Starting over again…with a little less self-hatred

New Year’s resolutions…always the butt of jokes and unrealistic expectations for ourselves. I think in the past I’ve followed through on a few – the most notable have been not eating chocolate for a year. I’ve been meaning to get back “in control” of my eating for the past few months, so I figured, New Year’s day was as good a deadline as any to start.

New Year’s eve was rough. We decided that Shoshana really needed to start sleeping in her bed by herself through the night. She had been sick for almost 3 weeks and during that time we had her sleeping in our bed. I’ve loved having her there – a little heater next to me, periodically rubbing my arm (and sometimes kicking me in the face) but it’s important for her to have her own space and be able to soothe herself. And for Mommy and Daddy to have their space too. I kept thinking that she’d get to be an age where I could talk with her about how exciting it is that she’s now a big girl and can sleep by herself and dreamed that she would agree and be very excited… Yeah, that’s not what went down. Shoshana cried “I wan seep in Mommy Daddy bed” for almost 2 hours straight and I was in a cloud of anxiety throughout the process. I ate to attempt to calm myself. A few hours later (in the wee hours of the morning), I had a weird experience where I looked in the mirror and the reflection to me evoked a sense of the demonic – as if I were the devil. Something filled with evil and I hated myself and was ashamed. I couldn’t shake the feeling for a few days. 

I’m blessed to have a wonderful therapist. I brought this up to him. This is not who I want to be or how I want to see myself. I also don’t want Shoshana to grow up to hate herself the way I, for some reason, do. And then, in therapy, something clicked.

Not that I heard something new. Not that it was even part of the topic of our discussion. But I started to cry because I heard a voice in my head say “I am NOT useless.” For some reason throughout my life I’ve felt as if I’ve simply sponged off of others around me, never truly supported myself – I’ve been a leach. And while I know I’ve expressed this concern before I don’t know that I ever truly connected it with my deep seated hatred of myself. But I realized, I’m not just a taker. I give too. I’m not useless – I may not return kindness, gifts, favors, etc in kind, but I do give something in return. Whether it’s a smile, or listening to a friend who needs to talk, or giving a Christmas gift to someone who didn’t expect it, I give.

My therapist picked up on what I was saying and mentioned a discussion he had with a rabbi in regards to the “Shema” – the argument was that it’s not a prayer to say our G-d is the one and only, but a chance for us to reflect on the oneness of humanity. We are all in the image of G-d – all of us together as one. No person can survive on their own – we all have to use others and give back to others to live our lives. I’ve tried so hard in my life to prove that I can “do it by myself.” And because I’ve never “succeeded” on my own, I’ve viewed myself as a failure and useless, thus worthy of being hated. And since others weren’t hating me appropriately, I had to hate myself all the more to make up the difference. But I finally realized/accepted today, I don’t have to – and I’m not supposed to be able to be “an island unto myself.”

I know people have been trying to tell me this for years but it just never clicked. I don’t know what made me understand it today, but something did and I feel a weight lifted. I cried. I cried because I was happy to be free, even if for a minute, of my self-hatred. And I cried because I was sad that I’ve spent so much time hating instead of enjoying me.

It’s going to take time to break my bad habits of self degradation, and as with other habits, I’m sure there will be relapses. But this year, I think I’m ready to live “happy” with who I am. Weight loss would be nice, but it’s such a small aspect of what I bring. I’ve said it to other people for years but never believed it for myself. I think I’ve finally gotten it. Or at least am starting…starting with less self-hatred.

The yo-yos in my life

I’m having such a hard time writing anything right now. I need to work on my CV/resume. And I really need to blog. But for some reason, I just can’t get started on either. I keep waiting until I have something else I need to do, like a doctor’s appointment or picking up Shoshana and then I start. Right now I have a doctor’s appointment in 15 minutes. So I’ll need to stop soon to get there on time. But if I don’t start now, I don’t think I ever will.

I feel like I have such a labile personality – roller-coaster or yo-yo-esque. I wish I believed “life is like a box of chocolates.” Then everything I tried I’d probably like or appreciate, just some things I’d like more than others. But I don’t feel that way. I feel like there are significant lows and highs in life – things I HATE and things I LOVE. Again with the black and white thinking I refer to all the way back to my beginning posts. I’ve been listening to a lecture series on Kabbalah and know that I should say “gam zu l’tovah” – everything is for the best, and count my blessings. It’s the way I was raised to think but for some reason it just never sank in properly….

