Abusing Thyself

At the beginning of the book “10% Happier” by Dan Harris, he says that he wanted to entitle it “The Voice in my Head Is an Asshole.” I’m not sure if we share the same voice or if it’s just a coincidence.

As I finished my last life on Candy Crush, I listened to my husband microwaving pizza rolls downstairs. My heart sank and my mind gave me a thorough lashing. What the hell is wrong with me that I can’t even get up and fix him some semblance of dinner? I’m such a horrible wife. Here I am, off work, sitting on the couch not doing a damned thing to help my situation, and he’s having pizza rolls for dinner.

Then I started in with the usual “What do you have to be sad about?” “Why can’t you just get off your ass and do something, anything?!” And on and on, annnnnnd on.

For once in my life, I acknowledged this barrage of negative self-talk. I also realized that acknowledging it is totally different than changing it into positive self-talk. I still haven’t acquired the ability for fully developing that skill.

I will enthrall all of you with what I DID do today as some lame attempt of proving my worthiness as a human: I got out of bed. I bathed. I called my insurance company. I emailed, and successfully obtained permission to return my new gun and ammo for a full refund (not because it’s an issue with my current state of mind, but because it misfires, jams, and is generally a piece of crap). I picked up a free outfit that I ordered with reward dollars. I got my new stronger dosage of anti-depressants from the pharmacy (clearly needed at this point). I went to K-mart and used my points to get bottled water and canned tuna. I even scraped out $2.32 worth of change for a Dunkin’ Donuts iced coffee “to make myself feel better.” I should be saying “Go me!”

That’s a pretty successful day for someone who feels dead inside.

When I get to thinking about how poorly I’m doing in life, I have to remember that what has a hold of me is an illness. It’s not normal to beat myself up and feel worthless. This is a disease that causes people to voluntarily end their lives at a rate of one person every forty seconds.

After all the successfully completed tasks listed above, all I can think is that I didn’t get the right bottled water. I should have shelled out the $3 while at the pharmacy to get the right one instead of depending on K-mart to have it in stock. I have dread looming over me. Pages upon pages of paperwork need to be filled out for my insurance. I have fasting blood work the next two mornings. Then there’s the constant fear of not receiving any sort of pay in the near future. Homelessness probably wouldn’t help my situation.

The PCOS doesn’t help matters much. Depression and anxiety often accompany this lovely disorder. I mean, who with this condition can actually be happy with all of the things that go with it? It makes you feel like a freak of nature, some kind of side show in the circus. Oh yeah, and you love kids? NO KIDS FOR YOU!

This is my pity party for the night. I want to stop the thoughts. I want to dance and play, but I’m at the trough of the wavelength. The ups and downs are frequent and sometimes instantaneous. I can only hope that tomorrow I’m back at the crest and the frequency is low, that way I can ride the wave for a while.

I know I need to turn this pattern of thinking around to where it will benefit me. Some days, some moments, it just doesn’t seem possible. It really feels as if there is a chemical flowing through my body that is filled with sorrow, grief, and misery. It’s pumping through my heart, flowing through my extremities, filling each and every square inch of my being with self-hatred… and depression.

I guess I’ll close with a reminder that we’re all human. We all have struggles. Please reach out to one person right now who you know is struggling in some way and tell them you’re thinking of them.

Spread kindness instead of hate.

May tomorrow be a brighter, love filled day.

Namaste