Tonight a dear friend of mine got irritated with me after I replied to something she said. She took me completely aback when she said "I was in a weird codependent mood again".
I went through a wide range of emotions rather quickly.
I was confused, hurt, irritated, and did I mention I was confused? She said I'd made a conversation we were having about me. I didn't think I had, and I still don't exactly see it, but I'm actually glad she said something to me.
It definitely made me think. After I cried, of course. (Did I mention they up and fell off?)
I looked up codependency. Everything I knew of it pertained someone interacting with a loved one who was addicted to drugs or alcohol. So I was surprised when I saw the definition had changed, and I saw myself in so many of the symptoms on the checklist.
I'm thinking that this fits the bill so much better than an autism diagnosis.
As much as it hurt to hear, I'm thankful my friend pointed it out to me. It makes sense. And I'll be calling this week to get things scheduled with a counselor of some sort. I'm actually looking forward to it.
I don't want to live like this anymore. It's exhausting.
Compulsive hoarding is a mental disorder that is just beginning to be understood. As a hoarder, I have acquired things over the years with a specific purpose in mind at the time of the acquisition, used some of those items for their intended purposes, forgotten the goal for different objects, but now that I find that they have outlived their purpose in my life I am struggling to rid myself of those same things.
You can read the start of my journey here.
Monday, May 1, 2017
Sunday, April 30, 2017
Up until a few years ago, when someone hurt my feelings, I'd get mad. When I'd screw something up, I'd get angry. I was just angry all the time. It didn't help that I have such a severe case of resting bitch face there is, because I also looked angry even when I wasn't. And I hated it when people would ask me, if I was mad. It irritated the crap out of me!
But my sister, who was always so much softer than I was, told me a few years ago that she always admired that about me. She worked in a very high stress job where showing emotions were detrimental. She said she'd have given just about anything to have the personality that I have, because it would make her life so much easier. It would be easier to be taken seriously, if she wasn't crying every time she got mad or frustrated.
Several years later, she had relief in the form of a hysterectomy. She said she felt like she grew "a great big pair" the moment she woke up from surgery. She no longer cried at the drop of a hat, and she was able to be taken seriously by everyone.
Fast forward to today.
I think mine shriveled up and fell off.
There are days I can hardly make it through the day without just being weepy all day long. It's SO not like me. I'm thinking it has a lot to do with the lack of hormones that come with menopause. I feel weak and incapable, and I hate it! If something happens first thing in the morning that sets me off, it's hard to shake it for the rest of the day. I feel completely incapable of making a decision. In fact, I wrote the last post about 3 weeks ago and just barely published it last night.
It pisses me off!
Which makes me cry.
Saturday, April 29, 2017
For the past couple of years, but especially the last several months, I've wondered, if I'm on the Autism spectrum. Back when I was a kid, I struggled with friendships. It seemed like I always did something wrong to push people away, but I never quite understood what happened that made the friendship die. It was just...over. But it wasn't just when I was a kid. I've been like this my entire life.
And while I can easily put myself in others' shoes and even physically feel what they are feeling, I struggle with figuring it out in someone's writing unless they actually spell it out. Which makes other parts of my life make a bit more sense. Like that fact that I love deep contrasts in color like black and white. Like the fact that I love absolutes. Like the fact that I've always loved rules. Like the fact that I've always loved math, because there's either a right answer or a wrong answer. Period.
I like clarity. I need it, like I need air to breathe.
And when I communicate, whether it is through writing or talking, I use more words than most to get my meaning across. I want to know that I'm understood, and I want desperately to understand others. So when others use passive aggressive ways to communicate it confuses me. I understand that they're irritated with me, and that I've done something wrong, but I have no clue as to what it is unless they've said it directly.
I think that it's me. And then I loathe who I am. And I have a really hard time figuring out how to fix things.
What's wrong with me?
What's wrong with me?