Lately, it seems like I have become the confessional for my friends. I know the secrets, fears and hopes of many people. Confession is good for the soul.
I am glad to be an outlet for them but sadly I haven’t confess much back.
So I make my confessions here. I love my new job. I feel energized and hope I am making a difference. I feel like I am being challenged again.
On the surface things look great but truthfully, I am scared and I am slipping. I have lost weight. It hasn’t been a conscious effort but it has happened. I have went from a size 4-6 range to probably size four and dropping. I am not restricting and I eat two meals a day. But the meals may not be the most healthy.
Being honest, the move was stressful, quick and wiped out me out financially. I am having trouble reconnecting with my old friends. I am not the same person I was six years ago when I live here. At that time, I was firmly in ED’s grip. I had pretty much decided that ED would eventually kill me. And when I lost my job in 2008, I relapse hard.
Since then, I have come a long way. But I am not the same person I was. I am a little more guarded and lot more reclusive. I maintain contact but have kept many at arms length.
But in the last few months with no insurance, I have stopped taking my meds. I have insurance again. I am at the crossroads of finding a new therapist, doctor and getting back on meds or not.
I really don’t want to be on meds but at the same time I can’t really afford to relapse, have an episode and end up in the hospital.
In the last few weeks, there have been some signs that tell me I need help.
Moment 1: I have a little stomach pooch. No matter how much I workout, it will not go away. I have made peace with it. I wore a cute dress last week to interview a new town clerk. The first thing she ask me was how far along was I. I tried not to let it bother me but it did. I skipped dinner and ate some string cheese. I ate much better the same day but still was shaken by it.
Moment 2: I am very motivated to get my work done. For the newspaper, I average about 10 stories. I think this is pretty good for a weekly newspaper. But once I get home, I am not motivated to do anything. I just want to veg on the couch with a bag of Doritos and watch Lifetime movies. I know I am depressed because I miss my friends and my life in RR. A big move like this is hard.
I needed to get this off my chest. There are so many things going on in my life right now that I should share with my bff and others but I just can’t so I write.
Writing has always helped me when I couldn’t express it verbally. I have googled the name and number of the family practice in Pickleland. I just need to make the call. There is so much more at stake.
In my previous stint in Pickleland, there were many stints on the psych floor along with a suicide attempt. I have returned and the folks at my new job don’t know about the past. I wanted to be as well-adjusted as possible. I realize that no man is an island and that asking for help is not a sign of weakness. I think I should make that call.
1. Thankful to know when a problem is becoming overwhelming.
2. The sun is shining and the birds are singing.
3. Being able to track down an elusive person on deadline for a comment.