Schroedinger’s Head Cold

For the past few days I’ve been feeling like I may or may not have a cold. This is annoying, but I’m actually kind of impressed to learn I have commitment issues even with germs.

Or, depending on my self-esteem at any given moment and how fucked up you like your metaphors: “Damn, even GERMS don’t know my body is worth staying inside.”


Weight, weight… Don’t tell me…

Me: “I am a grown-ass adult lady and I don’t need ANY-damn-body to validate me!”

Also me: “I feel like I’ve lost weight. Why hasn’t my family told me I look like I’ve lost weight? They say that when I HAVEN’T lost weight!”

“My 600-lb. Lady Gut”

I felt OK about these workout pants when I bought them, but for some reason today I feel like I should wear them while on my own reality show called “My 600 Pound Lady Gut,” so… Yeah, good times! Let’s go to dance class and watch it all jiggle rhythmically!

P.S. I’m QUITE sure my salt & vinegar potato chip lunch and probable dehydration have nothing to do with this. Shut up.

Therapeutic Cliffhanger

Today I had therapy, and we ended up with an exciting basis for NEXT week’s session, where we’re going to dive deeper into how 40+ years of coddling and condescension from everyone in my family could perhaps make me constantly doubt my capabilities as an adult, and affect my self-worth in all areas of life.

Awesome. Great. I’m SO glad I did this. 🙄

(I am, but…Christ. Originally I just went to therapy for some Breakup Krazy Glue, but ended up shattered six ways to Sunday. At least when my therapist starts writing groundbreaking articles about family insanity, maybe I’ll get royalties.)

(By the way, I am STILL very much on Team “Whatever Your Family Did, You’re an Adult, Handle Your Shit.*” But it turns out I just need some strategies to make that work as more than just bluster.)

(*Unless your family was LEGIT awful and not just underminey, in which case, obviously, you have the right.)

(Part of my damage is minimizing my damage because so many people have much worse damage.)


My therapist asked me to list five good things about myself. I came up with three, and two were things a friend had told me recently, so the therapist said they only count as one.

Now I have to think of other nice things, because I don’t want to be a person who can’t say nice things about themselves.

Fine. FINE! 🙄

(I’m not asking for compliments, BTW. Apparently I have to choose them myself, because I’m, like…supposed to actually BELIEVE them? I know, right? It’s absurd. Don’t ever go to therapy. It’s dumb, they want you to…ugh, LIKE yourself, and not just lazily write yourself off as “broken.” Pfft. Gross.)