Alright, I guess it’s time

I’ve been putting this off, but there’s really no reason to.  One facet of my mental illness is triggered by DH being gone.  I’m not sure yet if it’s just the change of routine or the fact that he’s not physically present, but for some reason I have built my foundation so completely around him that when he leaves, I feel as if I can’t continue being myself.

I wish I had blogged before we moved, so the difference between planned and reality would be more obvious.  I had such high hopes!  I wanted to get a bus pass and be a busy little bee.  I wanted to spend time at the big museums I love downtown.  I wanted to find a local yoga class and go often.  I even thought about locating a psychotherapist and going because I knew being back with my parents was going to be rough.  I brought books I wanted to read, unfinished cross stitch projects, and ideas about  my final thesis for school that I could start researching.

My life looks nothing like that plan.  I usually stay in bed until lunch time when the dog finally barks enough that I know the neighbors are going to be pissed.  I drag out my school work but don’t really work on it for most of the day.  I do go to the gym with my mother.  I’m trying to help her lose weight for surgery she’s going to have in May, but I think if she wasn’t waiting to go in the evenings, I wouldn’t drag myself there.  I usually have to quickly turn in my homework minutes before the midnight deadline, and sit up reading or playing on the Internet until at least 2 am.  I haven’t even changed my address yet.  I’m relying on the post office to forward it for me.  I hate it!  I know that if I just get a routine going, I would feel forced to follow it and would be better, but I can’t.  I’ve tried.  I set my alarm every morning and make plans for what I’m going to do but can’t follow through.

It sucks.  I feel miserable, but this happens every time.  It’s only been two weeks, and I even get phone calls most days!  Do you know how lucky I am to get fairly regular contact with a DH in training?!  It’s unheard of.  My biggest problem when this happens is my eating drops to about zero.  I haven’t figured out why I do that either, but it’s really not good.  I’ve gotten better about it, but each day is kind of a toss up on whether I’ll feel motivated to go to the fridge or not.  If I have to fix something, just forget it.  I lived a week once on granola bars, Nilla wafers, and yogurt.  Another time it was nothing but oatmeal.  And if DH happens to check up on my eating, watch out for that storm.  Nothing gets me madder.  It doesn’t make sense to me either, and knowing that it happens doesn’t help prevent it at all.

Luckily, I have no choice but to deal with it and get over it since the military could care less that I don’t want him to leave.  It makes me upset because I feel like I’m being pushed into it faster than I feel comfortable, but maybe I’m just whining.  I just want to get better under my own conditions in a place where I feel secure.  My parents do not provide that environment.  They don’t recognize, understand, or tolerate mental illness.  They have an idea of who I am and who I should be, but it doesn’t match up with who I really am.  They are very set in their beliefs, and other ideas, values, and opinions are not tolerated.  Thus I don’t feel encouraged to be my true self.  I put that desire on hold through high school, thinking I could just turn the switch on once I was at college.  Unfortunately, I didn’t realize I never learned how to do that because I had the pause button on for most of my life.

I was reading my homework, an ancient text on samurai sword techniques, and I found a little quote that spoke to me.

“If you do not pursue a genuine path to its consummation, then a little bit of a crookedness in the mind will later turn into a major warp.”     -Miyamoto Musashi in The Book of Five Rings

That totally happened to me, and it’s a horribly painful path to undo it.  On a side note, Buddhism and Daoism really speak to me.  Maybe I’ll study it more in the future.

So I’ve been slowly coming into my own.  Even things like what I like to wear or the music I want to listen to is foreign.  DH has been more supportive and patient than I could ever image, but without him as my crutch, my efforts falter.  Especially when I’m back in such a toxic environment, I crawl back into the familiar shell.  When I’m here I have to hide certain aspects of myself that aren’t accepted here.  I explain it like ruts in a dirt road.  This family has established ruts.  Mine was bad for me, but I can’t change it’s path when no one will adjust theirs to accommodate me.  I have to use that rut when I’m here. It hurts so much worse knowing that it’s all faked on my part.

Unfortunately, coming here was the best option when DH got his orders.  It’s all an opprotunity for me practice being on my own, but that’s so hard to remember some times.

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