Christ, do I have a lot of bullshit to ramble about.
I've been jotting notes and blurbs here and there for the last couple days to remind myself to blog, but actually sitting down to do it was a whole 'nother story.
First things first, I guess: I'm ok. I've been in the program for four days, and I think it's helping. I'm learning a lot of things that logically, I already knew, but seeing it on paper, hearing someone else point it out to me, and discussing is, makes all the difference.
One of the things I learned is that, apparently, I still think I'm cool.
I think one of the prevalent themes of this blog is that I. Am. Not. Cool. This is something I am consistently reminded of, and I know even if I tried to paint it otherwise, all you smart and beautiful people would see right through it.
It's for this reason that I found myself surprised when, in group self-esteem therapy, I internally mocked the overwhelming corniness of the exercises.
"Dude, writing down the good things about yourself is not going to convince anyone, least of all yourself. Besides, if you were all sunshine and rainbows and unicorn poop, what the fuck would you blog about?" This is what my internal dialogue sounds like.
The criticism is is snarkier and snappier when I catch myself actually agreeing and feeling good about the corny things I'm learning. Finally, though, I realized these self-esteem type exercises are so commonly found in intensive programs because, yo, asshole, they work.
I had to remind myself about seventy times this week that I'm not too cool for the cheese. Someone who has to admit that they can't manage their life, someone who has considered suicide more times than Sylvia Plath would care to count, is not too cool for a little corniness. Not if the corniness makes them feel better. Not if the cheesiness helps them cope with all this day to day bullshit.
And it is helping. It still feels a bit campy at times, but I'm ok with that.
In other news, the vomiting and dizziness and chronic ear pressure are a totally pleasant addition to my every day life. I'm seriously looking forward to the next three weeks that I can expect to feel like this. It's especially enjoyable when I feel so disconnected to my mind and body that I feel like I'm suddenly "waking up" while driving, only to find I'm halfway off the road and possibly very nearly in the backseat of a Camry. Truthfully, sometimes I think the process of getting used to this medicine makes me feel crazier than I did to begin with. I say things and don't remember what I said seconds later. I repeat myself constantly. I can't keep a train of thought in my head for longer than a fews seconds. (The readership of this blog just expelled a collective "No, really!? You're kidding.") I'll be glad when I'm leveled out.
In other, other news that does not involve My Crazy (unless you count where it came from) my mom came over tonight. I picked up her, and we went shopping for a gift for a baby shower we're attending tomorrow, and then we picked up some groceries and came back to my place. She cooked us dinner, and was pleasant and sane and relatively unfrazzled the whole time. She and I had a couple good conversations during the car rides, and it was the first time in a while that we've had an evening together that didn't end in someone (me) wanting to strangle and beat someone (her) else. Go us.
And now, with cold medicines and Crazy medicines taking their toll, it's time for me to stop this rambling, insane version of "Dear Diary" and head to bed. Good night, good luck, and God's speed to you all.
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