For a while now I’ve had a suspicion that I might be a little stressed out. But I didn’t really have any idea how much until this week.
My first clue was getting bronchitis back in November and then an ear infection – spending 5 weeks feeling lousy. The next clue was my stomach has been bothering so much more lately it’s been making me miserable. Then The Cat got sick 2 weeks ago and I was told she’s not physically ill, but “depressed.” Well this last week, last Monday , she had a major freak-out and I had to take her back to the Vet. She’s been there ever since.
I believe that animals, like children, pick up on our behavior and feelings more than we realize, and that my stress has caused the poor Cat to be institutionalized – held by the doctor for observation…
I stressed The Cat out. She stressed me out. And so on, until it got to where something had to give and I couldn’t take it. The Vet is waiting on a shipment of trans-dermal Prozac for her and it should arrive Monday or Tuesday. But even then, we don’t know if it’ll work with helping her relax. They tell me she’s being very friendly now though, but she won’t take treats from anyone, even when she’s hungry, and that she “trusts no one.” I used to think this Cat and I were very different – but this week I realized Oh My God we are exactly alike…
As for me, not only have I been making myself physically ill, but I’ve been having weird thoughts… I bought POP TARTS recently for heaven’s sake. If you know me at all, you know that this is just Not Right. There are other things in my pantry that I am not proud of… including the remains of a box of Cocoa Crispies, a bag of cookies and a lot more chocolate than I’m comfortable mentioning. On the one hand the idea of withholding food, particularly food I like, and depriving myself, sounds very appealing, but so does the idea of stuffing my face with the rest of that box of Cocoa Crispies. I did manage to throw away the last of the Pop Tarts yesterday morning… but not without eating one before the box hit the trash can.
So all this week I’ve been all alone in the house, eating comfort food and not feeling well. Thursday evening I hit a low point, and there’s only one thing you can do when you get that low – go shoe shopping. Maybe I should have gotten a new pair of heels for work. Or some practical shoes. Instead I came home with a brand new pair of grey Converse All -Stars.
I loved them the minute I saw them and bought them to make myself feel better. But when I got home I started thinking “well, these aren’t very feminine. What kind of guy will like me in THESE? Should I have gotten something different? But I LOVE these…” and so on, and so on.
And then it hit me.
In just about every area of my life, I am in conflict.
I WANT to do this, but I SHOULD be doing that.
I WANT to dress like this, but I SHOULD be wearing that.
OH MY GOD MY MOM WOULD NEVER HAVE APPROVED OF _________.
I WANT to live there, but I SHOULD be living here.
You get the idea.
Well no wonder I don’t feel well! And no wonder the cat is fucked up!
So my new grey Converse All-Stars are very important shoes. With the purchase of those shoes, and more importantly, with the wearing of them out to coffee this morning (because now I can’t return them), I am leaving behind the conflict.
It’s not as easy as it sounds, and there’s no magic button that makes it all go away, but I think I’m done second-guessing myself and trying to intellectualize it all so much. With the wearing of these shoes, I’m gonna be whoever the hell I feel like being. I can’t afford not to, and neither can The Cat.