post midnight ramblings from a drug-addled mind

Well, my sleep schedule is shot all to hell. I've done not much else but sleep and read for the past three days. And much as I love sleep, it's about 1:30 am and it's nowhere to be found. Might as well write, I suppose.

Ever since my sleep study, I haven't pushed myself to fight my anxieties. I've used the surgery as an excuse, too, as well as two full years of IF. I'm tired of being strong, I'm tired of fighting to be healthier, I'm tired of doing what needs to be done even though what I really want to do is hide from the world.

One of my biggest anxieties (aside from sleep studies) is the telephone. I trace it back to when my mom was the leader of a 45-girl Girl Scout troup. Whenever there was a message to get out, I was handed a list of numbers and told to call. Most of the girls did not like me much (I was a bit of an outcast until I hit college). Calling a few dozen girls that didn't like me was not fun. Now, I hate the telephone. I've never been one to sit on the phone for hours, chatting about nothing with my friends. I'd rather go see them, talk in person. Silences are much more comfortable in person. Calling someone I don't know takes me steeling my nerves and taking a deep breath. Even calling friends takes it toll on me. Sometimes I sound like a nervous teenager practicing asking out the pretty girl in homeroom, running through my mind what I'm going to say before I dial the numbers. I'd much rather send an email, or an IM.

Lately, answering the phone is difficult for me as well. There are two people who call me, two IDs that don't make me freeze up. DH and my best friend - them I answer without a second thought. My family calls, I'm more likely to let it go to voicemail. Unknown callers, I don't even think about it. If they want to reach me, they can leave a message. And if you do call me, and I recognize your name and/or number, chances are I will *still* let it go to voicemail. Even if I call back just a few minutes later, it helps me feel like I have some control over the issue.

Yes, I know how crazy this sounds. But it's after 1:30 am, and I can't sleep, and I haven't found a therapist yet, so I write.

Now my surgery is over. And it was a bit anti-climactic, honestly. I've been in very little pain. Today I'm more sore than yesterday, enough to warrant a pain pill, but overall it's not too bad. It's that achey, full feeling that you can get from using your stomache muscles for situps or vomitting. I accidentally scratched at my belly button this afternoon, forgetting the stitches - that didn't feel so good. But overall, other than a sleepiness that could be just as much from my burgeoning depression as from the surgery, there's not much aftereffect to worry about.

So I have no more excuses. Things I've been putting off 'til after the surgery, now they need to get done. Short list being, in no particular order:

• Start back on the South Beach Diet. It's really the only diet that hasn't driven me nuts. I gave myself a "break" at the holidays, and never got back on the bandwagon. No more excuses. I need to go to the grocery store tomorrow, plan my week's menus, get into a healthier frame of mind.
• Register for my NKBA certification. This includes collecting affadavits from clients.
• Start studying for my certification test in September. Gotta pass both the AKBD and the CKD, no small feat. It's too big of a financial investment to not pass them.
• Find a therapist. For reals. No more dragging my feet, making excuses. (Note to self: never again judge someone who's said they'll do this and then taken a few weeks to get around to it. It's a scary process. I should have known that already, but somehow I forgot.)
• Finish that wedding scrapbook for G at work. This is not a top priority, but now that summer TV means reruns, and since most of my books are in boxes in the garage, I have the time to do this.
• Clean up our spare room. Hire strippers/painters to do the walls, and that guy to come back to do the floors. Make it a guest room for now, because the thought of having a nursery before having a baby just hurts my heart. A guest room will actually get some use.
• While I'm at it, get painters to do the bathroom and hallway, possibly the living room too.
• After I get someone to patch the holes left behind by the electricians. A year ago.
• Finally throw that party I've been meaning to throw since last year, 'bout this time.

I feel my eyelids getting heavier. That vicodin must be kicking in. I hope I haven't rambled too much here. I don't mind bearing my soul, but I can't bear the thought of being incoherant. Did I spell that right?