Just kill me

He makes a comment about a bag of chips, and I want to die. It takes me so fucking long to chill out in the evenings. I can’t get comfortable physically or mentally for so fucking long each night. I could stay awake all night tossing and turning. I have to try to make myself sleep after I take fucking Xanax. And this man asks if I already ate all my chips and I want to start puking. 

I didnt purge any of 2025. It was my resolution along with not stealing anymore. And like one other annoying thing. I’ve made 3 big behavioral changes in 2025. 

And in 2026 I need to work out. I need to stop smoking probably. I have a little rn, and edibles seem to be chill. I’d like to stop smoking once I’m done with these trees and just do edibles for the year. 

I wish I could fucking drink. But the motherfucker who comments on my chip intake is the fucking reason I can’t.  

First things first

So much insane shit has transpired over the past several months… My hand got fucked up at school, and now it hurts to do so many things that I have found myself not journaling nearly as much. I never thought about how much that would impact someone’s writing before… so, now I don’t work at the school anymore because my dad gave me thousands of dollars, and I got a new job where I work from home. I hope in 2026 I do not change jobs at fucking all. So far this one seems like a good fit, but my anxiety about all of it is so high given what 2025 looked like for me… Why does life keep throwing me these horrible adult years? 

I want to write my book so badly… There’s been so much new material lately between Thanksgiving and my crazy aunt and grandmother and my brother… The problem is, it wouldn’t be flattering for any of those people if they read it… I was thinking today about what’s holding me back, and I think a huge part of it is that I want to write unashamedly about so many things in such detail, that it will probably be way too much for a book. I think I’m going to have to heavily edit the product after I write it. I think if I truly wrote the memoir I wanted to write, it would be a dense-ass book… so I’ve been delaying; trying to be selective of what I will include before I start writing. I’ve been doing rough drafts in my head, but none of them seem appealing, because they feel weak. Watered down. Palatable. And I don’t want to do that… I want rawness that would break the heart of every motherfucker that ever knew me. I want to be utterly exposed in the process as a fucked up human. But I want to do it from behind a page so that all the other fucked up humans in the world feel as if they are reading about themselves. I want them not to see me as some public figure but to project themselves into what I write. I don’t want my family to ever read it, and I want every stranger on the planet to see it.  

That’s always been the goal. To write something brutally honest. I want to start that process.

For the sake of my inner child… She only had like 5 big dreams - a child, a husband, my own cute house with a big kitchen, to write a book, to have a treehouse, to make a complete dollhouse, to always have a real Christmas tree, to live in a big bustling city, to travel. 

I don’t know if the treehouse or house with a big kitchen is ever going to happen. Some of these are checked off. Traveling is what everyone wants to do in any way they can, right? So that’s basic bitch stuff.

I determined last night what I want to do with the dollhouse. I don’t think I’ll ever do it. 

In other news, my new job is pretty chill. I’ve had horrible ADHD happening that’s almost debilitating and the worst anxiety ever and started week two riiiight on danger days. And I’ve gained 10lbs since I started smoking again, and I had a massive flareup this week, solely because I’ve been treating my body like shit.

So I did an injection today because next week is Christmas and we’re literally going on a pool-centric trip.  I was supposed to be feeling myself and looking amazing. But instead th week of Thanksgiving, I just started binging like nuts and have been unsuccessful in stopping. I did an injection about two weeks ago, but this new job hasn’t helped my stress level. I’m perfectly successful with it, and I’ve done it all perfectly and it’s been a cakewalk, but it is so fucking hard for me to meet new people. Like these bitches are across the country, and I feel all the comparisons. I’m doing all of them. It literally makes me feel suicidal. And I can’t stop. I’m just in a fucking massive spiral of smoking and eating. 

Every time I undergo any big change, I revert. I get so fucking self-destructive in response to stress. Why the fuck?? Idk how I’m supposed to be like a functional normal human. My fucking hoarder, agoraphobic, bipolar traumatized mom just died because of her eating disorder - the woman that homeschooled us, thus ruining our ability to function in the real world and instead moved us out to the middle of fucking nowhere where the only person around us 90% of the time was severely mentally ill. 

And my dad acts like it was positive. Like he’s so confused why my brother turned out a complete failure of a human. 

He’s like that because I couldn’t raise him alone, you fucking idiot. He’s like that because your dead wife curated him to be like this. 

The resentment I feel about the decisions my parents made. They are so fucking stupid. 

The days of my life I have agonized over thoughts that I hope I’m not doing to my kids what my parents did to me. They were a fucking train wreck. They should never have had kids. Like 3 failed pregnancies and then you have me?? Why were you still trying?? 

 

Then you just up and die with everything left undone.

A million “useful” things you’ll never use. Craft projects you’ll never do. Plans of going places you’ll never see and doing things you’ll never do. 

No Grand Canyon. No doll house. No book. Some of my mom’s dreams were also mine. But I knew I would do those things differently. I didn’t think my dollhouse would be given to me in pieces. 

I want to do these things by 50. All of my desires. I’ve worked so hard, and I’m going to coast for a bit. Mentally ill and coasting. 

Ive been disassociated for days. I went to dinner with Jenna last night and literally can’t recall more than 5 total thoughts I had all night. It was just empty in there. 

Lately conversation feels draining. Interaction with anyone is completely undesirable. I want to tuck myself into bed and be completely left alone. I won’t tho. Because my mom would have. 

I wish I could stop dreaming about her. 

School drama

So. About taking the job at my kid’s school… 

I won’t say it was a mistake, but I’m doing the things again. The call outs. I just can’t get behind this societal notion that I’m supposed to physically suffer all day on top of my continuous mental suffering (and like, I have fibro so physical is also daily…) for a day’s worth of money. I wasn’t raised with this value in some ways, and in other ways I was. My dad went to work with cancer. Didn’t miss a day. But my mom justified staying home every time she felt like it. She also justified us staying home whenever we felt like it. 

I don’t know what my work ethic even is, but I can tell you that today I realized I have spent such a lifetime thinking hard work would lead to success, and I have come to realize that that is just not always the case. 

Also realized that I have no real dream I’m working toward, because the big 2 were recently shattered in life. Like last year. 

The problem is that I’m leaving people short staffed and needing me. Is there a job I could work where no one really needs me there? I haven’t had one. I always choose jobs where I get too much attention. I’ve been trying to reel myself in here, because I feel like too much. I disclaimered to one and all that I talk a lot. That I can’t stfu in meetings. And everyone says about themselves that they are “too much.” I know this. But I know for a fact I am genuinely too much for some people and too much in some moments. I’m being intentional about things, but I take up too much space very often, and I’ve gotten attitude from others like I’m annoying a few times now. I don’t feel it was warranted, but the two people that did have an insane work ethic where it’s a point of pride for them to have moved up the ranks of the school system. Meanwhile I just got a big ass education that gave me at job 1 what was job 3 for them.  

I re-read my last blog post, and it’s all unfortunately all come to fruition. My attendance is not ok rn. 

Not because of myself being lazy - I literally got assaulted by a kid at school, expressed that I cannot manage this, and the follow up team meeting left me with the rawest deal of the bunch. When the day prior I said the words “I can handle a lot of things, but not this,” and “this is not sustainable for me,” and “I don’t feel safe or comfortable,” and not only did I not get the outcome I needed - my needs were completely not even addressed in a follow up talk. And I know enough about how things function there to know the promises made in the meeting that would have benefited me marginally will not be Telly place for a long time. I don’t complain, so I will  not be the priority  

So I slapped a smile on my face, decided this place will not be the end of me, and proceeded to call out 2.5 days in 3 weeks. I really do have to stop, because not being there puts me so far behind in reality. Yesterday and today there was no malingering. But when I called the office she snapped a bit, “we’ll figure it out.” I get in making her life harder. It’s dominos tho, and I am but a middle piece. No one ever pays attention to the middle pieces; not really. 

The principal handed me the keys to the whole science fair. I don’t have to plan anything, because she sent me everything I would need to do with directions. I think she realizes that if she demands too much of me, I just won’t do it. And she has me pegged there, buddy. It would have been so half-assed. I think she still really likes me, but front desk lady ain’t buying it anymore… 

I’m not smoking now. Because I know I have to find a new job, and that’s the only way to guarantee it happening. I haven’t smoked in 3 days. 

 It’s killing me a little. 

First call out one month in

Why do I always feel like I could just run away from my entire life?? Like I want to escape everything. 

I love being alone. I love when no one wants anything from me. 

So much of my childhood was spent like that. Endless hours of no expectations of me, to the point where I set some expectations myself - I think out of boredom and longing for praise. 

Then there were high expectations in times of pressure. Competitions, adults having issues, solving problems for others I should not have known existed. There was no middle. I was neglected or in the spotlight. 

God, that’s really horrible…!!

