So after some consideration, I’ve decided to take a break from trying to convince myself that I don’t really need to be worried about this little rejuvenation of interest doing things that are in my list of non-sober behaviors. Inner circle, bottom lines, acting out behaviors, general fucked up’d-ness or normal sexual desire; whatever the hell I label it, it’s not healthy. Who the hell wakes up in the morning and decides to surf porn, or read erotica? When I finally notice my stomach growling and glance at the clock, it’s after 2:00 and nary an orgasm has been enjoyed. Over eight hours of this and I haven’t done anything productive but pee.
But not today. Because yesterday I got honest and said out loud that I really needed to make a commitment to not acting out. And here’s the funny part. After well over $100,000.00 of therapy, a master’s degree, and a fucking library full of psych and recovery books, I had a really difficult time coming up with something else to do. No shit!
How about shower? Eat? Go to work?
I’m a fucking genius.
No. Wait. I’m a person with meal adaptive coping mechanisms who is trying to self medicate her way through some obvious and no-so-obvious stressors. Obvious: work and kids. Not-so-obvious: I don’t have a fucking clue. But whatever bullshit psychological scar, bruise, trauma or drama is happening in my little pea-brain, I’m really ready for it to be over. I mean, for fuck’s sake. So I didn’t get a red tricycle when I was three. Get over it already!
I’m ready to crawl out of my fucking skin.
I guess that clinches it. When you stop doing something that isn’t addictive, you don’t get that jumpy, edgy, jittery, fucking, fucking, fucking, I just need something to get through the day feeling.
I can tell you this much. I’m going to endure this withdrawal and fucking EXCISE that goddamn red tricycle, whatever the hell it is. Somewhere there’s got to be a brain surgeon who would do awake brain surgery and just zap that fucker right out of my head. It’d be sooooo much easier than digging around in there with a spoon, which is about what therapy feels like these days.
Right. Shower. Stopping bitching and starting with first things first. Shower.