"I put my headphones on and I feel just fine"

So, at the end of the week I realized that it was distinctly possible that I'd been crying at the drop of a hat and feeling ugly and unloved and overwhelmed because I had forgotten to take my celexa for three days. Or because it's November and I hate November. (fuck you, anniversary effect, fuck you so hard). And daylight savings destroys me every year, even though I don't think I care about it.

I've wanted to be home, I've wanted to dig my heels in and say no to everything. No to trying to diet, no to trying to get involved, no to going to my increasingly miserable job, no to going to the gym, no to errands, no to existing plans, no to walking the dog. And I've yet to place the line between self-care and being overly indulgent with myself.

I don't know where the hours go these days, I come home from work with the best of intentions. I'm working a part time job, the kitchen should always be spotless, the cat litter changed, the bills paid and the emails answered. But instead it's all reading and cross-stitch, and sometimes it's not even that. I know that I'm supposed to get back up on the horses I fall off of, but it's possible I was never even riding the horse in the first place.

I don't remember where the tiger-riding phrase comes from, but like many other damaging similes, I've seized upon it. It sucks to spend the constant energy staying on the tiger's back, but getting eaten by the tiger is worse.

Our trip to Northampton was awesome. We bought things, which happens every time we go, Light walks away with trunks-full of board games, I get used books and things from the artisans's gallery and then, even more awesomely got to spend and entire afternoon with Unexpected. I even ate food with chopsticks. And then there was the concert, Catie Curtis and Melissa Ferrick and Ani DiFranco. And now I've been reunited with our doggie, and discovered maple sugar tea.

"I put my headphones on and I feel just fine"

So, at the end of the week I realized that it was distinctly possible that I'd been crying at the drop of a hat and feeling ugly and unloved and overwhelmed because I had forgotten to take my celexa for three days. Or because it's November and I hate November. (fuck you, anniversary effect, fuck you so hard). And daylight savings destroys me every year, even though I don't think I care about it.

I've wanted to be home, I've wanted to dig my heels in and say no to everything. No to trying to diet, no to trying to get involved, no to going to my increasingly miserable job, no to going to the gym, no to errands, no to existing plans, no to walking the dog. And I've yet to place the line between self-care and being overly indulgent with myself.

I don't know where the hours go these days, I come home from work with the best of intentions. I'm working a part time job, the kitchen should always be spotless, the cat litter changed, the bills paid and the emails answered. But instead it's all reading and cross-stitch, and sometimes it's not even that. I know that I'm supposed to get back up on the horses I fall off of, but it's possible I was never even riding the horse in the first place.

I don't remember where the tiger-riding phrase comes from, but like many other damaging similes, I've seized upon it. It sucks to spend the constant energy staying on the tiger's back, but getting eaten by the tiger is worse.

Our trip to Northampton was awesome. We bought things, which happens every time we go, Light walks away with trunks-full of board games, I get used books and things from the artisans's gallery and then, even more awesomely got to spend and entire afternoon with Unexpected. I even ate food with chopsticks. And then there was the concert, Catie Curtis and Melissa Ferrick and Ani DiFranco. And now I've been reunited with our doggie, and discovered maple sugar tea.