Monday, June 17, 2013

Things Are Not Good Around Here, Still

It's sort of like this: say I owe a lot of money, to my student loans and my credit cards, and my car payments and phone bill are due.  I get out another credit card so I have the money to pay these things on time.  And then the payments on that card add up.  I say, "well, I can manage for a few weeks without a working phone, so I'll take the money I'd pay towards my phone bill and use that to pay the minimum on my credit cards, so they won't cut off my credit, and I can let my student loans pile up for a little while before they start hunting me down."  Except then something happens and I really do need my phone.  And then I start getting scheduled for fewer hours at work.  You can see where this is going.

Except it isn't money, it's spoons.  And, forgive me, because I know I'm using a metaphor that's meant to illustrate the difference between the lives of sick people and healthy, and I am healthy.  I have tons of spoons, comparatively.  But they are not unlimited.  And I've been stressed.  A lot.  And, without quite realizing it, I've been taking spoons from some places in my life and using them to get through other things.  My body, for instance.  I've been blocking out all thoughts or awareness of my body for weeks, because the resources I need to handle my eating disorder (and the injury which is all tied up in body issues) have all been allocated elsewhere.

Friday morning, one more thing happened, and I realized that I didn't have the spoons to tell my jerkbrain that my feelings of loneliness and failure were memories, that I didn't have to keep living through them every time I was reminded of them, and then I was fighting with my eyes over whether or not I'd spend the day crying in my office, and the next day I was going to need to have a body again, and I hadn't even started to pack, and I couldn't think of one thing in my life that didn't require resources I didn't have.  Nothing was just going to be okay without effort.  Even opening the fridge when I got home meant seeing the rhubarb that was going rubbery and would be really awesome if I could do something with it instead of letting it go to waste, except I hadn't been able to eat anything that didn't come out of a McDonald's bag in more than a week, but if I waited any longer it would be ruined.

A lot of the stress is from internal sources.  A lot of it is "something happened that wasn't really so terrible, but fucked me up Because Issues" kind of stuff.  And so when I tally the external stuff it just doesn't add up to what I'm feeling.  Which makes it hard to see an end in sight, because I can't track internal issues the way I can external ones.  Moving has a timeline.  When the move is over, it will no longer be a source of stress.  But this other stuff, it has no timeline. 

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