Blame

When something goes wrong, it seems like everyone wants someone or something to blame. Maybe it’s in our nature to shift responsibility, to clear our conscience. I’ve been stewing on this for days now, and it would be so damned easy to blame Depression for my actions, blame my father for being a role model of this behavior, blame everything else just so I could sleep a little easier at night. There are certainly contributing factors, and they all added up into this mess I’ve made, but my actions were my own. I made the choices that led me here. I reacted to situations that created this new situation. I did this. This Hell is my creation, and I will own it.

It turns out my oil didn’t need to be changed, and my tires don’t need rotating for another 1200 miles since they’re new. I drove out there for nothing, but it was time not spent sitting alone in this empty building. When I got back, I did 12 minutes on the rowing machine, despite the pain in my arms from yesterday’s stint, and tried watching the new episodes of Beaststars on Netflix. I couldn’t tell you what happened, but there was a snake in a police hat. My mind was elsewhere.

I haven’t thrown up since lunch yesterday. My diet has consisted of as much Honey Bunches of Oats cereal as I can eat in the morning (usually half a cup), 2-3 pieces of ham between two pieces of cheese for lunch (I’ve been calling this a sad-wich), maybe a Colby Jack cheese stick as an afternoon snack, or at least the leftover half of the stick from the day before, and another sad-wich for dinner. My blood sugar is 91, though, so at least it’s going up.

Tomorrow I might cook pork chops and actually try to cut up a cucumber to go with it. We’ll see how tomorrow goes. I’m not looking forward to going to work. I know I’m talking about overcoming this fear of letting out emotions, but crying at work seems like literally the worst place for it to happen to me, and the crying fits still come every so often. Sometimes because I see something she left behind, sometimes because I reflect on my bad decisions, and sometimes for no apparent reason at all… just watching a cartoon with a snake wearing a police cap and BOOM! It’s raining tears.

I have an appointment with an LPC in just under two hours. I’m dreading it. What is we don’t match well? What if she tells me to “Let go and let God” even though her web page didn’t mention Christianity at all? (About 80% of the LPCs in the area have a religious slant.) What if she tells me I deserve everything that’s happening to me, and that the dark voice inside me was right all along?

I’m also looking forward to it. It’s a step. It’s a step on the path to a better me. I can lean into it and do everything I can to fix everything that’s wrong with me, or I can hide from it and say it’s too hard and I’ll never be able to change anything. Either way, the choice is mine. Success or failure, I’ll be the one the blame.

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