Escapism

 

I run from things. That’s a fact I recognized about myself a long time ago. I might not have put words to it or analyzed it but I was aware that I did it. That used to be a more literal process. As I get older I take on the more "adult" attitude of just not looking at it. If I don’t look at it, it isn’t there. That’s something I’m supposed to be working through in therapy. I was working on it before I quit going back in the summer, too. Then I quit therapy. *Sigh*

I’m supposed to be writing every day again. And not just writing but writing about real things instead of just not looking at them. So far I haven’t done that. I was also supposed to attend at least one yoga class. I haven’t done that either. I’m avoiding dealing with my avoidance.

Today: I’m tired. I’ve been cleaning, homeworking or being otherwise domestic since I got up this morning at 8:30. I wrote out  a "real" food plan for the week and went shopping, cleaned our bedroom and kitchen, started laundry. There’s still more to do on that front. I also wrote a paper and posted at least one of my discussion board assignments. I should have done more but I ran out of time. I can still read my chapter and post on the other one later tonight if I don’t let Skyrim suck me in. Games make great escapes.

My sister just left Saturday. She was here for a little over two weeks. I miss her. That was the first time in years that we spent time alone together. I miss what that feels like: just hanging out with family with no time line or agenda. I cried after I dropped her off at the airport. I keep thinking weird sad thoughts like unloading the dishwasher and thinking "Ari washed those" or washing the sheets thinking "she slept on these". Just pieces of her still scattered around my house. It’s hard and sad.

I started cutting back my prozac. I don’t want to stay on it. I started by taking it every other day and now I’m down to three times a week. Then I’ll go to not taking it at all. I’m not sad about the miscarriage anymore. I move things around sometimes and feel bummed about them, like storing my pregnancy books, but there’s no despair there anymore.

The last really bad day was when Ari was here. I had to go to the doctor for a UTI and barely held it together after he asked when my last period was. I held it in till I got to the car. Then I went to Carl’s Jr. and had a ridiculous breakfast. Then I cried for a half an hour. That’s another thing I’m working on, getting away from food as a comfort. I’ve comforted myself a lot lately. Totally quit weight watchers because it felt more satisfying to just tear into everything I wanted.

Ari might move out here. She hates it back home. I tried to discourage her. I want her here. I want anyone else here but I don’t think she understands how hard it is to be a non-Mormon in Utah. At least she has some sort of religion to make it seem less alien. I consider it a major accomplishment that I have finally started saying "atheist" when asked what religion I am. At work, to save awkwardness, I just say I was "raised Baptist". I hope that implies what I want it to, that I’m not anymore.

If I’m honest, I’m still desperately unhappy. I don’t think it’s about the miscarriage anymore. I think that sparked it. It was this microscope on my life but it hasn’t went away. I don’t like Utah anymore and I haven’t for awhile. I miss my family. I miss Lainea. I hate work. Cutting down to part time has helped but I still feel the drudgery of it. I hate the culture here. I hate endless housework, that I spent more than half my "homework" day cleaning the same messes I cleaned up last week.

I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to make it better.

I think that’s all the gazing I can do in the mirror today.