Wednesday, January 13, 2016
Last November I was forced to work on getting better. In the past two years, my mother died from a chronic physical illness brought on by a chronic mental illness; my brother keeps rebounding into bad situations, confronts authority figures trying to help him, and then went missing for two months; my sister, who's children are with CPS due to allegations of abuse against her boyfriend (they seem to be false, and brought about by her ex-mother-in-law), is pregnant by that boyfriend (though he's no longer in the state), and talking of marrying him (when she seems to be constantly out of money and work and needs help). My thesis is going poorly (I hate it); my BMI is 27.1; I'm tired; I'm depressed.
I got help. I'm, getting, help. It is helpful. Mainly it's telling me about resources I need, and giving me cause so I can examine the effect. Some of the methods, I'm poor at. Meditating, or, finding 5 minutes of quiet time to practice peace. Some I'm doing much better at, such as positive self-talk and refusing to accept my own excuses. I'm still tired. I'm still overweight. My family is still a mess, and I still hate my thesis.
1. Letting go.
I can't live their lives for them. I can't continue to support my brother, when he won't make the decisions he needs to make to become self-sufficient. I can't continue to be angry at my sister for doing the same. In fact, I've sheltered and excused my monetary and emotional help of my brother because, yes, though we're closer, I felt his initial mess wasn't his fault. But his current mess is. Neither of their messes can be cleaned up by me. I cannot afford to support them. I cannot continue to give them unwanted advice they won't listen to. I must stop trying to control their lives, in the shadow of trying to fix them. I try to tell them the best decisions for them, because I'm not in their situations, and my decisions may seem better than the ones they are making, but they're not my decisions to make. I stress myself out trying to understand why they don't do what I would do. Granted, they are still making terrible decisions, objectively. But that doesn't mean I can or should tell them what to do, and I certainly shouldn't get angry that they don't do what I think they should. I can be disappointed in their situations, and I can be hurt that they are going through these things, but I cannot rescue them, I cannot monetarily support them, I cannot live their lives for them. I can want to help them but I must stop feeling guilty for not paying their way.
2. Stop gathering underpants.
I plan, and plan, and plan. And that's been one of my biggest crutches. I plan, but then I don't carry through. Not because a plan was too strict, though they often are, and not because I no longer need a plan, but because I never even start it. "Tomorrow". Or perhaps I do the thing THAT DAY and never again. I'm still not sure how to get over this part.
I do need to stop throwing my plans away when they aren't convenient or don't fit into the rest of life. Example, diet plans. I dislike eating pig for a variety of reasons. A sneaky piece of bacon here and there, guilty, but ok. Buying a huge ham, I feel like I'm eating a relative. But I did. My husband wanted ham for Christmas, badly, so once they went on sale I bought a huge ham and we've eaten it a week straight. And not the deck of cards portion, but several pre-cut slices at a time. Do I really just not WANT to eat better? Why sabotage myself? I could have simply eaten something else, but I feel like he doesn't like when I do that. So, what?
3. Do you want to be a runner or not?
I have all these runs I want to do, and goals I want to make, but I constantly dread doing the running. Why? I seem to always hurt myself, Strain something. I just seem to hate it while I'm doing it, and dread going. I can't seem to make it easy or enjoyable. Why have goals like "Disney Princess Half Marathon" when you can't make yourself go farther than 3.1 miles?