A few hours later –

Or maybe it sank in too well. I just read a “sicha,” or Rabbi’s discussion (http://www.neveh.org/price/price2.html), and realize how this is truly my point of view. He mentions that several rabbis suggest looking at your suffering to determine where you have made errors in your life. We should be thankful for the suffering so that we can be aware of our mistakes and rectify the wrongs. I think this is where I get caught. I get stuck on the idea that I’m suffering for something I did wrong, or as I seem to interpret it, some part of me that is bad. The problem is that I can’t seem to figure out what the REAL problem or error is. So I just continue to punish myself, assuming that I’ll figure it out at some point. 

It’s not that I haven’t tried to look at my life and see where my mistakes are. I think I have, but maybe I’m not as open to seeing my own mistakes as I think I am. Most of the time I feel like my biggest mistake is that I degrade myself all the time. It’s kind of an evil, never ending cycle. I punish myself because I am bad and so I suffer but I’m suffering because I punish myself for being bad. Wow. No wonder I can’t come to terms with this.

It’s interesting to read back through some of my previous blogs. Funny that I can’t remember some of the details that seemed so important at the time. Funny and frustrating. Why was I so upset and what was the “unmentionable” thing in my blog from Aug. 11th? How could I have forgotten the fact that the Ezekiel bread was the food item that made me wish I could rip my stomach out of my body on Aug. 16? I know journaling is important, and I suppose it’s for these particular reasons. Something needed to come out of me and I just couldn’t do it any other way. But why then do I hate writing? Especially when I know that I typically feel better afterwards? Am I feeling miserable in my life because I’m being stubborn and the depressed feelings I have are G-d’s way of saying, “Hey – stop being a butthead?”

I have no idea what I wanted to write this blog about, but I’m pretty sure it didn’t end up with what I thought it would. I think I wanted to talk about the last month and how I hate High Holidays. Oh well. Guess this is where I needed to go. Gam zu l’tovah. 

Scary dream

I don’t remember the last time I had such a scary dream that I couldn’t shake it off, but this morning, I woke myself up with a gasp and now, 2 hours later, am afraid to go back to sleep for fear of re-dreaming the experience. Here’s what I recall:

I’m not sure exactly how old I was in the dream. I feel like I was younger – pre-Shoshana, maybe even pre-marriage. I think I was frustrated with my relationship with Ben and decided to go on a sort-of singles’ vacation. We were paired up with people in the place we were visiting and, later in the dream, I mention that we were visiting Orlando, Florida. My first pair up was in a restaurant looking next to a large field that looked military in nature ( I didn’t notice this until later in the dream). I was talking with a man who was very high on himself, but also very wealthy, and I was trying to imagine myself married to this man. It would be a long life of having to hide eye-rolling. I excused myself to go to the restroom and as I was walking away, I noticed that, though my engagement ring was on my right hand, my wedding band was not on my left hand. I had a moment of panic but then calmed down since I’ve misplaced my ring before or forgot to put it on in the morning and I dismissed the concern. When I returned to the table, the gentleman was gone and the plates were all cleared up. I sat down and began staring at nothing in particular out a huge window that looked out on the military field. There was a commotion around me that I hardly noticed and then someone (who looked a bit like a cross between James Franco and Matt Damon) pointed out to me what everyone was looking at. There was an unusual and unidentifiable spacecraft in the sky with lots of lights and a long tail. Everyone seemed afraid and shocked but I said, “I don’t know. I mean, we are in Orlando, right? Those Disney people do lots of crazy things.”

Then the spacecraft landed and a very small airplane-shaped object rolled out of it. People were shouting “is it a plane?” and “is it a bomb?” Then one person said, “My G-d! That’s a megabomb.” Then the bomb went forward and targeted an object far off in the distance. First we all saw the huge flash of explosives, then the ground began to shake, and then everything slowed down and the wave of the explosion slowly expanded towards us. People were in a panic but I remained calm – I knew there was no escaping this inevitable end so I was preparing myself to relax on impact like I think you’re supposed to when you’re in a crash. (You know, if the muscles are relaxed during a car crash, less damage usually occurs – at least that’s one of the theories in my mind as to why drunk drivers are frequently not injured when others are.) As the explosion cloud began to envelope us, I felt someone hold onto my hand. It was very reassuring. And then I felt a pressure all over my body from the cloud, and a heat begin to expand inside my body. I began to pray, “G-d please bless my family, my parents, my brothers.” At the same time, I remember thinking, “I’m surprised at how long my consciousness remains even though my body has been blown up.” When I finished this thought, I was praying for my brothers’ safety and felt my life slipping away and then I woke up with a gasp and petrified.

