Tangential

Even pleasant interaction is a blow to my self esteem. I am fat. I need to be less fat. I don’t have a plan. I just want to fucking lose weight and starve and jog 4 miles every morning and worry about every bite that crosses my lips. I want skinny jeans and sweaters and stilettos that feel good to wear. 

Play me the song you wrote for some other girl.

Let’s fall in love for one night. 

I want to drink. 

My mother

Ways that I am like my mother:

• Unused exercise equipment. 
• Snacking in bed in secret. 
• Sneaking into the kitchen when no one’s around. 
• Sweaty and smelly. 
• Ugly clothes. 
• No makeup. 
• Inconsistent hygiene. 
• Laying around too much. 
• Eating garbage. 
• Ugly nails and toenails.

I fucking hate myself. I truly need to get it together. It’s been too long being like this. I agreed with myself moderation in this month and then time to kick ass. 

I need my child to sleep. 

Worst year

This has legit been probably the worst year of my adult life. Maybe entire life. 

I had hoped this holiday weekend would be a respite from the shitty life that is mine. It wasn’t. I enjoyed finally seeing the big kids after months, but that was overshadowed by all the other shit. I didn’t get my Christmas tree. I cooked way too much. 

I had to take my dog to have her put down on thanksgiving day. And I can’t stop crying about her. I miss my baby. I hate that’s she’s gone, and I’m so sad about it. 

Friday and Saturday were a blur. And Sunday and Monday I spent binging and purging countless times with a mind full of suicidal thoughts and paranoia. My mental health has been in the toilet, and I had to drag myself to two baby appointments already this week which was a fucking circus. 

Now my body and mind are in shambles and I called out of work. I canceled 4 appointments. I don’t even care, even tho I need the money quite badly. I just don’t fucking care if I live or die at this moment. 

I miss my life with friends and drugs and boys and all that. I feel like I was sad then also, but at least I self-medicated with things I found fun. Now I am sad and sober. Sans the weed and the stash of xan that I have been eating off of a lot the past couple days.

I don’t even care. I don’t care what happens to me. 

Hate of course

Our vacation sucked. It was horrible. My husband was unable to let it be relaxing. I hated spending time with B… I hate my life. I feel like I wanted to rip my skin off the whole time. I felt embarrassed by my life. By my husband, self, kid… everything. I tried too hard and worried too much. I had too high of expectations to enjoy myself. I didn’t fit in there and realize all the things I would need to do to acquire that. I need to start doing them. I’m tucked away in this town with this life right now, but all of that is where I want to be and am headed, and I can’t go there being this person. I’ll be unhappy every second. 

I miss the world and also don’t feel like I know how to do it anymore. I don’t even have clothes. I don’t have friends or hobbies. I don’t have a life. I have goals and checklists to get a life eventually while my life is passing by. 

I need to lose weight. I need to get my money on track. I need to get my teeth fixed. I need a better wardrobe. 

I need a better me. I’m fucking over waiting for her. 

Hating life

I feel so fucking terrible. 

Idk why or what’s causing it, but I feel off kilter. I feel stressed. Money, parents, baby, family, work, wanting to enjoy my vacation and feeling worried I won’t… feeling fat. Feeling lonely. 

I feel really lonely. I feel like I have no one in the world I can trust with my emotions. I have a husband who’s mean, friends I struggle to be vulnerable with, a kid who can’t talk, step kids who are off living their own lives, parents I don’t speak to, extended family I can’t stand, a brother whose mental health is worse than mine… And that’s it. I need a person. I need my husband to step up and be that person, and I am just really not sure if he ever will be.  

Where is he in the intersect between ability and willingness?? 

I cried myself to sleep. I though of Marigold and how much I miss her. I thought of how lonely I feel. 

I’m trying not to be depressed right now. I’m definitely in an episode. Wellbutrin is still working and helpful, but my depression is just a monster… A terrible monster I don’t think I’ll ever rid myself of. I can make myself do the things now with meds, but I really wish I could stop feeling so fucking sad in my life. 

Need a happy place

This week can suck a fucking dick. 

I have been a goddam train wreck. My hormones have been crazy, the kids have all been a handful in their own special ways, the husband has been a complete piece of shit, and my eating has been inconsistent. I am approaching the finish line not where I want to be. I’m tired all the fucking time. And my fucking clothes didn’t get delivered to me - our postal worker clearly gave them to the wrong person, and they didn’t deliver them to me. I’m furious. I ordered more with express shipping and am going to get a refund but goddam I am so mad about it. I needed that small shred to be ok. To feel motivated again. To be in the headspace I need. I can’t

I want to run away. I hate everything right now. 

Hunger is happiness

I need to stop spending money. I have everything I could ever need. I’m done with all the checklists. My bank account is dwindling, and I’m not making enough to justify these things. If I don’t slow down, I won’t be able to afford a Christmas. I need to work more hours and take on more clients also. I wasn’t that irresponsible with the chunk of change. I was just that far behind. 

I’m hungry. It’s amazing. I stuck to the numbers today. I was active. I haven’t smoked in days, which saves me calories and money. I want to fucking lose weight. I have to.

I have 2 things to look forward to right now. It’s been so long since that was the case. Crazy. Vacation and husband out of town… I can’t fucking wait for both of them. Wardrobe, makeup, nails, and romance acquired. 

We have been good lately. It feels nice. I needed the space and now we have settled into a good place. The prospect of running away is still there. Nothing would stop me at this point if I needed to. I just don’t want to need to.

Ok. Bedtime. 

Weed and meds; what else

It’s been a rough patch…sticking to 800 cals is not sticking so well. 

I think I truly do have PMDD. It’s shocking how badly I feel exactly a week before my period starts, and I don’t know why it always seems to blindside me. I’m too old for that to be the case and feel like an idiot every time I connect the dots. I feel like death for a few days and can’t make myself be a human. This weekend was that… I had all these grand plans on cleaning the house and organizing myself that didn’t come to fruition. I was pooped and felt a little depressed and sore and achy and reallyyy anxious for a couple days, and it fucked my progress. I finally managed to pop a Xanax and get a good nights sleep and that seemed to help. Or maybe the hormones just managed to chill in the end. 

I started smoking heavy again over the weekend to cope with the mood, and my eating got completely out of control for those days. I was stuck again in the cycle and had to break it. Again. Since I started meds, whenever I binge, I feel like SHIT. They’re definitely hard on my digestion in general, and add a layer of shitty food on top, and I’m feeling like garbage and can’t take a dump properly. It makes me anxious, bloated, and angry. I wish I could just smoke and enjoy it. But I smoke, enjoy it for about 30 mins, and then my body tells me it’s starving, and I start eating. Munchies does not even begin to cover what I do. I have gone back and forth about it for so long - I need to figure out a system where I don’t engage the majority of the time. I think that will break the cycle and also give me some freedom. I’ve toyed with the idea of smoking just on weekends in the past, but I think that’s too much also. I think going to smoking only on special occasions is a better idea - whenever I can afford to eat more and have a fucking day to recover the next day apparently. I haven’t smoked in 3 days right now. I told the hubby I was giving my lungs a break. Ever since we both got our medical cards, he doesn’t seem to come to me for a smoking buddy as much anyway. We have so much access to it and basically never run out, so he doesn’t have to check in with me as much about it. The break means my body feels better, even if I don’t feel like I can calm the fuck down. 

