Self-Sabotage and the Under Paid Therapist
Are you all still ok with being called Socket Seekers?
Most of you admitted to voluntary self electro-convulsive therapy, so I think it's too late to voice opposition. Blink twice if its ok.
I have also performed self-sabotage mentally and physically. I currently possess the exact physical silhouette of Jabba the Hutt, if all he ate was Taco Bell and lesser grease emporiums. I have spent the past couple of months living entirely off fast food; for two months I have avoided cooking almost as well as I do sit-ups. Neither have been happening, but both really need to.
I like these calorie distribution locations because they allow me to order my bags of fat and sadness online, where reduced human interaction is preferred. I am actively trading my long-term cardiovascular survival for an extra twenty minutes sitting in my car scrolling on my phone. My brain needs to match my physical health—if I do enough damage to my mind, the monsters may stop visiting me so often.
I sit there, sucking on fumes in a drive-thru line, while the slowest humans on earth attempt to place a hamburger on a bun. Today, while waiting on the worker to work out the logistics of opening a package of buns, I watched a family running from bees. So at least there was a show. Those bees invading their happy day were exactly like the imaginary monsters invading my mind. This is a perfect, bite-sized preview for the American family of what I actually go through with agoraphobia: I step outside and immediately feel like there are monsters waiting to attack me.
The only difference is that my specific monsters have opposable thumbs. They have also learned to make grunting noises that vaguely resemble words. They can't understand words, but they mimic sounds like an intelligent primate. As a trans person who grew up around people with what I am going to call radical hateful beliefs, I won't name names. But they know what form of demonic monsters they are.
Today was a beautiful day; understand that this is what these perfect days are like for me. I would have loved to take my portable heart attack to the park and attempt caloric violence against my body, but those monsters enter my mind and cause me to want to retreat to my sad apartment. Sitting on the couch in my 1-bedroom apartment watching the same TV shows I have watched for 20 years while thinking about my somedays is really depressing.
Instead, I'm doom scrolling through home listings and questioning if the people of Colorado have lost their minds. Apparently, a house that has recently flooded is $250,000. You can tell it was flooded because the drywall was removed from waist-height down. I guess it could just have the world's largest and jankiest dog door.
Monday will be one of those American Samurai TV shows—or whatever they are called—for my therapist. She is going to have to fight off the monsters that have inhabited my mind this weekend. It makes you wonder what kind of childhood would lead someone to inflict this on themselves. I sent her my blog posts this week, so she may run screaming. I did hear a scream the other night, but I thought it was my inner voice screaming not to get the 32-ounce milkshake. We will never know if it was her or that ridiculous inner voice.
Useless recap, are we tired of these yet?
• Exclusively consuming fast food is probably bad.
• Possible issues with happy families.
• Repetitive post about agoraphobia.
• Houses are expensive.
• Depression has attacked again.
• My therapist needs a raise, don't tell her.
Disclaimer: Look, Taco Bell, I have personally kept five Taco Bells open even through the lettuce apocalypse, so don't sue me please.