A lot of the dream I can connect to the things I watched on TV yesterday – Ben and I watched a few episodes of Futurama – thus the space invasion, the explosions, and the James Franco references (from the commercials for his Roast). We also watched an episode of Family Guy where Lois inherits her aunt’s summer home and Peter begins to act like a pompous rich jerk – thus the wealthy jerk on the date. But why did the explosion occur and why did it “kill” me? And why was my first thought and prayers for my parents and not for my daughter?

Anyway, I don’t have much more time to write, but I just needed to put this all down. I still have the sensation losing my body and only having conscious thoughts and the feeling doesn’t want to go away. I also seem to not want to let go of it either…

 

Exercise? Yes. In Futility.

It’s 3:45am and I just returned home from my fabulous exercise in futility. This morning, I had Ezekiel bread with peanut butter for breakfast since I have been feeling “backed up” and it seems to always do the trick for Ben…so why not. About 5 minutes after I finished eating I began having pretty severe stomach pains but I can be stubborn when it comes to pain. So I made myself wait until I had finished the task at work that I had and then I went to the bathroom and threw up most of the bread. All the little seeds and sprouts just did not want to go down and they irritated my stomach horribly. Luckily, I was able to find some Pepto Bismol to ease the remaining discomfort after vomiting and felt fine until later. (I’ll get to that in a minute.)

I’ve been having pain lately all the time after I have a few bites of food. But it’s not Lap-Band pain like I’m too full. It feels similar, but it’s different because I still feel physically hungry. I had stopped taking the Protonix the PA had given me when I first had this pain earlier in the year. She suspected a possible ulcer so I used the Protonix in place of my daily Prilosec. But after 3 months, the pain had resolved (or been masked) and I went back on the over the counter medicine. About a week or two ago I realized I needed to go back to the doc and request a new script for Protonix but I didn’t have a chance and I was also too embarrassed to talk with the doc and tell him what I’ve been eating. It was obvious to me that all the cr@p I’ve been putting in my body lately is the reason I’m having issues. So how could he help me if I can’t help myself. Stupid logic but the pain had become bad enough that Wednesday I did finally call and request a new script – and was asked to set up an appointment. (Of course, pharmacy didn’t fill it because it has to be mail-ordered.)

Ok – back to my day. So I worked my tushe off at work and though I was informed on Monday that I HAVE to take a lunch break every day, I did not have time to do so today. There was a going away party for one of the temps with cookies and cake which I avoided, but when I left work I was pretty hungry and feeling agitated and on edge (as I usually feel at the end of the day) so I ate some of the leftover food from yesterday’s dinner. We had gone out to Gino’s and Shoshi got a personal pizza, I shared a salad with Ben, I had soup, he had a calzone. There was leftover bread in the doggy bad so I ate some of that, being cautious to chew it very thoroughly. Then I ate the one little piece of pizza that was leftover and picked a little at the cheese from the calzone. I actually wasn’t feeling bad until about 10 minutes after I ate and then the pain started. So I swigged back some Pepto Bismol. Then the vomiting started. Again. And the pain just kept getting worse. I called the doctor’s office and they told me to come in.

When I got there (with Ben and Shoshi), I was still vomiting. They gave me a bag to throw up in and took all the fluid out of my band. The PA asked me why I was still spitting up even though I could swallow and then she told me “stopped doing that. You’re freaking me out.” And since I didn’t feel relief from the band being loosened, she sent me to the emergency room at Mercy Medical so I could have an upper GI series done. I WILL NEVER GO BACK THERE unless my head is falling off and there are no other ERs around. By the time we got to Mercy I was feeling less pain but I thought I probably needed the upper GI. So I kissed Ben and Shoshi goodbye and waiting for the triage nurse to call my name.

This was around 4:30pm. At about 5pm the triage nurse calls me in. At around 5:45, when my father-in-law came to keep me company, the registration person calls me in. At about 6:45 I’m called into the ER and set up in a freezing room. I asked the nurse if they thought they’d be able to do an upper GI and she told me that that department was closed already but they’ll run other tests on me to make sure everything is ok. About 8, after my father-in-law leaves to take care of his dog, I have an ultrasound done. Twice. I guess the first person was just practicing. My father-in-law came back at about 9:30, stayed til about 10:15, and then I was given barium to swallow for a CAT scan. about 11:30 I’m taken in for the CAT scan. 1:45 I’m told that all the tests came back normal and I should be able to leave soon. And finally at 3am I am released from the hospital nothing absolutely nothing more than I did when I first got there.