I’m not gonna lie, the meds make me pretty up… I don’t think I realized initially, because I was still smoking. My mood and sex drive are great, and the suicidal thoughts have subsided, but I noticed I’m picking a lot and feel a little... manic. I’m constantly organizing and cleaning and adjusting every little thing, and I’ll suddenly realize I’ve been shaking my foot and wonder how long I’ve been doing it, and sleep is a little harder. I don’t mentally feel the sleep thing, but I do physically. I’ve seen 1am in recent weeks, which hasn't happened in years. I’m not sure if all this is just this week with the hormones, or if it’s just how they make me feel, or if it’s just my usual manic bullshit… But yeah, picking has emerged. It’s generally an issue with me, since birth, but lately it feels like I’m a little kid again trying to break the habit. I’m directing it at fidget things so that I don’t rip off all my nails and create massive hangnails for myself or chew my lips off or fuck up my skin, but the nervous tick energy is there. 

But if this is the trade off, I’ll take it. I’d rather fidget and pick than be fucking depressed. I’d rather clean my house than lay around in filth. 

The scale was nice to me today. It forgave me for the sins of my weekend, but the result of all of this is that I wasted a week of my precious month until vacation. I would love for tomorrow to be a better day when I weigh in. My eats today were great because I was so busy at work and very mindful of food, but I’m so tired of this struggle. I just want to lose this weight and be done with all this. I totally realize that I have to adjust my eating for life, and I’m working on that. I feel like I can maintain well, but this is just not the weight I want to maintain. So first I have to fucking get down there, and that’s the really hard part. 

Well… it’s hard when you do it right. It wouldn’t be hard for me to be crazy with it and drastically drop it, but that’s not the goal here. I’m trying to be patient. I’m trying to be reasonable. I’m not a reasonable person. My diet the past few days has been protein coffee for breakfast, snack pack for lunch, and a sensible dinner. I’m not calculating the dinner calories that hard but am avoiding the things that aren’t Anna approved in general. It seems to be a good system for now. Of course I always do add up in my mind the general calories (how could I fucking help it??) but it’s not a logged and researched routine like usual. I ballpark it and move on. Not the easiest thing. 

Think thin. 

Kid and sleep

I’m not getting enough sleep. It’s affecting everything - my mood, weight loss, and eating habits. I’m zapped every moment.

It’s extremely difficult to have an autistic child. It’s so hard that he can’t communicate with us. I literally worry every day about his future. 

Today he had a headache, and we didn’t realize. He was acting rotten, and I realized he must be feeling sick. I think he has had some seasonal allergies going on, and he’s been stuffy lately. He was putting his forehead against ours, rubbing it super hard, and yelling. He slapped me in the middle of the forehead, and the hubby told me he had done it to him also. He started slapping his own forehead. I suddenly realized at that point what he was communicating. I gave him some Tylenol and settled him down to let it kick in, and he became a different kid. I know it’s frustrating for him not being able to talk to us, and it’s frustrating for us also. It’s a fucking hard parenting experience.

The lack of sleep is because he doesn’t sleep well. He only sleeps about 5 hours at a time lately which is not enough. Even when I manage to get to sleep close to the time he does (which is difficult because it’s earlier than I feel tired), I still only get 5 hours of sleep max. It’s been 3 nights like this in a row currently. Last night he woke up at 3. At 3:30 the hubby came in which woke him up more (and he knows his presence is not welcome in the middle of the night, because this is what happens), and I left. I went back to bed for an hour until the husband got him back in his crib and then I checked on him and he was finally going back to sleep. At 5am. And then I had to get up at 8. So I slept from 11-3, 3:30-4:30, and then 5:30-8… it’s not even enough sleep, and it’s completely interrupted, and I’m behind on sleep in general right now so it was definitely not enough. I need him to sleep a long and easy nights sleep. 

I don’t know how to manage it. I feel so badly for my husband in this… if I feel like this, I know he is worse off. 

I need a nap. Fuck. 

Body versus mind

The scale was nice to me this morning. I was shocked. I was hoping for a number like 3 pounds higher than what it said, so it was euphoric. It’s hard how much my weight affects my mood… losing makes me elated, gaining makes me depressed, maintaining makes me apathetic. 

The dilemma of leftover pizza in the fridge was resolved. I ate it for lunch. I ate in moderation (honestly it’s literally the lowest calorie pizza that exists…) and I don’t feel fantastic about it, but really trying to be ok with things lately. This will probably put me at about 900 calories again today once I have dinner, but that seems ok… 

Maybe… I’m not sold on it… My brain is like “you’ve had 700 calories today and should probably just eat an apple for dinner.” BUT, I’m going to eat some grilled chicken breast and spaghetti squash and try to be ok with that. This shit sucks, but I said two weeks, and I’m really going to do it for two weeks. 

I want to throw up the pizza literally right now. I want to cry and crawl into bed and not go back to work today. I want to starve the rest of the day. I want to smoke a ton of weed and take 3 Xanax and drink some Theraflu and pass out. I want to get drunk. I want to disappear. 

I hate this body I’m trapped in. I’m trying to be ok with it. I’m trying to evolve it into something I can just be comfortable with. But is that possible?? Will I ever be comfortable in this body?? It’s the problem my body or mind?? 

Body. Right now, body. 

Fucking compromising

I did okay today. 900 calories. Its not 800, but I guess it’s close. Dinner was the culprit. Today I had a protein shake, fruit and pretzel and cheese prepackaged thing, nuts, and veggie pizza. I wasn’t intense. I wasn’t obsessive, but damn it’s hard to fight it… as I write this , I feel guilty about a 100 calorie pack of nuts. I feel guilty that I had more than one piece of pizza. I feel guilty that I ate a prepackaged thing with carbs AND cheese. I feel guilty about the leftover pizza in the fridge and that I didn’t cook a 200 calorie dinner like I should have. 

I feel like now is not the right time to experiment with having a daily calorie intake this high, but I also feel helpless and like I should just see. Two weeks won’t kill me… Right? Would there ever be a time that I would feel good about a plan like this?? 

I know the looming trip we have planned and my wish that I could get thin and tan and toned before it is a factor in this. I keep feeling panicked. I just really long to feel relaxed and confident for a few days and idk if that’s achievable in this body. I feel like I don’t have the clothes even to achieve that. I’m working on things and still have a month, but it seems impossible. I would love to lose just like ten pounds before my trip… that’s all. I’ve lost 30 in a month before. If I lost 10, my clothes situation would be ok and I could add a few items and not spend a ton of money and feel good in my clothes… I could go see my husbands cousin and not feel like a goddam hippo. I could put on lingerie for our anniversary and attempt to save my marriage. I just need this 2 week experiment to work for me, because it’s half of the 4 weeks I have left to fix the fucked situation I’m currently in. 

I didn’t smoke today, because I missed the window. I have decided that I’m really going to stick to the window… if I don’t smoke before dinner, I don’t get to that day. No mornings and no late nights with Mary Jane. She just talks me into eating shit. I feel like allowing myself that one time per day is a compromise, and I’m trying to live in more of those lately. 

I kind of hate compromise. 

I’m going to take a Xanax and watch Supersize versus super skinny. Think thin. 

