I have friends who overeat, won't eat at all, drink, do drugs, pick their cuticles, pick their face, get way too busy, won't get out of bed, cut themselves, pull out their hair, crack their knuckles, surf the web (AHEM you bloggers and porn addicts), shop, clean, watch movies or read books incessantly, overexercise, have random sex, shoplift, work too much or not enough, etc.
With relentless media images of problems we can't control, what bad habits do you turn to for an illusion of control?
While I've done several of the above before, this time around I'm overeating and picking at the scabs on my left elbow (don't ask, I have no idea...but if you saw my left arm you'd understand. When things are really really bad, look for the right elbow to be scabby).
Alchohol consumption is way up for me. Two drinks a day, usually starting at 3 pm. Which of course has caused me to gain 5 pounds, because pretty much any caloric intake over 1200 a day = me being a fatty fat can't- fit- in my- new- clothes- I- bought -because - I'm -a - fat PIG. Oh yeah, and the self-talk gets a little negative. It's like I'm PMSing only worse. Which makes me not leave the house, so procrastination and absenteeism become issues.
Current Automatic Stress Reactions Beyond My Control = pimples, migraines, insomnia and canker soars, grinding my teeth at night, and cracking my neck while I'm asleep.
If I could pick my poison, I sure wish my stress reactions were to clean and exercise too much. Oh yeah, and to write too much, too. Whoo yeah, bad habits, those.
And you? (Place your negative personal ad here!)
If you actually want more Katrina news, may I suggest here and here. Oh, and don't forget the Police's version of Girls Gone Wild. And no, Snowball has not been found. They picked up a small dog of an entirely different breed.
On an unrelated to Katrina note, look how far womenhaven't come! The Onion story is faux for those of you not in the know, but the stats are real.
12 comments:
chocolate.
need i say more?
No. You just need to share with the rest of the class.
cognitive behavioral therapy. group session.
helped me get past the i-hate-myself-so-i-won't-eat thing.
nn
I don't get it...you're obsessively going to therapy this week to deal with Katrina?
We're not looking for solutions babe, we're identifying the coping strategies!
Hey NN, you seen this?
Or this?
At night, I tape photographs of David Cassidy to the windshields (facing in) of my neighbor's cars. I wake up early the next morning, and see how people react. Do they tear the photos off in disgust, or do they sit in the driver's seat for a moment and glance lovingly at David's heavenly image? (If a male does this, it makes the ritual that much more fascinating.)
Anyway, after doing that, (and drinking a bottle of tequila), I feel a lot less anxious and stressed out. I could spend $100+ for a therapist, but when such simple acts provide such incredible relief, why bother?
Salad
CBT isn't a solution -- it just offers a mixed-bag of coping strategies for anxiety, etc.
Sorry if I missed the point -- I was thinking you were interested in how others deal with anxiety in general, which for me, can get pretty bad. (Not in specific, like re: Katrina.) I suppose you weren't interested in how people actually deal with it... and besides, therapy is SO not Left Coast, I know, I know...
NN
Excellent, Salad. Though toner is like gold in my house, pricier than gasoline.
NN, sorry for the confusion. Everyone agrees therapy is good...I'm interested in your bad self:
"With relentless media images of problems we can't control, what bad habits do you turn to for an illusion of control?"
So what have you got for us besides not eating? Nosepicking? Masturbating to Salad's David Cassidy photos? Share!
I start reading the paper and online news reports at an alarming rate -- which takes some doing, since I read a lot more of it than I used to, already.
MIM
OMG - Lysol douche? .... YIKES!!!! I'm sure that some MALE CEO of Lysol came up with THAT idea way back when. Lord knows the dainty women sure weren't in charge when THAT idea came out! ... yeeks!
I'm soooooo anxious about moving, starting a new life, leaving everything I have behind, spending all this money on a silly fucking dream, etc that I can't even think of anything to write.
I tell you what. I wish I were SMOKING. One pack, two packs, fuck the taxes. I'll pay. That noxious little weed shrouds all my dreams with circles and circles of delicious smoke.
Fuck. Me.
NN
I bite the shit out of my lips, apply chapstick, repeat.
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