Being so fucking broke you can’t just buy toothpaste. I am so close to paying off the smallest chunk of my debt, which is great, but then I need to borrow to buy things like toothpaste, tampons, other personal items.
So stupid that this shit is so expensive. Thankfully next month I should have quite a bit more wiggle room in my budget if I just pay minimums on everything.
I was planning to pay something off in full next month but I don’t think that’s going to happen with Christmas sliding in soon. I can’t believe it’s already freaking November! The middle of November even. Where did this year go?
I’ve got my mom covered for Christmas, but I have no idea what to buy anyone else. I did see a cute little item Tracy would enjoy that’s inexpensive, but beyond that? And I don’t have time to make things this year at all with school taking up most of my time.
Sometimes I really hate the winter holidays…
Eta… The reason things are so right this month is because I had multiple extra expenses. My phone needed to be replaced, and that was an extra $45 and there’s the fee for the craft event I’m doing in a few weeks at another $30. I know $75 might not be a lot for some of you but for me it really is a lot.
I did sell a few things and am awaiting the deposits for them which will help but that won’t come in until next week.
I joined Weight Watchers this morning. It helped me lose a lot of weight before and I really need to do it all again. I hurt. My body isn’t strong like it was. I’m tired all the time. I have pretty bad sleep apnea because of my weight. I can go on and on.
I joined up, downloaded the app, and logged in. I input my height and weight. I started tracking my food.
Later tonight, I was browsing the app in more detail and discovered my weight was listed at almost 700 pounds! Apparently when I input my weight in pounds, it registered as kilograms, then converted back to pounds. Took a few minutes to fix it but it explained why my points allowances seemed so generous.
I logged my steps and the stair climbing I did today, which earned me a whole 3 points. That’s basically nothing but I know I can do better.
I’ve been tracking my steps and the flights of stairs I climb since I started school. My steps are up about 300% but still nothing to brag about. I climb 2 flights of stairs in Tuesdays and 5 flights on Thursdays.
I did a short yoga routine earlier this week.
I did a 3 day event as a vendor this weekend, most of that time being perched on my piano bench.
My core hurts. I’m tired. I’m going to bed.
I’ve tried a few mood tracking apps but never stuck with any of them, or really loved them. A few days ago I found Daylio. I love it. It’s freaking genius and you can record so much information in a few seconds with just a couple taps of your screen.
Here’s a few screen grabs from the app. I did pay for the upgraded version to get all the features so the free version doesn’t do all of this, but it’s a couple bucks well-spent I think.
This is the overview screen. You can see what your day’s mood was and what activities you marked off. You can also see any notes you made on that day.
This is from the settings menu. You can add new moods, activities, and change the time of day the app reminds you to record your day. I have it set for 8pm but you can easily edit entries later if you’d like, or even make multiple entries on one day.
In the upgraded version, you can add new moods. I’ve added a few beyond the basic 5 it comes set up with.
You can also add activities to the app. These could be anything and there are tons of icons to choose from.
In the paid version, there’s also an option to export your moods and activities into a file so you could easily share how you’ve been doing with a health care professional.
Basically, I love this app. It’s easy to use, even easier to change to suit your needs, and so quick to input your day. And it’s a great way to keep track of how you’re actually spending your time each day!
My therapist asked me to write about my own success story as a kind of graduation out of one on one therapy. To start with how I felt when I started with her a year ago, and end with how I feel about myself today. This is what I wrote.
A year ago I started therapy. I was anxious, even scared, about what it would be like. I wasn’t taking care of myself. I wasn’t bathing, or sleeping well, or putting on clean clothes. I worried about everything. I had just broken up with my now ex-boyfriend and my entire world was upside down. I had to move back in with my mom and I didn’t want to. I was worried about living with her because we didn’t have the best relationship when I was a child.