Restricting reflections

I did well today; 775 calories. I wish I could restrict more, but I don’t think I can do it well… 800 calories a day is better than binging and purging. And if I could just maintain that number… that would be ok with me. It’s not my eternally ideal 500 calories or less per day (preferably 350, duh), and it would be a slower loss, but the current cycle is the slowest fucking method of all…

The recent cycle has been: 

• Restrict super hard
• Can’t maintain it
• Get super hungry and binge 
• Purge
• Restrict 
• Binge
• Purge
• Binge
• Binge
• Binge

Then I’m fat… 

I think if I just try to restrict to around 800 calories a day, that’s doable for me. It doesn’t mentally feel great, but it I know it’s logical. It fits the math in the end. It gives me enough wiggle room to maintain my blood-sugar and metabolism well, and it’s still half of what my daily recommended intake is. 

Dude. 

No one knows more about how the body manages food than an eating disordered person… wtf is this skill even useful for? How does knowing the calorie content of every food known to man help me? How does my knowledge of how fat is created, metabolized, stored, burned, and how it actually gets out of the body (through respiration when we sleep, primarily) ever going to help my fucking life?? These are just facts I torture myself with. And the amount I know about actual eating disorders would rival most practitioners who treat it. All of this knowledge is not helping. I’m still disordered. I know it all, but I am a victim to it. 

You can’t unlearn this stuff - all the things Ana and Mia have taught you. You can’t ever really get away from them. You just find a way, somehow, at some point, to stop listening… 

But then, to do that is to be fat. And we aren’t meant to live on this side of things. We have been thin, and we worked hard to get there. 

The recognition that it’s a problem is there in your knowledge bank also. When you recount how many hundreds of times you have thrown up in hundreds of bathrooms over the years (and what you know about plumbing due to this), it sets in that this is not really ok. 

So we put it aside. We decide not to listen. Not to pay attention to all we have learned. Not to count. Not to constantly do the math. We close our eyes and ears and hope that maybe we can go back to a time before we got like this; before we knew all this. 

And then you expand. You buy bigger sizes and tell yourself it’s ok. You look at photos of yourself and gasp - who is that fat person, and where is the girl I was before?? You trade your thigh cap for thigh rub and you want to die just as much as you did before - you just also look ugly. You think, “I’m probably more miserable like this.”

So then you start to listen again… You know what you could do. You know both sides of the coin. It would be possible to fully embrace it again - to mold your entire life around eating and not eating like you did before. You still know the way. 

But, you know it can’t be like that again. You don’t even truly want that. It sucked. Being fat and sad or thin and tortured are two equally terrible options. 

So, maybe aim for the middle? Maybe my weight can be just ok and my brain can be just ok about it. Maybe a compromise after 20 years of the yoyo. Maybe it’s dumb that it took you this long to figure that out. 

So you have to balance what they have taught you with what you have learned on your own without them. It’s a fucking impossible balance. It contradicts itself. Food is everything. Food is god. Food is the devil. Food is defeat. 

Why does this exist within me?? Why does it feel like a balance is not possible? Have I ever really given it a chance??

I ended up smoking tonight, because I started to feel physically sick. Idk why - I threw up the water I had just drank and laid in the bathroom feeling like garbage for an hour, and it wouldn’t pass. Idk if it was low blood-sugar, adjusting to my glasses, adjusting to meds, or what, but I couldn’t get it together… It’s funny how I can force myself to throw up a million times in my life, but when it’s my body naturally doing it, I don’t like it… I smoked one bowl, ate some food, and called it a night. No more food and no more smoking. 

I think if I could consistently do that, it might be ok. If I could repeat my choices today every day, I might be ok with that. 

Maybe smoking is another thing I get extreme about - either don’t smoke at all, or smoke all the trees…

Is moderation a possible thing with me?? Why am I so goddam intense, and how do I stop being like this??? 

Planning and plotting

I need to stop smoking. It makes me binge. Especially at night. And I think it’s giving me weird dreams and interfering with my sleep. I put all my pieces and weed away and am setting rules internally. 

I say this all the time, and then I don’t stop. But I need to. I need to stop talking about it and just do it. I’m not even going to tell the husband this - I’m just going to stop smoking. Smoking = binging even tho I try to pretend that’s not the case and won’t be the case. It is. I’m going to stop for two weeks and see if I stop binging. If I do stop binging successfully, I’m going to try to introduce it again and smoke only once a day when I’m cooking dinner and handling the bedtime baby stuff. Not any other time. It’s become too much and I don’t think I need it now that I have the Wellbutrin honestly. It’s like a fucking miracle has occurred with that shit. 

Wellbutrin is making me way less hungry, but at a certain time of day it wears off, and then I’m starving because I haven’t eaten enough. That’s being paired with smoking at that time of day. And then I can’t stop eating. I’ve been purging on and off and it’s not good.

So, plans:

• Stop smoking 
• Stop binging 
• Eat meals on a schedule 
• 800 calories max per day 
• 160 cals protein shake for breakfast and coffee or tea 
• 300 calorie max lunch with fruit
• 100 calorie snack of nuts
• 250 calorie dinner of meat and veg
• Take all the supplements 
• Do for two weeks and see if there are results 

I have been taking my meds in the morning with a protein shake and letting my body digest a bit before I take the supplements. I’m taking multivitamins with hair and nail boosters, coconut oil, apple cider vinegar gummies, and fiber. These are all things that are supposed to help with weight loss… so we shall see. 

I need to stick to this for fuck sake. What the fuck is wrong with me?? 

Insomnia

 My mood is improved but still a little tough. I feel like I now have the energy to get things done more frequently and feel more motivated and less anxious and lethargic, but I’m still really struggling with my eating disorder stuff and still struggling with feeling down. I hope the mood improves as I get it built up in my system properly. 

I ordered shorts that I think are going to arrive too small for me. I will have to decide if I return or wait until I have lost weight. I am pissed about it. I hate myself for being this fat. 

Today was meh… I was active and took a nap but my eating was weird. I was picky today and everything was unsatisfying aside from like bread. My sleep is weird. It’s hard to fall asleep but then I sleep soundly. I’m a little tired but I think it’s from the actual lack of sleep at night lately. 

Talking to my brother about my parents was cathartic and hard. I know he’s remaining neutral. I can respect it. I can respect that my husband can’t be. I just wish my mother was a different person.

White noise tonight. 

I’m a mess.

Binge. Purge. Binge. Purge. 

I’m fucking depressed. I don’t deserve happiness. I’m a terrible person. In the past especially, but even now. I’m a goddam fake ass stupid pathetic fat bitch. I’ll never. Ever. Fit in. I have no real friends and no one who even really knows me. I’m hidden from the entire world. 

Because the world will just hurt you. The world will fucking kill your will to live. 

There’s that familiar thought…

Fat and scared and unloved.

I desperately need to lose weight. At my doctor’s appointment, she gave me a number. It’s realistic for me, but it’s very high… I can’t believe I ever got to this point… I have lost 15 pounds so far this year, and I’m just now back to what was previously my highest weight. When I think back, I have a hard time actually identifying what caused this gain and where the fuck this all started. I think I was so depressed for so long… it was terrible. I look thinner in photos of when I was pregnant than I do right now… That thought makes me want to fucking cut… I’m so fucking ugly right now. Sometimes it’s hard to even work seeing my own goddam face in the corner of my screen on video calls…

My mood has been better since I started meds; it’s shocking. I hope it’s real. I hope it lasts. I’m so scared that this is just one of my up swings that I sometimes have, and that I’m going to crash real hard real soon. I’m terrified that my depression is just untreatable and incurable. It’s been nice to feel more capable and motivated, but I’m trying not to think this might be an actual solution because so many others have failed. Zoloft, Prozac, Vybrid... even therapy was not helpful (I guess because I didn’t like my therapist if I’m honest…) Why would Wellbutrin be different?? I haven’t had the constant obsessive thought, “I want to kill myself,” in a couple days. It’s been there in the back of my brain constantly for years now… I tried to access the thought earlier today, and it felt like there was a layer of fog between myself and that thought. Like I could still make it out, (I think I will always low key want to die…) but it was fuzzy. I’m so scared to be hopeful about this. 