It was bad for me. It trained me that you just switch it on and off. I’m either on or off all the time - it set a standard for on that is VERY on. And normally I can do it. Decades of practice… Normally I am so on that I’m blowing others out of the water. My baseline is damn near perfect, regardless of how much of a piece of crap I appear to be in my blog… Despite the things I cope with. I’m shockingly strong and resilient when I’m on. I can be on for long stretches and barely disappoint a soul, and then manipulate my off to look like it’s something completely outside of my control. 

Not today. Today I am just OFF. 

And I will say, lately the things making me have any off days ARE very valid things. My off days have not been self-inflicted in months. I have come a very long way, and my burnout is decreasing.

But, I think the danger days are a big thing. I think I need to start taking this day off work in advance monthly. I have a huge ass hormonal problem every month, regardless of how good I treat my body. So yeah, I’ve eliminated off days due to my own behavior, but genetics are giving me one day a month or so that I cannot fucking control myself. I’m sore, angry, flaring, having migraines, having nightmares and panic attacks, hating everything, and wanting to literally run away. I cry non-stop over dumb shit for like 2 days.  

The husband was annoyed with me this morning. I can tell. I told him when I started this job he can hold me accountable. That if I was just malingering, he could push me. I was malingering in March at BC. I was malingering the day I got terminated. I told him to gently push. He did this morning. But when he could see I was just not even trying to talk to him about it and not getting out of bed and just completely not giving a fuck about life, he just left it. That’s how I know I’m not malingering - when I don’t try to suck up to him, it’s because I’m valid not doing it mentally today for anyone. Like ima tell my baby I’m here if needed and attend to any request he comes and makes of me, but that’s it. I’m not even gonna feed myself today aside from pills. 

I played up everything a bit to stay home, but for real I needed to stay home today. I disassociated when I clicked send on the email... 

Because like bro, I’m not fucking up behavioral at all lately - I’m very much staying in my diet to the point it should not be an issue. I’m staying physically active and taking care of my body. So today is definitely hormones. Friday was. All weekend was. But I know yesterday and today are the worst of it, and it’s probably better for everyone if I don’t show up and ruin everything for myself. Because I know today I would. Friday I could not keep my fat mouth shut. I was annoying. I was mean. Yesterday I was both as well, without cause. 

And today I just literally can’t fight it anymore. I need to be depressed today. I haven’t done this in months. Like 3 months I have had to work my ass off. So today I’m allowed. Then no more call outs. And I know I say that every time, but I think I’m truly at that place now in my life. Feels weird. 

There are plenty of built in days off. I’m still doing well. I’m allowed a day. It’s my life. And all the things I deal with… I think I deserve a day. Where I don’t even break any of the rules… I just sleep? Interact with my baby? Like fuck it bro. 

I took anything sedating I could find in my house just now. I didn’t help with getting ready this morning. I plan to be in this bed as much as I can until tomorrow morning. 

Sleep time, love you all. 

Bro

Am I going to be ambivalent about every human I know til I die? I think I’m fucked up. I don’t have anyone I couldn’t replace. 

I love my husband truly, but I could also leave him. I bitch about him a lot in here. It’s the worst of it in my head - this is where I come to dump it. But realistically those perspectives also exist. And sometimes he’s so fucking grating to be with. He’s whiney and throws tantrums, and I know different exists in the world. 

I feel lonely lately. We’re supposed to have a date day today and if he ruins it I will never forgive him. 

New beginnings and beggings

I'm starting a new job. At my son's school. I have no idea what I'm getting myself into in some ways, and in some way I think it will be perfect, and I'm prepared. I don't think it's going to feel daunting. My responsibility is low, the job is more fun, creative and active, and it's so close to my house, logistics will be easy. But attendance... 

My only real fear is that I have a reputation there. A good one. And I really don't want to fuck it up. My husband even said as much. I had a conscious thought last night that I need to not talk to my coworkers about my personal life or him. I need to leave a layer of huge mystery. I will discuss everyone else, but not my life unless I'm telling someone how much I'm killin' it. 

I want to be seen as perfect. And I think right now a lot of them view me as that. 

At his school, I'm friendly. I'm outgoing and engaging and smile and joke and laugh and have the aesthetic down. I show up in my cool sneakers and perfect jeans and fun top with my short hair mop swinging, and a huge smile on my face. My face painted, smelling of expensive perfume, nails done. I swoop in acting nice, and never once show anger. I've been very logical there, very communicative, and very friendly. For 2 years. I grab the attention of everyone in the room, because regardless of what's happening, I appear... confident. 

Even tho I'm definitely not. And I do this everywhere... But the reality is that to me, it never feels as vital as it does in that building...

So regardless of what is going on with me, for 40 hours a week, I need to hardcore mask. This is my most important role in life. If people think I'm a bad employee or coworker, they will think I'm a bad mom or wife also. They will start to think that I don't have my shit together, and it will all crumble. My reputation will be shattered. 

I'm just like Ivy in a lot of ways. I think that's why I was struggling with how I was feeling about her the other week - it was straight up projection. I like to tell myself I'm better than her in that I'm not so materialistic, but I think she and I are cut from the same cloth, in reality. I just didn't marry for money.

But the nagging question of who is it all even for?? Just anyone that may happen upon me in life. I think that's me on some level. It's a performance for anyone who's eyes may grace my presence in the world. 

And I was not able to acquire perfection in the house or kids or car or money or lots of other areas. So I do it where I can. I was the pretty one before, the smart one, the one with drugs, the artistic one, the capable one. Because I could never be the rich one. 

So I just made do. I mastered being poor and still somehow appealing and cool a long time ago in life, and I tried for a long time to think the poor part would go away, but it's not... I'm just destined to a life of being smoke and mirrors. 

I'm not like Ivy in that I DO have friends... 

I have some people I let see behind the curtain, but they are few. And most of them just get a flash. I think since E and I are not friends anymore, my safest place is gone. I was extremely real with him without hesitation, and he was good with it. The rest I have hesitation over.

Emma is very straight edge and judgey about things she doesn't agree with. Renee has been my friend forever, but she has always been competitive with me. The M's are perfect and innocent. Robin I am probably the realest with (I am, actually...), but she is low-key in love with me. So none of my closest confidants in life even get to see what's in the inner sanctums of my mind. Fuck, like even only Robin knows I smoke weed ffs. 

So let's see if I can keep up the image at his school with so many people watching. Losing weight has made me have a way easier time with this thought - like I know I'm pretty rn, so as least I have that in the bag going into this... 

My weight IS actually at a good place. And my eating feels under control lately. 

The shots took about 25lbs off my body since June. I'm sitting in my healthy weight range. I've stayed here a month. The fluctuation has only been 3lbs, and I have been counting calories casually, but not religiously. I'm looking for 1,400 as opposed to 500. I'm still avoiding binge foods and ones that I know are bad for me, and I'm portion controlling well. And I'm tapering off the shots, which you don't need to, but I'm trying to be very analytical about my mood, thoughts, and patterns and not just stop it when I still may need a small amount of support. 

I'm worried about rebound hunger. 

The first month of this medication, my appetite was nothing. No food cravings - it just makes food not exist to you. So the weight pours off. Then once you stop it, some of the thoughts come back. So I'm trying to follow through with what I have noticed before. I'm trying to still follow the guidelines of eating, not because if I don't the medication will literally make me sick, but because clearly it has worked well. 

I only had a very small dose this week, and it's PMS week, and I've still managed to do ok with my eating, but it's scary feeling inside. There has been more back in forth in my mind and craving or portion thoughts... But I have done well. 

It's so fucking hard not to be disordered about food and weight. 

My fucks account balance is in the negative

My attitude lately has been garbage. It's because literally everything in the world is garbage, and I can't even rant about it because my pussy ass husband can't handle anything... 

It's because I'm so SICK of walking around on eggshells with him. Because it's pointless. 

So, now I just say the things. I don't care. He is literally so difficult to live with... He says I have a tone all the time. It's because I know like every single conversation how he's going to be. I know how it's going to end, what he's going to say, how he's going to project stupid shit, and so now I just jump to the end of things, because I don't want the whole exchange, I just call out what I see the ending being, he feels called out, and he acts like shit. In the past two days he's called me "annoying," and "fucking disgusting," and I haven't done shit. So I don't put up with it. 

Today I told him if he kept running his mouth, I was going to start recording it so I could play in in custody court and show the judge what kind of environment he's creating for our kid. I saw that one give his pathetic little pea brain a jolt. 

Today didn't even have to be like this - we had discussed that everyone was going to be gone today so I could do some things alone at the house. He comes home, and I guess what he WANTS is some great standing ovation. But I recognize that what he's actually doing is giving into his OCD and fucking spying on me to make sure I'm not doing anything "wrong." And I fucking know it... And I don't give a fuck if you spy, because since I am so fucking STRAIGHT EDGE these days, I'll put all my own shit on blast, because it's literally fucking NOTHING, and if you find "something" there to be mad about, you were trying and deserve to feel the suffering you caused yourself while I'm off not giving a fuck...

