Lighten Up Francis!

" Someday you'll look back on all this and laugh, you sick, demented, inhuman monster."

It's no grand secret I'm high maintenance. With that well-earned title comes tendencies to over-think and over-analyze literally EVERYTHING. EVERY GOD DAMNED THING. This past Tuesday evening, I woke up on the garage floor and thought "Wow - is this FINALLY rock bottom?" I'll spare you the details of what I found myself lying IN, but it was a sign of yet another mental collapse. As I frantically pulled myself together to make sure the kids were OK, it was clear I needed a break. Thus, I declared yesterday Ninja Kitty Mental Health Day. It's possible this was only observed in Canada, so I apologize to those of you who didn't get the memo.

As is par for the course, I entered Wednesday (AKA Ninja Kitty Mental Health Day) with preconceived expectations. Predictably, those expectations were quickly dashed. All the well-meaning intentions in the world couldn't salvage what I had hoped to accomplish. At the same time, it was precisely due to all of this that I arrived at a long overdue conclusion: I need to lighten the fuck up.

I almost had myself convinced that working through everything going on in this noggin of mine would be of some fabulous benefit. That expressing each fleeting thought thrown wildly out of left field would enable me to make sense of it all. The more thinking I accomplished, the more out-of-control I felt. As it turns out, when one is as unreasonably hypersensitive and empathetic as I, these things are, in fact, best left unattended to. In time, they work themselves out akin to the wrinkles in the dry-clean-only clothes I carelessly toss in the dryer.

Over the past few months, I have found myself increasingly self conscious and further self loathing. The more I strived to be "myself", the more I found myself apologizing for it. Since the birth of my second (and last) uncoordinated midget, I have lost almost 70lbs to date. Not a small feat, and something I should make an attempt at being proud of. Yet with each pound gone, I fell further and further away from whatever vague goal I had set out in search of to begin with. In direct response, I was "motivated" to go to unhealthy extremes while musing at what a dumbass I am for putting myself in a dangerous predicament. To what end?

For once, I'm not going to bother answering that. I'm not even going to make a general attempt at analyzing it. Turns out, that was the 'ol wrench in the spokes to begin with. I won't pretend I'll be able to turn off the most inherent of my quirks. I won't bother punishing myself when I break a random resolution or contradict the "plan" from only moments ago. In fact, I'm going to really put forth an effort at not putting forth such effort. Is any of this making a lick of sense? No? Oh well. Then it wasn't meant to *smile*. Hot damn, I feel better already.

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Kitty

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Lighten Up Francis!

" Someday you'll look back on all this and laugh, you sick, demented, inhuman monster."

It's no grand secret I'm high maintenance. With that well-earned title comes tendencies to over-think and over-analyze literally EVERYTHING. EVERY GOD DAMNED THING. This past Tuesday evening, I woke up on the garage floor and thought "Wow - is this FINALLY rock bottom?" I'll spare you the details of what I found myself lying IN, but it was a sign of yet another mental collapse. As I frantically pulled myself together to make sure the kids were OK, it was clear I needed a break. Thus, I declared yesterday Ninja Kitty Mental Health Day. It's possible this was only observed in Canada, so I apologize to those of you who didn't get the memo.

As is par for the course, I entered Wednesday (AKA Ninja Kitty Mental Health Day) with preconceived expectations. Predictably, those expectations were quickly dashed. All the well-meaning intentions in the world couldn't salvage what I had hoped to accomplish. At the same time, it was precisely due to all of this that I arrived at a long overdue conclusion: I need to lighten the fuck up.

I almost had myself convinced that working through everything going on in this noggin of mine would be of some fabulous benefit. That expressing each fleeting thought thrown wildly out of left field would enable me to make sense of it all. The more thinking I accomplished, the more out-of-control I felt. As it turns out, when one is as unreasonably hypersensitive and empathetic as I, these things are, in fact, best left unattended to. In time, they work themselves out akin to the wrinkles in the dry-clean-only clothes I carelessly toss in the dryer.

Over the past few months, I have found myself increasingly self conscious and further self loathing. The more I strived to be "myself", the more I found myself apologizing for it. Since the birth of my second (and last) uncoordinated midget, I have lost almost 70lbs to date. Not a small feat, and something I should make an attempt at being proud of. Yet with each pound gone, I fell further and further away from whatever vague goal I had set out in search of to begin with. In direct response, I was "motivated" to go to unhealthy extremes while musing at what a dumbass I am for putting myself in a dangerous predicament. To what end?

For once, I'm not going to bother answering that. I'm not even going to make a general attempt at analyzing it. Turns out, that was the 'ol wrench in the spokes to begin with. I won't pretend I'll be able to turn off the most inherent of my quirks. I won't bother punishing myself when I break a random resolution or contradict the "plan" from only moments ago. In fact, I'm going to really put forth an effort at not putting forth such effort. Is any of this making a lick of sense? No? Oh well. Then it wasn't meant to *smile*. Hot damn, I feel better already.

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