Recovery and growth, things that interest me, occasional deep-thoughts, and random poetry.
I’m compulsive at times. I have compulsive thoughts; I sometimes engage in compulsive actions. It’s a function of my anxiety and it’s been a problem for decades. The word “compulsive” echoes in my brain when I fall into the behaviour, not so much definitional or descriptive but accusatory and judgmental...
I’m planning on pulling the trigger on some big changes. I’m setting aside the fact that I’m currently depressed. Yes, it will make things more challenging but I’m never fully not depressed anymore, anyhow so waiting for that day is pointless. It’s always possible a change might push my mood up to a more elevated level and since it’s unlikely to make it worse, there’s no downside to giving it a go. I’ve read a few (hundred) books about making positive changes. Recent perusals include ones on quitting smoking, increasing longevity via diet and exercise, and improving wellness with day-to-day activities like music therapy. I’m chock-a-block full of information. So, I decided to put together a plan implementing the bits and pieces of advice, based on changes I want to make to things I do on a daily basis...
"I’ve been giving some thought to an issue that’s come up and I’ve come to a conclusion that startled me: I don’t think I like chocolate very much. This has kind of rocked my world..."
Why isn’t what I do “living a life”? Because I don’t consider it to be. I’m always vaguely apologetic when people ask “what do you do?” I shuffle and deflect and respond that I don’t do much, I kind of write, sort of, it’s nothing really. I dismiss how I spend my days and give the impression that writing isn’t really that important to me...
I’ve mostly quit smoking. Kind of. I’m trying. I read Allan Carr’s book “Easy Way for Women to Quit Smoking” last week. He’s quite the guru and the book is the bomb; this is the best I’ve ever felt about quitting, despite the fact that I’m still sneaking a puff or two every so often. And yes, I know that’s the road to ruin or at least the road to back to half a pack a day but for some reason or other, despite my change in attitude and despite the interesting things I learned about smoking, I just can’t bring myself to fully cut the cord, pull the trigger, break the connection. The good thing is that those puffs are starting to taste quite nasty...
I feel like a broken record a great deal of the time. A fat, annoying, repetitive broken record. The same problems keep circling around. Yes, I know I’m making progress and yes, I know I’m further on than I was but my god, sometimes my problems bore me...
I can’t see myself properly. It’s frustrating as hell. I distort what I see when I look at myself in mirrors and reflective surfaces. This is unfortunate; I look at my reflection a lot. I need to because when I haven’t seen myself in a while – and “a while” can mean anything from seconds to hours – the image in my head starts to distort. I no longer know what I look like. I lose any sense of my appearance. I start to feel strange, warped, and abnormal. In my head, my self-image becomes almost cubist. It’s a very strange thing. I need to see myself in a mirror to reassure myself that I’m not really a freak...
