Lessons from Lauraland

I can feel the funk descending. The best way I can describe it is like a bowl of ice cream that gets covered in thick, hot chocolate fudge; it moves fast at first, covering the ice cream, but the longer it is there, the slower it moves and the harder, thicker it gets. Only it is not a delicious bowl of vanilla ice cream and hot fudge; it's my brain covered in sludge. I did set myself up a bit. I didn't eat lunch today. I was supposed to go home early, so I thought I would skip lunch and just have it when I got home, not thinking I would work until 3:45. I haven't exercised at all this week, even though I have been feeling good and knew I was up to it. And randomly I only took one pill instead of two as prescribed. So it was a bit of a perfect storm. I was hungry. We had to do some shopping for dinner. I have been tired all week. But it was recoverable until I saw my grandfather's nurse. She was one of many that took care of him and take care of my grandmother still,...

Have you ever heard yourself saying something and think, "wait, what?" This happens to me often. Things sound perfectly rational and reasonable in my head, but as soon as I start to share them with WBH, my friends, my counselor, X-man, etc. I realize how wrong I am. I started back to counseling last week after a short -sanctioned- hiatus. My brain has been playing tricks on me of late and I decided the best thing was to get back in to see Dr. Mr. Rogers and to my counselor (who really needs a good nickname). It's good for me to have routines in place, a plan to follow, so I can see some light at the end of the tunnel, even if it is just the next way station. This week I hit a rougher patch in the form of my bursitis acting up again. It comes and goes intensity-wise, but driving and being unable to relax and move around make it so much worse, so you can imagine how it feels with my 45-60 minute commute to and from work. I got to my session with the to-be-nicknamed-coun...