It’s quite amazing how such an anxious mind can create it’s own distortions in describing things. I know how it felt when I lived it, yet how I wrote it then, it felt truthful, but looking back not so much. However I do believe since I was living it in the very moment I was trying my very best to try and tell myself it wasn’t that bad, as a way of coping…otherwise I might have lost it. Trying to tell yourself it is okay and it’s not as stupidly difficult as you actually feel it is….Defensive mechanism I suppose.
The rest of my off day. First day of not running in over a year
Posted on December 26, 2010 by krayolablue91 | Edit
So, it wasn’t too bad really. The agonizing part was when I was awake and in the house when I’m normally getting ready to go out. After that I was fine. Something about the fact that knowing I couldn’t get into my normal routine, because they time had already gone by calmed me. It’s not the “I have to run” aspect. It’s the routine. I kept myself busy ’til about 6 (AM) and then got up. Went in the kitchen and was set on making my normal “pancakes”; parentheses are used because they don’t actually use flour, and use yogurt. My idea of a pancake is the whole bisquick, milk, egg thing. Or at least has flour. SInce mine don’t, I consider ‘em faux. Anyways, off of that tangent…ate a different breakfast than normal. Cleaned up the kitchen, asked Gramm if she wanted me to make her breakfast [yes]. Made her “Real pancakes” with whole wheat flour, eggs, butter, sugar etc. (I like practicing making pancakes). Made some for Grampa too…*ahem* yeah..
Who was I ****ing kidding. I felt like I was gonna die. That was some of the worst anxiety I ever experienced in my life. Though in the scheme of things since I pretty much always felt like that back then, I guess it wasn’t “too bad” as in it really couldn’t spike much worse. But whenever I have random anxiety attacks now I just think back and say “This isn’t as bad as that first time I didn’t run in a year, so I can get through this.”
I remember laying there thinking “OMG, it’s THIS time right now. Right now I’d normally be putting my shoes on..”
*tries to ignore time…then stares back at clock* “OMG, now I’d be walking to my start point…!” *more time passes* “Now I’d be running at *THIS* point here” *time* “THen I’d be HERE. And it’s be like this and…”
*Can’t make sense of how I’m still laying in bed in my room because it doesn’t make sense, as I picture myself running through the cold near the golf course next to the chain link fence listening to the same exact song that I always would listen to at the same exact time.*
“and then I’d be here and then I’d be here and then” *can’t stand it*
Can’t make sense of reality tossing and turning. Falling on to my floor curling up trying to find a way to “understand” my existence.
Gets back on bed. Looks at clock.
Not being able to make sense of reality. I don’t even think I can convey with words the overwhelming physical and mental shock that I was feeling. You know when something unexpected happened and you get “shocked” or scared? Just imagine something like that happening in a constant wave since you can’t comprenhend where you are so there is no rest from it. Right as it’s about to dissipate another hits you. Evey been in the ocean, gotten hit by a wave, sputtered, got back out only to get smashed by another wave and thrown down again? Yeah. Like that.
I go to my Grandma’s room telling her I can’t sleep. She tells me to stay there with her. I try. I lay there. I toss and turn for all but 30 seconds and can’t stand it. Go back to my room. Not making sense of reality.
I made a tedious breakfast and cleaned everything because I was so ****ing anxious I felt so *fat* like I was gonna explode with my muscles wanting to just rip from the tenseness held and as my brain felt it lacked oxygen. Sure, I tried to tell myself things were okay. Why in the hell would I do otherwise? That would have just caused…I don’t even know. Other than a perpetual state of “I don’t ****ing understand”. Plus back then I don’t even know if I was capable of such emotion. I just did what I did to be able to “survive” the day and hope it would get over and then want to cry knowing I’d have to start another day.