I’m pretty sure I have an ulcer. I’m pretty sure it’s in response to my job. Can I get workman’s comp for an ulcer developed from working for morons? It wouldn’t be hard to prove that they are morons. The hard part would be to prove the ulcer came from that fact.

The only bright points of my day were when I came home from work and kissed Shoshi and Ben hello, and the drive home from the hospital. The taxi driver was a very nice man with an interesting story. I need to go to sleep but I needed to get all this out. It probably doesn’t even make much sense, but I’m pretty sleepy so I’ll re-read it another time.

Unmentionable

I haven’t blogged in a while because the only thing I’ve been able to think about lately is how hurt and angry I am about a situation that’s really not appropriate to blog about. In this age of technology, one never knows what might bite one in the butt – colleges look at students’ Facebook pages; employers run internet searches on a potential staff member – everyone wants to know the dirt on someone before getting to know them. So I’ve been hesitant to put anything in writing because I just never know when I might be looking for a job and whether my future employer will try to learn about me without involving me in the process.

This issue has really been eating at me. And I’ve been eating in return. My stomach is hurting and whatever I had been having issues with a couple months ago, possibly an ulcer, has returned as well. My stress level is through the roof and when I do finally find a way to fall asleep, it’s not restful. I actually have been experiencing such a good deal of pain that I finally met with a PT, something I should have done about a month or so ago, to tackle my fibromyalgia diagnosis (which I’m still a bit skeptical about).

My stress is increasing my depression exponentially and unfortunately, I’m letting my daughter see it more than I want. I’m not saying I want her to grow up thinking that her mom was always happy and energized, but I would like her to think that I am MOST of the time. Lately, it’s the rare occasion that I’m feeling perky enough to even get out of bed before 8am. (And she wakes up by 6.)

I keep thinking that all of my problems stem from the fact that I am, essentially, a lazy person. While I’m able to provide excuses for why I don’t do things, it’s still just excuses; lame, often circuitous, rationale to promote my lazy lifestyle. I say I can’t exercise because I can’t afford the time or money to go to a gym or pool and my foot hurts when I stand or walk on it for too long. I say I can’t run around with Shoshana because my foot hurts or I need to get home to make dinner. Ok – I’m actually too lazy to come up with even more examples. I’m sure it’s just because I’m too tired (even though I took a 2 hour nap during the day today). 

I realize how abusive I’m being to myself right now. I do. But for some reason, I feel like I deserve it. Like I don’t ever deserve a break to allow myself to be human and make mistakes. I’m just feeling so miserable right now that I can’t shake myself out of it and the most familiar way I know to respond is by hating on myself and blaming myself for being miserable – pretty vicious cycle. Somehow, I’m sure whatever has gone wrong lately, is totally my fault.

I know my parents read this and they like it when I end with a positive thought for the day, but I’m completely devoid of any positive thoughts right now. Right now I feel like I’ve wasted my life and now am just wasting the lives of those around me. I’m not sure if I should really post this, but I needed to write it at least. 

A friend of mine has suggested I try going through a DBT workbook. I’ve taken a quick look at it and of course my first thoughts are…”I’m not worth spending $16 on to get this book. Besides I probably won’t even use it since I hate journaling anyway. Besides, if it’s such a great treatment method, why hasn’t it been brought up to me in all the years I’ve been in therapy?”

Now I’ve taken a look at the first couple pages and already I see that it possibly could address some of the issues I’m having, so while I still don’t think I’ll do the work I need to to help get myself healthier, maybe it could be worth getting.

Ok – I guess my positive thought is that I’m thankful Avigail told me about the workbook because I feel a slight glimmer of hope that I can control some of the insanity that I feel in my head (and body). While I didn’t really discuss the situation that has provoked all this, I am able to finish this blog feeling a little better.

Doritos and M&Ms

This is not the combination that I had been wanting to re-enter my life. I thought I had given it up once I had my surgery. Unfortunately, for the last 2 days at work, I have gone to the basement of the building at work where the vending machines lay in wait, and succumbed to the temptations of sweet and salty. Needless to say, I took the elevator both ways.

I’m embarrassed of my indiscretions and I become hyper-vigiliant to see who is around me to judge me.  At one point in my life someone offered the motivation of “if you’d be embarrassed to eat whatever you have in front of a colleague, then you probably shouldn’t eat it.” With that thought running through my head, there’s no doubt that I should not be shoveling in the cheesy, salty yumminess washed down with candy coated chocolate. Come to think of it, there’s very little that I wouldn’t be embarrassed to eat except maybe a salad with no dressing preceded by a tall glass of water.