The husband has been emotional and on a rollercoaster with that, and it’s so hard to stomach. He is so defensive be constantly says I’m having an attitude. He hates not working. He hates that we have been struggling. He doesn’t feel like a man. I get it. But it’s not my goddam fault, and I can’t do shit about that. Everything I say he takes it as an insult and if I try to objectively look at interaction, I truly don’t see where I’m doing anything wrong. I had a thought yesterday that we might turn out to be one of those couples who you look at and say, “it’s so weird that broke up. I wonder what went wrong - they seemed genuinely happy for a long time,” and when you ask them, they just say something like, “I don’t know. We grew apart.” I questioned if I’m falling out of love with him. I’m not sure I have answer to that question currently. It’s on hold. I have decided to try to just take the relationship one day at a time. Some days are good. Some are terrible. I have been sleeping in the guest room a lot lately. I think we both need space. There are elements preventing actual good night sleeps, and it’s not worth it to me lately to stick it out and sleep in the same bed. I just go off to my office/workout room/bedroom and sleep alone.

I always did like sleeping alone… it’s not what I just tell everyone. 

Started meds

I started Wellbutrin. Idk if it’s placebo, or if my depression cloud just managed to part a bit the past couple days on its own, but I feel like it’s a good thing already. I feel like I felt it immediately yesterday and again today. And I feel like yesterday at a certain time, it wore off… I know it doesn’t always work that way, but Prozac did this also - I felt it immediately. I’ve been on some message boards, and they all say some people react to it immediately. I am feeling quite good. I don’t think I’ll up the dose yet. I want to wait a month and see if I have any major episodes. And if I do, I’ll up it then. If not then we can leave it at this dose. 

I even got the urge to paint today. I’ve organized things. I went outside for hours the past 2 days and didn’t have a moment of panic. I was a little swingy yesterday, but is kid that was the meds or circumstances or a bit of both. 

I just realized I haven’t had one thought of death since I took my first dose… huh. 

Last night I did get those late night binge urges. Half asleep and wandering to the kitchen to eat food standing in front of the fridge… not my favorite thing… 

Meds and sleep

Went to the doctor today. They prescribed me Wellbutrin and referred me to psych. Today I am going to fuck it with the attempt to lose weight and not go nuts but let myself eat and starting tomorrow I am going to start meds and get myself fixed up a bit. I’m tired of feeling like garbage. 

And lately I’m just plain tired. Baby is not sleeping well. Which means I’m sleeping like 4 hours and not consecutively. 

I got a nap. It was a lifesaver. 

Some things do last

Things that last are usually negative. Depression, eating disorders, dysfunctional relationships, grief… why is it so easy for bad things to last and not good?? 

I was productive today. I was thorough. I was mindful of my speech. I didn’t feel super depressed. I ate really well. It was nice. I don’t feel like I get days like this too often. I wish I hadn’t had to work all day… I wish I could bottle this and save it. I wish it would happen several days in a row at least.

I have a doctor appointment on Friday, and I want to start Wellbutrin. I’m ready for meds. The husband and I  officially decided not to have any more children - it was spoken aloud to my mother in law on Monday. I am relieved. It’s time to restructure my thinking about my goals and plans. It feels good to be decided on this finally. It feels good to know my body won’t be hijacked again to make another baby and I can just do with it what I want.   

I caught up with Mouse a bit tonight. I have missed her. I wish I could see her. I wish she lived closer. I wish Covid wasn’t stopping so many of my relationships from flourishing. She has been my friend since we were 12. That’s insane… I truly love her and am so glad she’s around again. It was a weird life not having her in it. She belongs with me. Idk why the universe decided that, but it did clearly. I don’t understand why she even wants to be friends with me… I don’t feel worthy on many levels in that dynamic. 

I have been obsessively looking at clothes, but I decided no more purchasing for my current size and no buying the size smaller until I actually AM the size smaller. I have about $250 worth of wishlist items that I plan to buy once I hit my goal weight. I need to do it… 

This weekend I struggled and gained a bit. Idk exactly how much because I have put off weighing in…I know I fucked up… I was good today, but I need like 2 solid weeks of doing well before I fuck up again, and I can’t keep purging, as my teeth really hurt the past couple days...

Planned eats for the week:

• Breakfast - protein shake coffee drink 
• Lunch - nuts and supplements 
• Dinner - reasonable for Ana. 

I just want to think thin eternally.

Calling out

No matter the circumstance, I am depressed. I feel like I’m uncomfortable and angsty every moment of my life. Even on days that are relatively good days, internally I feel terrible. I don’t know if it’s because of my lack of sleep since my child was essentially born, anxiety, depression, a combination of things… but it sucks. 

It hurts to go home. Because I miss it. I moved away from my childhood town, found a city that I love, and lived there for 7 years… And I miss it. Every time I go back I want to stay. I want to home up somewhere and never leave. 

I want call out of life. 

Sex and somehow still Chevy

I wonder if I’ve ever really liked sex. Sometimes afterward, I just feel gross. Maybe that’s not the word, exactly… I’m just over it when it’s over. I feel like I drag myself into it when it happens And not just because I feel fat - like I just don’t get much satisfaction out of the physical act. Even when I have enjoyed sex in my life, it was because of the psychological game. I made it my goal to make the person fall in love with me. Sex was not enough - I wanted power. I wanted the other person to worship me and my body. I wanted to never hear “no,” and I never did. I always got what I wanted when it got to that point. And everyone I cut it off with or made emotional always had an emotional reaction to me.

And now there is none of the game element to it in my life. I enjoy sex ok. It’s fine, but it’s not something that I feel like I even need. I could go months without and be ok. Orgasms aren’t worth that much to me. 

Subject change abruptly.

I was thinking about Chevy earlier. About that day that I pushed him into the walk in to yell at him, and the initial smirky look on his face would indicate that he thought I was pushing him in there for another reason… until I started talking. I still can’t believe that we never even kissed. We should have. I should have just gone for it like I did with every other boy I ever kissed. I’ve initiated it the most. With good results. Maybe it was a lack of experience that made me feel like I couldn’t. Maybe I thought he would reject it. I just wish he would have kissed me… 

I don’t know why he didn’t save me. He could have. I wanted him to. I wanted to hear, “don’t be with this guy; be with me. I want you.” But he never said it. Everyone else said he felt that way- that it was obvious. But then he should have told me. I would have been with him. It may have killed me, but I would have burned out in a blaze of glory with a heart on fire for him. I loved him. I probably still do.

It’s so sad that 15 years later I still think about him. I tear up when I do for too long. I wish I had been worth enough for him to take whatever perceived risk there would have been. I wish I could talk to him once more in life. I wish I could ask him what made him hesitate. Was it me, or something within him? Did he actually love me like everyone said? Why did he respond once on that warm summer evening in 2012 and then never again? Why wouldn’t he let me in then? Why didn’t he ever tell me how he felt about me? 

