Social activities make me anxious in a way they never did before. I guess it’s because I don’t ever do anything outside of work of binging tv shows I’ve seen repeatedly (shout out to my people who understand rewatching entire series is a coping mechanism).
Leading up to Puzzle Pieces Lip Sync Battle I started to regret everything—obviously, not the donation part because I’ve been donating to PP since it first opened—but the thought of having to see a couple thousand people I haven’t seen in years made me increasingly nervous as the night got closer.
We had the pleasure of sponsoring the Pre-Party and I was grateful to have a reason to “make” myself go out and enjoy the night—and I DID!
I never considered how it would feel to show up to something with my logo and branding on every table. To walk by someone scanning my QR code. To spot someone flipping through my service menu. iTS pretty cool, I guess. ;)
But when I received a text message right after the new board chairman was on stage talking about Integrated Therapy Solutions… my eyes were suddenly wet. One of my early mentors in the therapy world (and previous clinical instructor turned boss) had messaged me to say, “…so proud of you.” I’m a big fan of affirmations when launched my way (y’all know this), but when it comes from someone you respect enough that the thought of disappointing her still makes you queasy 10+ years later—this text was everything.
I might even say it gave me a little pep in my step.
But just as easily as I can sail on the breeze of my victories, I can crash into concrete just as quickly. The highs of highs from such an epic night tend to lead me to the lowest of lows in the haze of the morning after. Does anyone else have post-fun depression? Don’t get me wrong, my mental health isn’t super always super stellar/consistent, but when I have such an increase in socialization, it’s generally followed by an extreme hermit experience. That black cloud follows me through the week… requiring every bit of energy I can muster to just trek along my weekly schedule. It’s as if I just wait for the punchline, the catch, the good energy to drop. It usually does (it did).
I had a few texts asking where my blog was. I intended to write a new entry a week ago, but again, I was just surviving. So, I got myself together and got back on the scale. I was hesitant as I correlate my depressive states with weight gain (that’s 30+ years talking), but guess what? Still on track…
CW: 289.4 (4.4 lbs lost since last update a couple weeks ago)
Including the pic to show a little progress. Don’t get distracted by the fact my hair was actually washed and styled and I had a little touch of make up on!! I had to order some (I saw it on TikTok) because my make up was 4 years old. How gross? That just explains how often I wear it—never—and how much emphasis I place on shopping—none.