In a way, I feel like I’ve been self-harming a little bit.

Not like mutilation or anything like that.
It’s more along the lines of anorexia.    Eating too much.   Not eating enough.
Drinking milk, although I know that sets off some very uncomfortable hot flashes.  I endure stress, negative thoughts, and self-doubt which often leads to some sort of self-punishment, mental or otherwise.

But, not bloody.

I don’t know if it’s self-harm or if it’s okay.  Multiple shrinks have thought I am a person of extremes – where extreme is normal.    I guess I would agree to that to an extent. My thinking and personal outlook can be very extreme and I just happen to be smart enough to provide justification for whatever I decide.

But, in some ways, I’m not extreme.
I don’t consider myself extreme sexually.  Although it’s a bit unpopular, I identify with being a straight woman.

I like to consider myself very responsible financially.   However, that was a lot easier when I was younger and had everything to save and plan for.   Now that I’m a bit older, all the effort I placed in planning, plotting, and scrimping really hasn’t achieved what I thought it would.   I still place bills and expenses first and foremost, but it’s more difficult to do so.

Maybe it’s the druid in me, but I’d rather go and enjoy things while I’m still young and healthy enough to do so.     I guess you can call that a reflection from cancer and anorexia.  I’ve developed a healthy fear of being remembered as the person who didn’t do things if I’m remembered at all.

Some people may think it’s extreme to do cardio for four-plus hours at the gym with an additional hour walk to get there.  My eight-mile treks and whatnot seem fine and a great way to see how much this overweight body and crippled mind can endure.  I try to do that as frequently as possible.

Not today, though.
Today, I’m taking it easy and waiting for Jason to take an evening walk.   At some point, I should probably do something useful around the house.  Yeah… I’ll get there as soon as I’m done with this.

To continue the ramble, I’ve wanted to treat myself.   Which is practically an impossibility because I’m Scrooge on steroids about spending money on myself.   But, I’m trying to give myself a little grace.

But, I think I’m even weaponizing that.  I look forward to it.   I plan and plot.   I create self-justifications.  This ranges from seeing a movie, going to the beach,  to buying a smoothie, to getting a desperately needed manicure.  I begin to look forward to it.  When the day actually comes, I don’t do it.

“Something happens” and I pull myself away, creating self-justification of why my previous reasoning was horribly flawed.   This means I was wrong and what I was looking forward to isn’t worth it.  It’s self-degrading.   Especially since I do this over and over again.   It’s like a child expecting a huge gobstopper and getting a rancid lemon instead.       I’m not too sure how else to explain it.

Pavlov maybe?
I’m mentally ringing the bell and slapping myself in the face as a form of beatdown?

But, the trick to this is that I have to do this myself.
I’d gladly see a movie or buy a smoothie if Jason is with me.    If it’s just me, I can’t do it.    That’s what I need to work on.

Well, it’s not going to be resolved this week.
Class starts on Wednesday.    His classes begin on Tuesday, I think.   The sacred roofers will be out on Monday and Tuesday.     Just got a call from a company called Haul-It that’s going to place a dump bin in the driveway this weekend.

So, the new roof is finally going to be realized.
In to (more) debt we go!

Gosh these ceilings are really bothering me with where the water dripped in.   It looks awful and is a constant sign of degradation.  I can’t paint them myself because of my metal bars.   How can I justify paying someone to come out and paint them when I can’t even take myself out to a movie?  Non-crumbling ceilings aren’t essential compared to some of the other stuff around here.

All the more reason to spend time away from here….  but that doesn’t compute.  A home should offer solace.   It shouldn’t be shunned and actively avoided.   That’s not the point.   A home should be more than just a place that stores my stuff.

I’m writing and thinking myself into a corner.

I should really do some stuff around the house.   Talk radio will effectively keep me out my head for a little while.