me

Whine whine whine

That's me today.

People think they remember what it's like, but they don't. Only people with two little ones right now, and are by themselves with these two little ones, know.

Two people pulling on you, needing you, physically, emotionally tugging you and draining your energy.

A household of responsibilities. Your own desires. All whirling together in a perfect storm of chaos.

I'm okay... this is just my pressure valve.

Self Destructive

When I was 6 years old, my mother took me and my sisters to see The Nutcracker in Chicago. We were in the first row, mezzanine. They were really good seats. Before the show started, I sat there, willing myself to stay in my seat as I fantasized about hurling myself from the mezzanine onto the ground floor below.

I didn't want to die; I wasn't sure what I wanted to do. All I know is I had these urges that I had to fight to keep under control.

Even at that young age, I sabotaged myself in other ways. I kept my room and my desk at school unbearably messy. I hated it; it made me anxious, insecure and generally unhappy. Was I punishing myself? Why? I don't know the answer to these questions.

These are the earliest examples of feelings I still struggle with today. Just a couple weeks ago, while I was shopping by myself downtown and a freight train rumbled by in front of me as I waited to cross the tracks, I fought the compulsion to throw myself into the train. I don't know why. I'm not miserable, I don't want to die. yet here are the feelings.

Also, I deliberately ate chicken I knew to be undercooked. I still am awaiting the results of that. I remember thinking, "Good, I hope I get sick." Why?

Any progress I make is made by dragging myself kicking and screaming. I eat junk. I don't even allow myself to taste it; I just shove it down my throat. I'm punishing myself, but I don't know why.

I need to make another doctor's appointment.