What Do I Do When Lightning Strikes Me?

I jokingly call myself Touretta Lynn because I often blurt out things I shouldn't, spout off color jokes and curse like a sailor.  My friend said he would name a perfume after me, called Forever Sorry as I apologized to everyone for everything constantly.  Very bad habit.  I believe there are levels of disorders and oftentimes we each hold a bit of one or the other.  I also carry a portion of that compulsive affliction. I think this was brought on at an early age by a confusion to grasp religious concepts as a small child.  A Catholic guilt disorder if you will.  I made this amazing soup yesterday.  A homemade chicken soup from scratch with that bountiful rich broth and vegetables ready to heal my soul and bad gut from days of eating rich salty, fried foods on the road trip. I posted it on Instagram and it felt a little like bragging, so I immediately felt sort of shamed inside.  And when that happens I tend to believe something bad will happen to me or that I deserve to suffer in some small way.  In my head I hear the Old Testament God condemning me to pay for my sins.  And like a child, I accept the punishment because deep inside I know I'm a piece of worthless shit. 

And I did.  We had one small serving of this soup.  I made enough for days of comfort and lunch.  But since P ate his later, I needed to let it cool down before I stored it.  I asked him to please remember to put it in the refrigerator later as I knew I would never remember.  When I said that, right then I knew neither of us would indeed remember and fate had already locked in.  I had to sacrifice that soup because I had showboated my sopa de pollo.  I'm sick I tell ya!  And I couldn't watch while P poured the soup into the toilet bowl this morning.