Simply

Just another manic Monday


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When I start to pace…

***I wrote this on December 11th, 2016. I’m going to post it as is, I won’t add to it.***

I keep pacing the floors of our house, repeating the same thing over and over and over again. I’m anxious, unfocused and can’t sit still. I’ve looked in our fridge over 10 times in the last 20 minutes. The contents don’t change, they stay the same. But my mind tells me that I haven’t done that yet and so I remember I’ve looked in the fridge as I’m standing looking into the fridge. 

Most times when I get like that I force myself to sit down and do mindless tasks. But even that seems like too much. I’ve closed and reopened the same app at least 20 times in the last 10 minutes. And now here I am going through my blog, reading old posts and remembering what was happening to me at this time last year or even the year before. 

I think I’ve done the November blog post a day the last couple of years. I signed up for it this year and because of where I was mentally and physically I just opted not to write on the blog. I spent countless hours writing but saving it on my phone, uploading it or writing it with pen and paper. It’s always interesting when I’m done writing to see how many pages of paper I’ve filled.


The last one I did was 19 pages front and back. It was me writing out how the last session with my counselor would go, what my responses would be and what I wanted to talk about. I can laugh about that now… it never goes as planned, as the way I have it written down and hoped it would go. 

When I got to my session, I looked at her and literally pulled out my stack of 19 pages and said this is the conversation I had with you last night. It went great and I think we figured out a lot… but things never go as planned do they?! And then we chuckled, me more because I was irritated that I was about to cry and I felt so incredibly bare. I.Love.Control. Anyway I can have it I take it. Especially when it comes to matters of the heart, of my past and the such. I need to be able to control that part of me. And she (meaning me) just doesn’t like to listen to reason. So I end up feeling small and alone and vulnerable. I don’t like that. 

Anyway…
Namaste my friends,

I