So I'm not overly welcoming - sorry, you've been out of my sight like 1 hour - I don't even want you here. Then he starts telling me he wants to do specific things today, but he means ME. He kept asking me when I was going to eat, kept asking me for shit, talking to me about stressful dumb shit with his pathetic, useless, terrible job. Like bro, I expected this house to have like a sliver of silence today... So I stop walking on eggshells. I point out I don't give a fuck what he says about my eating, that he's not supposed to be home, that I don't care about his stories, etc. I straight up said, "I was not supposed to have to be interacting with you today, and you come home and try to shift my whole day, and I just wan to sit in my living room alone and eat alone and watch something without anyone." And he got offended. Like, go ahead... It's not that you're annoying (even tho he is); it's that I anticipated silence, so anything more than that is annoying af. I didn't text him once he left. He didn't text me for hours. 

Not texting at all is my new approach. Because another method must be developed - he cannot be given the same grace anymore... 

I thought he was cooler than this in the past. I never saw all THIS of a man coming... 

I thought he was like outgoing, popular, social, funny, adventurous. He truly used to be. When he stopped drinking, I had to trade that outgoing boyfriend for one who's terrified of people. His drinking silenced his OCD. And for a while it was still ok. Like several years. He used to handle it better before COVID. Everything. Now, he's like a brain-fried mess, and he's asked so much of me the past several years that I don't have any patience left for his mental illness. I just see it for what it is and bluntly bash it, and his fragile ego can't handle it. He's tucked himself under a rock for like 5 years, and when I even try to talk about the outside world, he just acts like I need to stop talking, when in reality he's just totally out of touch, like an embarrassing amount. 

He's just as exhausting to be with and needy as he ever was as an alcoholic - it's just different things now. And lately I just say no. Like I can't do it - my motivation is nothing. He keeps saying he's going to divorce me, and I feel no panic about that. Not even because I don't think he ever would (even tho that's true), but because I know I would be just fucking fine no matter what. 

I feel like I'm not attracted to him like I used to be. 

When we're out in public, he will start thinking something I'm doing is embarrassing and start to try to hush me. And trust me, I'm not the socially awkward one... I get paid to socially interact - I've always been good at it and good as smoothing it over if I'm not. He's not that person. It's becoming like ex husband where I'm laughing at a joke so that someone does, but I don't think it's funny. Because no one does. 

He used to try a little harder... Now when I'm like "you smell terrible; go shower," or like, "your breath is bad," he just get pissy and defensive about it instead of just going and fixing it. I've said I don't like his beard very long, and he just keeps it long all the time now. It smells funky when it's long, he doesn't keep up with his neck and cheeks when it's long, and when he comes in to kiss me, it's like a fucking tumbleweed in the face, so it's not pleasant. At all. I don't even want to kiss that face with all that beard. If I tell him I dislike his outfit, he blows up. And the other day I was like, "You're dressed like a homeless person and leaving the house with me - like, I'm LITERALLY the person you're supposed to be trying to impress out of ALL the people in the world, and you're not."

I never want sex, and I don't know if that's just him or me. I think I'm honestly a person who only likes physical things if they're with a new person. Fraysexuality. Probably just disordered, but I don't really care. 

In the end, we argued again in the evening. I was cooking. He said, "I don't even want to eat." And I was like, "Good. I won't cook." Like, I had barely started, bro... I can put this shit back away and not do all this shit. And he was like, "Well, the biggest kid is coming over..." And I was like, "So? I'm not cooking for one person, especially something I'm not even going to eat. And both of you are grown-ass men and can figure it out. And yesterday he cost me $80 and I'm sending him home with two new pairs of shoes, so fuck it." I put the food away and went to do laundry.

Like, I'm thin, and I really don't give a fuck now. 

Life

I weigh the same I did before I had baby. I’m still overweight. I was then, but it wasn’t that bad - only like 10lbs and at that time I had a lot of muscle mass from the months of working out leading up to my wedding, so I looked pretty good. Now weight sits on my body differently and it’s not as attractive at this weight. 

I went to lunch with Emma yesterday. I needed it. I vented for hours and asked her all the things I wanted to know about her life. I needed it so badly and it was so nice. 

I’ve of course over analyzed everything about the entire experience…

She noticed I’ve lost weight. She was like “you look itty bitty,” and I just took pause, and she goes, “like really itty bitty…” and out of my mouth came, “thanks…” And idk how I feel about my response. 

I just straight up told her it’s weightloss shots. I said my doctor recommended it (lie) because I struggle to lose weight because of fibromyalgia (truth). And I told her I’ve been making all the changes I’m supposed to for my life which is also true. It’s just that this medication makes it 100% possible to easily do those things as opposed to fighting to do them, which I did not say. She made a stink face when I said my doctor recommended it, until I said I’m literally doing it and it’s been hard for me to lose weight because of fibro. Then she was like “ooooh,” but idk if that’s just because I revealed that I’m already doing it. Idk how she didn’t piece that part together - I think she just thinks of me as a person who wouldn’t need to stoop to that level with weightloss, but here I am, Emma. I said, “straight up that’s what’s done it - I’m not even gonna sit here and pretend.” Because it is, and I won’t. 

If anything a part of me wanted to be like, “you should do them.” I’ve seen her weight over the past 5 years just steadily creep upward. And yesterday I was looking at her thinking like, “yeah I would see her now objectively as fat.” And when she started dating current boy, it was not as bad. And I know she’s got to be feeling not super great, even if she won’t discuss it. It’s crazy that food is something that is so fucking taboo. I even said to her like, “Emma I say a thing that our generation is the fattest generation like that makes me so sad. Like this next one coming up? They KNOW about processed foods and shit…” and she laughed but it’s just so obvious that it’s painful for the women of our generation. We hate our bodies so much and simultaneously use the relationship with food to help with something. It’s just such a badge of struggling emotionally to struggle with food. And because thats so shameful to admit, it’s all shameful. It’s fucking tragic and in unnecessary. 

I also want my brother to do the shots. I think he would benefit so much. I think I could coach him through it. I think I could pay for it for him tbh. I would like to get to a financial place where I can. Clearly that’s not the case rn. 

Rn I’m in the place for forging documents to try to get a rental home. Terminated from an agency. Working under the table basically. Cute. 

At least I’m looking good. 

Title me

 My new hobby is watching my weight dip on the scale and avoiding food. It’s shocking how easy that is to do rn. Nothing tastes good but also everything does. It’s like the first bite is gross, the next bite is really good, the next bite is moderately good, and then from there it’s like meh. It’s so strange. It makes it easy to take a second when you’re putting something into your mouth to ask yourself like, “What… are you doing??” And then correct. To just stop there. And then a little into eating anything you’re just like completely disinterested in it. Like you forget you were eating or that you were hungry at all. You never feel hungry. It’s shocking how much you don’t - you just absolutely don’t. I can feel that the meds have leveled off well and I’ve adjusted and it’s literally amazing. I bought my second dose just because I don’t want to run out in between dosing rn and since the whole getting fired thing, I just can’t afford to spend on shit like this so it’s a last hurrah. I might as well be miserable and thin instead of just miserable. I would like to be back in the range I’m comfortable with. I’m sitting here thinking about what my ideal weight would be, and I don’t even know. I think when I first met my husband I weighted like 125, and I think I looked really good. He things I looked too thin, but no I looked banging. My arms and legs looked small, and they haven’t in a long time. I want that back while I can still rock it and enjoy it. Literally nothing is going to stop me from it. I was thinking today about the highest weight I got up to, def during covid, and it was like 185 lbs. Like a fucking whale. And rn I weigh 155lbs. I weigh in the middle of my worst and my ideal. I’ve never put my weight on here before. Because my goals and numbers were never as lofty and low as the others’. I knew my body just wasn’t going to do certain things. I could be more petite, but never light. I genuinely have large bone structure - my college health ed teacher marveled at it. I have huge ankles. Like I cannot look frail without looking dead, and the point of all this shit is to look better. Mine was never about hitting some insane number like 99lbs or being able to wrap something around somewhere you shouldn’t be able to. I didn’t even make a thigh gap a goal, though I have eternally longed for one and did have a bit of one at one point. I just wanted to look thin. I wanted people to think of me as a thin person when they envisioned me in their minds. And right now, I know that’s not what people see. And I know I’m dysmorphic af, but I also know that’s true. Rn people probably think of me as plump. 

Like the title of this fucking madness. 

Middle of the night

I miss seducing men. I miss feeling drunk. I miss doing blow. I miss making out. I miss shopping for clothes hoping someone will want to take them off of me that night. I miss feeling hot and desirable. I miss acting reckless and impulsive. I miss meeting new people and trying new things and spending money. 

I’m old now. 

Why is the first step of the plan always “lose weight?” Plan: change life. Step 1: lose weight. Step 2: make money.

