Plus - bedtime for the girls was suuuper easy tonight. The kids fell asleep at 7:30 - which, we all know is 8:30 to them - and no one tried to convince me they needed one last sip of water.
I'm anxious for a few things -
1 - for my HCG to arrive
2 - for Shark Week to end and the bloating to settle down
3 - for my therapy appointment this week
My doctor and I had a hard time filling an hour last week. I'm at peace with a lot of the things that brought me to therapy. I was going once weekly for a few months and I got in the habit of having an hour of intense healing. When last week we were pretty much hearing crickets the whole hour, my Doc and I decided to switch to every other week unless I felt myself getting anxious or crazy again.
I missed my time with my doctor last week - but I didn't feel anxious or crazy about anything in my past. Current stuff? Sure. Like losing a large portion of my social outlet by leaving my favorite forum. It left me in a minor tailspin. But - my house is cleaner. My kids are happier. My husband is getting more attention. And my mind is free to obsess about things other than bags and sewing.
My good good friend and I went shopping today - I got quite a few more skirts from Goodwill. I chose a few things that were a smidge tight in the hopes that they would fit perfectly within a month. I'm not one to buy a size down - but HCG gives me confidence that I made the right choice.
One of the oddities I developed in having a past of sexual abuse is that I freak out when I think of things inside my body. I have tried (several times) to remove my IUD in the middle of the night. I get anxious and have a hard time thinking of anything else when I've had a DivaCup in for too long. I can't look at a needle hanging out in my skin (like when I donate plasma).
Don't worry - I got rid of the IUD long ago. And I have mamacloth to give myself a mental break from the DivaCup at night. And I no longer donate plasma.
I've learned to cope with my oddities - but the ones that I wasn't even aware of until therapy still shock me. Oddities like:
- Seeing sheets or a curtain hanging in a room that are meant to act as a wall make me anxious. It wasn't too long ago that being in my friend's playroom with her washer and dryer behind a curtain would make my skin crawl and my heart race. I'd rush out of there as fast as I could without seeming crazy.
- I act irrationally about the idea of my daughters sleeping in a Queen size bed before they are adults.
- The DivaCup thing.
- I have vivid night terrors. My conscious and subconscious mind argue about whether or not what I'm seeing is - in fact - real. I often wake my husband up in a frightening display of hysteria, demanding that he take care of or confirm whatever it is I'm seeing.
I realize that my trauma is small compared to some. We all have our own level of what we can handle before we are broken. I don't believe I am broken. I believe I was wounded. And I've spent years trying to cover the wound with food.
I forgot how good it feels to blog. To just pour out all the excess matter in my mind. I'm allowing myself to blog from my soul - not worrying about storylines or explanations. I figure - whoever might be reading this either doesn't care or already knows whatever specifics I happen to leave out in my scattered rambling.
