Told You So

See? I didn't do it. That blogging every day thing. I mean, seriously. Every. Day. Does it count that I THINK about blogging every day? I do, I swear! There is at least one moment every day when I think to myself, "Oh, right. Blog that." And then I actually write a few lines in my head. Because I'm just that much of a nerd. The problem comes in where I try to get that stuff from my head to my fingers at such a time and place when I a) have a computer in front of me with time to type and b) remember what was so great that I wanted to tell the Internet about it. Let me tell you, a and b? They don't cross paths too often.

But I did have a little flash of insight recently that I thought I'd share. Because I clearly have not yet publicly flogged myself and my neuroses enough...

Recently, I went out to eat with several of my co-workers when the conversation turned to discussion about a particular person, who I did not know. There was some venting going on. And then someone made a comment about this person taking Prozac. And there were some comments like, "That explains things." or "Well, I guess I'd better be nicer to her so she doesn't lose it on me." And I said nothing. I don't know this person. I have no idea how annoying she might be to deal with. And I obviously know nothing about her health issues. However, it finally occurred to me (in a big light bulb DUH moment) that the reason I was not and am still not entirely comfortable with my current prescription is that I make judgements about people who need to take medicine for depression. And clearly I'm not alone. I would feel pretty terrible if some of the people I work with thought about me the things they think about this other person, simply because they were to find out that I take Zoloft. A better version of myself would have said something to them. I would have defended this unknown person, at least from the perspective of her mental health, and explained that it is not her fault. It's a chemical issue. It is medically necessary and does not mean she is weak. But I didn't.

Because I don't believe that, either. I need to get off of this drug or come out of the depression closet and start getting over the stigma I've attached to myself. And I need to quit being a hypocritical jerk, even if I'm only doing that in my head.

F.I.N.E.

Today was my first session with a counselor. I have to say, I kind of hated it. Yes, I am the one who called and made the appointment. I felt like it was time for me to go. But yesterday, I decided I was crazy for making the appointment. And thinking you are crazy is usually what leads people to go to see a counselor. So that was a bit of a dilemma. Can we all scream together now?

So I went. And it was fine. Just. Fine. Except I really hate telling other people about my weird issues. You know, other than you, Internet. With you, I can comfortably hide behind my laptop screen. Ha ha, you can’t see me now!

Anyway, have I mentioned the best/worst part? My counselor’s name (and by the way, what exactly do I call this person? therapist? counselor? Dr. Feelgood? What’s the proper term?) is Steve Tyler. Seriously. Thankfully, he does not look like this:

Which is a good thing, because I’m already freaked out enough. Thankfully, he also did not sing “Dream On” or “Sweet Emotion” when I started to tell him my issues. Basically, I think I confused The Demon of Screamin’ about why I was even there. Clearly, I was not making my craziness apparent enough. I’ve been working at faking normal for a while now, so I might be getting pretty good at it. Or maybe I was subconsciously trying to deny or hide my craziness. He kept asking if there was something else. What had happened to cause me to come in now? Have there been any problems? Do I love my husband? (Yes, by the way). By the time we were finished, he had come just short of calling me a hypochondriac. He said I’m neurotic. But you know, I’m sure he meant it in the nicest possible way. And he does want me to come back. Woo hoo! I’m crazy enough for a 2nd date! With Steve Tyler! My lips feel so inadequate.

Seriously, I don't even need the little gold statue

I'm in training this week, and feeling a little in the shadow again. I have been living in someone's shadow for many years now. The creator of the shadow changes, but my place within it does not.

Most of the time I'm mostly okay with it. But sometimes I have to fight the feelings harder. When I'm feeling unliked, especially in comparison to another, it gets harder. Okay so maybe Steve is not wrong when he calls me competitive. Anyway, this is one of those times. Training. Stacy is just so good. And it's not that I think I'm not good. Okay, sometimes I do think that. But I try not to. But there is someone here who I think does think I'm not good. Especially in comparison to Stacy. Well, maybe that's natural. But it has become a situation in which I am nervous around this person, and worried I will say or do something to further confirm her beliefs about my abilities. LACK of abilities. And of course, being nervous and on edge and uncomfortable about saying or doing something stupid in front of someone is a sure-fire way to guarantee that I'll do exactly that. I have a severe case of foot-in-mouth disease when it comes to this person. I tend to have this disease quite often, actually. It is just much, MUCH, more severe around certain people.

I do not like that she does not like me. Maybe it's not even that she doesn't like me, but I think I annoy her. And I have come a long, long way in my paranoia about wanting people to like me. But mostly, my recovery works best with people who I don't like back. And I like Carol - oh, I mean, "this person."