I have been losing weights, actually. It feels amazing, and I hope I can truly get down to where I need to be in the course of this. I bought my second bottle today. It’s good shit, bro. I can’t get over how much it’s just turned off certain parts of my brain. It’s shocking. 

I’m tired now. Love you all dearly. 

Gerard thoughts

I never give enough credit to how much I loved Gerard. 

I think because that’s not what we called it - we were best friends. He dated Suz. I was best friends with her. I dated husband. But before I dated husband, before I was talking to him, before Suz and I got together, before Suz and him started dating, it was me and him. And he was my best friend. 

I told him everything. I loved being close to him. It never felt unsafe. Ever. He always made me feel genuinely protected, and he had a big insecure heart that I loved. He was messy, but generous. And genuine with me. He tried to make me laugh. He called me out. He tried to make me feel special, but grounded me. 

I didn’t like that part. I didn’t like when he made me grasp onto reality. I liked when he inflated me like Bird. And when he saw the new fucked up side of me as I descended into my 5 year phase of chaos, he didn’t like watching it. Because he knew me balanced. And I eventually got back to balanced, but he wouldn’t make it that far with me. 

I could have been with him. I know that. He had enough love and patience and drive to make it work if he had had a partner. And we worked well together. If I had taken him and molded him, we would have both been happy. But I had just molded fruitlessly for so long, I didn’t want to anymore. And the wisdom of age was not present with me at that juncture of my life. 

I didn’t know the difference between the loving men and the others yet. My husband and several others have shown me there are deeply loving men in the world. Valiant and strong and courageous and emotional. Maybe messy, but filled with love. And some have shown me the other side. And I know Gerard was a very loving man. He would have loved me well, and we would have been happy. Maybe not as exciting, but more stable than what I ended up with. 

And he was such a good kisser. 

He loved me too much to watch me do all the things I was doing. My boyfriend was threatened by him and pushing him out. He knew he couldn’t stay and not say things. So, he left me. And then we closed forever. And my access to him was gone forever in a crescendo of chaos. 

I wish he would have met me for dinner that night. 

I don't know if I believe that he got a flat. I don’t know what would have become of it if we had gone. I recall that going into it, I was telling myself I didn’t want to sleep with him. I really didn’t. I know it wouldn’t have been good - he’s a guy you train; not one that has it figured out from the start. Plus, I was already regularly fucking with 2 guys and had a sprinkle in there of others. I didn’t need anything out of the night. 

I wish life allowed us to have moments with people. There should be a frozen day once a year for each person where we can see someone from our past again without consequence. Just to see what they’re like now. To say things. To enjoy a day as friends again. To reminisce. 

Who would I pick? Gerard first. Bogart next. Chevy. Probably Adam, if I’m honest. Same for Bird. And Ry, even though I would probably feel a little pathetic for it. But it would be amazing to reminisce with him. He was there for so many of the happy parts of my childhood. 

Pass on my actual exes. I don’t think either of them loved me. 

 

Gonna go figure out my real life now. 

Yet again

I got fired. I have to move by the 22nd. All is lost. 

I hope there is a greater more divine plan than this moment. I need a different life. 

Mini events in my pathetic life

June 11 was the worst flare up of my life. I’m not even really sure why, but I literally had to go to work, and I literally never felt so bad. I cried like 3 times throughout the day. I squatted in front of my space heater wrapped in a blanket smoking my thc pen and crying. I napped for an hour when I had no meetings. Basically everyone kept every meeting scheduled all day, so I couldn’t even hole up like I wanted to. I have never actually gone to work when I felt that badly before. 

The husband is annoying sometimes. That’s all on that.

We’re moving. I called my daddy and cried, and he’s going to help me to do it. I told him I can’t take this level of housing insecurity any longer - it’s been 4 years. He told me he would do anything I needed and that he has the resources. Now I just need to pack the house and find a place. I found a couple places I like, and I hope they work out. 

The first week I did wegovy, I lost 7lbs. The second, I lost zerooooo. And it’s not because I’m not restricting - it’s so fucking easy to do so, actually… I’ve hit the weight where I have literally always plateaued for 6 straight years. This is a place I could have gotten to by myself, so let’s see if it actually helps like it’s supposed to. Today I did double the dose I did last week. Last week around day 5 I felt hunger a little more. I still managed to do well with eating, but the urges were there. It’s just when I go to eat something, my body is like “no,” even if my brain is like “delish.” Like nothing tastes good. Not that it tastes bad or even bland - just doesn’t taste good. It’s hard to explain but a nice experience. Plus on days when I’m legit too busy to eat lunch (today), I don’t just obsess about food until I binge on something. 

Let’s hope it helps

I came here to blog myself to sleep

Today was a fucking day, bro. Today would have been my mom’s birthday. 15 minutes til it’s over, but I’ve managed to dodge it internally most of the day. 

I realized yesterday that my reports at work were a little behind. I mentioned this to my boss in passing and began fixing the issue without like any huge sense of urgency. Then today at work I had a 2pm meeting that was canceled and not another one til 3. So I thought I would smoke and watch a show. So I smoked, and then my boss messaged me AND called me. She called to say she fucked something up (honestly worked out better for me in reality), and to say that my boss boss wants me to let her know when I get my reports in so that she can run my numbers again. So I was like fuck, now I HAVE to spend this hour doing those instead of anything else, because I had no valid reason to be doing anything else, and it’s not like they don’t know that and can’t check.

And I just kept finding errors and missing reports,

Idk why both bosses adore me so much - it feels like everyone there but esp the most senior employee. Which is insane. 

Today sucks

I literally was not hungry at all yesterday… I had a protein shake and then for dinner a sweet potato, chicken sausage, and spinach and a kombucha. That’s it. And I didn’t want anything more… my blood sugar doesn’t crash and make me want to die. I just feel like the chatter in my brain is gone and my hunger signals are weak. My worst side effects are supposed to be today. So far so good. 

I’m in a foul ass mood tho. I want to get in my car and drive home. My bank account is overdrawn like half my rent amount and I can’t get my paycheck until several days from now worst case scenario and tomorrow best case. Idk what I can even do except just watch it all play out… what’s the worse case? We get evicted? I’d just use it as a chance to get the big one out my house… 

Middle child does not want to come back. You can tell. He would love to come back to this school, but not this house, which is a huge relief. 

Idk man I got nothing today. I just want to be asleep. I came to work - that’s all I’m capable of tbh. 

Beach bummed

I’m at the beach. It’s always been such a conflicting place for me… I love the beach, but truly dislike the headspace it puts me in. 

There are too many people to analyze. I just size up every human body I see at the beach. And wonder about people. Do other people scan every human at the beach and assess weight and shape and think about what their habits are to look like that?? A thin girl with a BBL eats 3 bites of a sandwich and stops and I analyze. A girl looking normal sized with tons of cellulite makes me wonder is she even works out. A chunky girl with tons of cellulite makes me wonder if she eats mac and cheese on her couch watching Netflix every night. I see thin children with thin moms and wish my mom had raised me like that. I see an impossible skinny girl and wonder if she’s sad.  I see a girl with a perfect natural body and a skimpy suit and wonder if she realizes how hot she is - you’d have to to wear that, right? 

I have to work very hard at the beach to enjoy the BEACH and not get sucked into too many moments like that or for too long. It involves a lot of not looking past the 3 feet around me. 

I feel extremely uncomfortable in my own skin lately. I feel like I’m running out of vices, and nothing gives me pleasure anymore, so I’m just anxious and bored every moment and feel really confused about how to delegate my time and energy to be more successful or to feel better. When I try to relax lately, I have to really search hard for something that actually relaxes me. If I’m not already tucked into a show or a game on my phone that I’m looking forward to going back to, it’s very hard to find something that is ok. So many things upset me. I’m already at such a baseline level of anxiety that I can’t watch “Slumdog Millionaire” without having a panic attach the first 5 mins. I find my mind trying to piece the story of the movie together too quickly instead of being able to just go on the journey of the movie. I can’t watch horror or conflict or overly sexual things or things with actresses I don’t like or things that depict a life I’m jealous of. 

I’m trying not to smoke flower rn unless I’m real angry or really panicked. I got two carts of oil and have been using my pen as a little bit of a prn relaxation. I’ve just been keeping it on my person at all times and hitting it when I need it. Which I admit probably isn’t the best, especially because I’m taking it to work which is a fireable offense, but it’s needed when it’s needed.  It helps me to actually go the fuck to work, so I’m letting myself have it at work. 

The wegovy feels like morning sickness thus far. It’s manageable. I made a kit of everything I might need to handle every kind of gastrointestinal issue that could potentially arise and upper respiratory meds, because sometimes colds or allergies make me feel nauseated at a baseline, so it’s likely I’ll need them.

