Dish Triggers

After three days of little dish exposure and some semblance of a return to sanity…It was shattered. R called, asking me to pop by the shop tomorrow. Suddenly my anxiety sky rockets, my mood is tainted, and I am filled with dread. This, from doing a favor for a friend. Not scary, not something I haven’t done a hundred times…Just the anticipation of going out in the dish with its noise and traffic and people triggers me. Add to it my mom and sister are both sick thus contagious so I have to take Spook with him and that annoyed His Royal Assholiness.

On the plus side, I might get a pack of smokes out of it. On the sucky side, IT’S THE FUCKING DISH AND ITS DWELLERS.

I was doing so well. Now I don’t even feel like I can breathe, let alone write or enjoy the evening. It was always this way with jobs, too. That pending expectation, my trying to do battle with my own anxiety to meet those expectations and so often failing. The only time I could sleep, truly relax, sleep, and enjoy myself, was the night before my first day off. Then the second night would signal going back the following day and the anxiety would ramp up all over again. Some things never change, no matter how much you adapt your attitude. Triggers are triggers.

Makes me so mad how avoiding foods that cause you physical pain is viewed as smart yet avoiding situations that make you physically ill is considered some sort of bad coping mechanism.

It’s not 8:30 yet and already I am sweating over tomorrow’s dish adventure. Gotta get the spawn to sleep, get cryptified myself, so I can start the process of falling asleep three hours from now. Mind you, he didn’t tell me a specific time, probably lunch so I can fetch him food, but…The anxiety doesn’t care if it’s logical. Throw in an itchy ear and nose, which thanks to my mother and her idiotic superstitions convince me someone is talking bad about me and I am about to get a call or visit that is bad…

I was doing so well. And I want to be this super badass who doesn’t let it shake me. What I want to be and what I am are very different things. This “mindfulness” and forcing yourself to “buck up” pisses me off. If I could, I would. I want to be me again, and not for a couple of months a year when the meds decide to half ass work. I want to be so stable I see my shrink every six months. I want to be on the same combo that works regardless of my outer circumstances, my anxiety, my fiances…If I can perceive it all clearly and consistently, I can make it work. It doesn’t happen that way with my plethora of dysfunction.

I will just put one foot in front of the other and muddle through. Breathe again after tomorrow, I guess. Though every day I check my mailbox waiting for that response from the disability people is one more day I’ve lived in terror rather than actually being able to focus on my well being.

I can do this. I can do this. Maybe if I write it on a chalkboard a hundred times it will imprint. Though that shit never worked in school, I still chewed gum and talked to friends.

At least I bathed today and did the dishes. It’s not much but it’s something. I’m gonna keep telling myself that, too.

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2 Responses to “Dish Triggers”

  1. Every little step is a good step. Keep up the good fight!

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