Posted by: Judy | April 14, 2016

Shut Down…

In the interest of being honest, especially with myself, this is not a cheerful, hang on, you can do it, don’t give up post, to start. I’m tired. My body shut down, and I slept for almost three hours in the middle of the afternoon, despite everything I needed to do.

I liked the idea of hand signals, a truly fantastic idea (thanks ntexas99), indicating I’m distracted and then realized it wouldn’t work. In a healthy relationship, I think it would work great. Keeping in mind for future use, just in case.

Rule #1: Stop Lying, especially to myself. I keep forgetting that conversation is not the intention. I’m offered an overbright greeting and then the conversation is over because they don’t hear or respond to my reply, which is why I long ago gave up replying. I’m the one who initiates an actual conversation, which I’ve also stopped doing because I’m not heard. Though it’s odd how NM has, on rare occasion, carried on conversations with me from a different room. For the most part, the only time I’m allowed to utter more than one or two sentences is when I’m ranting about something I’ve seen on the news, and only EF is willing to listen. Otherwise, I’m talked TO not talked WITH. I’m greeted in a singsong voice, a voice used on no one else, ever since I told NM decades ago I didn’t like it. I didn’t understand that guaranteed the use of said voice forever after.

Actual conversations are far and few between. Yes, this is another one I tested. When I would come home from a few days in California, I would be excited and ready to share. It didn’t take long for that enthusiasm to die. After the second visit (yes, I discovered the problem by the second visit), I would count the number of sentences I was allowed to speak before they broke in and told me about everything that happened while I was gone. The recital usually involved people I didn’t know and events I didn’t know about or even care about. I remind myself that my counselor opened my eyes to the fact I’m an extension of them, not a real person in and of myself. As my visits to Cali continued, I was reduced from two sentences to one. The last time I visited, I was only given enough time to say, “It was great,” and then they were off and running about their weekend.

I hate rehashing. I want to let go, but I have to remember I’m not crazy.

I’ve mentioned being stalked, NM waiting by the door, arranging to be doing something, when I leave or arrive at the house or in the kitchen or coming out of my room, zipping into the kitchen while I’m making my meal for just one thing and then one more, water, scissors, a ruler, a pen. It has never been about having a conversation. The purpose is to demand, without words, I notice and pay attention.

I had enough… I couldn’t take it anymore. Dinner was salt and vinegar chips and chocolate sandwich cookies I already had in my room. This is not healthy but preferable to the flashbacks. I’m once again feeling stupid for not having figured out a way to escape this insanity.

They will wonder why I didn’t make myself some dinner, maybe. Neither one will see the problem, except that I’m the problem. Not in a good place.

That was yesterday. Today will be better.


After thinking about this for a while, this question popped into my head: What if I’m looking at this all wrong?

When I was grocery shopping, a couple of times I thought about buying some Lunchables. Fast, easy, grab from the fridge and go. I talked myself out of them, too expensive, not nutritious… like chips and cookies are. 🙄 If I had listened, I would have had crackers, cheese, and lunchmeat, grab and go. I didn’t buy the pre-made snack because I’m working to make healthier choices. Obviously, with chips in the mix, I’m not entirely successful, but I am working to not buy every snack I see. The Lunchables weren’t on the list of deals. Have I mentioned I’m lousy with money?

Leap of Faith Day spotlights several of my less admirable qualities. I love it anyway.

Maybe this isn’t about the insanity in the house but about me being better aware of me and my needs. I’ve been well trained to ignore what I need… to fill wants not needs… Needs were denied while wants were used as bribes… Food was a reward/punishment. Since I was only allowed to eat what was offered at mealtimes, I used to spend my allowance on candy to have something to eat when I was hungry. Oh… my… I’m still eating candy when I’m hungry.

I vow I’ve changed a lot of things in my life. Really. However, this bit of insanity isn’t one of them. I need to change this.

One final note, I wish I’d found this blog post earlier, but it came when I needed it and was ready to read it. Thank you, Pastor Dave:

Ending on a more positive note:




  1. I’m sorry that it’s been a rough patch for you lately. That whole “eating away our feelings” rings true for me. I have some pretty strict dietary parameters due to ongoing abdominal issues, yet I still sometimes eat the very things that make me violently sick. It doesn’t make any sense at all, and I’m always so angry with myself afterwards (never mind that I’m also in pain and misery). When that happens, I try to be gentle with myself, and remember that it isn’t really about what is going in my mouth, but more about what’s going on inside my head. I try to remind myself to be nice to the person that inhabits this skin. She’s counting on me to make healthier choices. 🙂

    I’ve recently discovered the little “snack pack” boxes that contain a little tin of chicken salad, plus six crackers and a plastic spoon. Usually located near the tuna aisle. They are perfect for those days that I just don’t have the energy to prepare something, yet need to eat SOMETHING. They aren’t the healthiest choice for me, but they are better than that box of cookies.

    Ironically, sweets are also MY downfall. I probably have at least ten different kinds of candy in various places around the house. Chocolate stash in the bottom drawer of the fridge, hard candy in a jar on my desk, various flavored tootsie rolls in a baggie next to my drawing desk, etc, etc. Clearly candy is often used in lieu of food, so clearly I’m in no position to be offering advice.

    With that being said, I will at least ask that you be kind to yourself, and that you remember that every time you feel yourself close to a breaking point, it probably means it’s time to do something completely different. Take a walk, have a nice shower, or write someone a letter. Anything to change the energy of the day. Hang in there. Tomorrow is a fresh day. 🙂

    • I’ve tried clearing out the candy/cookies and sent myself spiraling into deprivation panic. I endeavor to choose wisely only what I enjoy most. Oddly enough, I’m less likely to binge if I have my favorites.

      I’ve seen those snack pack boxes. I think I’ll add them to my “emergency” supply.

      Thank you for the much needed reminders. ((ntexas99))

  2. I’ve often felt like a burden would be lifted if my mother would die. I know a bug burden lifted once I went no contact with her. Tried though I might’ve, there was no way I could get better if I had her negativity throwing a shadow across my life.

    Have you ever wondered if maybe you continue stuck with your parents because you are so bogged in your struggle that you aren’t able to see a way out, even though there may be options you haven’t considered? I asked that because you mention being bad with money, and that seemed to me like it might be a form of unconscious self-sabotage. Sorry if I’m overstepping, but it was what crossed my mind reading that.

    • You’re not overstepping. You’re exactly right. I was never taught to budget or handle money. I was only taught to not go into debt.

      I’ve promised myself to endeavor to be more openminded about finances. I need to do that about every aspect of myself. I’ve kept myself in a cage for so long, I’m not sure I know how to open the door. I’m not even sure if I know where the door is.

      Unfortunately, I do a lot of self-sabotage, in a lot of areas of my life. I suppose I never really realized how much or how many until now.

  3. BIG burden, not bug burden. Lol. Although my mother does bug me.

    • 😀

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