I took before photos. I’m sure if you scoured this blog you could find at least one other post where I’ve done this which clearly didn’t work out. I’m trying so hard to be hopeful and optimistic. 

Kids are all coming in from the water. 

Bad day

I’ve struggled today. I had a braindead day at work, got Burger King (NEVER again…), and came home and injected wegovy. I freaked out more than I thought I would, and then it was easier than I thought it would be. 

During this process, I was standing there holding a needle against my skin, feeling completely panicked, and thinking to myself, “how the fuck did we get here?” Like really… Years of fast food and processed shit fed to me by parents with horrible attitudes about food and weight. My mom died of an eating disorder. Of mental health issues. Both of which I definitely inherited. And now I’m even more panicked about becoming her. I’m so fucking terrified that I’m willing to literally inject myself with a medication that I paid $200 for and my doctor and I barely spoke about. 

I’ve been fighting the urge to purge like every day this week. My stomach is in absolute shambles and I just pumped it full of medication that supposedly normally does that.

What am I even doing? I’m just trying to feel better…

Mom and things

I think I put enough anxiety in the kid about things that he won’t ask. He seems to be tight lipped about some things, and I’m not prying. I’m not trying to parent his ass ever again. I was roasting all of them pretty hard earlier. I made a joke I’m glad he moved out - I don’t think it’ll register, but I think it’ll push him aside just enough. 

It’s so fucking annoying being the smartest person you know. I’ve snapped at my husband like 3 times hard tonight. Because he’s making dumb mistakes and not focusing on what is actually important. I said to him, “How is this not automatically your main priority?!” About something to do with the baby. It made him spiral. He came back later (like ten whole mins later) with a, “It should have been done like THIS,” to which I replied, “Then why didn’t you do it!? That’s not helpful now!” 

I have been relentless tonight. He said I’ve been mean. I said I’ve just been impatient with stupidity and dumb behavior and crap attitudes, and that’s what all of them have displayed in succession this evening. I’ve just been brutally honest - is that really even mean?? I’m over caring… I think I’m honestly trying to make it clear that none of them matter - the baby is my only real priority for the rest of my life… 

I feel like I pieced some things together recently about mothering the baby, and expressed them to my husband, and he was taken aback pretty hard. I think it made him guilty. It should. He’s entitled and needed to realize what my inner world is like. It’s made him more open and observant, and pretty sure he’s been so overwhelmed by all of that input, that he’s been useless. 

Because he has been USELESS. I basically had to flat out tell him twice tonight I will not be writing the grocery list. Like, figure it out - I just cleaned the whole fucking house this weekend to the point where he asked, “why am I noticing how much cleaner it is in here?” Because I’m the goat and you suck ass at life? idk what to tell you. But if I do a portion of your job for you, that does NOT mean I have to do any more of it. Manage your expectations. Then he told me how he was going to spend tomorrow and I swiftly told him he’s got it fucked up and what I actually expect. Just remembered I also snapped at him about his license because HE LET IT EXPIRE. HIS DRIVERS LICENSE.

Like wtf why do I need to run this whole fucking house??? 

Ima start wegovy tomorrow. I got my doctor to prescribe it to me, and I’ve never been more excited. I don’t even have rent paid, but I spent $210 on it. Like fuck itttttt. Idc if they find out later it’s some piece of shit terrible thing we’re all doing - I’m trying to get in on that diet fad phenphen drug wave rn. I remember when I started this blog and was deep into my ED researching weight loss things in general for hours on end and wishing I had been able to do all the drugs in the 80s… like that’s why the 90s were so thin bro. But these things are only for the wealthy. Then they go on clearance and if you can afford THAT price tag, you better buy now, because we all know the FDA will prolly pull it. 

I haven read anything online that’s objective or negative about it - researched a couple things, but only vanity and not health. I’m of course anxious af about side effects, considering I’ve already fucked up my body with a massive eating disorder for so long, but I am not going to let that stop me. I want this body to not fucking suck so badly. I would kill to lose 30lbs easily in 3 months. And my ability to lose weight when tested over the past 5 years has just grown increasingly worse. Meanwhile I know a lady irl who’s damn near 70 who lost like 200lbs on this shit, and you would never guess she has ever heavy - she looks downright frail now. 

I realized today that my mom technically died of an eating disorder. Like she had a heart attack, but she had no issues with her heart her whole life, and it’s not genetic. It was from diabetes. Type 2. From being fat and fucking with diets and crazy shit her whole life with food. That’s what killed her. And I’m not trying to follow in those footsteps. I’ve done better thus far. It’s not been great by any means, but I never got up and high as her. That’s marginally better. And I’m going to handle this now. Before I’m 40. 

When my mom was my age, I was 10. And I remember how much of a mess she was. And it just got worse in that fucking trailer. Year after year. When we went to Maine, I was 13, and she was really heavy. My dad got cancer, and she stayed heavy. My 16th birthday photos, she’s obese. I’m not sure about ages 17 on… I remember very little about those years overall. I have very specific memories, but from age 14-16 is a lot of a blur. The year I was 16, I had mono, so that was blurry also, but different blurry. Not blocked out blurry. The years before feel mentally redacted. I remember a lot about my life outside the house at college. I remember a lot about ages 19 onward, but not about my family. I can’t picture what my mom looked like at my undergrad graduation. 

I can’t believe she’s fucking dead. 

My mom never saw the Grand Canyon. 

She talked about it my whole life. They were going to get a camper and go so many times. But the trip was so long required taking a lot of time off work and the cost of travel and lodging so high, we never went as children. My childhood was spent thinking that surely we would go to the Grand Canyon NEXT summer. And then I realized it was a distant fantasy. Then I thought maybe my parents would go when they didn’t have us at home. But they never did. I went myself. 

Dildo

The middle child is coming to visit. It’s been 6 months since he moved out, and I literally have not missed him. Our entire contact has been like 1 call where I cried, 4 arguments, and him not texting me for my birthday til the middle of the night. 

I’m not looking forward to it. I wish he wouldn’t come if I’m honest. There’s no way for him to enter a space and not try to fill it in every way, and I’m just over it. I don’t have the bandwidth, as the Gen Xers would say. 

 I have no idea if he’s going to ask to move back in or not - there is no possible way for me to even have a hypothesis on that one, because I have had really limited contact with him. But if he asks, I’m literally going to say no. 

I don’t care anymore about all of them - I want to do what’s good for myself and my baby and don’t give a fuck about anyone else. I gave all the patience and chances I had to the child, and I’m done. I’m not taking him in his senior year of high school so he can then just graduate and live off me like his brother is already doing. I’m going to make a life choice for myself and not them. I’ve given those 3 more than what’s appropriate for a step parent. I’ve done a lot for all of them and I can’t anymore. I have to focus on my own life.   

My brain is like 1-my husband will be crushed if MC asks to move in and I say no. 2-am I a bad person if I don’t let the teenager move in?

My largest hope for the next two weeks is for him not to even ask. I’m not going to mentally dig into that pit, because it’s too much. I’m just going to pray to Jesus above in heaven that he doesn’t want to live with us, because I don’t want him to.  

Danger days and this bitch’s visit and all the drama lately. Like just kill me; I’m sick of life. 

Fuck all

It’s danger days, I have barely slept in DAYS, and I’m fucking so broke. 

My irritability mood rating has been basically murderous. And I kept it together for a bit today, but then my fucking stupid husband tipped the scales. 

A man in the course of trying to have it all can ruin a woman’s life. Did you all know that? 

I’m moments away from telling this man I do not want to be with him for years now… on the fence forever. Some may say that it’s entitled of me or bad of me to be with him wondering if I really want to stay. Shouldn’t you just end a relationship if you’re not really super sold on the person? I wonder why he lets me get away with this, and it’s because no one else will have him. Not really. Train Wreck was right back then - nobody wants him. He knows it. His surprise birthday party with all his friends included one friend. The first one he’s like ever had. Because he’s fucking insufferable. 

But I stay because he does what I say. Except he never does things right. And I tell him. And he sees I’m right. And when he points out my flaws, I do gaslight him. He says I do. I do tell him why my flaws are ok and why his aren’t. It’s because mine are covered to everyone else in the entire world, but his are not. I can say something to a stranger at the beach and come away looking like an angel, and he could never. So I get to scold him and use feminism as the silver bullet. I know where to poke him to get what I want. He makes you hurt him a little to get any results. It’s fucking infuriating. He’s weak and pathetic. I’m way smarter than him in all the ways. I’m cooler than him without trying to be. People love me and do not like him. I make more money. He’s mildly more attractive? But he’s not even partnership material so no one I’ll bother, whereas my abilities in life on top of my good qualities make men get in line. 

