Embracing (and loving) my Bills

 

I LOVE paying bills! Am I nuts? Or what?

Unpaid bills stress me out big time BUT the relief and sense of satisfaction, when I press confirm on the keyboard and wait to receive my receipt number, leaves me feeling back in control of my life.

Are you seeing a continuing theme here?

I NEEDED to de-clutter my house to feel like I was gaining control over my life…

I LOVE paying my bills for the exact same reason…

Am I a control freak?


The phrase was first used in the late 1960s — an era when great stress was laid on the principle of ‘doing one’s own thing’ and letting others do the same.

Control freaks are often perfectionists, who believe if they are not in total control, they risk  exposing their own inner vulnerabilities. When a control freak’s pattern is broken, “the Controller is left with a terrible feeling of powerlessness … But feeling their pain and fear brings them back to themselves”.(Patricia Evans, Controlling People (Avon 2002) p. 129 and p. 274)

I know that I NEED to control my own environment (and I’m very lucky as I live alone and can do so) because I feel powerless against my Fibromyalgia. I take all the appropriate medication; I pace myself as applicable; I supplement my diet with numerous vitamins and minerals; I have embraced a multi-modal treatment plan; and I have all the tools in my toolbox to help control my pain YET, if my body decides it wants to FLARE, there is nothing I can do about the pain and fatigue, except to give in to it. So, of course, I feel powerless – don’t you?

Many control freaks (now using the term without any derogatory meanings) are Type A personalities. Hmm…many sufferers of FM are Type A personalities.

Coincidence?  Could FM be your body’s alert system to take it easy, to stop and smell the roses, to let the universe handle the world around you?

Are you a control freak?

 

After All…Tomorrow is Another Day.

 

So, it’s finally hit me…I’m home from Bali. Duh! you say, but I was able to stay in my little fantasy land for a whole week.

Despite coming home to: two telephone bills (home and mobile), a car registration notice, an invoice for three quarters of body corporate fees, an impending hospitalisation to withdraw from codeine, the spectre of a gallbladder operation (then disappearance of aforementioned operation), the new threat of a lesion on my liver, and an unexpectedly high bill from my handy-man; I was somehow able to hold onto my dream of returning to Bali for a year. Forget Eat, Pray, Love – it was just going to be Love, Love, Love!

WHO AM I KIDDING? For some unknown reason, today it hit me full force that I’m home and, most probably, staying here. I don’t know why it was today – nothing huge happened; but it slammed into me (kind of like those trucks that hit us during the night so we wake up in so much pain) – I’m on a disability pension. Yes, it is cheaper to live in Bali. Yes, I could rent out my unit. But I would still need to return every 3 months to continue receiving my pension, and airfares are not cheap.

This ‘little’ dose of reality brought back all the other stuff (above) that comes with being at home and, all of a sudden, I am overwhelmed. Too much, too quickly!

My reaction is a quick visit to the darkness of depression…

STOP! Wipe those idiot tears. You need some control!

I can’t control any of the bills or medical hassles so my antidote is to get some control over my surroundings – 8 shelves of books going to friends or the Op shop, 2 suitcases of clothes I don’t wear (but I might one day) going to be stored in Mommy’s garage and 4 bags of trash. There is stuff everywhere (I can’t do it all in one hit – I have Fibro, remember?) and I’m unhappy about going to bed, knowing that all this stuff will be waiting for me in the morning; but my exhaustion (and gravity) is dragging me down. So, now, not only is my head a mess but, so is the house (more so than before!)

But, as Scarlett said: I can’t think about that right now. If I do, I’ll go crazy. I’ll think about that tomorrow.

 

P.S. The clean basket of laundry is still sitting on the floor of my bedroom.

P.P.S. And, maybe, I can still work out a way to Bali…