I think he thought I was stronger than I was. I think he didn’t understand that I wasn’t doing what I wanted to do. He thought I would hurt him by saying no. He thought if I wanted to leave, I would. He didn’t understand that I couldn’t. How could he? I didn’t even understand that I couldn’t or that I wanted to.

I would give anything for the universe to give me one day with him again. Not in a life-changing-forever way; I just wish I could bump into him in a grocery store, swap numbers, get coffee once, talk about old days, and then go our separate ways. 

I think I’m actually quite lucky that my husband did rescue me. He didn’t hesitate. He sized things up and decided to risk it. He said the things. They’re very similar in a lot of ways, Chevy and my husband, and I wonder what made the actual difference. 

I also wonder why I couldn’t save myself, and why I never seem to be able to do that. I feel helpless when it comes to taking care of me. I’m bad to me. 

Sigh

The scale was nice to me again this morning. I have had 500 calories of dumb shit today and a binge and purge. I feel disgusting, but not in the worst way. I just know I could have done something healthier with my intake today.

The husband got me flowers and a card and candy (that I threw up). I’m trying to give this another chance in emotion as well as action. I’m not feeling like emotion is an option, though. I can go back to the routine and the actions of being invested in this, but emotionally I’m not feeling or thinking that way. This could end at any moment, and I would be fine. I can see he’s getting desperate, clingy. He knows he’s a fuck up and that I don’t deserve this. I told him the only domain of my life that really sucks is him. I meant it. 

When we got married I gave up all my wild ways. Some days I really regret that. Some days I want to be disordered and crazy and have fun again. I miss fun. I thought being mentally healthier would equate feeling better, and it does in some ways, but not in others. It’s less fun. And meeting people like this lunatic this week makes me question everything… I don’t think I would want what she has, but I’m not quite happy with what I have either. There’s a side to me that wants to throw this relationship away and go wild, and there’s a part of me that wants to stay strong with my husband and hole up somewhere in the universe and not have other people around at all. I don’t know what this should realistically or healthily look like, but I’m not thrilled with the current status. 

I have lost all my friends, but I don’t seem to want to do anything about it. I don’t think I have the energy for friends right now in my life. I barely have the energy to work part time. Maybe once I get the toddler in vpk and the husband graduated, I can figure that out. 

And I’m feeling a little disappointed with my friends currently… I know no one is perfect, but I don’t feel like a priority in some peoples lives and that’s hard. I’ve been feeling disappointed with the M’s if I’m honest with myself… they’re there for gossip or jokes, but not when I’m super struggling sometimes. They can’t handle what my life really looks like, and I get that. 

It’s also difficult not being everyone’s brand. That part hurts sometimes. I knew yesterday I was talking too much. I couldn’t stop. I lost a client. 

My mental health needs help. I can’t wait until I go to my doctor appointment and the eye doctor. These constant eye strain headaches are not helping anything. I want to be able to see again and pop a pill every day to help me feel better. 

Everyone sucks

I’m emotional today. I go into days like this thinking I will refrain from speaking about myself. But then the reality is that I can’t. Shut. Up. I end my work day hating myself. 

My husband called me fat this morning. I am not honestly sure it if was to just upset me, or if he genuinely thinks it… It doesn’t matter. Either way, it’s correct, but completely inappropriate. I spent the morning finding places I could go stay or he could go stay. He declined, and I don’t have the energy to take the toddler away, so here we sit in our house in separate rooms feeling resentful. Every article I read about this kind of behavior is clear- He changes, or you leave. I don’t know if change is possible. I’m a believer in it, to an extent…  but, I’m not seeing progress with him like I need to. At this moment, I don’t even want to be with him. The thoughts of having a life away from him are more frequent and seem less daunting and impossible. I know I would be fine. I would probably be happy. I’m not sure I want a relationship at all.

I weighed myself this afternoon, and the scale was kind to me. I was not deserving after my eating last night. I couldn’t stop. I binged on whatever I could find. I think I ate like 1,700 calories, but today it was a lower weight than I’ve seen in a long time. I don’t even actually know how long… 

I think I weighed this in May after my surgery when I lost weight. It would probably help if I journaled the numbers, but just the fact that about 6 people consistently read this crap I write makes me feel too ashamed to slap a number on anything. It’s still a disgustingly high weight, but an improvement. I would like to lose about 20 more pounds. That would put me at the weight I was when I first got pregnant and right after toddler was born… that’s a good weight for me. I’ve lost 15… it’s not even enough, and I can’t believe I have this much to lose at all. It makes me want to fucking kill myself. A younger version of me would feel like I needed to lose about 40lbs right now. At this point I just want to be in my weight range and not fucking over it. Eating disorder and baby = shittiest metabolism ever. 

I thought today I might be normal with my eating. I thought I would allow some things I liked and try to eat like a reasonable, normal person. But that’s out now. I had about 700 calories. I’m done. I don’t know how to not be extreme. I’m not sure I even want to not be extreme. If anything I wish I could be more extreme. 

The husband wanted to order pizza. I declined. He went to get food and offered. I declined. He texted me when he was out. I declined. You can’t call me fat and then try to feed me. Fuck you.

My mom texted me today. She said “Cally, I know in your letter you said that you didn't want a relationship with us but this is my number if you ever want to talk  mom.” Bitch you don’t know shit. You said you didn’t read my letter. Clearly you didn’t. So how do you even know what it said?? And what the fuck would I want to talk to you about?? I haven’t had your number in 3 months. We haven’t had a conversation about jack anything in almost a year. 

I didn’t reply. I didn’t tell my husband about it. I read it and didn’t save the number and am currently just leaving it in my texts. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, but I’m not interested in repairing the dynamic. I wrote a whole ass letter. You chose not to acknowledge anything. I want to rip her a new one, but what would that even do?? I’m already the bad guy in this. I literally cannot win. 

Theme of my life currently. Like cannot win. I’m so glad for E and the M’s. Especially E. If he moves to the coast, I might join him. I miss my best friend. 

Realizations

I’m a fucked up person. I’m a goddam mess. I was a huge mess back then, and I had myself convinced I was ok... That I was becoming healthier. I was a motherfucking train wreck. In grad school, I was a train wreck. The WORST person. My behavior was insane. Why did I have to act like that?? And pretend I was doing well…?

I did drugs, got fucked up all the time, always had a side boy… why did I act like that? And why do I have some perspective that I was actually doing quite well then?? I didn’t start to get better for months past the event… and I was insane leading into it… I changed the timeline in my head. I made myself feel better about things, but it wasn’t until graduation that I was getting any of my shit together.

I am unlovable. That is why this marriage is not working. I am impossible to please when I should be working harder than ever to please someone else. I tear him down and he tears me down. Is this even going to work?? 

I’m at a loss

I’m trying hard to get my eating under control but I’m struggling a lot. My default is to binge. And then purge. Restricting is hard for me. 

Making conscious choices about food without being extreme is hard for me. I’m trying to have enough fuel (ie food in my body) to keep my mood intact and have the energy to do my job, be a mom, and do well with my husband. I’m trying not to be high maintenance with where I’ll allow us to eat or what. I’m trying to be careful not to go to either end of the spectrum too hard. 

I have no fucking balance with this. I’m either starving myself or eating enough for 3 of me. And I can’t keep being fat, so overeating is just creating purging recklessly and without regret. 

