my happy little life:

i'll tell you: it makes you re-think everything you used to think about your own crazy problems. i mean, most of the time i really do think i'm off my rocker a little bit. i struggle with panic attacks and anxiety, paranoia, obsessiveness, addictions, irritability, narcissism, withdrawing...yes, basically the whole gamut of emotional flaws. the last few days especially i have really been in the bell jar. it comes and goes, and creative outlets (like blogging) help me rise above the blues and remember i have a "happy little life"- which is why i named this blog thus. you've always understood that, right? the title of this blog is to remind myself to look for and record the good and beautiful and happy around me so my inner downers don't take over- not because my life feels "happy" all the time. just thought i should clarify that. anyway.

so there i was last night, watching a woman on tv who is so co-dependent with her son that she has kept him in a bed and fed him until he weighed 850 pounds because in his obese state he is as helpless as a baby and her day is filled caring for him and cooking him food even though he is twenty. yes, she even has to bathe him. sick sick sick. trying to help him get better, the doctors are seen to him as the enemy because the only way love has ever been expressed to him is through over-indulgence and babying. truly, two mentally ill, life-wasting away people. so sad. i struggle with 20 pounds and feel "out of control"- even though i run 3 days a week and do yoga and pilates on alternate days. i drink too much diet coke (that i hate) and feel like i want to go to a rehab or i'm never going to have the strength to get off the sauce. see how this show might have put these things into perspective for me?

next up was surgery time to remove "fat tumors"- so obviously i had to turn the channel as fast as i could by hitting the recall button. i could take no more and usually i avoid TLC at all costs anyway (and i'm remembering why). and that horrible little button transported innocent little grossed out me to a show called "hoarders". holy [expletive]. have you seen this hot mess of crazy? how incredibly sad. i want to curl up and cry if my bathroom is gross and i don't have time to clean it. these people are living among animal feces from animals they don't even know are living in their house because there is so many piles and piles of trash and crap. and they want more crap. sick. sad. actual crazy.

so i recall again because i'm so incredulous and unable to sleep by this point i have to see what more is in store for me on TLC...aaaand that would be a show called "the man whose arms exploded". what? yes, he was a body builder who had lifted for so long and done so many steroids that his arm, well, exploded. the bodies they were showing on this show...um, unreal. they have the same body dismorphic disorder that leads others to anorexia. they look in the mirror and don't think they are big enough...um....

yes, you are big enough, you crazy, crazy horrifying man.
so the point of all this rambling is, i learned something about myself last night. yes, i'm a hormonal mood swingy mess as i'm sure the majority of women are. yes, i have a few extra pounds i hate, as i'm sure the majority of women do. but i think as far as being "crazy" goes- i'm going to give myself a new diagnosis: dramatic with a pinch of too high standards. simply put:

i'm doin just fine.

and even bigger lesson learned: i'm going back to watching seinfeld re-runs in bed, thank you very much. that would be my kind of crazy. put a fork in me jerry, i'm done!