It’s my thyroid, I’m sure of it.
The exhaustion that never seems to end, except for the couple of hours after the naps I apparently need on a daily basis (but don’t get them that often, sadly), the…
Well, it’s mainly the exhaustion. I was thinking my depression meds needed tweaking, but now that I am paying more attention (something I’m not always that good at), I’m noticing that emotionally I’m ok (except for the frustration over not having any energy). I’m just so dang tired all the time.
I’ve had hypothyroidism for years and things were normal when they checked my blood in May, but May and October are not next-door neighbors and I’m pretty sure that things have gone downhill in the thyroid hormone department. Right now I’m waiting on the lab results so that my doctor will increase my medication and that should do the trick.
I just really want to go to sleep in the meantime.
So, my housemate will be moving out at some point. She has until November 1st, but she started packing last week. She’s still not speaking to me, or much anyway. Sometimes she’ll say “hi” and “bye,” but that’s pretty much it (no, I’m not exaggerating). I haven’t really asked her about when she’s leaving as it seems to be a touchy subject (understatement).
I have been living with very little storage space here (I’ve been living in my friend-who-owns-the-house’s bedroom, and have had to work around her stuff). When the housemate moves out, though, I’ll actually be able to have all the closet space in my room, not just half, and all of the bathroom shelves. It’s very exciting, particularly to my mom, as I will be able to move the last of my stuff out of her guest room closet.
I’ve lived here for over a year, but I haven’t felt fully “moved in,” partly for the reasons above, and partly because I thought I would have to move out (and not housemate) when my friend moved back.
It will be nice to move in all the way, and feel more settled. Oh, yeah, and not have to deal with the awkwardness of living with someone who’s giving me the silent treatment. That will be nice, too.
I’ve been thinking about taking care of myself, about seeing the small child that is still inside me. I end up in a tizzy when thinking about how I want to take care of myself better, and trying not to beat myself up because I don’t. Things like eating regular meals so that I don’t get headaches seem so hard to do so much of the time. It would be much easier to take on the role of tyrant to myself, but I can’t return to that, not anymore. So I try to remember to take things slowly, slowly, slowly and I try to remember how far I have already come.
“One reason you may not want the job of caretaker [for yourself] is that you are still angry about never having been appropriately cared for by others. You still wish that someone else would notice your suffering and make up for the deficit. Even though you know that your wish will never come true–that what’s past is past–you continue to hold onto the fantasy. Taking good care of yourself implies an acceptance of the painful reality of your past deprivation.”
This may not actually count as “posting” since I’m not writing very much. I clicked on this video that a friend of mine posted to FB last night. I saw it was over 12 minutes and thought, there’s no way I’m getting through the whole thing. I’m so glad I did. It’s really powerful. Take the time to watch it, and I don’t think you’ll regret it. But—fair warning— you may want some tissues by your side.
I think the biggest part of my blogging block has to do with my thinking that each and every post has to be a really great, profound post. And that feels pretty daunting when I have some ideas rolling around my head, but don’t feel like I have enough energy to really make them great. So then I just don’t post because writing the perfect post feels way to hard.
Which, of course, it is.
It’s the perfectionist trap: if I can’t do it perfectly, I won’t do it at all.
So I’m going to try to post more, regardless of the mediocrity of my posting. And maybe, among all these mediocre posts that may come, I’ll get more good posts out there than I would by not writing a darn thing, which is what I’ve been doing.
Yes, dear reader, I am a blogging slacker. In case you were worried, things are going really well, I feel happy, I am enjoying my life. Therein lies the conundrum. I want things to go well in my life. I also want to blog. My blogging muse, however, seems to be connected to my angst.
It’s not that I can’t think of anything to say. I’m just having a hard time sitting still to write lately. I enjoy it and it feeds me, however, so I’m definitely not turning in my license-to-blog. I just need to find another way of getting some consistency in my posting, other than waiting on the thundercloud of doom and despair to reappear.
I’m hoping to write again soon, but I’m not making any promises this time (and, no, I haven’t forgotten your questions—I will get to them!).