This morning I ate 2 egg whites, most of an apple, and a cup of coffee with one half and half creamer. There was a time when each of those things individual would have been a whole ass breakfast for me. It was still only about 120 calories at the most, but damn. I mean, is it crazy to agonize over 120 calories?? The pistachio packet that I ate yesterday and the protein shake the day before created the same reaction within me. These are reasonable, healthy options. These are foods that give me fuel to survive. 

Why is this so hard for me???? 

Then the other side of me is like “fuck it, just eat gummy bears and chips in bed with the lights off after getting super fucking high.” What IS that?? Is it because I let myself get too hungry? Is it because I have a fucked up brain?? 

I don’t even know how to qualify what I ate today... Breakfast as above, lunch was chips (about 12) and salsa, dinner was a cup of pasta salad and 3 French fries. It was about 600 calories total for the day. But damn lacking.

Tomorrow, I have no plan. I have no fucking life plan. I’m tired of everything. 

Vacay time

Binge and purge. It’s whatever. 

We booked a trip. That’s how you salvage a failing marriage - throw a vacation at it. For our anniversary. It feels amazing to be able to spend the money and plan a weekend that will let us feel like Covid isn’t around as badly as it is. I need it. I need it so badly I could die.   

2 months until I need to be ok with a swimsuit on the beach and showering outside. I’m going to lose weight, get a tan, and get some new clothes. I’m going to nail this. 

Time to restrict really hard. Time to cleanse. Time to fast. 

No food tomorrow. Planned intake is Diet Coke, water, gummy vitamins and fiber drink.

Should I start taking meds before this trip? I think so… 

Suffocating

Covid let me hide away. 

Social distancing = no social life. This means it doesn’t matter how I look in a dress/heels/makeup/shorts/swimsuit/tank tops because no one will fucking see me. 

I’m tired of that. I want to be seen. I want to start doing things again. Right now, I don’t encourage it, because I know my family is terrified of Covid, and I am terrified of how I look in literally all clothing. So I stay home where I’m safe and fat. 

The last 3 days I have barely eaten. Thursday I fasted, and Friday and Saturday comprised of one meal each day and a few bites or sips of whatever. I feel empty. I feel good. 

I weighed myself today, and I weigh one pound less than I did in May after my surgery weight loss. The weight I gained back due to hating my fucking job is almost gone. 3 more pounds and I’ll be at that weight. I need to lose at least 18 more pounds right now. I don’t even want to be thin anymore - I just don’t want to be fucking fat like I am now. 

I told my husband the other day if we ended this relationship,  I would get super skinny. He asked, “why would we have to end this for that to happen?” I didn’t reply. My thought process was intense…

Like: Because I want to do it in a way he wouldn’t like. Because it would involve coke and booze and starving like I have before. Because when it was intense the first time, I didn’t use coke or booze, but now I know how to do that also. So it would be game on. It wouldn’t take me long at all, especially if I was single and my child went back and forth each week and I had days completely alone where I didn’t need to be responsible. If I let that part of me out to the degree I would want to, he would not be able to handle it. I’m fat because this relationship has seemed ok the last 3 years. But now it doesn’t seem ok. 

So now what? I just do what I want for me. Maybe not the methods I would prefer but starving and weed will work. And I don’t even want approval... I want to be thin and seen. I miss being like I was in North Carolina. I had fucking confidence. I didn’t realize it, but I did. I felt good about how I looked. I haven’t felt that in years. Ever since I got pregnant I have hated my fucking body. That’s like 4 fucking years. 

I need to find myself again. I’m suffocating under a massive layer of fat and the weight of the world. 

Settle or leave

He gets nice when he needs something or wants something. Then it’s back to being a dick. I am really starting to resent him. 

I’m starting to think the only way to be happy is to be alone. Maybe what we think is achievable in relationships is not real. Maybe couples either resent each other and settle, or leave. Maybe there is no long-term happiness with a person. I don’t know anyone that has it. Ever. 

Maybe I got the best part of this already and it’s time to go. Maybe that’s what happens - you get a good small portion, and then you have to either settle or leave. 

I choose leave. I’m tired of being treated like this. I wonder if he will do it so I don’t have to. I wish he would. But I know he won’t make that decision for us. It’s always been me. And then I let him back in. So why would he change?? There’s no consequences. Seeing me suffer is not a consequence for him.  

Fast

I didn’t eat today. My husband is doing prep for a colonoscopy tomorrow, so I fasted also… Diet Coke and water is all I had today. Because he couldn’t eat, he didn’t see that I didn’t…

Today’s cals: 0

I forgot how good starving feels. 

I forgot what it’s like to fast for an entire day based on a whim in the morning. To get busy and forget about food, to not have to cook anything for a day, to feel empty. To just ignore that food exists.  

I feel foggy. I can’t form thoughts well. I feel good. 

Fuck food and thus stupid fat fucking body I’m trapped in. I’m going to look at thinspo. 

Think thin forever. 

Probation

He says I don’t listen. I don’t. Not to him. I’m done with listening to void, meaningless shit. I don’t care what his feedback is, because I don’t plan on changing anything about the way I operate with the current status of things. I’m not doing anything wrong, and the feedback I receive is about things like my parenting style or other shit he has no room to speak on. He says I talk to him with an attitude, but the percentage of the time that’s I do that to him, versus how much he does that to me, is minuscule in comparison. He’s entitled. He’s comfortable. He says I’m on probation. He’s going to have a rude awakening when he realizes this is all that I’m ever going to do for him. To change for him is to lose myself. I’m not losing myself for anyone in this life that does not cherish me. I will not mold into what I’m asked to become. If you cannot handle the person I am, I do not want to handle you. I don’t need anyone. 

Marbles in a jar

He’s going to break soon. I hope? I want to throw the processing in his face, but I know he’s not ready to hear it. He’s taking space, because he can see that I’m not going anywhere presently and knows physicality is not a factor. He’s not concerned I’m fucking someone else, so he’s just not that concerned. My presentation riddled with statistics is prepared. He hasn’t asked. The silence is deafening. He mumbles, “I’m a piece of shit” and does the chores and asks if he can ask me a question, and when I respond coldly, he doesn’t ask. His jealous fear is creeping in, and I don’t smile. But he’s seeming somewhat comfy in his room alone at night. I’m comfy in mine. I think we needed a break from each other, but I have a feeling he sees this as temporary, whereas I am feeling content if this was the new forever. 

I would be totally fine if this was our new normal. I would be happy if I were single again. I think I’ve been in a relationship too long… I never last this long… Maybe I was just being naive thinking I could make a marriage work. Wtf do I even know about that?? I already failed one (if there were ever a tragic soul that read the entirety of this terrible blog, they would know),and it’s not like I can think of a single example of a happy marriage to base anything off of in my entire life - I know no one who is doing it well. 

Maybe the whole construct is stupid and naive and unrealistic. Maybe I’d be happier alone in an apartment with my things and my hobbies and my art and not this shit. Maybe I’m meant to paint and write and not date and marry. Maybe I’m meant to just be a mom but not a wife. Who the fuck could ever figure out shit like this?? 

And how am I supposed to help right now when I don’t have this garbage figured out myself?? 

The plan forming

My husband asked if we were separated. Yes. I have a thought forming in my head that I am going to check out. I am going to pull away. Maybe when I’m done, he will leave me and I won’t have to do anything. I want him to look back and think, “that’s when she changed. That moment is when I ruined everything.” I want to leave him. 

Correction: I need to, because he’s clearly never going to change. 