I just want her to like me back and to think I'm smart, like Stacy. She doesn't have to think I'm AS smart as Stacy, just kind of smart. About anything. Or at least not as dumb and annoying as I think she thinks I am.

In truth, part of what causes my nervousness around her is that she reminds me of my mother-in-law. I'm not going to get in to details about my relationship with Dot here. She and I have come a long way. I enjoy spending time with her and I think she tolerates me most of the time. But I am often still worried that I am going to say or do something that will draw comment on my stupidity.

You know, truthfully, I think I do stupid stuff around most people. I do and say a lot of dumb things (so maybe I AM as dumb and annoying as Carol makes me think she thinks I am!!). The difference is that most people are kind enough or self-conscious enough themselves or maybe just too oblivious to comment on my stupidity. But some people - such as this person in training with me this week and my mother-in-law - have a way of always pointing out and commenting on the things I have just said and/or done that I know are stupid, but it's too late, they're already done. By commenting, I just feel more dumb than I already did, and am suddenly embarrassed and more likely to continue the stupidity by trying to talk myself out of the stupidity. Boy, is THAT a dumb idea!

I just want to feel like Sally Field when she won her Oscar - affirmed that everyone in the entire world loves her and thinks she is brilliant. Every. One. Is that really so much to ask?

There's a reason why people hate Mondays

After realizing that I was becoming a catty junior high Heather/Mean Girl, I made a Lenten commitment to make less fun of others and more of myself. Weeelllll...have I got a story for you! I should warn you, those of you without children, who are less exposed to various disgusting bodily functions and fluids as a part of your everyday routine - you may want to stop reading right now. Seriously. I've got some new pics over at Flickr. You could go look at those instead.

Today started out fine. It's a gorgeous day in central Indiana - 74 degrees and sunny. I got up on time. Did my push-ups and crunches. Yes! No, darn! The scale gave me the bad news that I now weigh more than I did at the beginning of the year...sigh. But okay. Game is on and I am re-focused! Rah! We got to day care at the right time so I would make it to my meeting on time. Woo hoo! Uh-oh! I forgot today was Spring Picture Day. And of course, my children are not only not dressed like the little cutie pies they are, they certainly are not color-coordinated with each other for their nice sibling shot...sigh. But...okay. We'll make due. And we'll plan on making an appointment with our nearest Sears/JCPenney's for some REAL portraits. You know, since I don't have my rock star paparazzi camera yet.

Morning meeting was fine (I was almost on time). Work was fine. Lunch was fine. I had a salad and some leftover Sausage Skillet Sensation (with broccoli this time - yum!). Healthy! We even walked! Hoo rah!! Life is good. Game on! I am having a generally good day! And it's Monday! And I'm already considering what healthy dish I can prepare for dinner. Maybe we'll grill! Outside! And walk! Yes! Oh, what's this? A little twingle in my belly? Why, I think I'll walk myself to the restroom and...uh, wait.

Ummm....what just happened? I didn't just do what I think I might have just done, did I?! Oh. My. GAWD. I had an accident. Of the number two variety. In my pants. At work. HOW DOES THIS HAPPEN?! I don't feel sick. Well, okay, I kinda feel sick NOW, but that's probably more a result of being absolutely disgusted with my own body. Okay, this can't be salvaged. I have to leave. Immediately. Crap. LITERALLY. Going commando for the rest of the day is not an option. For one, eww. For two, I also have other issues which prevent me from leaving an unprotected barrier between me and my pants. For three, EWW! And OMG, what if it happens AGAIN?! Because now my stomach is not feeling quite right at all.

Okay. Stay calm. Breathe. Clean things up as best you can (and, yes, now we are going to talk to ourselves in third plural person - it distances us from what is going on. Because EWW!). Wait for the other people to leave the bathroom. Let's stay anonymous. Okay. Remember, calm. Don't raise suspicion. Back to our desk. Must tell Stacy. She's on a conference call. Good - because we don't really want to explain this in person. Will send e-mail. Very vague e-mail. Maybe we can come back after we change. We're not sick. Right? Just what? Not potty trained? Don't think about it now. Type e-mail standing up. Because. EWW! Out the door. Okay. Calm. Don't freak. Oh, driving. Requires sitting. Okay. Brace yourself wth your thighs. Limited contact between seat and pants. You can do this. Drive very quickly. Seriously, if we get pulled over, there's no way we're getting a ticket. Drive 90. Because. EWW! Home. Van in garage. Driveway close enough. Run. Not THE runs...we've apparently already done that (EWW!).

Whew. Clean. Still disgusted. Stomach gurggly. We'll wait ten minutes and see if we're going to be okay. Oh! Not okay. NOT OKAY. Staying home. Thank God for wireless and a laptop.