Tag Archives: stress

I’m not myself right now

I should do something. But I’m so tired. I should go to the gym or write or something. 

It’s Saturday and I’m lying on my bed wearing gym clothes. I didn’t make any plans for the weekend with the exception of Sunday brunch and I’m semi-OK with that. On one hand, I am tired from a lot of recent business travel. On the other, I miss my friends and know I am going to be traveling a ton these next two months so when will I see them?

But back to the first hand. Lounging on my bed with Law & Order playing in the background is all I can seem to do. I don’t even have the energy to visit the cats today.

Baby cat 20160818_120116

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Five or six weeks ago, I emailed a therapist specializing in grief counseling to request an appointment. I followed the process spelled out on her web site after going through a painstaking process to identify her as someone who accepted my insurance, didn’t have hellaciously bad reviews online, wasn’t geographically undesirable and maybe-hopefully had a basic web site via which I could confirm the particulars.

She has yet to respond to my initial inquiry, or a follow up one made after three weeks of silence. Thus far, I haven’t been able to make myself place a follow-up phone call. And I absolutely don’t have the energy to cross-reference the thousands of listings of people my insurance company swears take my insurance (not this one) with ZocDoc or Yelp or similar. As a result, I will probably try to make an appointment near home at a place that doesn’t take insurance, but does respond to appointment inquiries and fast. At $300 per session, they are quite ready to sign me up.

But I will figure something out eventually, right?

I don’t feel depressed in the sense that I have before. Depression is not unfamiliar to me. I take medicine and previously worked through the things that hurt me in therapy. The black dog has followed me for as long as I can remember. But it has become manageable. Had.

This part of me isn’t something I had been ashamed of, but I had long felt it was well addressed and I didn’t need to talk about it.

But this is different. I feel flat. There’s so little that excites me. My ‘happy place’ right now is lying in bed playing Words with Friends or sleeping. I cancel plans frequently.

I find it so hard to focus. I feel tired every hour of every day. My body aches. About once a week, spurred by thoughts of my father, I have a big cry. And yes, typing that sentence caused a lump in my throat followed by a rush of tears to my eyes.

I miss Dad so much – the uncomplicated nature of our relationship and the constancy of his support. While we had philosophical disagreements, I always knew he was listening to me, absorbing my thought process and considering it carefully.

Dad’s absence has changed my relationship with my mother too. I knew it would, of course, but the changes are not at all what I expected, making me feel lost in the dark. I thought she would need me more and it’s not that I wish for her to need me more, but I can’t say I understand how to act right now. Additionally, in spite of her strength, I don’t feel like I can tell her how rough I have been feeling, particularly after what I put her through last fall.

Even though I know I have reason not to feel my best, I feel guilty for the fact that I don’t. I feel terrible about my inability to write, or to focus my pitiful attention long enough to read a chapter of a book. I can’t fathom ever pushing myself hard enough to get fit again.

I don’t feel terrible, just low, most days–only some. I’m not sad daily, but my energy level is poor. One day, I am able to power through with smile, more or less. But others, I spend hours in bed. Making small talk, something my livelihood depends on, feels like torture sometimes.

I know from experience that this too shall pass. But in this moment, I can only wish to feel better soon.


It’s Sunday. I wake up excited to have brunch with my friend Brooke and then do a little skincare shopping together. The sun is shining for the first time since I returned from my most recent business trip a few days ago.

On my way home from brunch and shopping, I stop at Whole Foods in hopes of finding some of my favorite ice cream – score! – and then stop by to see the kitties.

 

Some days are easier than others.

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Random Monday thoughts

Hiya. Guess who’s moving in a few weeks? Yep, me. More on that soon. The decluttering is underway.

Here are a few things I’m thinking about and reading right now.

Why can’t airport and hotel Starbucks have the same pastries as regular Starbucks? These are no good.

Starbucks

Brooklyn isn’t a popular girls’ name in Brooklyn. Thank goodness. Although that’s the name of my neighbors‘ [male] cat. Via BKmag. Continue reading

Philly

Dad is in the hospital.

In Philly two hours from home.

So Mom and I are also in Philly. In violation of all privacy laws, I will tell you that Dad is getting a pacemaker.

Honestly, I’m more anxious about my impending apartment search and move (note: I am not staying put after all thanks to a big rent hike) than Dad’s procedure. At first glance, you’ll probably think I’m a self-involved ass for that.

But I swear: apartment hunting in NYC is generally more stressful than getting a pacemaker. Weird, right?

I’m approaching Dad’s procedure as a great thing actually. The doctor thinks he’ll feel like a new man once the pacemaker is in. Fingers crossed.

I hope to return to NYC Tuesday. And to blogging soon after that.

xoxo

Update: Dad’s procedure went great.

Why I don’t enjoy Christmas

I don’t get a tree or decorate my apartment. Christmas music drives me bonkers, and not in a good way.

Many times, I have referred to myself as The Grinch, but I don’t hate Christmas; I just can’t find a way to enjoy it.

I used to *love* Christmas. As a child my life was divided into the half of the year when I eagerly anticipated my family’s annual trip to Nags Head, and the half when I couldn’t wait for Christmas.

Christmas was easier then, of course. I mean, come on: PRESENTS! Relatives bearing hugs and gifts seemed to arrive every day for a week, expecting nothing from me but a happy “thank you!” And church was pretty (if still dull to me). Candles! Flowers! Cookies!

So.

Where did it go? How did I lose my Christmas spirit? Can I get it back?

Continue reading