In which an innocuous post about breakfast turns into something else entirely
I have hot chocolate made with soy milk in a mug that's as big as my face and homemade french bread in a kitchen that has christmas lights. Best breakfast ever, Y/Y? Only downside of the morning, I feel as though I have somehow strained a muscle under my boobs. I don't know how this would work, but whatever. Tylenol and light stretching should make that feel a bit better.
In more substantial news, I am trying to bully my way through this self-esteem book. Bully in that I am forcing myself to do it and read it. You know, instead of whining about like a 3 year old, I'm actually doing it no matter how hard it is. And it is hard. Really hard.
What led to the last three weeks' meltdown is tangentially related to the workbook.
You see, I'd been doing really well for a long bit there. I was feeling good about myself. I was cutting time off my mile. I was running better than I have since high school. I could go a week at work without feeling miserable and worthless (yeah, seems like a small deal, but it really isn't). I felt confident about my decisions at work and generally. My apartment was clean enough for me. Honestly, I was feeling better than I had been for a long time and I was relatively happy (aside from hating the town, but self-esteem can only do so much). Life wasn't perfect, and yeah, issues remained, but not feeling completely shitty about yourself helps a lot.
But being around my parents is like this sucking black hole of self-esteem. And I didn't realize it until I had some self-esteem to suck. Was I happier without self-esteem? No. Am I happier with it? Debatable, because now I know how bad things are, which doesn't really lead to being happy or content with ones choices.
While having some self-esteem is great, I don't have enough of it to ignore what my parents say. It becomes this horrible sinking feeling that every time I go home for some reason, I'm going to end up in a worse place than before. Perhaps it won't happen. Maybe I'll go home, have a grand old time, don't end up in nasty fights with my mother, and don't have another horrible realization like that no one ever listened when I talked about things I was interested in. Also, maybe it'll snow in hell this year.
So, for the first time ever, I am dreading Christmas and hoping I regain enough self-esteem to survive.
In more substantial news, I am trying to bully my way through this self-esteem book. Bully in that I am forcing myself to do it and read it. You know, instead of whining about like a 3 year old, I'm actually doing it no matter how hard it is. And it is hard. Really hard.
What led to the last three weeks' meltdown is tangentially related to the workbook.
You see, I'd been doing really well for a long bit there. I was feeling good about myself. I was cutting time off my mile. I was running better than I have since high school. I could go a week at work without feeling miserable and worthless (yeah, seems like a small deal, but it really isn't). I felt confident about my decisions at work and generally. My apartment was clean enough for me. Honestly, I was feeling better than I had been for a long time and I was relatively happy (aside from hating the town, but self-esteem can only do so much). Life wasn't perfect, and yeah, issues remained, but not feeling completely shitty about yourself helps a lot.
But being around my parents is like this sucking black hole of self-esteem. And I didn't realize it until I had some self-esteem to suck. Was I happier without self-esteem? No. Am I happier with it? Debatable, because now I know how bad things are, which doesn't really lead to being happy or content with ones choices.
While having some self-esteem is great, I don't have enough of it to ignore what my parents say. It becomes this horrible sinking feeling that every time I go home for some reason, I'm going to end up in a worse place than before. Perhaps it won't happen. Maybe I'll go home, have a grand old time, don't end up in nasty fights with my mother, and don't have another horrible realization like that no one ever listened when I talked about things I was interested in. Also, maybe it'll snow in hell this year.
So, for the first time ever, I am dreading Christmas and hoping I regain enough self-esteem to survive.