God Doesn’t Give You What You Can’t Handle

I don’t know if it’s just me, but when something starts with “God,” I tend to think it’s from the Bible. Like , “God helps those who help themselves.” It’s not. So where does this gem come from and why do we keep saying it?

I’m sure I’ve said this 100 times before myself, but right now in my grief, it does not give me comfort. Because I don’t think any of it is actually true.

I think some things are just consequences of our own doing or the actions/decisions of others. So while I may be going through a massive loss I don’t think it was something that was given to me. My feelings/life/reaction are merely an externality to someone else’s story. I am a by stander.

Secondly, I can’t handle this. Now I know you’re not suppose to admit that you can’t handle something because it makes people uncomfortable that you might be unpredictable. I assure you I am in my right mind, but I am not okay with any of this and that is just how it’s going to be for awhile.

Last Saturday I spent an hour looking at Sharon’s Facebook and ugly crying my eyes out. #friendship goals. Then I thought about my kids and Josh and my friends and all the things I love and I really didn’t help me feel any better. And I had this thought – the beautiful parts of your life can’t fix what’s broken. Then a couple days later I thought, but that doesn’t make them less valid.

I feel like there’s this idea that you can put a band aid on these emotional wounds.  And that is a LOT to ask of your regular life. If it can, great, but if the pain is just too much or needs to heal on its own, that has to be validated.

I feel like it’s dangerous to think that positive thinking will make this okay. Again, if that works, super. But you can still be positive and miserable. Who knew! You can hold two opposing thoughts in your head. The brain is pretty clever like that.

A couple weeks ago I got this really gnarly rash on my arm. I have no idea where it came from. It was blotchy and itchy and I legit thought my arm was going to maimed from scarring. But the key was not to scratch it. Sure enough it cleared up with no scars. What I learned : 1.) even though I felt like I looked horrible, nobody noticed 2.) by taking care of myself there wasn’t any damage. I really just wanted to run a brillo pad over it but resisting that urge preserved my skin

I know it’s totally a trite analogy but that’s how I feel about being in this depression. Okay, I am telling people about, but writing is healthy for me (per the last blog) and my whole goal is to preserve what I love about myself and my life even though I feel empty and run down sometimes.

“This too shall pass. ”

Now that’s comforting,

 

 

Advertisements

The Soft Addiction Solution – Book Review

Soft addictions are such an interesting concept to me for two reasons:

1.) They are generally socially acceptable

2.) They are insidious

I took a lot a notes when I read this book and it gives you a lot to think about between readings. The two main ideas are to challenge your thinking before giving in to a soft addiction and to make a decision about how you want to live and be called the One Decision. My One Decision was that I am Awake. I Am Engaged. No more zoning out. The reason I picked up this book was to help me curb my seemingly endless habit of snacking at work and just to have a better food relationship in general.

Couple things I realized:

1.) I have a lot of performance anxiety at work.

2.) I am addicted to self help books.

When I decided to be Awake and Engaged I realized that my urge to walk to the break room and grab a snack always happened when I was uncomfortable about something at work. And theses are not major things so they tend to happen a lot. So rather than delaying the task I just dived right in. The outcome would be exactly the same without a bowl of pretzels, cheese puffs or dark chocolate covered cashews in my mouth. I also realized I was telling myself some pretty tall tales about my work performance after I got a really good review and was completely shocked and thought my boss was lying. There is a general train of thought in my head called the Anxiety Express. The stops are You are Dumb, You are Letting Everyone Down, Whatever You are Doing Right Now is Wrong. It’s completely absurd and my general response if is pretty much “If I was screwing it up that baldy someone would say something.”

I felt bad about my self help book addiction when I didn’t actually finish reading ANY of them. Even this one, I still have 77 pages. What a loser! Like you are so broken you can’t even finish a book about it! But I realized a couple years ago, I’m not broken and only just recently figured out that I am unfulfilled.

Huge difference. I think I can survive being broken and still be whole. But being unfulfilled leaves a hole that gets filled with something rarely beneficial. For me it’s been relationships, alcohol and food. Then I buy books to figure out why I feel so crappy. Why do I carry all this excess weight from stuffing down my feelings? So many unread diet books.

See, what I really like to do is write. That makes me happy. Not writing makes me freakin miserable. Hence the self help books. Well, not anymore. Because now, I read for fun and learning not because I am broken and most importantly, I write because I have to. And even if it sucks, that’s okay.

So even though I didn’t ready every page I still got a lot out of this book. I would say it’s given me great tools to make better decisions that will be impactful for the long run.

 

 

200 Crappy Words Per Day

I really need to write more. Like way more. I have all these blog post ideas and well, no blogs!

