I should be sleeping
I should be sound asleep right now. I should have been about 2 hours ago. I was (still am) exhausted, physically and emotionally. It's been a long week with a lot of things going on between work, home, and in my head. For the most part, I have done well balancing it all. There have been some moments, and still I did well with it. Then earlier tonight it started getting questionable.
I made it through the panic attack from hell in Walgreen's. I used my resources and my plan. I got settled down, I was safe. Actually, I never let it get to a place where I was not safe or a danger to myself - whoo hoo, super big kudos. Even more exhausted, I made it home with no issues, did a few things, then off to bed.
It is 1:15 am. I am eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Seeing that my stomach has been growling for the past hour, I do not feel guilty about it.
I tried to go to sleep. There are times when I am so tired, I can't fall asleep. That was generally cured with a handful of something that would knock me out. It's been that long since I have been in this area of the spiral. No handfuls of anything now, even though that bottle of Benedryl is looking mighty tempting.
I laid in bed working on a nice calm mind, then something happened - I started thinking. Thinking about the simple concepts of what you feel may not be what is actually real. Playing the "that was then, this is now" head game. Listening to the negative comments run wild. The comments that tell me that I am struggling with finding peace with the hospital stuff because that is how it is supposed to be. I'm not supposed to find peace with it, as letting go of any part of it would be not taking responsibility for my actions. And on and on and on.
I generally find myself laying there telling myself to shut up, shut up, shut up. I know, not very nice, yet sometimes you have to speak to the darkness in a manner it can understand. It didn't shut up. I tried to distract myself yet all that did was get me angry which only fueled the negative thoughts.
I wish I could say I rolled over, covered my head with a pillow and fell asleep. No, I backhanded the wall....a few times. It hurt, I didn't care. I hit it again. The negative thoughts being louder and louder, "you suck" and "you deserve this" and "that will teach you" playing over and over.
I got up, let Tess out. I walked back through the kitchen, taking a shot at the door casing - much harder than the wall. This was not the "doesn't hurt" hits. This was the hit as hard as you can, extreme pain shots. As my hand was swelling, each hit was more painful. "That will teach you" is what plays over and over in my head. I'm not even sure at this point what the lesson is that I am supposed to be learning, or what exactly it was that I did wrong. I have ideas though and if I would have just thought about things, I would have seen this coming.
Tess came back in and hopped on the couch. I went back to bed. So tired and so awake. I turn up the volume on my radio. Drown out the loudness. I send a text to Chris, for my actions envoke the 24 hour rule. I could say nothing to her, I don't see her until Tuesday. Better to be honest now than feel guilty on Tuesday. Besides, a part of me hopes she will yell at me or something. Tell me I am weak, tell me I screwed up. It won't happen. It won't ever happen. I'm looking for familiar reactions and yet no one will tell me I am a loser or worthless or a waste of time. Not sure what good or bad (yes, I used those words) it would do anyways. It would not snap me out of anything, only reinforce things that are not true. I would reply something to the effect of, "see, I have been telling you this all along." Instead, they just continue to love me, hold me, continue to tell me I am not the negative things I feel. It is still unfamiliar. One of these days, someone is going to yell at me, right?
I wonder why Tess won't come to bed. Just as I start to possibly relax, I smell the reason Tess hasn't come to bed. For a moment I think that my mind is just playing games. She was just out, she wouldn't have messed on the floor, but the smell didn't go away. I get up to investigate. I was correct. And of course it couldn't be a "couple of logs", no we have the "apparently your stomach was upset" mess to clean up. I clean it up the best I can and spray carpet cleaner on it and empty a can of room deodorizer. Been procrastinating pulling that carpet up, looks like I have my to-do list started for tomorrow.
In and out of the kitchen, I pop the door jam a couple more times. I don't think I hate myself at this point, just more disgusted with my inability to choose wiser. I'm mad. It's that "I don't know the details" kind of just being mad. I am simply, angry. Even after cleaning poo, my stomach was still growling. Screw it, I'm eating, who cares what time it is. I will have to put this on my food journal, this will be fun to explain.
I know I have to get calmed down a little bit or I am never going to get to sleep. What else can I do but write? Can't draw. For one, I don't know how to draw what I am feeling. Secondly, I don't think I could grasp the pencil at this point. I will continue to pay the price tomorrow when I wake up. My plans for the weekend will shift. What I want to do and what I will do will be vastly different. I'll ground myself from fishing for the weekend - maybe that will teach me.
It's rolling up on 2 am. I am so tired that I hurt (aside from my hand). I wish I still had my recliner, this would be the perfect night to crawl up in it as small as I could make myself. There is a small part of me that is really scared right now. Ok, maybe not so small, quite big actually. I guess I really am an abuser. There is a lovely thought to go to sleep on.
