alee_grrl: kitten with face on paws; text reads "headdesk" (headdesk)
So I slept the day away for the most part thanks to a migraine and generally feeling dreadful. I missed my one class of the day, and had to reschedule a career services appointment. Thankfully folks are generally understanding and I have a friend who shared her notes from class.

I felt so good last week that I massively overdid. Add on bizarre weather changes, an attack of allergies, and another sudden shift in weather and you have a prime recipe for migraine. I'm very glad I wrote my intro post for this weeks [community profile] poetree hosting yesterday. I doubt I would have been able to write precisely what I wanted today. Sadly, I had intended to write the next post today, but that did not happen. Thankfully tomorrow is another day.

Migraines kill my appetite, and so I have had to force myself to eat today so I could take my meds. I've gotten nothing done, and am feeling rather sorry for myself. I would love to spend the week curled up on the couch and ignoring the world, but alas that is not a likely scenario. Too much to be done, and the end of the semester is approaching.

So I think I shall snuggle down on the couch for a bit, listen to a soothing Pandora station or watch an episode of something silly, attempt to go to bed early, and tackle tomorrow as it comes.
alee_grrl: Yellow and black butterfly next to the words Anti-Social Butterfly (butterfly)
This time of year I always spend more time struggling with my own personal demons. Old fears and frustrations haunt my dreams, and spill over into my waking world. My birthday is just over a week away, and it has long been a time of conflict for me. Someone recently explained conflict as "the difference between expectation and reality." It is a very apt description. My expectation, formed through media and observation, is that a birthday is a happy occasion, a thing to be celebrated, especially as a child. However the reality of childhood birthdays was that they were a show, a grand gesture that my mother used to celebrate her greatness as a mother. It took me a long time to realize that the reason I found my birthday disappointing was that the celebrations never felt real. They lacked sincerity, and the grand gestures were overshadowed by other actions and words. My mother walks in a different reality, and suffers from martyr syndrome. She wants the world to glorify her for the "sacrifices" she has made, and she never failed to impart just how much she had sacrificed for me.

For the first twenty odd years of my life I heard a confusing mix of praise and censure. The praise seemed reserved for times when others were present, making me feel as if those words had less meaning. I felt like a doll on display and was always terrified that I would do something to screw it all up, and then I wouldn't get any words of praise false or otherwise. Away from the eyes and ears of other people my mother made it quite clear that she considered me worthless and unworthy of that praise. The was always a dark underlying current of this censure surrounding any birthday celebrations. Years of swimming in this mix of false sincerity and resentment left me doubting my own worth. Each year around my birthday, these feeling surge. Today was a particularly hard day, though I'm not sure why. The vicious cycle of it is that I then get angry at myself for being overwhelmed by these dark emotions.

It is hard for me to remember that ten years of therapy and self work cannot magically erase this old programming. I know, now, where I didn't before that I am a worthwhile person, and that I should celebrate my life. I have amazing friends, and a good life. I have had some wonderful adventures and am sure to have more. So I am telling myself that a good cry is okay, and being angry is okay. I just have to remember not to bottle it up and let it all fester. While my concentration today is shot, tomorrow is a different day.

Why post such a personal entry online? Because I am certain that others struggle with the same issues everyday, and sometimes it helps to know you are not alone. I needed to write out my thoughts on all this anyway; work through what I'm feeling and why and purge it from my system. Maybe this post will remind someone else that they are not alone. Maybe someone will have some ideas on how to silence old programing. Depression and childhood trauma are things that we don't like to talk about; dirty words and shamefully whispered secrets. Talking about it helps erase that shame. It is a chance to reclaim our lives and our histories. Maybe even a chance to help others understand. It isn't about pity or sympathy. It is about acknowledgment and empathy. There is a difference.
alee_grrl: kitten with face on paws; text reads "headdesk" (headdesk)
I will learn not to push myself so hard that I get sick. Alternatively I will come to terms with the fact that I am not superwoman and illness happens.
alee_grrl: kitten with face on paws; text reads "headdesk" (headdesk)
So I was doing pretty good for a few weeks. The standard fibro-fog was lifting a bit and I actually felt more like a healthy person (or at least what I imagine healthy person feels, having never been one in my reckoning). Then the barometric pressure goes and changes drastically and I wake up feeling like I've been hit my a bus. Migraine, joint aches and general malaise. Thank you body, for once again reminding me that you hate me. I missed my contracts class again (which is the second time I've missed this class, which is way too often for law school). I made it to torts, but am uncertain I could tell you what was discussed. Came home, slept some more and am now trying to do my work for tomorrow. Some come on body, let's get it together a bit, please? Pokes foggy brain. Where's the restart button?

End whiny mini-rant.


alee_grrl: A kitty peeking out from between a stack of books and a cup of coffee. (Default)

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