I feel like my anxiety level has sky-rocketted lately and while I know there are some good reasons, I feel like I should have enough tools in my weight-loss tool belt to prevent running to food as my relaxant.  Yet, I can’t seem to think of anything. I have a little note next to my desk that says “Do I want to be happy and healthy or do I want that piece of food in my mouth?” I seems to only look at it after the food is chewed and swallowed, reminiscent of a dog who’s chewing on his owner’s favorite shoe, which he knows he’s not supposed to, so he keeps his head down to prevent making eye contact. If I can’t see the paper, then it must not be able to see me and judge me.

Wow! How crazy does that sound – a piece of paper judging me? What are my assumptions here? I suppose it’s not that difficult to get to – I think I assume that I will judge myself negatively if I choose a piece of food over my own health and happiness. The problem is though, I’m judging myself negatively anyway. I can get rid of the paper and will still judge myself unfavorably. So how do I stop judging myself? How can I – wouldn’t that mean that I accept, and am ok with, the thing that I am doing wrong? The question I guess is, if I were to accept my actions as OK, would I feel a sense of relief that would mitigate the anxiety and ease me off the Dorito and chocolate ledge?

Acceptance….I think that’s going to have to be my focus for a while. I need to understand how one can accept the flawed self and not worry that s/he will become complacent from the acceptance.

But I promised

I really really want to go to bed but I promised myself that I would write something tonight. We had a long day – we went car shopping after work and we actually bought something! We haven’t taken it off the lot yet because then we would truly own it and it takes us a few days to feel comfortable with that idea, but it’s pretty exciting. I was feeling really great about the purchase and thinking that we got this amazing deal and now I’m starting to question whether it was great or not. I always have a bad case of buyer’s remorse. And of course, Ben is worried about the price so I feel guilty on top. Should I go for something that I like that falls well within our budget or should I get the vehicle that I love that may stretch our budget but I feel completely safe and happy in it? My logical brain says that I should be more budget conscious but I just didn’t “feel” the other vehicles like I did the one we ended up purchasing. I still may have bought into some of the hype so now I’m going to have to think about it and revisit the vehicle tomorrow with fresh eyes.

With that, I’m going to try to get some sleep. Poor Shoshana has been shuffled about so much today I’m hoping that she will sleep in a bit tomorrow. We’ll see. Thank goodness the weekend is here.

Tired

I’m beyond ridiculously tired but I promised myself that I would get back to blogging because I know that it helps me.  So I’m actually typing most of this with my eyes closed and just letting my fingers do the work. If there are more typos than normal, that is why. 

My brother Lee’s family came in town on Saturday and we had planned to meet with them today. I don’t know if  our communications got mixed up but unfortunately, I was not prepared with the activities for the day until about 10pm last night. We had a great time though today. Lee was not a part of the activities because he was participating in some work event and wanted to leave as soon as he was finished. Ben and I got to say hello/goodbye to Lee when he came to pick up Dawn, Max, and Ben. Shoshana was passed out from the busy day. We met for a late breakfast/early lunch at Sarabeths in Manhattan, went to Dylan’s candy shop, and then went to the Central Park Zoo. 

***That was as far as I got last night. I actually fell asleep as I was reading it to make sure it made sense!

It was a lot of walking and Shoshana didn’t seem to want to walk by herself very much or sit in her stroller so Ben and I passed her back and forth between the two of us most of the day. My back is a little sore – actually, my back must have been hurting pretty badly because I was having a lot of dreams last night about trying to have a deep tissue massage or PT on my back to make if feel better!

Today was a rough day. I’m such a stress eater. I think between being pretty tired still this morning and just feeling a bit unappreciated, I ate way more than I should have. I had bought myself some Cocoa Puffs cereal thinking it would be the little hit of chocolate that I’ve been craving but about 3 cups later it was more like an anvil on my head than the hit I was going for. I just am NOT able to stop once I start.

Tonight, we met up with some of Ben’s college friends for dinner. Elliot’s been on a vegan kick for the past 6 months. He looks great and apparently is feeling really good too. We talked a little bit about it. He said he’s not only vegan but he’s also careful to eat low-glycemic index carbs as well. I asked him about the protein intake and he said that he feels he probably gets more protein in now with the legumes, quinoa, and vegetables then he ever did before. I have the sense that if I tried this I’d feel better but it’s so dramatically different than the way we eat now (aka “see-food” diet). I’m also not sure that it’s such a healthy option for Shoshana. And since Ben is such a grazer, I don’t know if it would be a good choice for him either. Plus we are all addicted to dairy – I don’t know what Shoshi would do without her milk, yogurt, and cottage cheese. Those are main staples in her diet along with eggs.