I have this weird thought that the therapist in my office has a small crush on me. I’m not sure if it’s that I’m picking up on, or if he’s just like this with all people… I can’t decide yet. He comes across as a little anxious but affectionate around me? Like he has hugged me twice or 3 times now. I would rate them as coworker caliber hugs, and I know the environment he grew up in and worked in before is likely a little more touchy, and he’s Hispanic so I’m sure there’s a cultural element also here. But I just notice he stumbles over his words with me when I catch him off guard in some way. It’s weird - like he seems a little anxious but is that maybe inaccurate or maybe…

Idk I’m tired and Xanax is here. Can’t fucking breathe from crying and felt suicidal afffff earlier but here we are. 

Think thin. My doctor sent me wegovy, bitches. Tomorrow we start that journey. 

Hate everyone

 I fucking hate all humans. Like really though; even myself, like human beings are vile greedy selfish disgusting putrid creatures who should all be lit on fire and chained to rocks like cartoon hell is depicted. Like it’s so clearly true that that’s what all human beings deserve. I fucking hate everyone. Everyone everyone everyone. Everyone.  

Hating my body; what’s new

I had my first therapy session with Dr. A. I feel like it went ok - I do like her and think she gets it on some level. I'm not convinced she can help, but she sent me assessments that made me want to gouge out my own eyeballs, so that's probably telling that her process is hitting me right... she canceled the next session, so I’m not thrilled, but I intend to give her like two more before I make a final judgement call. I feel really unconvinced that any therapist can be help, but… 

I realized blogging earlier in this week how much my daily routine is about getting to the finish line and unwinding. The process is ugly lately. I have been treating my body like garbage in a lot of ways. I don’t know how to climb out of it. I feel physically ill all the fucking time lately, and I’m doing it to myself. 

I looked up an old friend this morning because I randomly saw her Venmo purchase… she is so thin now. Enviably thin. I am so over this body I live in… I hate it. 

Fuckity fuck fuck

Yesterday did not go as planned - no one left, so I stayed locked in the guest bedroom all day. I smoked and took a bubble bath and binged way too much and ignored my husband’s existence when he tried to talk to me. He tried 5 times. I just kept saying, “no,” and walking away. Straight back to my den. I’ve never been as firm and unemotional as I was yesterday. I took a lot of Xanax…

He’s texted me just now about how he behaved, but I’m over it. I just took my day to punish him, and now it’s fine. That’s how I’m going to manage it all from now on - if people aren’t behaving, I’m going to just go be by myself. I don’t have it in me to handle all of their shit all the time, and I’m not leaving him, so grey rocking it is. 

The only thing that even gives me pleasure in life recently is food. 

That’s a sad fucking horrifying reality… old me would shit herself with runny laxative poop if she knew I’d ever be writing those words in the virtual pages of this blog in 2025. But it’s true. Sex is boring when it’s not about trapping new men, and I can’t fucking drink anymore or do drugs. Smoking just makes me eat. Like what the fuck do I do about this? Concede to a bored life and do dumb shit like build a dollhouse? Am I really done partying?? Because I don’t want to fucking be done partying. But I don’t see any scenario unfolding that ever leads to me bending allowed to party like ever again. 

That’s a lot to give up for this shitty man. 

I had to give up everything. Literally everything. And the things I thought I would acquire in the exchange, like spending money or getting a house, have all been plucked from the flower of possibilities. Because my husband doesn’t bring in money for those things. Because my kid is disabled. The kid I didn’t really want and love deeply but wish didn’t exist. It’s just the end of the story. “And then she had a kid with special needs.” 

I want to feel fucked up every night. I want to be a drug addict more than I could ever really express. I’m so fucking jealous of the women who get to go out every night and drink. The ones who go home and drink wine. I’m jealous of the moms who run away to New Mexico with one suitcase and find a room to rent and take up painting and go camping in the desert alone. 

I wish I could have any other life than how mine turned out. It’s really tragic but true. I’ve just worked to salvage this life since I arrived on this planet. And nothing has helped. I thought a college degree would, or a boyfriend, or a husband, or a different husband, or a different college degree, or a different career, or having kids or working for myself. But none of those things improved the quality of my life whatsoever. And I see those things happening to other people and making them happier. None of them did that for me. Not really.  

I’m so over being sober because my fucking husband can’t drink. It’s the dumbest most unfair shit ever. Because now all I get to do is smoke or eat. And smoking makes my eating like 10x worse because the bottom of my stomach vanishes. I did well for 2 weeks, and now it’s like 4 days of shit. Smoking at work again. Eating garbage. Spending money. Being lazy. I feel so stressed idk any other way to cope. 

I need therapy. It’s def clear… 

I’m sitting at my desk right now having just feasted on lunch and unable to lift my mood or focus on anything for more than like 60 seconds. I’m shocked I was able to just write all of this. I was in a bad mood in my first 3 meetings this morning and I’m so tired I don’t want to attend any of the rest today, but the reality is I need to go to work consistently for like the next 3 months to feel like I’m going to be ok here. 

I have no reason to be tired. I slept like 7 additional hours yesterday more than just my normal sleep. So I can’t even be tired. I’m just fucking depressed. 

I’m glad I didn’t fill out an accommodation, because clearly my behavior today shows what kind of money I’d have missed out on if I knew it wouldn’t cost me my whole job. I just don’t give a fuck today. I tried. I almost called out, but I’m completely out of PTO, I’m off Friday anyway, and I didn’t want to be home for another whole day. Husband and baby are at home, so I thought office time would be better. So far it’s all just pissing me off. 

Everything is pissing me off. 

I need to stop smoking. It’s not good for me. I keep saying this, but I never stop. 

Nothing that matters

E is not my friend anymore. I didn’t hear from him for over 3 WEEKS after I called him the day my mom died. Then it was a 13 second audio message saying that he is so sorry he’s been working so much… I didn’t respond. Then 6 weeks after the day I spoke to him on the phone I get a text that says “I love you.” I’m sorry, but even the worst friends do better than this. We are no longer best friends. I think we always had an expiration date, but here it is. It’s fucking tragic. The only person who knows all my deep dark little secrets is gone from my life. 

Now it’s just this. This is the only record of the horrible person I have been and the horrible person I continue to be. 

I’m not speaking to my husband today. He accuses me of being a bad mom when he’s in a bad mood, and his mood for the past week has been horrendous. He’s been sick, but so have the rest of us, and we don’t act like that. Yesterday I tried all day to make him happy, and he was just a whiny prick all day anyway. So today’s approach is: Fuck. Him. 

He’s also not parenting our kid well. He’s spoiling him. Currently you can’t tell that 6 year old “no” without him throwing a tantrum where he tries to hurt you or himself. So my husband just says “yes.” To fucking everything. That’s not good enough for me. And all weekend we have butted heads over it. 

This morning, he started verbally attacking me first thing and being extra, so I just said fuck it all and spoke my mind and walked away. And when I walked away, he followed me and got aggressive, playing fucking tug of war with the doorknob… So I texted him to fuck off and that I’m blocking his number, and I did for a few hours. I didn’t care to read whatever his bitch ass response was to what I sent, so I just blocked him. I locked myself in the guest bedroom and took a Xanax and a 4 hour nap. He’s supposed to take the kids to the beach today, and then I will emerge and get supplies for the rest of my day and order pizza. I have big kid’s location, so I’ll know when they leave. 

I thought of packing up and going to my dad’s today, but he’s being annoying af lately also, which I can’t mentally even get into right now. 

I’m literally not speaking to my husband today at all. I’m not speaking to him until I feel like speaking to him. If I’m still in this headspace tomorrow, I’m going to get up early and get ready and leave before he even has a chance to. And then he can get the baby ready for school alone. I’m sick of being treated like a bad mom when I know I’m not. I might be a lot of terrible things, but I know how to raise kids so they turn out not horrible people. I told him I was going to start having the same response to him when Baby throws fits - to just start accusing him of doing everything wrong. 

He’s such a piece of shit sometimes. And I’m not going to leave him, but I’m going to be busy a LOT if he continues to be like this. I’ll just get my own life until he leaves me. 

Something inside of me has changed dramatically since my mom died. A lot of things. And I’m really really done tolerating shit. 

Food

I have been so so sick. I haven’t had an appetite at all, and I’ve been eating pretty minimally. Normally that would result in a huge weight loss in the past, but I think after decades of fucking with it, my metabolism is officially shot. I have it in the back of my head to get a new primary soon with my new insurance, and I’m going to discuss this with them. Openly. I’ve been overweight for so long now no matter what I do - and it’s not some unfathomable obese girl in the mirror, but a chubby lady that wants better than this. 

I wish I had never given into this shit. I wish it hadn’t worked the first time. I wish I had a mom who was good with food. I wish 90s diet culture would have just burned in hell. I wish I could just eat like a normal person. 

Still haven’t purged. 

Details and things

I intended to come and speak on my mom’s memorial. It was awful. Every detail was painful in so many ways. 

The detail I am most tore up over is disappointing my dad by forgetting the speaker and his sad unfinished song.