I decided today that I am going to write a novel about a woman whose friend has died. Like, where did I even get that super original idea, right?

Because, I want to talk about it. And I’m not sure that anyone else does, or really if I even know how to with other people. There is just so much I have to say, or think I do anyway.

So at 200 crappy words per day, I will be done in 375 days at 75,000 words. August 20th, 2018.

Of course I have no idea how to actually write a novel but I figure I can learn as I go.

I currently have a protagonist, Sydney. Sydney’s goal is to not lose her shit and all things are impeding that goal. Again, this is completely made up, haha, I will have to create some kind of actual arch nemesis for conflict and drama. There will be a road trip in there somewhere. I’m thinking North Carolina, maybe to Norfolk Virginia. Because, why not! If I’m going to be depressed and moody about things outside of my control I might as well be creative with it.

And no matter what is happening in my life, I always love a project. This will be project Write More Feel Less Crappy. WMFLC. Has a nice ring to it!

Okay, I’m off to get this story started. Only 374 days left!

 

 

 

 

Therapy!

My therapist says I am compliant, which sounds a little prisonerish to me, but she’s right. I love to be a good patient. I figure for all the schooling and student loans someone has to go through to listen to me talk about my problems, the least I can do is check out a book, read a depression article and write a blog. This is homework.

I went to therapy to talk about Sharon and my crushing sadness. I knew it would be productive but I couldn’t see how, so I just trust the process. But what has actually been troubling me is how hard it’s become (recently) to do stuff. Stuff that wasn’t hard for me before. Like going to the gym, eating well and going to church. I just felt maxed out from doing all the regular stuff, like work and family. I told her I just don’t enjoy the things I used to.

Which is like step one on every depression med commercial ever. Totally set myself up.

Sounds silly, but this was a complete shock to me and just reading a six page article made me realize how VERY little I understand about depression and my own mental health. Now of course today, I am reading all kinds of things related to the topic, but for me, the central idea is this:

I felt that it was impossible to cope with something I couldn’t name and wasn’t educated about. Now, I was a little bummed out yesterday, because, who wants to be depressed! But knowing WHAT it is, that I am not “broken” and understanding why I don’t feel like me is actually very empowering and oddly enough I actually feel better and WANT to move towards healthy coping mechanisms. Hopefully this can be the start of that.

No Excuses Mom Challenge 2 Update

I was stoked to be third place in the last challenge and was determined to kill this time around. Fast forward a couple months, and I’m like why didn’t I quit while I was ahead? Take the money and run! 

But I didn’t because even though it sucks sometimes, I like the external pressure and accountability. This stage is a real grind. Even though I’m  far from my goal, I haven’t been down at this weight for a whole, so my body and behaviors are like, woo we got some wiggle room, y’all!

Legit. I’m wearing shorts for the first time in three years. My legs are still hot, but they’re actually seeing the light of day. It’s a new era. 

So am I killing it this time around? Not. At. All. But I’m still in the game and staying accountable. I feel like I look decent and even need to buy new clothes in the “regular” section. Not sure I’ll ever be a single digit size in jeans/shorts/dresses but I got a size medium shirt. It was probably tagged wrong , but I’m not  complaining. 

We’ll see how the rest of the challenge goes. I think there’s six weeks left. My definite focus is on nutrition and being active. I’d like to get down to the 180’s. 6ish pounds to go! Not including my cheat meal tonight. Back on it tomorrow. 

Keep on keeping on!

❤ Christina

Like so many days, this morning I drive to work with a lump in my throat that will turn into a full blown sob before I get to the parking lot. My chest aches and I want to punch something. Scream. It’s absolute bull shit that we are not given more than we can handle. I cannot handle this. My heart is constantly breaking. I’m a thoughtful person. I have philosophised this to death, using science, logic, my faith. And sometimes I can get through it. But today, not so much. I am so Angry. About everything. And I just don’t know what to do with it. 

3 Reasons Why You Should Absolutely be the Middle Aged Mother Crying at a Jack Johnson Concert

.1) Nobody cares. Seriously. They’re all texting. Fucking lame. (And yes, I added that to my dictionary. #rebel)

2.) You don’t get out much. Seriously. Sometimes it seems like all your free time is meal planning and the gym. And yeah it feels good to let lose. So do so.

3.) Zombies don’t dance. These millennials dgaf. If your old khahki-clad ass wants to get down and throw out a hip. Go for it. These kids are too cool and they don’t care. Nobody is you-tubing you.

Here’s the thing; it’s no secret dealing with some heavy shit right now. But I’m telling you. This is a gift. Whether you’re at home, at a Jack Johnson concert, or at a party. If you could see this life they way I do now, but I hope you don’t, you will have a little tear, because it’s fucking beautiful.

Party On.
-Christina