Spending time on the road alone gives me a lot of time to think. One might argue too much time but that’s beside the point.
I once listened to a Catholic speaker talk about spending time in the classroom of your mind, or something to that effect. His point, you should take time, to spend time within your own mind.
For me, this isn’t exactly the best place for me to commiserate in. Often, it’s dark, gloomy, and not the most pleasant of places. Still, I have a tendency to turn down the radio or shut off the television and just spend time to myself.
Right now I am sitting in a hotel room alone, for the third night in a row. Tomorrow, I will wake up and drive alone for six hours as I point my carriage north and ultimately home. Until then, I am alone. It’s not bad, mind you. I have the television on with the volume set to 8. I like it quiet.
Friends is on. I am not sure which episode.
Before this I was watching some show about rapid weight loss. The subject of the show decided to lose a lot of weight in 100 days. During the course of the show, she talked about how this 100-days turned out to be more about healing herself than about the weight loss. It hit me.
Until I learn how to fix me, I won't ever be truly happy.
See, at 41 I still suffer from depression. I thought I had it licked when I was in my mid-20s but I guess not. The last few months it’s been raging pretty good.
I also suffer from anxiety. A fact I think most people would doubt.
It’s true, though. I don’t deal well in social situations. I can do them, mind you, but it’s not my favorite. It’s this strange juxtaposition of wanting to do something while simultaneously being terrified. Typically, when I attend a large event, I feel overwhelmed. When it’s over I need to get away and be alone. It’s hard to explain, really. Even small social gatherings are difficult sometimes. I am sure my friends think I am a snob, but the truth is I just can’t sometimes.
I know, the solution most people suggest is to go see someone. Go talk to someone, get help, go on meds. It’s not that easy.
Yet, maybe it is. I don’t know.
I know I don’t like it. I don’t like how my head buzzes. I don’t like how my heart races. I don’t like how I don’t like myself.
I think that’s the worst part. I do not like myself. Please understand, I am not a bad person. I have been told time and time again that I have an impact on people’s lives. I don’t necessarily believe it, but that’s what I have been told. I don’t like myself because of the way I look, the thoughts I have and my inability to overcome.
I often wonder if I would see some of these issues subside if I lost weight. I can’t tell you if they would or not. It’s possible. I have heard some people claim it has helped them. But I suppose that is a whole different issue.
I am pretty sure I am a food addict. Not in the sneaking-around-with-bags-of-candy-eating-everything in site sense. But food does take precedence in my actions. I do not like going out to eat with people. When I go to a friend’s home, I do not like to eat there. In time, the discomfort subsides some, but never completely.
Looking this over I feel like I am doing a whole lot of complaining. Please understand, I just feel like putting this down may serve as a stepping stone.
Perhaps not.
No comments:
Post a Comment