Showing posts with label OCD. Show all posts
Showing posts with label OCD. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Tickle My Digits.
I got a new phone.
From Santa.
A smart phone.
It confuses me a great deal.
Is there an app for that?
Saturday, December 18, 2010
I can't feel my fingers.
Poverty breeds creativity. I'm crafting up a Christmas present storm! I've burned off all my fingertips and cut a chunk out of my finger. Shit is serious. Seriously crafty!
I cherish these moments. I can't wait to see it.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Brain, Brain, Go Away! Little Erin wants to Play!
My head is all a mess.
I can't seem to shake this gloomy, blue, sad, stay-in-bed-and-stop-participating-in-society feeling.
What to do?! Well, blog about it, for one! Who knows, maybe it leads to an answer. I'm willing to take the risk.
I try working out, talking it out, stuffing it, starving it, forgetting it, writing about it, rising above it, sinking below it, drugging it, sleeping it off... everything. I even resorted to seeking advise from my 10 year old friend. Surprisingly, more compassionate and valid than most adults, she still couldn't hit the nail on the head.
Although I am prone to, let's say, strong changes in emotion that affect everyone around me, I can usually shake the negative ones in a few days and hold on to the positive ones for months. As I am obnoxiously aware of myself and the people around me, I am pretty good about pinpointing the problem, using my words to process the feelings, and pushing through to the other side. I have a grasp on the epic disappointment that was the catalyst for the whole shitstorm, the ever present and never present straw that broke this camels back, but can't make my sparkle come back.
Equally frustrating, I am the mothertherapist in my circle of friendfamily. I am never the one you call to grab a drink, giggle over boys, and compare glitter. (Nonetheless, I am quite sure my regaled tales and glitter collection are above par.) I am the one you call when you are going to jump off the bridge. Or when you need someone with you at the cat hospital at 3am. Or when you are too sad and confused. Or when something bad happens. Or when revenge must be had. I need that friend for me now. Hell, I would settle for the grab-a-drink friend. Just someone who is sincere and tries to straighten things out in my brainhole. And who can talk and make sense and see things I can't. I don't know how to convey this or find this, but I need it.
A list of immediate thoughts to help my sanity-
My life would be easier with the following changes:
I am paying for my lifestyle in art alone.
The gym is more fun with easier results.
Food isn't yummy and expensive.
I make more money. Like enough to pay rent, for starters.
I don't have a job that comes home with me every day.
The cat litter doesn't smell so fucking bad ALL the time.
The cats don't tread said litter into my room ALL the time.
Friends are more.
Family is closer.
Relationships are always sparkly.
Babies are easy to have and be responsible for.
Karma comes around.
People aren't so selfish.
I learn to sleep.
I go on a secret dinosaur ride that I never share with anyone.
See, that helped a little. My friend Kirky helps put things into perspective. Not really making me feel any better or resolving anything, just reminding me that everything contains humor and we are going to be alright. We are smart people with strong support systems. And if there were anything else in the whole universe that made us even almost as happy as being an artist person, we are smart enough to have been doing that already. But there isn't. Thusly, we suffer with cause and ambition.
If I could just part the clouds and get back on track...
Are you my hero?
I can't seem to shake this gloomy, blue, sad, stay-in-bed-and-stop-participating-in-society feeling.
What to do?! Well, blog about it, for one! Who knows, maybe it leads to an answer. I'm willing to take the risk.
I try working out, talking it out, stuffing it, starving it, forgetting it, writing about it, rising above it, sinking below it, drugging it, sleeping it off... everything. I even resorted to seeking advise from my 10 year old friend. Surprisingly, more compassionate and valid than most adults, she still couldn't hit the nail on the head.
Although I am prone to, let's say, strong changes in emotion that affect everyone around me, I can usually shake the negative ones in a few days and hold on to the positive ones for months. As I am obnoxiously aware of myself and the people around me, I am pretty good about pinpointing the problem, using my words to process the feelings, and pushing through to the other side. I have a grasp on the epic disappointment that was the catalyst for the whole shitstorm, the ever present and never present straw that broke this camels back, but can't make my sparkle come back.
Equally frustrating, I am the mothertherapist in my circle of friendfamily. I am never the one you call to grab a drink, giggle over boys, and compare glitter. (Nonetheless, I am quite sure my regaled tales and glitter collection are above par.) I am the one you call when you are going to jump off the bridge. Or when you need someone with you at the cat hospital at 3am. Or when you are too sad and confused. Or when something bad happens. Or when revenge must be had. I need that friend for me now. Hell, I would settle for the grab-a-drink friend. Just someone who is sincere and tries to straighten things out in my brainhole. And who can talk and make sense and see things I can't. I don't know how to convey this or find this, but I need it.
A list of immediate thoughts to help my sanity-
My life would be easier with the following changes:
I am paying for my lifestyle in art alone.
The gym is more fun with easier results.
Food isn't yummy and expensive.
I make more money. Like enough to pay rent, for starters.
I don't have a job that comes home with me every day.
The cat litter doesn't smell so fucking bad ALL the time.
The cats don't tread said litter into my room ALL the time.
Friends are more.
Family is closer.
Relationships are always sparkly.
Babies are easy to have and be responsible for.
Karma comes around.
People aren't so selfish.
I learn to sleep.
I go on a secret dinosaur ride that I never share with anyone.
See, that helped a little. My friend Kirky helps put things into perspective. Not really making me feel any better or resolving anything, just reminding me that everything contains humor and we are going to be alright. We are smart people with strong support systems. And if there were anything else in the whole universe that made us even almost as happy as being an artist person, we are smart enough to have been doing that already. But there isn't. Thusly, we suffer with cause and ambition.
If I could just part the clouds and get back on track...
Are you my hero?
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
You down with OCD? Yeah. You know me.
I can't sleep. But really, how can anyone sleep when there are things to be organized.
Alphabetically, reverse alphabetically, by color, by size, by shape, by purpose, by frequency of use, by season, by how you acquired said important things, by genre, by feeling said objects evoke, chronologically, reverse chronologically, stacked biggest to smallest, tallest to shortest, fattest to skinniest, by ability to grab treasure should there be a fire, by what the kitties should and should not destroy... GAH!
And then there is the pile of stuff I have to lug around with me for eternity because my Mom got it for me and getting rid of it, even to a loving home, somehow reflects my lack of love for her, makes me ungracious, and would ultimately lead to my failure as a daughter.
Tonight I am thankful to be a poor artist in NYC with a small apartment. Any bigger, and somebody is gonna have to call A&E, cause I am hoarding this whoreson out!
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