I currently have the worst bronchitis I’ve ever had in my life. It’s been horrid - I had to go on a round of steroids. All of the things are making me want to fucking blow up or cry or both. 

This evening my husband was a piece of shit. I believe I’ll sleep in the guest room. 

I wish I had chosen several things differently in my life. I don’t know if this kind of love is worth this kind of pain. I wish I could do something not in extremes sometimes. Just not my fate, I guess. 

My appetite is in the toilet and I’m nauseated every moment lately. I’ve lost so much time and money over my mom’s passing - it’s been the most difficult thing and being sick on top is just the cherry. 

I want to move out of this house. This house was an impractical shattered dream. Dee is gone. There is no need to be at house, because this house was about the school. And now he won’t even come visit us. And honestly I don’t want him to. 

I don’t want to be some PTA suburbia mom. I want to live in a little house in the city and work in my skyscraper and in my home office and make enough to pay all my bills and go out from time to time. 

Omg, now an apology text… I’m not even going to read it. 

I’m mean

My ability to rip people apart verbally is astounding, really…

I never say things I don’t mean. I never say things I don’t actually think or feel. I don’t say untrue things. I just say all the things that should probably remain unsaid in life. I say the unnecessary, hurtful things. I mean all of them, and they tumble out of my mouth and through my lips into the air to grow and gather into a dark cloud that forms the dust of a god a strikes a person clean across their soul. 

The thing people seem to forget, is that I know how to act right. I know how to behave perfectly. Literally. Perfectly. So when you’re capable of that, you leave no margin for error in life. Every decision is simple - you just do the right thing and make sure it’s perfectly executed. When you’ve literally had to live your daily life like that, you learn how to make everything appear perfect, even if it is not. Even when faced with undeniable facts, you will find a way to look perfect upon your exit. Often by making yourself look less favorable, which often somehow works.  So when you’re used to this, you can see every glaring moment when someone else is not being perfect. You will notice the faults they didn’t realize themselves that they had.

And you’ll use them, when backed into a corner, to unleash a barrage of insults that are so venomous the person is left stunned. Even if they manage to come back, it’s delayed. So you get to accuse them of keeping an argument going. When you have a vicious tongue and adhd, your brain can rapid fire insults that tear a man to shreds. And somehow he will be the one apologizing. 

I even threw in his face he was a white man this go around like woowwwww. 

Boys, actually

 Goddam it takes so long to get here when I have a fucking epiphany…

Whoops not supposed to be saying goddam anymore… 

Oh well.

I also need to journal about my mom’s memorial so hard it’s not even a drill at this point, but here we are thinking about other completely unrelated shit, probably to avoid thinking about it. 

Chevy primed me for Husband. 

Like so maybe if you read my whole-ass blog from start to finish in a few days, you mighta made this connection already, who knows, but to me this was a mind blow. Feels so simple but like woah damn. 

So when I met Chevy, I was with ex husband. Chevy liked me. Chevy pursued me to a point. I was hesitant because I was in a relationship. He fucked a girl we worked with. I wanted him to like pursue oME. I wanted him to put in some sort of effort to show me that he wanted me, not just like as a girl, but ME. Because he fucked with several girls we worked with. They all literally told me that he loved me. They said things to him about the fact that they could recognize he loved me, and he didn’t respond to that. I wanted him to tell me. I wanted him to steal me away from ex husband, and I thought I made it pretty clear that it would not be difficult. I was so available if he would have just tried once. I shouldn’t have had to be the one who had to kiss him in the walk-in - I wanted him to kiss me. But in retrospect that is a big expectation. Massive. Who pursues an engaged girl?? So he didn’t. And I married ex husband, and I moved away. 

And then fast forward and basically the same thing happens again. I was with ex husband. Hubby liked me. Hubby pursued me to a point. I was hesitant because I was in a relationship. He DIDN'T fuck a girl we work with…? One that was throwing herself at him that I was witness to. He didn’t fuck with any of those girls. He had the chance to - they literally pursued him. But he like didn’t give in. I didn’t even know all that at the time - I just saw him reject a girl with a perfect fucking body who I’m sure would have been a good fuck to walk me to my car. I didn’t know what the fuck was happening. Then he made me feel special. ME. And only me. That was the difference.

Weird shit. Cried a bit. Still depressed and will surface hopefully at some point to discuss mom memorial. 

Un-edited talk to text insanity

 If I had spoken at my mothers funeral in a world without consequence (if we’re going not reality we might as well go there…..)

My mother was weak. I knew her better than anyone else in the world ever knew her and some of you may think that that’s not true, but it is the women of our family have a tendency to give information and insight to the other women only and many people think Many people think I don’t know things about this family with the individual people in it because of my distance are proximity, but I know a lot. All of you were afraid of her all of you afraid of her judgment and criticism afraid of negative opinions she made people feel afraid of her, except Josh. I wasn’t actually afraid of her like the rest of you. I didn’t care if I upset her all of you cared so much if she was upset by something and tried so hard to make her feel good or get her approval. Everyone in here I hope most of you felt that you had it because you all deserve it. She was a tough woman. She wasn’t friendly. I mean look around she had no friends. She just had family and for as much of that as she actually had, she didn’t have very much. She actually had contact with this is not that larger group of people and this is not even a group that is close, but I do appreciate every person that made this journey and effort. She was a horrible human whatsoever. she had good parts and bad parts, but her bad parts are pretty rough parts and that kind of bad parts are really stung. I’m sorry I couldn’t do it anymore with all of you for a while here at the end I’ve known I was only gonna be as much longer I would’ve stayed, but who could know I wish that we had understood each other better. I wish that she had had more grace for me. I know my mom loved me and she knows I loved her. She has to have the most obvious thing. I just can’t do it anymore. I had to stop. I couldn’t. I didn’t care about approval anymore. I didn’t care if I heard her feelings anymore. it caused too many issues Now here we all are connected and we’re all even actually gonna be willing anyone really is but I guess time will tell. My mom always acting like she knew everything and I think everyone treated her like she knew everything and I don’t know if it’s because everyone truly thinks that she knew everything or if it’s because everyone was scared of the response she would have if you treated her like she didn’t know something I never thought of my purse. My mother is a person who knew things I frequently thought of her as a person who didn’t know as much as a lot of people she didn’t do anything my dad slaved his life away to let her be a Rapunzel and she kept me in trash close by because who wouldn’t want to do that with their kids if you have the option, but it wasn’t healthy and good for all of us and you know happy all the time it was She was mentally ill and you guys might think that that’s coming out of my mouth because of who I am or what I do or my education or whatever I mean, you can make you know whatever opinion you wanna have, but I knew her better than anyone else and she was And she wanted to die most of her living life. I’m pretty sure she tried to kill herself before you know and I’m pretty sure not treating a heart condition is kind of doing that in all honesty is letting yourself die. The same thing is killing yourself. You know she read scriptures about healing all the time. She never got the hell she actually needed for things in anyway, and that frustrates me so badly cause she’s so unnecessary, but she coped another ways at all of you loved her and tried to help her and your own ways and I think sometimes it enabled her, but you couldn’t have known no one. No one could know it’s gonna make someone else’s life better when you love them. You just want to do what they tell you it is even if you have a suspicion that it’s not true thank you. Offer being here today. My dad and my brother were the two people that my mom absolutely worshiped and loved the most And she was hard on them. She was hard on me also but I didn’t care. I reached a place in my life for my mom just couldn’t even hurt my feelings anymore and that’s when things stopped working. She used to use them a lot to kinda get what she wanted out of me and I think she needed to a lot of you and she’s just the worst to me for the longest and then Reese is a point where I just don’t care so when she insults or says something mean or tries to guilt trip me there isn’t an emotional response and I’m sorry that I got to that place with it. I don’t think I could’ve prevented it, but I could’ve just recognized. That’s where I was and Ben a little more gracious. But I guess you live and learn

Self destructing

61 hour fast. This one was not spiritual. This one was disordered. I wasn’t sure at first, but yeah…

I’m not going to lie to myself… 

I haven’t purged in quite a while at this point… and literally yesterday I fantasized about both getting highly intoxicated, and also fucking a random person. 

But I’m not. I’m just skipping dinner. Pretty sure that’s a win… until it’s not. 

I am sick af from this fast... I should have ended it long before I did. I don’t think I’ve fasted so long since I was very young. I broke my fast with a smoothie, and I feel sick as hell still. 

I left work because I was puking, and I can tell they are all sour about it… My mess is making other people struggle. Like a lot of them. This is not like the places I’ve been before, and a deceased mom is only an excuse for so long. Telling them you’re adjusting is also only an excuse for so long. 

I cannot fuck this up. I just need to work hard at this moment and then I can figure out what comes next. But I’ll never get to figure that out if I can’t do THIS right now. It’s like undergrad all over again. 

WHY am I so self-destructive?? Will I ever cut that shit out?? 

My mom died

My mom died. 

