Thursday, July 17, 2008


I've been doing better in general the last few months.  More with the exercise.  Less with the snacks.  More with the positive outlook.  Less with the self loathing.

Enter this week.

Things have been down right wonky.  I'm talking cookie dough, pizza, Maui Sweet Onion Kettle Chips, in bed half the day, not washing my hair, seeing a wookie every time I look in the mirror wonky.

And I wish I knew why.

Something tipped.  Something that was causing me to feel the need to take care of myself and be productive and positive has gone awry.
n my head I list possibilities.  My first day back at school is August 7th.  (There is simply no August in summer vacation anymore.)  E has switched jobs (I think I can safely say that now that he's officially told his old job.) and is working both for a short time.  The house is for sale (because not having a yard is an issue).  But really, I don't feel actively upset about any of these things.

What I feel is tired.  What I feel is apathy.  What I feel is hungry.  What I feel is afraid.

You know, it might have something to do with being taught, the whole time I was growing up, that the apocalypse, the actual end of days, was probably going to happen in my life time.  The "Second Coming" was always coming, and you had better have all your ducks in  a row.

So when the world begins to feel unbalanced, I start feeling like I should start hoarding water and gas and, shit, I don't know, cracker snacks.  Gas prices go up, and I immediately feel like the whole basis of Western society is going to fall to bits and I'm going to end up running through burning streets, clutching my daughter's hand, dodging bullets and searching for a cave or something to wait out the last great battle in.  (With cracker snacks.)

I read about the economy failing, and my stomach decides that digesting itself is a reasonable response, as we probably won't be able to afford bread soon.

Some Mormons in recovery spend a lot of time focusing on the guilt that the church built into their lives.  For me, it's the fear.  And I don't really know how to deal with it.

So if you should see me at the grocery store, buying flats of canned goods and sacks of flour, just give me a big hug, and reassure me that the end, isn't in fact, nigh.  That things get sketchy, and wonky sometimes, but that it will be OK.

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