2012-11-02

In the tub and still in the doghouse

Well, so I am in the tub. It's good thing, because either there was wiping fail or leakage because I was smelling like shit.

Tomorrow the official colon cleansing commences. Liquids only, cream-of soups and yogurt included, with lots of laxatives on the side, and the Sunday clear liquids only, juice, bouillon and more laxatives.

Everything's falling apart. I want to feel OK again. Normal, capable, and I can hear you say, will probably hear my doc say this afternoon, "just do it, come on, apply the ass to the seat and get it done."

I can't give you a straight answer as to why it isn't happening. Whenever I approach something with the intent to do it, all these other things pop up and suddenly I have a prioritization problem and I freeze. I can't decide what's more important. Just writing this brings up things to do at work and I am getting a bit out of breath, and then some personal finance stuff that I've been ignoring, and people that I've been avoiding, and...

I have a hard time feeding the cats. One needs meds every meal. As the feeding time comes around anxiety mounts, if I don't feed them and if I don't pill the sick one I'll make them sick or kill them, so I tell myself I'll do it in a moment and then I try to do something that will defuse the anxiety and fear and guilt. Eventually I drag myself to the kitchen and feed them. Sometimes I skip the meds.

I work the same way with everything else. I get anxious, so I digress and then either I get it done or it gets worse. Right now, everything's getting worse because I can't get by the anxiety, it comes back as soon as the episode of whatever ends.

When I get out of the shower, i'll make coffee and then a list of stuff to do, then I'll work through the list. Yes, my heart is racing, but hey, I can do it, right?

I didn't make it to my doc yesterday. I haven't made it to a whole lot of things lately. But the appointment's been rescheduled for this afternoon. So. Someone to talk to.

And also:

Doghouse sounds so playful, doesn't it? Like there is a certainty things will end well, it doesn't reflect the deep hopelessness I feel.

I miss Frank. I said all those things, and some weren't nice, and some of them suggested that I blame him. But I didn't shut down, I didn't suggest it's my way or the highway. I didn't say, it's all your fault.

I have tried this line of reasoning before, and just because I couldn't convince myself then doesn't mean it's no true: if it's so easy for him to drop me, if our, kind of longstanding, friendship isn't worth reaching out and trying for, then I am better off without him.

Maybe. I guess. Who'll fix it if I won't?

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