Reality, personal satisfaction, ideals, body image… a hard pill to swallow. 

It’s been a good month since I quit taking a pill I was prescribed after my divorce. Before this pill I had struggled with unimaginable feelings of abandonment as well as anger, resentment and frustration and had multiple panic attacks daily. CELEXA. 3 months after I began taking it, I’d quit theripy and it was then prescribed by my PCP. I’d been urged to work myself off of it over this past 3 yrs. Well, I decided to not renew my prescription last month. It’s hard to say whether or not all these horrible feels I’m going through are reasonable. I can tell you that I’m immeasurably dissatisfied with my body and how I have put on extra weight over this past yr. I’ve lost much of the muscle mass and healthy habits I’d gained soon after my divorce. I don’t like complacency and I feel like I’m falling into myself again. Like my autistic sons 21 y/o Brenton and 12 y/o Dakota, I peer outside my head through my eyeballs and view an old wratchet ugliness like no other could possibly see. It had me running from the gym last night. Wrinkles, thickness, a wonky eye… All rolled up in an emotionally unstable person, of whom I myself can not control.

I am always the calm, reasonable shoulder to cry on. I’m always the pillar my guests call upon for protection and provisions. Yes, I hold it up.

Then I’m fucking running out’avah godang gym. So strange and unsettling for my perfect bf.

Anyhow. Going to exercise after my bath. I’m looking forward to ignoring all mirrors and focusing on my Netflix movie download and Fitbit’ch. I want’a see those numbers fly, and all my Fitbit challengers fall beneath me.


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