Self-hating behavior

They say the road to enlightenment is paved with awareness and compassion. I've been working really hard on the awareness part of that equation, but compassion (toward myself) has been a hard-fought battle.

I'm aware that when I feel bad about myself and what is going on in my life, I do things to punish or harm myself. That includes smoking too much, eating the wrong things, and doing things to reinforce my belief system about myself. Ah, the voice of self-hatred, it is so pernicious and strives so hard to live (ego wants to live and will fight against the idea of no-self with all its might).

This week it was sitting in my big chair and chain-smoking, brooding and procrastinating. Then I went for a haircut and looked at myself in the harsh, unflattering light of the David Ryan Salon (hello? David Ryan Salon? How about lights that make your customers feel good about how they look?) and saw me, fatter than I've been since I left college, with multiple chins and an unsightly roll of flab around my middle, and something in me said, "Well, how can I complete this unattractive picture?" And found the answer as the words left my lips, from my mouth to Roni's ears.... "Cut it all off."

So now I look like an overweight housewife, or the New York City equivalent, a fat dyke with a nightmare of a haircut. I did notice as soon as I walked in that Roni looked exceptionally thin and drawn, and seemed jumpy, and my first thought was that she was using -- then she told me that she and MG have been doing a lot of drugs lately. Great, if you want to punish yourself with a hair tragedy, get your hair cut by an off-the-wagon tweaker. Go ahead, do it.

Well, it's done, there's nothing I can do about it until it grows out.

And let's see, how many times did I eat McDonald's last week? Three? And I supersized everything. Self-hatred running amok, as I knew every bite I put in my mouth was poisonous. It didn't even taste good.

Then, let's see, on Saturday I decided to "take a nap" (aka "escape from life") and woke up 6 hours later at 10pm, so naturally couldn't get back to sleep. Tossed and turned until 2 or 3, laid in the dark and cried for no real reason, not even real, healing crying, but hot seeping tears of self-pity and overwhelming loneliness. I could feel them rolling down the sides of my face and dribbling into my ears until I got up and sat, chain-smoking again in the big chair, until 4:30am.

Finally double-dosed myself with Valerian and dropped off at 5:30 or so, only to be awakened at 9 by Mambo clamoring to be fed.

And no electricity in my kitchen -- somewhere between 4:30 and 9, the circuit overloaded and blew. Called Antonette and Mike came right over, but the problem is in the wires, not in the breaker box. Carlos came up with an outlet tester which revealed that I have something called a "hot-ground reversal."

So now let's add a potential electrical fire to my list of woes.