Last night I went to Walmart in Van Buren to buy the ingredients for dirt dessert, which are basically sugar, sugar, dairy, and Oreos. One of my creativity assignments this week was to “bake something,” so I figured I didn’t need to complicate the matter and settled on something easy. Anyway, while I was shopping, I noticed some light-up block letters used for decorating, so I rearranged the top row to spell SICK. (The only other option was TITS, and that’s not really my thing. Plus, it’s Van Buren.) Notice the letter I is actually a bottle of beer. It was the only “vowel” available, and I actually enjoyed the implication.

Been there, done that.

As it turns out, there’s a reason I’m not a cook. I screwed up the dirt dessert. Basically I thought I had to make the vanilla pudding first (with 4 cups of milk) AND THEN add an additional 3 cups of milk along with the other ingredients. Well, I was mistaken. I needed 3 cups total, not 7. So things turned out–uh–runny, more like a milkshake. That being said, the concoction did firm up a bit overnight, and it’s pretty tasty.

All day–all day–today, I’ve had a headache. Maybe I slept wrong. Maybe my body doesn’t like a month’s worth of sugar in one night. It’s difficult to say what causes these things. But it hasn’t been fun, this sort-of dull pain that just sits at the back of my head the way a vacuum cleaner salesman might sit in your living room and refuse to leave. So far I think I’ve taken Ibuprofen or Tylenol three or four times today. I lost count. Currently I have a heated rice bag around my neck and have peppermint oil slathered everywhere above my shoulders. It’s supposed to help, but I smell like a candy cane.

It’s not cute.

This evening I went out to eat with one of my favorite people, who likes to remain nameless. I mean, she has a name, uses it often, seems to enjoy it, but likes to remain nameless–on this blog. Anyway, more than once she said I was perky. (Perky–that was her exact word. I’m quoting.) I mean, I just looked up the definition. I guess perky is all right–jolly, lively, cheerful, bouncy, effervescent–that’s totally me.

At your service.

Okay, I might as well just say it. I’m starting a new project (in addition to this one because I apparently want to sleep less). The name of the project and website (which isn’t up yet) is called I Want the World to Know. I just started a Facebook page tonight (go like it when you’re done here). It’s seriously in the beginning stages, but the idea is that I’m going to start asking people, “What do you want the world to know?” or “What’s your best advice?” Then I’ll share the answers, with maybe a picture of the person, online. In my mind, the answers will cover a range of topics–self-help, relationships, automobile care, cooking (don’t use too much milk for dirt dessert!). You know, any little thing that might change your life for the better.

So far I’ve only gotten answers from a couple of people. But I asked my friend tonight, and she said she just got back from a trip to Iceland. She said the people there all lived about the same, meaning that both teachers and doctors lived in houses that were similar sizes–no one was too extravagant. What’s more, she said they seemed content with what they had. They weren’t saying, “More, more, more.” So she said that she would tell the world, “Find your ‘enough is enough’ button and be happy. Just because something is good doesn’t mean more will be better.”

Well, I guess to prove the point, she suggested that we SPLIT dessert. (Yeah, sure, I can do that. Considering all the sugar I had last night, that would probably be a good thing.)

Isn’t that adorable?

Since I got home tonight I’ve been thinking about the “enough is enough” button, and I think it has a lot of applications. Obviously, it could apply to anything we buy and collect, as well as food we eat (sugar!), and beer we drink (SICK!). But I think there are a lot of other situations where this wisdom could apply. I know that more than once I’ve reached the point in life where enough was enough. It’s like everything was “fine” until one day when it wasn’t. Maybe that meant I ended a relationship, quit a job, or finally had that difficult conversation because not having it was tearing me apart.

I guess we all have our limits. At some point we take a pain pill, go to the doctor, go the gym. I’ve said before that it was a bad, bad, really bad relationship that got me to go to therapy. But honestly, that was just my “enough is enough” button. I needed to go anyway. Not because I’m any more fucked up than you are, but because I needed some professional help in processing life. I needed boundaries because most people don’t have them. I needed to stop judging myself so much. I needed to believe in myself more. I mean, who doesn’t need all that?

I’m not suggesting you should go to therapy, but I am suggesting therapy is one way to make your life better.

It seems we all have a tendency to overindulge–in material possessions, in addictions, in bad relationships. The upside to this, I suppose, is that it shows us where our “enough is enough” button is, lets us know how much we’re willing and not willing to put up with. (We’re talking about boundaries here.) In my experience, having less–less stuff, less sugar (ugh), less bad behavior–is almost always better. Finding that “enough is enough” button, of course, can take time. But if you know where it is and you haven’t already–for crying out loud–push the damn thing.

[I would love to hear what you want the world to know, what your best advice is. Please message me on Facebook or at me (at) meandmytherapist (dot) com with your story. Or hell, let’s SPLIT a dessert and talk about it in person.]