I learned pretty quickly that my therapist was non-judgemental, and open to discussing whatever I needed to talk about that week. She gave me a safe space to not worry about what might be thought of me, and to reflect on myself with her gentle guidance. At the same time, I started doing things that let me feel in control of my body, since I couldn’t control anything else in my life right then. This took the form of several piercings, some easily visible, some more intimate. I changed my hair. I started wearing make-up more often. I showered. I put on clean clothes.
I got a puppy, and I started cleaning the house. I slowly stopped worrying about the things that had bothered me- if my pup was safe, if I was safe, if I would have a place to live. My piercings became less frequent, though I still got a few new ones, as well as a tattoo. The word WORTHY on my foot. Because I am.
I learned to look at things that had happened to me in a different way. My mom did the best she could for me. Not all the bad things that happened to me as a child were her fault. She loves me and thinks I’m just fine the way I am. Realizing that made a big difference in how I felt living with her and her boyfriend, and things got better.
I realized my ex was even more of a self-centered, bullying, and verbally and emotionally abusive asshole than I had let myself see before we broke up. Good riddance to bad garbage. I stopped talking to him completely and blocked him on social media. There was nothing good he brought into my life. I felt good about that.
All of these changes, and talking about these things while my therapist reframed them for me to consider made me see I am worthy of my own love and affection. I am worthy of others’ love and affection. I am worth working on to become a better, strong, more emotionally secure person. I’m worth taking care of. I am, all of me, worth it. I’m smart. I’m capable. I’m a good craft artist and a great dog mom. I can and do learn new things all the time. I can take care of myself and I can be my own success story. I am not a failure.
I AM WORTHY.
So next Sunday is my birthday. I’m turning 37. And with it being my birthday soon, just like every year, I’m depressed. It’s not because I’m getting older- I really don’t mind aging and I look forward to one day having beautiful silver hair. But for me, my birthday is a reminder that I’ve failed. I still haven’t managed to be self sufficient, I still have to spend on others to get by, I can’t even afford a shitty little apartment or trailer. And now I have all this stupid debt because I haven’t been careful with my money so I’m at least 3 years out from being able to start saving to actually do something about my living situation. And it makes me want to crawl under a rock and fucking die.
I’m not suicidal. But I’m so fucking low and on top of the birthday depression, I think my current living situation only adds to it as does the knowledge that my debt has dug a hole I can’t immediately get out of. And all of this is so fucking exhausting.
I really hope by this time next month I’ll have bounced back a bit. Tracy and Jami will be wanting to get together in the coming weeks, which will be a good thing. I haven’t seen friends in months, and some of my friendships are feeling neglected.
So Dr. Jen Gunter, our favorite “don’t put that in your vagina” advocate, posted this on her blog.
Apparently (and my Google-fu confirms) its now a thing to peel a cucumber, and insert it into your vagina with an in-out twisting motion for twenty minutes to “cleanse” the vagina.
Um… how about no. The vagina is self-cleaning and there are a million reasons why you should not do this. But apparently some vagina owners still need to be told that. Ugh.
Where to begin? Sunday night mom suddenly got really dizzy and was throwing up. Rafael took her to urgent care and they sent her to the ER. Turns out she had a fucking aneurysm. She spent a few days in the hospital, and was released Tuesday evening after the bleed stopped on its own.
Tuesday afternoon I went to ukulele club. I played a little and sang a bit but with everything with mom, my heart wasn’t totally in it.
I rescheduled my bass lesson this week for next week because I haven’t had time to practice.
Star, mom’s big dog in the house, had 12 puppies last night. Her first litter. Don’t get me started on the whole spay and neuter thing – if they were my dogs, it would have happened a long time ago. I don’t believe in breeding. One of the puppies was dead, but 11 is still a big litter.
Next Tuesday I have an appointment with the piercer at Psycho City to get my nipples done. It’s kind of a bucket list thing, though I’m really nervous about it – piercings freak me out just thinking about them, but I’m feeling brave right now.
Just for fun rock I wouldn’t be upset if she said yes, I asked my mom to go with me. It’s pretty freaking funny.