12 days ago. Which is not enough time to even re-conceptualize all the needed things in my head. My whole world is a fucking different place, and I’m not coping well. We hadn’t spoken in like 4 years… Even just writing this is making me spiral… I literally am not ok. 

Nothing is ok literally at all, and time just keeps passing, for some odd reason. 

I currently do not know if my fast is spiritual or disordered. 

I didn’t know it was possible to feel regret so deeply.

It’s such an absolutely overwhelming feeling of regret, like nothing I have ever felt before… astronomical. 

And coming from me, of all people; that’s saying a lot. I basically fuck up everything, don’t I? 

I don’t think I’ve made one good decision in my whole fucking life. Maybe this is what my parents experienced. Fuck ups who just couldn’t get it right.

Doing too much in the wrong direction. 

Not working at work

I’m a fucking mess today. I woke up so incredibly sore… idk wtf. I just get so much pain sometimes it’s horrible, and this morning was one of those mornings… I wanted to call out of work so badly, but I literally can’t. And Tuesdays are my longest days… 

It’s danger days for real this week. 

Weed sucks lately. It just makes me eat. I can’t even fucking relax ever… I’m just going to keep my options open, but I don’t think I’m going to smoke anymore… I don’t think I get literally anything out of it anymore. 

I’m sitting at my desk in socks because my feet hurt so badly from theme parking Sunday. I’m not doing shit today, and I’m def gonna sneak out early tonight. It’s consolation for not calling out. I don’t have any meetings for another hour, and I’m not doing my paperwork til Friday, because I really don’t need to anyway… 

The audit happening right as I got hired is pretty BA, tbh. 

The Dead Heat of Summer

Through a whiff of the familiar 

a distant memory 

a word

a sound,

the past beckons. 

It’s hazy view 

tempting onlookers to look once more

to contemplate all once forgotten. 

To read again it’s chapters 

and search for new meaning.  

Transported suddenly. 

Through the sharp realities of the present 

to days gone by. 

To a place where the daily was a different day. 

When the blue specter of sleep 

came eagerly in the night,

because it was hungry. 

And fueled not by obligation,

or responsibility, 

but by sheer exhaustion,

or magical potions that tasted bitter on the tongue. 

When I was The Keeper of the Night. 

When I performed the daily 

in less than moderate excess. 

Fueled by obsession and exponential energy 

from a place of self-hatred

enduring an endless search. 

When meaning had no real meaning. 

When the only way to acquire my smile 

was superficially 

and briefly. 

Happiness was ecstasy. 

Found in a bottle 

or tablet 

or wallet

or a text late at night 

or a bed somewhat foreign. 

And it was brief, 

biting, fleeting, and fighting to mean more. 

When loud, intoxicated voices 

bragged of big plans 

that would never leave the bar 

unless swept up off the floor 

and tossed away after last call. 

When the lies did not feel like lies, 

but time passing would ensure that they became so. 

When smoke filled the balmy night air, 

as well as our heads. 

And fantasy, 

and reality, 

and all sense of time, 

intermingled and danced together

in the flecks of the colored lights 

of dusty decrepit buildings 

into a cruel tango. 

Ever quickening into a feverish tempo 

that somehow slowed down the passing of our own lives. 

We spoke of leaving. 

Of becoming more. 

Or less. 

All were in that place,

because they were searching 

for something almost impossible to find, 

and even harder to maintain when found. 

Working so hard to avoid working, 

but somehow simultaneously working harder than most people. 

Trying hard to avoid trying. 

But somehow 

those who work and try differently 

are magically rewarded by a cosmic power 

that others may see but not greet. 

Blind to the awareness 

of the options they have had all along.

Their perspective is sadly skewed. 

But how could one know what they do not know?

Only those brave enough to outstretch their hand 

and let go of the firm grip they hold 

on all they know to be real and familiar 

can then grasp this gift. 

A map of the stars. 

Given so freely, 

but costing a risk so significant, 

no one would choose it without hesitation. 

And then

a single summer difference, 

and the universe has shifted. 

Not only transported, but also transformed. 

Rapidly the daily is shifting 

and warping 

into a different reality. 

No longer is the quest for contentment fleeting. 

It is truly attainable, 

if not any less difficult. 

Now, not just accessible by midnight train 

serviced by a conductor of self-hatred.  

It is presently glowing, 

even on the hottest of days. 

And echoes of past summers passed 

moan from their graves like phantoms in the night. 

Their songs solemn. 

Always reminding the listener 

that they can rejoin that life, 

if they ever so choose. 

The map also indicates the pathway back to where the journey began. 

The past need not stay where it rests, 

if the patron chooses the familiar 

over the gift once more. 

Bogs photo

I don’t think I have ever been so fucking well-behaved in my life as I have the past 3 weeks. I feel like I have had to negotiate with the powers that be to get my life on track, and everything feels like it’s falling into place, but I’m like a fucking saint lately. 

I mean, it’s not terrible... Just very different from all my usual self-destructive ways. 

I genuinely like my job. I think my projected outcome here is also really good, and I just hope that doesn’t change. Being here made me remember I’m fucking good at my job… I sit in on meetings and realize I would have run them better. I chat with my manager and realize I could totally do her job. She likes me, and her manager likes me also. 

I need to seriously not fuck this up. Like ever. I need to remember how bad it can be and keep myself in line here. I’m seeing where the boundaries are, and I need to not pull the wool over everyone’s eyes like I normally do at a place. 

I googled Bogs. 

I do on occasion over the years - and idk why, but lately I’ve been doing it a lot about anyone I can think of. Usually it’s a short list and nothing ever comes up. For some reason, a lot of the people from my past have just as small of an online footprint as I do. Or maybe just as obscure or anonymous. Traditionally Bogs is on the list. And Bird, Chevy, a friend from high school, and my middle school crush. They never appear. 

Today, Bogs did. 

It took my breath away for a second. It’s happening again now, just thinking about it. He looks… really good. And it made me feel literal joy to see that. I always have wanted him to be happy. When he’s smiling and happy, he’s the most glorious sight to behold. He looks like a real adult now… not like a fresh out of undergrad baby like he did in his one existing linkedin photo in the past. He looked like a man. Somehow, we grew up… My heart filled with the strangest emotion. Well, love I think… not that strange - just strange that after like 10 years of no contact, my heart could still respond to him like that. 

I did love him. He was good to me. Always. He would have been good to me forever, and I know that. I only saw him once after I started at Magg. He’s from a life before all of my current friends, so I didn’t event have anyone to share it with. I just started for a moment. The moment was just for me. And now my blog. I’ve looked at the photo several times since this morning. 

I wish I could have it all back in some way, but I also know it’s not possible. It’s not the life I chose, and once you pick, that’s it. You don’t get to keep what you choose and also change your mind. 

I am happy with the life I picked. The person. There was never anyone else. 

Even Bogs knew he was a distraction. He knew I didn’t mean to start loving him as much as I did. He guarded himself just enough, but toward the end, it was definitely getting messy… I knew I had to leave, because the smell of him on me when I left to go home made me feel gross. I loved him, but not in the way you need to to make it perfect forever. It just would have functioned well, and there’s a huge difference. 

But, damn. I do miss him in quiet moments sometimes. I missed him today. I wished I could text his old number and see if it’s still him. I didn’t. I’m sure none of those people even have me saved anymore. I tend to block and unblock the contact with all of them listed as the spirit moves me. Today I realized it was not blocked, but blocked it again… I don’t need to stir up anything - it will only make me feel bad in the end. 

Being told, “You are, and always will be, special to me,” is some pretty powerful shit, my friends. 

New job, same sickness

I started my new job. Thus far, it’s a mixed bag. My office is so badass. But there are 1,000 new things to overthink about, and I’ve had the flu. I’m struggling with feelings of self-hatred, comparison, hauntings from the past, and of course, suicidality. 

Ironically enough, as I click through hours of trainings… 

I delved into the past via Google. Regretted it. We all stayed on a path. That’s the weird part. The ones you knew would do well when we were young, did. The ones you didn’t think would, didn’t. I wonder where I fall. I wonder if anyone ever googles me and judges my life. 

I’ve not been feeling very nice the past couple days. Idk why. I think sometimes when I feel inferior I grasp at mean to feel better. I was talking mad shit about all the people in my head… I discouraged a girl… I feel terrible about it rn, but in the moment, I felt like I was being fair. In reality, I was being negative. It’s not like I lied - I just didn’t tell any of the positive things. It’s simply because I’ve been struggling to really see them myself.  

I think I just hate when things work out for other people. When things are easy for them. Having kids, having parental relationships, jobs… some people have a pretty easy time of those things. I wish I was one of those lucky people. 

It’s so hard lately not to go full blown ED. I’m so shocked I haven’t purged once; it’s like a fucking miracle… there have been dozens of times over the past week I almost imploded. But I haven’t. Not with any of my resolutions. 

Goddam it’s hard to be good.