Three Down, Forever to Go

The past week has been enlightening.  After a ridiculous argument with D, I was heartbroken, miserable, and ready to make changes. I’ve been down this road a few times before, but something was different this time around. I spent the day researching local therapists and social workers to try and find someone that would want to listen to me ramble and sort out my scrambled brain.  I’ve decided perhaps the anxiety and insomnia are too much for me to handle on my own.  I needed to get shrunk.  I made the appointment for Monday (yesterday) last Friday and was determined to do it.

Enter: The weekend. Friday night we took in a movie and just enjoyed each others company.  Saturday, we went furniture window shopping for our potential tax refund gifts.  I then had to work at the bar and had my ass handed to me for 6 hours straight.  D met up with me and my fellow comrades for a few beverages after a long, strenuous night. Sunday we went to brunch and then I napped, while he dicked around with his “toys” (mini-bikes, cars, etc).  Our evening was relaxed, not strained like the week prior and I was starting to dread my shrink appointment the following day.

Now cut to Monday morning: I email the therapist and let her know that something has come up.  I don’t dare tell her I have cold feet and really don’t want someone poking and prodding in my head at this point in time because things are good.  Things are well.  Mistake? Perhaps. She’s provided a list of future dates and times that are available should I decide I need them. Right now, I feel good where I am at.  Mentally, anyway.  I jump to conclusions too quickly.  I’m too fast at getting defensive.  I need to listen better. I need to realize my self worth more often.  I’m moody as fuck and quick to flip the bitch switch.  These are things I’d hear while paying $100/hr.  I know these already. Yes, she would offer advice as to how to fix these issues or delve into why I have them in the first place. But then I realized, any attempt to fix myself has been half-assed.  I’ve never stuck with any of them. I never made it past week 2.  My intentions were always pure, but I always found excuses.  I pushed myself, just never that hard. Boy, when I had that epiphany did I feel like a failure.  But then I decided it’s not failure if you pick yourself up and try again.  All you can do is try.

Tomorrow is the first of February.  Tomorrow is Day 1 of my attempt at change.  I will force myself awake early to try and get a workout in and continue to try and do that at least 3-4 days a week.  If the mornings turn our to be a burden, then I’ll try evening workouts.  I’m not a morning person, so maybe this will change that. I will try and eat a healthy breakfast and attempt a healthy lunch.  Dinner is always up for grabs. I like my carbs after all. I will try and cut caffeine out of my life in attempts to sleep better at night, but make no promises.  I will attempt to quit smoking once I get a routine down. Last thing I need is to pack on pounds while trying to work out and quit smoking at the same time. I will also try and be more consistent with writing my thoughts down. Perhaps if I put my crazy to paper, I’ll realize “Wow, I’m nuts, take a step back and breathe” or “Hey, that’s not too crazy after all!” I will try to count to ten before I lose my temper and I will try to not be so negative and opinionated about certain things.  I want to be my best self for my future self, for D, and for our sweet little one.  Today marks 3 years since our first date.  Three down and only forever to go ❤


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