One would think I entirely discarded my resolve, to stop reacting to every little problem with epic magnitude. They might even say I forgot each inch of progress I've made over the last few months. It's what I would say, were I able to observe my behavior objectively, and free of the entanglement of the first-person experience. Because no matter what cliche phrases, to pep myself out of misery, my lips mumbled, none of it mattered more than the despair radiating from my heart. The certain knowledge in my head promised me my mere existence was nothing more than a giant mistake and responsible for not only my own misery, but the heartache and opportunity lost of everyone else I know, too. Imagine the size of that ego!
After flipping out on myself, getting into a big fight with my husband, feeling so guilty about the whole thing I wailed and cried with the fervor of La Llarona, and ultimately realizing all this drama was completely self-indulgent and pointless, but still finding myself unable to stop, here I sit. Sheesh. What a wild road I didn't need to go down! Of course now I am faced with the daunting task of getting back on the wagon. All those theatrics are behind me and can't be changed. My three-day tantrum is now in the past, and I must accept it as truth and move forward. I made abundant choices in the moment to backslide. Taking responsibility for my actions as exactly that, a conscious choice, no matter how gripped with fervor I was in the moment, is mandatory. Because if I am ever to relinquish the servitude of living sick I must believe, with every beat of my heart, I am not a victim.
The surprising result of all this bellyaching isn't very surprising at all. Everything I was all freaked out about turned out the same way it would have, had I ignored the impulses of such destructive and well-indulged behavior, and enjoyed the goodness present in the last three days. Had I squashed the stirring to pitch a fit, I wouldn't be pulling myself out of a deficit, because I never would have slid down the rabbit hole in the first place! Basically the only thing my hysterics achieved were to make things worse. So the next time a flood of fear or anger or anxiety or despair smacks me repetitively, because undoubtedly it will, I hope I can remember three simple rules. 1. No matter what is going wrong in my life, or how I react to it, time still passes, and I have to live out that time. I may not be able to change what is happening to me, but I choose my reaction. That reaction determines if it sucks, or if it is pleasant. 2. Given past performance, the chances I will survive my current tribulation is 100%. 3. So why on earth would I want to make an already hard life any harder than it already is?
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