The Lies a Mind Tells

I am so scared of another Great Depression. The kind that happens inside my head. I am hyper vigilant about my level of activity versus “sitting around”. I think that if I feel like sitting around and give into it then one day will turn into two will turn into weeks…. This is a huge problem. For many reasons. 

Rest is so important when it comes to self-care. I know this. I should welcome rest.

 Like the smoke before a fire. Sometimes I fear that rest is really a stretch of depression sneaking in. That just isn’t always the case. I need to remind myself of this. Frequently.

 I was sick yesterday. I have some weird thing going on with my stomach. The first time it happened was six weeks ago. It’s severe pain that comes and goes about every 20 minutes. Strange. The Doctor isn’t sure what it is. Which is frustrating. But not nearly as frustrating as the scuffle that starts inside my head.


 I hate that when my body is hurting my mental health takes a long walk off a short pier. I feel guilty for warming the bench. For not being at work. For being at home and not tending to chores. For being at home while my kids are at day camp. For watching awful daytime TV. I can’t just relax.

 My mind becomes irrational and I start to over-analyze everything. I’m not distracted so my mind has the keys to the castle. I question life choices. I question features of my appearance. My blogging. My parenting. My career. I start telling myself I am not good enough. And, I am totally aware that it is happening. I have the thought. Think on it. Realize it’s bad for me. Push it away. Before I know it, it happens again. And again. And again. And by the end of the day I feel worthless and exhausted.

 That was my Monday. One hell of a Monday if you ask me!

 When I woke up this morning I was so relieved. I slept all night. My stomach felt like it had been used as a punching bag by some mega buff MMA fighter. But it wasn’t the tear-inducing pain from the day before. I can manage being sore. Today I don’t feel worthless. I feel like I look alright. That I am loved. That my kids are neat and think I’m sorta cool. I don’t feel like my writing is super lame.

 Tricky business. Navigating the daily with this veil of tendencies. The lies a mind tells.

 I am happy that I have lived through enough to know when to ask for help. I just wish I could navigate the “in-betweens” better. I guess it just takes practice. Lots and lots of practice.



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