And it’s killing me. I know I should at least take one day off, but I’m so afraid that if I miss a day, I’ll never go back again. Dumb, because I live right by the gym and I know I’ll go back. But the thoughts keep swirling. At least my legs have stopped feeling weird, so that’s good.
Also doesn’t help that I’m two days overdue to meds and have to wait for the prescription. I mean, it’s not horrible, but I prefer continuity. Obviously.
Very funny.
Spent three days in Leeds for a conference. Faced my nightmare combination of hotel and nasty cold. Gave the paper and ran. Everyone was really understanding, but I hate being sick.
So glad I finally got back to the gym. I feel healed by control of my environment.
New obsession: working out everyday and drinking protein shakes. Helps keep the other stuff at bay. Gives me more control. I’ve got subtle muscle changes already.
First CBT appointment today. Talked about death, textures, and order. I didn’t mention the eating. It’s too soon to tell, but hopefully things will be OK. It’s 6-8 sessions, with one every two weeks. Hopefully, things will go smoothly. It should be better than the terrible Anxiety Group Therapy Sessions I had last year, where one of the moderators could not shut up to save her life.
Fingers crossed.
Slowly but surely coming to terms with the fact that I’m the child of hoarders, which has had a major effect on my OCD. Slowly but surely turning said hoarders into efficient people. The house, as it stands has two junk rooms (my and my brother’s old room), a very hoarder master bedroom which my parents somehow sleep in, and an dusty, moldy basement full of garbage. I get so impatient every time I come home.
For most of my childhood I was blamed for being sloppy and messy and scapegoated for a lot of problems with the house. When I left for college, I thought the clutter would improve because I wasn’t there, but it’s only gotten worse. My parents can talk a good game about organization but they can’t deliver. They blame each other but they’re really as bad as each other. There’s no system here. No wonder why they complain of asthma and allergies. This place is covered in dust.
Since I’ve been here I’ve been able to clear out some parts of the kitchen, living and dining rooms. I shouldn’t have to. I’m terrified of seeing what happens to this in their old age.
I need these for real life.
The glasses are NEVER clean enough. This sink water is so hard. It makes me feel inadequate.
I haven’t done a collage in ages. It might not be wise to introduce a craft knife back into my living space, but I trust myself not cut. Getting the paper just right is so calming.
