ramblings from an ungodly hour.

I take a deep breath and rollover in bed. meditating seems to not be cutting it this evening.

and my brain is flooded with numbers and figures, budgets and laundry.  I can't stop obsessing. I slowly feel my fingers run up through my hair. 

hello, old friend. 

I slowly run my fingernails across my scalp and feel a rush of calm.  my brain still won't start my slow drift off into slumber, but my heartbeat has slowed. and I'm stuck in a conundrum, knowing scratching is just going to fuel some of my OCD tendencies, but stopping just creates anxiety.  

I take a deep breath and plant my arms firmly down to my sides, I look over and see the soft glow of my laptop and smartphone calling my name.  I reclose my eyes and feel the nagging urge to look at new computer desks and laptop bags.

this is not the time.

but I'm longing for the mindless urge of making plans. an easy distraction once my brain goes into a repetitive OCD state. I know the major issue I'm trying to avoid. 

I go back to work tomorrow. 

just putting the words together make my stomach drop, not because I hate my job, I'm just not looking forward to the awkward lull in conversation when someone asks me where I have been. 

because I've been sick, but my illness is in my brain, and telling people about it just skews their opinion of you. 

don't mind her, she's just pissed because she has a screw loose. 

it's very easy to undermine the feelings of those suffering from mental illness. where does one's feelings stop being invalid once they have the giant red stamp of diagnosis.

congrats. you have a label. 

and then I realize I can't control what others think. I can't control what they think they know about me.  this has been my whole mantra through therapy. how could I let these thoughts slip through?

and they may not even think anything bad.  but still I'm trained to think the worst--I'm sad a few weeks of therapy hasn't fixed that. 

tomorrow I will walk into work. I will brush the nagging feelings of what others think and check my email.  but it's not my place to care about what they think. 

tomorrow I will not exert the energy to worry about them.  

beause tomorrow I will be tired. it's late and sleep still isn't coming. 

I roll over to the nightstand where my laptop sits. i grab my glasses. I open up my computer and feel the glow violently hit my eyes. 

I start to write and make sense of what just happened.  I have to process these thoughts to prevent this all from spiraling out of control. 

the writing helps.