Fair Warning: I do gross things sometimes. I describe them here.
Three days ago, I decided my fingernails, which I had been growing and polishing for the last year, were too long. Now, where was that clipper? Nowhere? No problem. I have teeth. Reverting back to my childhood self, I bit them all off. Yeah, seriously. I have hands encased in 59-yr-old-liver-spotted-wrinkle-skin with 8-yr-old-bitten-to-nubs-fingernails. Pretty.
This, after the hair debacle of last week.
Also, I tried to cut back on some of my meds, like the pain ones. And the anti-depressant.
And, I tore ten pages out of my journal because I didn’t like them. But then I realized I should keep them so I got them out of the garbage and pasted them into an old journal. Yeah, I actually did this. It was hard because there was writing on both sides of the pages. So, I had to glue only one side, so it could be turned to see the backside, like the page of a book. Except not.
Being the over-think-ery kind of person I am, this all got me to think-er-ing. Could it be that something was underlying all this destruction?
So, I began to list some stuff that’s been happening over the last month…
- Oldest daughter health issue
- Son surgery/ complications
- $$ stuff
- Job stuff
- The whole Curvy thing
- My eyes
Huh. That’s interesting. Okay, let’s break this down.
- Health of my adult children: Everyone has health issues. Some, more than others. My kids? More than most. And it’s weird stuff. I won’t go into it here, except to say… I can do little-to-nothing about it. But I hate that they’re suffering. And it’s scary for them. And me. It’s normal to be concerned. NORMAL. But I’m so far away. Hello guilt and shame. Nice to see you. Not.
- $$ stuff: Everyone has money stuff. We have had our share. The particular issue I’m thinking of was not our doing but boy, do we pay. Nothing I say or do will change what it is. What it is? Necessary. I only work part-time. I can’t contribute like I should. Guilt and shame again. Awesome.
- Job stuff: Everyone has job stuff. It’s universal. Gotta make money. Working on lots of things to ultimately be able to work from home. But it takes time. Be patient. Ha! Me, patient. As if! By the way… how dare I try to make this blog fly, try to work from home and/or make this a viable business! Who do I think I am? Huffington Post? Ha. Haha. Not funny.
- Curvy thing. It was stressful, yes. When I got an email from them three days after it was over, it upset me, true. I had to contact them *again* to remove me from their list. I got a curt response, which also upset me. It’s upsetting. So what? Not gonna kill me. It’s done! Get over it. For crying out LOUD!
- My eyes. Well, this is a whole thing. Ugh. I went in for the original visit because it was time for new glasses. That was a month or so ago. I have been having blurry vision mostly in the mornings for months. She says it’s probably dry eyes but we need to check some things to be sure. She tells me to continue my lubricating tear drops. If it comes to a point of not working, let her know and she would prescribe something stronger.
- Addendum: I needed to come in for another visit to have my eyes dilated. Why? The other doctor I saw did a retinal scan. Isn’t that good enough? No, she wants to see inside my eyes. The appointment is made. As the day looms ever-closer, I am becoming a wreck. Thank you health anxiety and hypochondria. Will she see what I fear? Rips and tears in my retina or cornea? A tumor? Blocked or closed blood vessels? None of the above, it turns out. Dry eyes. Super-duper dry eyes, probably caused by my medication and also my weird body that just does weird shit for the hell of it. Sorry for the bad language. The whole friggin’ thing stresses me out. I also have cataracts. Not horrible yet, but there. Might be a factor.
So, in the midst of this stuff… I decide to chop off my hair… and nails, you know, with my teeth… make big decisions about my medication that I supposedly need to… you know, LIVE… and clean out my very personal, very important journal pages.
Purging. Hair, nails, meds and journals.
To purge, according to Google:
rid (someone) of an unwanted feeling, memory, or condition, typically giving a sense of cathartic release.
THERE IT IS: A sense of cathartic release. And man, it feels so good while you’re doing it.
I’m really surprised that I don’t do it with food. Seriously. And I have zero desire. God, the thought of barfing up food is enough to make me barf. And I won’t make jokes about it because it’s not in the least bit funny.
I just find it really interesting that I use it in every other facet of my life. And like purging food, it feels better once it’s done.
Thinner, smaller, less… yes. But at what cost?
My hair looks awful. My hands look awful (and they hurt). My head is swimming from the up-and-down of the meds. My journal looks like crap, cuz all those pages are torn out.
I purge when I’m anxious.
I need to remember this.
DO NOT make decisions when you’re in anxiety-mode. You might realize it’s anxiety-mode if you’re in the middle of a purge. Wait. I’ve lapsed into third-person. Ugh.
I meant me. You neither. There ya go!