cleaned the kitchen, cleaned my guinea pig cage, vacuumed the living room…then about half an hour of impatience while Gramm took to long to get ready and out of the house and we went to the zoo. Say from 10:15 to…2:30? About. Lunch was fine there…but again, it seems “safe” now for me to eat lunch out, but not to eat it at home ; I don’t want to feel like I’m avoiding eating at home, because I’m not, I just feel kinda guilty because I’m not eating at home and facing that new found fear since entering IOP. On the other hand I’m now glad we’re able to go out places and eat lunch instead of Gramm getting annoyed that we have to wait ’til after lunch to go anywhere. I have to rationalize that I”m not going to try to put my life on hold to do something, like I used to when I used to eat lunch only at home. When there is a day that comes (anytime soon hopefully) when I can/ have to/ am home, and it’s time for lunch I will do it. but I don’t need to go out of my way to do it- like I used to. Ha, I’m afraid of going back to something safe, making it unsafe. Ha, weird how that works. Don’t force it…if I do I’ll be doing just what I feel they’re doing at IOP…which I don’t like..
Again. Still felt like my head was gonna explode. Felt like I wanted to fall on the floor every moment and hyperventilate not being able to breathe. I was super aggitated and wished my Gramma would hurry up. I felt so *fat* I wanted to walk as fast as possible but was still numbed and didn’t know what to do. The other stuff is true. Except the fact that i was indeed afraid to eat at home with my “safe” foods.
I’ll be honest and say that I have been thinking of taking a rest day; which is a healthy thing, yet I feel somewhat…embarassed? to admit it. I have it drilled into my head, or I perceive the world as a place where you are expected to be constantly on the go, non-stop with a to do list. That you can only sit back and relaxed, either after being maimed, or some sort of masochistic overdrive; but not just masochistic overdrive, masochistic overdrive that ACCOMPLISHED something. If you burnt yourself out and ended up with “nothing” you don’t get a rest, if anything you deserve to be dragged through the mud even more.
Hmmm…Yeah, except even if I’d been maimed, I’d still expect to try and least drag my *** out to run. Try and then cry as I try to run and can’t. and then keep walking and crying. and then try to run and can’t still and cry. Then keep walking for at least an hour crying, glad I run at 5:30 AM so not too many people can see me crying while walking and doing some stupid looking gimp in attempt to run and fail.
That and the “Embarassed” to admit I wanted a rest day was more I was not “allowed” to say I could have a rest day. It didn’t “make sense.”
Of course I would never want to apply these principles to other people- only myself. I would never impose them on other people, as I could not stand the guilt; nor do I need to, as I know so many others do this to themselves as well. That is what also breeds this unhealthy ideology. Everyone thinks that if the other person just stopped, than they could too, because it would take the pressure off. On the other hand would the person ever stop? Probably not. So no one ever does, because of the fear the other is secretly caring, etc etc. vicious cycle.
Making any sense? Probably not, it’s difficult to put in to word (correctly and clearly) the idea I am thinking of.
Meh, that was okay. Pretty messed up, but yeah, that was not a distortion of my own distorted thoughts.
So now I sit here, 4 PM. In my house, Gramm went to sleep since she has to wake up at 7 PM to go to work. Grampa seems particularly more angry than normal (doesn’t he always?) going to the front door, slamming it closed, opening it, and slamming it again. Going to all the doors in the house and slamming them. Opening the microwave and slamming it….So when the dietician asks me why I go out for walks all day…yeah -.- but since I haven’t been home I don’t need to do that. *yay* Hmm, what to do next. I dunno. Honestly though, part of me is really just looking forward to tomorrow [and running] and feeling my comfortable routine
I’m pretty sure I still felt like *I’m going to die this can’t be real* and didn’t know what the hell else to do other than to try and make sense of something by writing and just waiting for the day to be over so I could *reset* and get to the next day, like I said, where I could run again. Not that I was ever not anxious back then. I think that’s where the distortion sets in. You don’t even know what “okay” or “calm” or “relaxed” is. Hell I still don’t know what relaxed is. I probably also still do the “it wasn’t THAT bad” to an extent too. For some reason I equate admitting something was difficult with weakness…ha. Or perhaps it is that afterwards it always doesn’t feel like it was “that bad” just because you’re so freken glad afterwards that it’s over that you don’t even think about it..
and let’s end with a random OCD meme I made…