I would like to keep this dynamic until baby goes to school. Until we move to the beach. That’s about a year. Over that year, I want to work a moderate amount. I want to spend all my free time with my child. I want to focus on my own goals and future and making myself happy and no one else. I want to lose weight and get my meds right. I want to pay off some debt. I want to save some money. I want to get myself to a place where I can leave this comfortably and know he will have his own resources also. As soon as he graduates and finds a job, he’ll be fine with it all. I don’t want to go to court. I don’t want to make it ugly. I want us to live in the same town and swap our kid week for week and coparent well. I don’t care about child support. I know it’s all possible with him. He’s a mess, but he wants to be involved. 

I kept telling myself for so long to give him another chance. Kept thinking every moment like this was a “one off.” But it’s not. It keeps happening. 

The cycle: he starts treating me worse and worse. His fuse gets shorter. Everything I say he acts like he wishes I would shut up. Like he thinks I’m an idiot. Like he wishes I would never speak to him again. Sex becomes a chore. He calls me names - “bitch, stupid, lazy.” He tells me I’m crazy and I’m just like my mom. He doesn’t acknowledge anything I do well or where he’s fucking up. The only time he acknowledges me is when he needs or wants something. He gets demanding. He acts more and more entitled until one day he just starts really going at me. He talks to me like he hates me after months of acting subtly like he does. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you fucking stupid?” I lose it. I blow up. I can only take so much, and I start ranting. I air all grievances without mercy. I yell and scream and get it all out. I don’t back down when he tries to intimidate me. He gets physically aggressive. I still don’t back down and keep saying all the things he’s been creating within me. He doesn’t physically beat me or choke me since he got sober. He shoves me, puts his mouth against my ear and yells into it, tries to hurt me by stepping on my foot, grabbing fistfuls of my hair, twisting my wrist, pushing me into things… I don’t care. I can handle it and, I need to tell him how much of a piece of shit he really is in those moments. It doesn’t even hurt me anymore. I know his insecurities, and I throw them in his face in a way that makes me the victim. Because up to those points, I am. But in those moments, I’m done being the victim. I get viscous. He tells me “I get him to this point.” He blames me for his abusing me. I tell him he’s fucked in the head and it’s not my fault - I never do anything wrong. We part, and I completely shut him out. His probation goes on for a while where I can act like a cunt and make whatever demands I want. He does whatever I need or want. He grovels. I don’t even look him in the eye or respond to half the things he says. I treat him like he’s an idiot when he speaks to me. I drag it out. Eventually I will warm back up, and we have peace for quite a while before it happens again.

This happened once when I was pregnant, 3 times since we moved into this house…. He’s been abusive every moment of our relationship since the beginning aside from the year when we weren’t together and into the year we got married. Maybe an 18 month period out of almost 10 years. 8 of those months we didn’t live together. He only behaves right after he fucks up and thinks I’ll leave. No more now. I’m sure if he’s acted like this every 9 months since he got sober that it will just continue like this. I’d be stupid to think it won’t. So this time I feign forgiveness, but I’m really done… I just have nothing left for him. He broke it. He broke what I tried to give him. 

So we will be a broken family until I can make my exit in the way it’ll be easiest for myself and my baby. I’m sure the strain of all the life shifts at some point will cause another moment like this. And that’ll be my excuse one to exit. 

This is a lot of planning and psychology. I know what needs to be done. I’m not scared of him. He is weak and broken. He is scared of me. He is scared I will leave and he will have to face how big of a fuck up he really is. He’s scared I’ll take our baby and be gone. I’m not scared of any of this. 

Maybe I’m wrong and there won’t be another lapse of abuse. I doubt it. I need to be more mindful of the warning signs. This time it was a solid month of shit. Next time I’m going to chop him off at the knees. 

And if he doesn’t have another episode? I’ll plan for that then, but I can sure as hell tell you that this period of time has made me realize I need to protect my assets better. My money is my money and my things are my things. No more sacrifice. 

My mother

 Things that prove I’m not my mother:

• I don’t try to control my kids’ every move. 
• I would survive just fine if my husband left. 
• I’m not forcing having more kids when what I already have is overwhelming. 
• I am willing to be on antidepressants. 
• I work a full time job and pay my own bills
• When I want to lay in bed for days on end, I only do it for a couple days max and only when I can. 
• I can admit fault and apologize. 
• I don’t blame other people for my feelings. 
• My education. 
• I can make myself go out. 
• I go to the doctor. 
• I’m not scared to drive. 
• I don’t just rely on God to fix things I can fix. 

Things that make me like her:

• Codependent tendencies.
• Struggling to leave the house sometimes. 
• Being overweight/eating disorders. 
• A piece of exercise equipment collecting dust.
• Yelling when I’m pushed too far.
• Depression. 
• Letting people abuse me. 
• Being anxious. 

I’d say these are all things I’m working on, though, and she never did… I hate my fucking life. 

Broken

Pushed again. Spiraling and wheeling and grasping and flashing back to a night when I said, “You have to stop. You’re going to kill me.”

I’ve visited that night a lot lately. Flash. Flash. Flash. 

Everyone in my life who was ever supposed to love me has abused me. 

Maybe I just need a life without people in it. 

Sick inside and out.

Silent treatment. My husband is an asshole, and I can’t tolerate it. I laid in bed until 2pm today just to avoid him. I think I’ll continue to avoid him for another couple days. I can’t handle the way he acts lately, and if days continue to be like today and the past couple weeks, we’ll likely end this relationship. I’d hate for it to come to that, but I’m also capable and willing if I don’t get what I need from this relationship. Otherwise what’s the fucking point?? 

There’s no way I'm having another kid.

I had a realization that if I continue to be miserable in my body, it will ruin my life. I need to lose weight. I need to take better care of myself. I need to stop smoking and binging. I need to put this into action and not just say it over and over in my life.

The past 2 years I have binged terribly. I have not watched what I ate for more than a couple months. I have smokes too much. It started when I was home alone and depressed every day. And it continued when that changed, because of Covid. Now I need to figure out how to let my depression just exist and stop trying to medicate it with food that then causes depression. I’m in a negative feedback loop. 

I’m sick. My stomach is in shambles, my body aches, and I’m congested. I have myself convinced it’s Covid. 

How do I get happy again?? 800 calories today seemed to help. I smoked but didn’t binge. Maybe it is possible. Maybe I just need to really focus on the fact that I need my change. 

Tomorrow I will update my insurance and find a doctor. I need to be on antidepressants. 

Feeling Lost

I'm fat. It's undeniable. I need to work on this. I need to lose weight. I need to be healthier. I need to work out. I need to live what I say and get happier in my own body. 

My husband is sweet. He's encouraging me, but not pushing. He knows I'm a fragile fucking mess. He tells me I have time. I want to develop a pattern. I want a schedule. I want results and to feel good again. 

I have managed to keep off 10lbs, but I would love to lose 20 more. I need to, but I think I need to be careful how I try to. I can't keep being extreme. I can't keep being super restrictive and crazy. I have no idea how to have a healthy relationship with food. I hate food. It hates me. 

I also need new coping skills... Eating all the time is not working well for me, and neither is smoking... My anxiety is just so high all the time, I don't know how to manage... Literally right now I'm in full flight or fight and have been all morning. I think it was the diet pills... I hate this stupid shit, and I don't know what to do to take better care of myself. 

