I feel like I'm destroying everything I touch. Because I basically am.
Don't listen when your brain tells you this. It's lying to you.
'War Stories'
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risqué (and frisqué), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
I feel like I'm destroying everything I touch. Because I basically am.
Don't listen when your brain tells you this. It's lying to you.
Ativan? Have you eaten? Are you thirsty?
Would some sort of quick fix help (like watching something on the computer instead)? Or distraction? Do you have anything you can take that might help (like meds, or maybe something to eat or drink)?
Take Kato for a walk around the block?
Bath? Listening to silly music?
Your brain's in a lie loop right now. There's been a lot of crap you've had to handle, so of COURSE the little shit is going to be too much, but it's not that you're breaking things: things are breaking, but you're not at fault for everything that breaks.
Teppy, I'm sorry. We're here with whatever you need. Everyone else has had good suggestions.
Check shoes for hidden electromagnets?
But seriously. Personal mini-reset. I've found that cupping my hands over my eyes and taking 5 long deep breaths whole focusing heavily on the exhale is surprisingly helpful.
I took Ativan, and now I'm just sleepy and convinced I destroy things, but also that I can't handle everything breaking. I know that a laptop (even one I earn my livelihood with) and a TV are just things, and they mean nothing compared to the bigger stuff I was so worried about earlier this year, with Tim's heath. And we can replace a TV and laptop. But I just can't take thing after thing after thing breaking or otherwise being horrible news.
Every day, all day, I worry about Tim. His lungs may be fine, but I worry about his RA, and if the Humira will ever work, and whether he'll stop having so much pain. I worry about him so much. I worry every day about the pets, because they're both old and I'll be surprised, honestly, if either one of them makes it to 2017. And it's going to gut me. Every day I worry about my job, that I'm not good enough, that they don't want me any more, and I have to say, I am in NO SHAPE to have a 9-5 job in an office with other people where I have to wear clothes that button and talk to people. Working from home is conducive to having a total mental collapse. Can I tell you the truth? I can't actually believe I work every day. Like, get work done. But I do. I need to not lose this job. I worry about SO MUCH every day, and I am just waiting for the next bad thing to happen.
And I don't know how to stop feeling this way. Because the bad things just keep happening. And I can't imagine ever feeling any differently than this. I know I used to, but I can't imagine it changing from what it is right now. Ever.
(I'm not dramatically disappearing; I'm just about 2 seconds from falling asleep thanks to the Ativan, so I have to go to bed.)
Rest well, dear one.
I'll be hoping you wake feeling SO much better, but will setle for restorative sleep. Sweet dreams.