I made it through the panic attack from hell in Walgreen's. I used my resources and my plan. I got settled down, I was safe. Actually, I never let it get to a place where I was not safe or a danger to myself - whoo hoo, super big kudos. Even more exhausted, I made it home with no issues, did a few things, then off to bed.
It is 1:15 am. I am eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Seeing that my stomach has been growling for the past hour, I do not feel guilty about it.
I tried to go to sleep. There are times when I am so tired, I can't fall asleep. That was generally cured with a handful of something that would knock me out. It's been that long since I have been in this area of the spiral. No handfuls of anything now, even though that bottle of Benedryl is looking mighty tempting.
I laid in bed working on a nice calm mind, then something happened - I started thinking. Thinking about the simple concepts of what you feel may not be what is actually real. Playing the "that was then, this is now" head game. Listening to the negative comments run wild. The comments that tell me that I am struggling with finding peace with the hospital stuff because that is how it is supposed to be. I'm not supposed to find peace with it, as letting go of any part of it would be not taking responsibility for my actions. And on and on and on.
I generally find myself laying there telling myself to shut up, shut up, shut up. I know, not very nice, yet sometimes you have to speak to the darkness in a manner it can understand. It didn't shut up. I tried to distract myself yet all that did was get me angry which only fueled the negative thoughts.
I wish I could say I rolled over, covered my head with a pillow and fell asleep. No, I backhanded the wall....a few times. It hurt, I didn't care. I hit it again. The negative thoughts being louder and louder, "you suck" and "you deserve this" and "that will teach you" playing over and over.
I got up, let Tess out. I walked back through the kitchen, taking a shot at the door casing - much harder than the wall. This was not the "doesn't hurt" hits. This was the hit as hard as you can, extreme pain shots. As my hand was swelling, each hit was more painful. "That will teach you" is what plays over and over in my head. I'm not even sure at this point what the lesson is that I am supposed to be learning, or what exactly it was that I did wrong. I have ideas though and if I would have just thought about things, I would have seen this coming.
Tess came back in and hopped on the couch. I went back to bed. So tired and so awake. I turn up the volume on my radio. Drown out the loudness. I send a text to Chris, for my actions envoke the 24 hour rule. I could say nothing to her, I don't see her until Tuesday. Better to be honest now than feel guilty on Tuesday. Besides, a part of me hopes she will yell at me or something. Tell me I am weak, tell me I screwed up. It won't happen. It won't ever happen. I'm looking for familiar reactions and yet no one will tell me I am a loser or worthless or a waste of time. Not sure what good or bad (yes, I used those words) it would do anyways. It would not snap me out of anything, only reinforce things that are not true. I would reply something to the effect of, "see, I have been telling you this all along." Instead, they just continue to love me, hold me, continue to tell me I am not the negative things I feel. It is still unfamiliar. One of these days, someone is going to yell at me, right?
I wonder why Tess won't come to bed. Just as I start to possibly relax, I smell the reason Tess hasn't come to bed. For a moment I think that my mind is just playing games. She was just out, she wouldn't have messed on the floor, but the smell didn't go away. I get up to investigate. I was correct. And of course it couldn't be a "couple of logs", no we have the "apparently your stomach was upset" mess to clean up. I clean it up the best I can and spray carpet cleaner on it and empty a can of room deodorizer. Been procrastinating pulling that carpet up, looks like I have my to-do list started for tomorrow.
In and out of the kitchen, I pop the door jam a couple more times. I don't think I hate myself at this point, just more disgusted with my inability to choose wiser. I'm mad. It's that "I don't know the details" kind of just being mad. I am simply, angry. Even after cleaning poo, my stomach was still growling. Screw it, I'm eating, who cares what time it is. I will have to put this on my food journal, this will be fun to explain.
I know I have to get calmed down a little bit or I am never going to get to sleep. What else can I do but write? Can't draw. For one, I don't know how to draw what I am feeling. Secondly, I don't think I could grasp the pencil at this point. I will continue to pay the price tomorrow when I wake up. My plans for the weekend will shift. What I want to do and what I will do will be vastly different. I'll ground myself from fishing for the weekend - maybe that will teach me.
It's rolling up on 2 am. I am so tired that I hurt (aside from my hand). I wish I still had my recliner, this would be the perfect night to crawl up in it as small as I could make myself. There is a small part of me that is really scared right now. Ok, maybe not so small, quite big actually. I guess I really am an abuser. There is a lovely thought to go to sleep on.