is it just me?

or do other people feel guilty when they come home, eat dinner, goof off on the computer/tv/netflix and then go to bed? i struggle with wanting to just relax when i get home, sometimes do nothing, but feel guilty if i'm not "working" on something.

i always put "working" in quotes when i talk about being at home and working on projects.  knitting, sewing, quilting, painting, drawing, whatever; it's "work." it's what i actually really like doing, not my job.  i call it work because it's important to me, even though it does not pay the bills.

at the same time, i spend huge amounts daily devoted to thinking and working at my job, and so why shouldn't i just chill out after work? or on the weekends? yesterday i did nothing but read and watch tv and it felt great, but i felt guilty at the same time.  where does this guilt come from? i was a terrible catholic, so i don't get it.  my therapist says that i need to try to be nicer to myself, and also more honest about my feelings.  it's a drag, but it is kind of helping. 

there just isn't enough time, and i think at the heart of it all is that i feel bad not trying to do all of the things i love, every day.  thinking and working at my job are one thing, but coming home and  "working," making something from nothing, creating, is what actually makes me feel good. i need my paycheck, but i'd probably go nuts just coming home and having nothing else to do.

today i started and actually finished a quilt top.  getting set up for the sewing and doing the cutting and pressing always takes the most time. it looks like i'm just poking around for hours, then suddenly! boom! quilt top! 

as usual, i did not use a pattern, just kind of made it up as i went along.  i might try pinning it all together tonight, or doing that later this week.  we'll see!  normally i try not to make baby quilts too pink or blue, but this flowered fabric has been staring at me for years, and a friend of mine just had a baby girl.  i think it will be perfect for her. 

this might sum things up nicely

today at work we had this kind of awkward impromptu pot-luck thrown for us because we built this web tool that people use at work.  the food was good, but it was a bunch of people who usually sit alone at their desks during lunch trying to talk to each other for over half an hour. 

at one point i made some joke about how my sister is a pop-tart connoisseur, and how i can always count on her to point me in the direction of awesome toaster pastries.  the peanut butter pop-tart is truly sublime.  then i mention if she's good at pop-tarts, i am good at hot dogs. then i say, "i keep thinking getting a hot dog tattoo sounds fun."

three people waste no time at all telling me what a terrible idea this is.  i tell them i've made worse decisions, and it's not like i'd get it tattooed on my FOREHEAD.  i just like hot dogs. they have happy memories for me.  a tiny hot dog tattoo some place on my body would crack me up. 

sometimes though i realize that everyone is so fucking serious and i just don't care as much. everyone spent all lunch talking about how that cheesecake looked amazing but was soooo bad for you.  yeah, sure.  BORING. cheesecake is delicious.  eating something terrible for you won't kill you.  sometimes food is pleasure and fun and some of us are fat and happy and who the fuck cares if cheesecake is fatty? is this really what we all want to talk about? how many calories are in a food? ugh. 

the long and the short of it is this: people are dumb and food is good and if you want to get a unicorn tattooed on your ass, i'll pitch in five bucks.  life is short. 

how about happy knitting update

progress on my wooly shawl!  i added some bright blue wool yarn i've had forever (about 7 years?), and am almost done with it.  it's thick and pretty, and will be very warm when it's done.  it will also secure my grandma status.  whoo!

how did it go?

my new therapist is a lovely, older hippie lady.  complete with moccasins and a suede leather vest, long white hair, cute round glasses.  it felt good to talk to her.  i cried, like i thought i would, and she thinks that the medication i've taken for the past 14 or so years just needs to be increased a bit. (i'm actually still on the starter dose of paxil, which isn't a lot, so she doubled it).  i was worried about that, because part of me always thinks that if i increase the dose, getting off of it is going to be impossible.

the thing is, the withdrawal from the small amount i take now was hellish.  is it going to be worse if i ever have to go off a higher does? probably.  i don't think i'm going to get to go off my medication, though.  that thought makes me sad, but it is likely that i will have to take some sort of anti-depressant, anti-anxiety medication from here on out.

we talked about how guilty i feel about being anxious, and how that's maybe not the most useful of emotions.  we talked about my dad.  we talked about the kids and D and work, and the therapist thinks that essentially i have anxiety with some depression, and unresolved grief issues.  i tend to agree.

in two weeks i'll go back to see her, and we'll start working through things.  right now i'm adjusting to the new dose of medication (hello, sleepyhead), trying to figure out a way of asking my boss for an hour off every two weeks for a while, and trying to feel more normal.  lately i feel highly emotional, which i don't enjoy, but i think part of the reason i tend to get to these bad spots is because i am so reticent to talk about things.  which is a funny thing to say from a woman who keeps a very public blog.  i would rather brush things off or make a terrible joke about it or stew about it privately than have an honest conversation about my emotions.

i also keep having these very intense, angry dreams.  in them, someone slights me in some way; either they say something mean about me, to me, or about my loved ones, and i go ballistic.  i push, i yell, i threaten violence in very explicit language, i try to punch and slap and fight but my limbs are leaden and all i can do is shove people around.  i wake up agitated and sore in the jaw from clenching.  hello, subconscious.  what are you trying to tell me?  ugh.