I just don’t think I can do it on my own and I’m not sure if I can rely on Ben to help me. I know he says he’d be willing to try it, but that means that I’d have to read up on it, clearly lay out what is ok or not ok to eat, empty out the cabinets of stuff we shouldn’t have, and make meals for us on an almost nightly basis. “Doing it with me” is different then helping me and I’m not sure that I’m able to do it all on my own. 

In any case, I definitely need to re-evaluate my mornings and how I can respond to them better. Eating at my desk should not be the way I start my day but lately it seems to best way to keep me from doing something stupid.

I think I’ve ranted enough and I’m pretty tired, so I’m going to quit for now. I am promising myself that I will blog again tomorrow – because I’m worth it.

Pity party

I’m throwing a little pity party for myself right now. It’s getting worse by the minute. It started after work when Ben and Shoshana picked me up. We had a bit of time to spare before meeting Bubbie Janice so we went to Target to get a new Diaper Genie. (I broke the previous one – they’re pretty poorly made but they are practically indispensable!)

While we were at Target I took a few minutes to look through the clothing. Sadly I’ve been back in Plus sized clothes since the end of my pregnancy (in 2011, sigh) but sometimes I can fit the XXL stuff. I didn’t try anything on though – didn’t look like anything would fit me if I thought it was cute and the stuff that would fit was too expensive. That’s right. Target was too expensive for me to try on clothes that might have fit. So my pity party started there because I was A) FAT and B) POOR. 

We left Target and headed to my mother-in-law’s house. She had told Ben we were meeting at 5:30 but it wasn’t until about 6:15 that she finally showed up. Shoshana and I were both hungry at 5:30 so we had some cottage cheese and I tried hard not to munch on other stuff. I was mildly successful, but not really.

Finally we were all together and ended up going to the local Italian restaurant. I felt guilty about ordering fish because it’s one of the more expensive items so instead I shared eggplant parm with Ben and mac and cheese with Shoshi. It didn’t make me feel good. It didn’t satiate me – I kept picking at the pasta even after I was full. Which made me dislike myself even more.

On the drive home I began thinking about the diagnosis of fibromyalgia and the pain I still have in my right foot. I feel so frustrated by my lack of being able to go for a walk. I always feel better when I get into a walking routine. But now, when I walk for any extended period of time my foot starts to hurt and doesn’t stop for a couple of days.

Yesterday, I went for a follow up visit with my neurologist (I had been having bad headaches on a regular basis) and discussed the diagnosis of fibromyalgia with him. He asked what medication the doctor recommended and I told him that right now we were just upping the Prozac and hoping it helps. He asked why I wasn’t just changing my medication to something that would treat both the pain and the depression. I just reiterated the excuse I’ve been giving – because I’m nursing and my psychiatrist doesn’t recommend that type of change at this time.

But as I was sitting in the car on the ride home, hating on myself, having my pity party, I began wondering if I’m just being stupid. After a few weeks of extreme unpleasantness, I may feel significantly better. To be honest though I’m totally freaked about going through the medication change, dealing with the associated depression, added with having to stop nursing Shoshana and dealing with her frustration and anger.

I feel a little better now that I’ve written this but I’m still confused how to proceed. Logically, I know I should change medicine and stop breastfeeding. But emotionally, I’m not ready. Physically I’m ready to have less pain. But emotionally, I don’t believe my pain is really caused by fibromyalgia and I don’t think it will get better.

I suppose I’m thankful that the decision doesn’t have to be made immediately or without support from family and doctors. I know that I will be led down the right path, I just need to be willing to follow. 

Sabotage

It’s funny. The title for this blog was almost in All caps – somehow I hit the caps lock button before typing it and surprised myself with the “intensity” of the title! Thought it’s better to leave it a little less severe.

I realize I’m sabotaging myself by not writing every day. But it’s so not something that I enjoy doing all the time. And I was hoping I would get into the habit of it and feel compelled to write. I’m not compelled. I’m more interested in just typing something and going to bed than spending much time thinking about how I sabotage myself.

That being said, tomorrow I want to type a blog about sabotage and chocolate chip pancakes. Until then, I’m hoping I get a goo night’s sleep.