Sunday, February 22, 2015


Well, smell ya later, Sunday. I know it's only 5:53pm and Sunday is still happening for six more hours and seven more minutes, but pish posh. The daytime part is fading and for that I am grateful. I feel as though I can finally relax at least a tad when the sun goes down. I used to be 100 million percent a morning person, but now I think that has shifted. Over the past few months I have transformed into, well, a vampire. I dyed my hair dark, I have become even paler if that is possible, I stay up all night, and I crave blood. (I really do crave blood. I crave it in the form of a medium rare steak. Anemia, folks, anemia.) I want to like the mornings again. I used to be so bright eyed and bushy tailed in the AM. Now I wake up aching and lacking in sleep. My hands hurt. My stomach is upset. I have this weight that immediately falls onto my shoulders. The weight of the day that lies ahead. I have to tackle work, I have to tackle lunchtime, I have to tackle the gym. These obligations and rules get stuck in my head and I can't think of anything else. I am so rigid with myself. I think anyone would hate mornings if they had these self-imposed musts looming overhead.

But once I check these exhausting tasks off of my exhausting list, I am home free. And that's precisely why I like nighttime now. Like I said, it's when I can finally relax. Of course, I have to have completed my tasks. If I don't for whatever reason, then I will probably seek out a bottle of wine or some Xanax. In other words, it's my way or the anxiety highway. I know rationally that things won't always go my way. Unexpected events do happen and plans are forced to change. Will I change with them or will I break? Why do I have to feel like I am in control all of the time? Where in my life do I feel unfulfilled? I must be overcompensating for something.

Maybe rediscovering religion would be nice. Nice in the way that I could let go of my own rules and let someone else tell me what to do. That appeals to me. I don't want to admit that it appeals to me, but I guess I just did. There's something to that, though. The whole "higher power" thing. And I don't knock religion like I used to in my "Hey, I think I'm Holden Caulfield" 20s. I believe religion and what one finds within a religion can be indescribably beautiful. Life changing, maaan. Still, I don't know. I don't want to impulsively give my life to a religion simply because I want to be a morning person again. Maybe I can first try, you know, getting more sleep.

I'm okay. I'm not as gloomy as I sound. Well, maybe I am. But... But, c'mon, Meg, find the silver lining here... But at least I'm admitting that I am struggling? The admission is a step forward, I believe. The opening up and being vulnerable. The asking for help and accepting advice. These things show that I have at least a sliver of desire to get better. I haven't given up all hope.

It's also the weather, I promise. I get wimpy when it's windy. Wimpy and weepy and cold. I snuggle in tightly into my mind, which is often a dangerous place to be for too long. I begin to analyze everything that is wrong or could go wrong and end up freaking myself out. Damn that wind! I don't mind blaming the weather. It's refreshing to blame something other than myself. Hell, maybe I'll escape my mind right now and go read a bible. Here's to hoping it's home to a flask of whiskey. (Joking, Jesus! I only want my flask to be full of Yogi Kombucha Green Tea. And maaaaybe a little bit of whiskey. Amen.)

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