WARNING AT BOTTOM OF PAGE

This is a mental health/mental illness blog dealing with daily life with words that are real and raw, video, pics, and music chosen by one fucked-up kitty. I am diagnosed Bipolar, with (crippling) Anxiety Disorder, and seriously horrific PTSD.
Sometimes it's a real treat of Freedom of Speech and Crazy to let it out, and scream something out in public when you just lose it, and let the stress out of your sails in one quick go, unlike the "unlucky" majority. Nope. Can't say everything is bad 100% of the time. Now take your meds and get ready...



This blog is permanently under construction/destruction.

Saturday, February 8, 2014

Post Treadmill Cool Down


I read my last post the other day and decided, its title was perfect. It was trash. It made absolutely no sense at all. The rantings of a crazy broad running in circles in a round padded room. What a pile of shit! I laughed at it yesterday and today. At least I had something to laugh about, even if I was the butt of the joke. The song was great, though.

Update on "SuperBetter" game (SuperBetter.com):

It's helped me out most days, guilt-tripping me into doing things that I want to do but need that extra massive, in-your-face-in-writing "Quests" to complete. You don't want to fail. You don't want to record that you fought various "Bad Guys" and lost. It shows up on your activity feed, I guess you'd call it? You want to do things to see yourself progress in gaining strength in various categories, including emotional and physical.

You can be creative and make your own "Quests", "Bad Guys", and "Power Ups" that help you along in your success. There are also links to information on the science of parts of the game that are interesting.

I've gone from just curling up in a ball again, in a safe, possibly overmedicated state, freaking out with anxiety nonetheless, to taking a brisk walk to nowhere while watching "Supernatural" or On Demand tv. I'm up to 2mi now, and am working my way back to 3-5, 6 days a week. Ugh, meaning 6 fucking showers a week! Two miles may sound like nothing, but it's a hell of a lot more than staring at the huge machine in your living room, and watching the gigantic fucker collect dust. I even allow myself to wear and dirty more shirts, pants, socks, which I felt too guilty about doing before. Feeling like I didn't deserve to wear clean clothes.

I still haven't managed to get outside like I'd like to, but I believe it has decreased my daily anxiety levels. I also don't freak out if I get separated from someone if I'm in the store with them, as long as we have phones. It's taking time, but shit, man, it sounds like things are progressing, slow, but better than before SuperBetter.

Now if I could just beat the shit out of that "Kitchen Monster" ("Bad Guy") I created... I should have called it Bessie the Kitchen Grazing Cow.

Final word at the moment is crippling anxiety levels lowered! Exercise increased! Feeling good about some little accomplishments I've made toward feeling better mentally, emotionally, and physically, etc.  

Ok, back to the rest of my stupid life. Yeah, my spouse was being a dick the other day. He doesn't know how to have a relationship with someone for more than a few months, let alone as long as we've been together. He's never lived with anyone other than me, he's a Brit, he's never lived with a crazy woman before. I'm not making excuses for him, in my eyes, ears, head, and heart, he's pretty ignorant, and the crazy hyper-emotional part of me says that I'm easily hurt by some shit, take some things to heart that shouldn't be, and blow some things out of proportion. He's a bit like me in some of those ways as well. Sensitive. Missing and/or abusive dad, not much else. Depression, taken care of by meds, he says.

So I'm in my cool down and relax period after my time on the treadmill. I'm supposed to be letting myself be OK with being stinky, sweaty, messy, nasty, runny old makeup, in my underwear, etc, It's hard for me, because I used to feel rushed to take a shower right afterward, as if I was going to die or something. No more pressure. It'll happen. No more potential anxiety-causing shit like that. Relax and be proud that I matched yesterday's record, and that in the very near future, I'm going to be breaking some more records and taking advantage of our DVD collection.

I don't feel so shitty today, but I am a little anxious about the possibility of having to go to the grocery store, even though I've made a list, know where everything is, will have my phone, and know that once I get in there that I won't feel too anxious at all. I'll be too distracted by all the movement and shit around me. I'll be OK. I'll keep telling myself that I'll be OK.. I'll be OK. I'll be OK. I'll be OK.