I say that with complete love) finally coming out of the cracks....
Yesterday was a shit show.
God, where do I even start. I had the best intentions - a positive attitude. I had to go into work for a student meeting. That little fucker was 25-minutes late. If your boss has OCD trust me, you should always be 5 minutes early. I let the emotions of anger and frustration caused by this meeting take over. I need to learn to control these in a healthier way. Instead they boiled over and caused a chain reaction of cortisol-induced stress responses that lasted the entire day.
After my meeting I sped to the local bakery with full intentions to stuff a glorious double chocolate chip muffin in my face. They didn't have any so I got this yogurt parfait instead. But, I didn't want a fucking yogurt parfait. I ate this knowing full well that I would spend the rest of the day trying to get my sugar fix. Damn you, cortisol.
I drove to a local yoga studio and signed up for a mindful meditation course, which was recommended by my therapist. It starts Monday and I can't wait for it to solve all of my problems. Oh wait, that is too optimistic....
I also spent half an hour talking to an herbalist (one of those hippie-dippie types that doesn't shave her armpits and I secretly want to be her) about my issues. I told her I'm on one too many pharmaceuticals and she recommended miriad of alternative options. Now, I'm a scientist and I realize these aren't FDA approved or whateverthefuck. But, the FDA approved meds aren't doing shit so what the hell. I purchased probiotics (serotonin is produced IN THE GUT people), milky oat extract (for stress relief), and holy basil (which aids in balancing cortisol levels).
I left there feeling optimistic, but sugar still ruling my brain. The rest of the afternoon turned into a shit show of massive bowls of frozen yogurt, granola, chocolate covered pretzels. I ate them so fast and with such denial (I do this disassociation thing) that I didn't bother snapping pictures. Just imagine a big pile of sugar and that is what I ate. I went home, collapsed in my bed and declared my fucked up brain the winner.
I made this realization about running while chatting with a friend about my crazies in bed. I also realized that I need to talk more to my friends. I tend to isolate and friends (given they are good ones) make me happy.
I didn't cook my boyfriend dinner, I didn't work out, I ate more shit, I drank more shit, and I went to bed early. Try again tomorrow.
Day 3. This is Day 3 and this is what I know. Those same fucking birds are chirping. I took all of my pills - pharmaceuticals, hippie-dippie herbs, and green food included. My body feels tired from yesterday. But, today is a new day to learn so I am picking myself up and trying again.
This is me, readjusting.
First off, thank you all for the comments and support. I find a huge amount of comfort in knowing that some of you understand where I am coming from and are behind me. I almost didn't hit publish yesterday, and now I am glad I did.
Day 1 started off pleasantly enough. I felt like a European traveler when I donned my backpack and took the 35 minute walk from my house to Earth Fare.
Something about this was so releasing though. I mean, I live in a city where we drive. We driving fucking everywhere. We drive to the corner store where it takes longer to get in your car, start it, drive, find a fucking parking spot, and walk to the store than it would have to just get off your lazy ass and walk there. Plus, driving makes me automatically feel rushed (hello, cortisol). Yesterday, I walked and I felt calm and reflective.
I had these thoughts though - I should do this more often even when I am not crazy. You know? Take a moment and walk somewhere and just look around and let my mind marinade on life for a moment.
After my journey I went and sat with my juice, watched all the normal people on their lunch break. Me? Me, I'm not working today (or tomorrow or tomorrow or tomorrow or tomorrow), but I am here to THINK and to WRITE. That sounds luxurious - but I wish I was them. I bet they wish they were me. If they only knew....
I did a whole bunch of other positive and normal shit. I had lunch with a friend, I found this bad ass free library thing that I took a book from to read - I think today I'll walk and take one back.
I went and visited a friend and held her fresh baby. I look HAPPY, no? I think I definitely was in that moment. Babies are the shit, btw.
And then I got home, and I was alone and my brain did its lovely thing where it makes me feel super out of control (I call them 'spins'). This particular spin ended with my hands deep in a Costco-sized tub of mixed nuts, a skipped weight-lifting session, and drinking two beers. Pop a pill and call it a night. Try again tomorrow.
Day 2. This is Day 2 and this is what I know. It is a beautiful day and the birds are still chirping. I am getting my nails done later and I anticipate a solid cardio workout. Why? Well - I ate a pound of cashews yesterday and I feel like shit. Let's be real.
This is me, readjusting.
You have full permission to stop reading my blog. Like right now, I don't give a shit. Because things are about to change because I have some serious changing to do and I need to write about it because that is what I do. I don't really know who follows this blog. I mean, I love all of you, but sometimes life hits you like a fucking train and you have to readjust.
This is me, readjusting.
I had a hard semester. And by hard I mean reallyfuckinghard. I lost sight of who I was, what made me happy, what made my life sing. I lost it and I need to get it back. Hell, I even lost my camera so you don't get any pictures today. Today, I begin that journey. Like for real, I asked for a leave of absence from work and this is what I am doing.
This is me, readjusting.
Here are some truths. I have acronyms and I have them bad: IBS, GAD, OCD. Look it up. My biggest issues surround the two things this blog originated around - food and fitness. This blog became a shrine to them. Iamobsessedwiththesethingsandthisisnotokay. My Pinterest board and my Twitter account and most all of the blogs I follow revolve around food and fitness. And, I'm sorry I love all of you and the past two years of following this world has taught me a remarkable amount about myself. But, I can't do it anymore. I am deleting my blog list. I fear reading and writing and documenting all my food has only exacerbated my obsession. I'm starting fresh. A clean slate, if you will. DELETE.
This is me, readjusting.
Day 1. This is Day 1 and this is what I know. It is a beautiful day and the air is cool and the fucking birds are chirping. I am going to take an exorbitantly long walk and maybe get some green juice not because it is trendy, but because it makes me FEEL ALIVE. One day at a time I will remember what it is that makes me happy. One day at a time I will find my way.
This is me, readjusting.
Can you please bear with me for a moment, dear blog readers? Because I need to do some life experimenting. I need to do some personal exploration. I need to not follow my pattern of posting on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I need to not cook every weekend and maybe not share what or what I am not eating on Wednesday's. I need to not feel bound to this.
I hope you understand if there are days in a row when you don't see an updated post. Or when the posts take a different shape than you may be used to. Maybe my posts will become more serious, maybe less so. No offense, but sometimes I post only for you - when I created this blog for me.
That's the thing about life. It changes, you change, and for those of us with blogs - those will probably change too. Not better, not worse, just different.
Confession 1.
I bought these obnoxiously expensive pillows online and, after unpacking them, left them in the middle of my living room on the floor for three entire weeks before moving them to my bed where they belong.
Confession 2.
During the work week, my sink often looks like this (sorry, dad).
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