I think I need antidepressants. I want to try Wellbutrin. I need to wait, though. I need to give my husband time to make up his mind about a baby. He knows where I stand, but I need to let him have his process. This sacrifice I am willing to make. I can wait.  

All the transition in my life is insane, and I think I do it to myself a bit. I'm a fucking moron. I just need to get more organized now that the soul-sucking job is over. I need to get myself to a good place with some routine.

Maybe toddler really does need to go to Pre-K for the sake of myself and my husband and our sanity... 

Binge and purge

Binge and purge.

Order food, eat it all, don’t hesitate, remember the order, chew well, drink fluids, feel sick, set timer for 20 minutes, wait 20 minutes, go to back bathroom, put hair up, move trash can, squat, right finger, right side, purge, wait until you taste the first thing you ate agin, keep going until you taste bile. Turn on water, wash hands, rub water into face, cup hands, drink from hands, rinse mouth, turn off water, wipe face and eyes, wipe toilet seat, flush toilet, spray air freshener, wait 15 minutes, brush teeth. 

Feel better and also worse. 

Why do I still do this?

Ending chapter

I’m in my office that won’t be my office for that much longer. It’s sad here now. This building and the people in it are just so sad… it didn’t used to be like this. 

Tuesday is my last day, and I know there will be no farewell or send off. No one is left. Those who are don’t care. I don’t care. I want to sneak out with no ones awareness, if I’m honest. They didn’t even do an exit interview with me. I’m sad and done. 

Countdown.

My anxiety and depression are so high right now that I can barely function. Xanax to get myself to work in the morning and still a panic attack a couple hours later. 

Every comment, question, bit of direction or feedback is agony. I hate it. I want to run. Thirty days notice is not running. It’s waiting for a meteor to strike. And now it’s assumed I’m going to be unreliable. Disappointing. Well, I am. To all parties equally, but especially myself. I can’t be consistent. If I could, you’d see it. 

I really am doing my best - it’s just not very good… 

Xanax is my savior. 

Hating the rut.

I am sooooo depressed. I don’t even know how to get myself out of this episode. It feels like it’s never going to end. I’m so tired of feeling this way. I can’t even do anything right. 

All I want to do is sleep and binge and watch movies. It takes me days just to get myself to go outside. I’ve skipped showers this week. I’m struggling to brush my teeth. I’m tired and suicidal. I just want to eat sugar and spend money. I have no happy brain chemicals and I can tell. I’m obsessive and disassociative. I can’t check back in and I’m irritable on top of things. 

I have so much anxiety about finishing my time at my old job - it feels like torture. I have severe anxiety about going in ever day that I have to. I can’t sleep because of the dread of going. It’s terrible. I don’t want to do anything anymore. I hate it all there and it’s emotionally taxing. I want to focus on one thing and not 500 anymore. I’m tired. I’m burned out. I don’t care anymore and it’s so hard for me to allow that to exist. 

I already don’t want to go tomorrow. 

Trapped

I don’t know why anyone would read this garbage. But I put it out here… maybe people are seeing it by mistake. I like to think it helps people, but who knows... Maybe people read it as hatespo. Because that’s basically what it is… I hate my whole ass self. 

Another depressed day at home. If I wasn’t already resigning, I’m pretty sure I would be getting in trouble at this point… I’m pretty sure they are just hopeful that I will complete my 30 days and not leave them with a shit ton of things that I still need to do… I have like 40 documents in my incompletes that someone would have to do and would have idea what to even put on them, and like 70 case transfers and closures that need to happen. It’s a lot and I’ve got less that 2 weeks right now. I’ll get it done - today was not my fault, and I had a legit migraine yesterday. It’s just overwhelming at this point and every day I miss is less income that I already don’t have. I just hope my next check is enough to cover my back expenses. 

I just hope I can make my transition and be successful with it and start making more money as soon as fucking possible, because I am TIRED Of struggling. It’s all I do lately, and I really don’t know how it got to this place. I’m broke all the fucking time. I just hate it and it makes me want to die. 

I tried so hard yesterday to handle the stressors of the day, but I just fell apart and popped a Xanax before bed. Altercations I don’t care to get into, the husband is out of his meds, and the store pissed me off with my ordering. 

Idk what to do to make myself feel better. I can feel that my brain chemistry is off. I have no ability to focus, make a decision, plan things. Every moment I feel confused and sad. The thought “I want to die” has progressed to “I want to kill myself,” and all I think about is escaping. I put the fucking eggs in the kitchen drawer yesterday and couldn’t find them for an hour. I take everything personally and can’t find a boundary anywhere. I feel trapped. 

Depressed. Shocking, I know.

I am so depressed. I’ve had anxiety attacks and migraines constantly lately. I can’t fucking sleep unless I take something, and even then I only get like 6 hours of sleep before my mind pushes me up out of the fog of whatever meds I took to fall asleep. I have been taking way too much Xanax but idk what else to do. I’m walking around in flight or fight all day and waking up every hour all night.

The proposition of changing jobs is something that both excites and terrifies me. I have so much to do still. But I wake up with a migraine behind my eyes, wish I could die, and call out of work. I’m going to do what I can, and the rest will have to just be what it is in the time I have left there. I can’t care anymore. It’s too much. And yeah, it makes me feel badly, but I have to check out. 

I am literally so depressed. 

I am crying over nothing, can’t made a decision to save my life, am going through the motions without motivation, and feel like I miss something or want to go home, but there is nothing to miss and nowhere else to go.  I hate food. I hate money. And yet I don’t? I don’t even know anymore. I just want to stay away from all people forever. I want my head to stop hurting. I want to sleep for an entire day and eat cinnamon rolls. I want to be young again. I want a full bank account. I want to be thin again. I want to fucking die. 

Wish I could die

The stress of everything is really getting to me. I want to die. There feels like there is no escape - only one million things to worry about costing one million dollars. 

Nothing makes me feel better except sleep, and I can’t get enough of that lately because my goddam brain won’t shut off. I want to spend money, but I have none. How the fuck am I supposed to cope with being broke when I’m too broke to retail therapy myself???

I hope quitting wasn’t a bad idea. I hope I can figure out a system that works for me. I hope I can manage my mental health well enough in the process. I hope I can manage my physical pain. I hope I can find the resources I need…

I’m trying to actually be hopeful, but I’m just really feeling doubtful. My husband is feeling insecure in the process. He’s being needy, and I’m being distant, and we both get depressed. There’s no escape from the cycle. 

I haven’t felt as suicidal since I resigned, but today I would really like to die. I might call out tomorrow. I just can’t care so much anymore. Not right now. Right now I don’t have the capacity to care as much as I wish I did.

I wish an off day from the universe was actually a nice thing once in a while. Instead of a mind fuck.

Xanax on the daily and I don’t fucking care. Wish I did.  Kicking in. Love you all for reading this absolute garbage. I hope whoever reads it knows I truly do love you. 

Life change needed

Mia day. I’m so fucking stressed. My anxiety is making it hard for me to breathe today. I can’t get out of my house. The thought makes me want to cry. 

I need more money. I need more time. I need to work for myself. I know the switch will work. I know the transition might be hard. But I want it. I want to work for myself, buy a new car, make more money, have time to work out and eat better, not have any more kids, get on meds, and just generally take better care of myself. I want it all. I’m tired of being scared. I’m tired of suffering. I need to make this change. 

But it scares the shit out of me also. 

Home alone is not good for me. Not as glamorous and relaxing as I thought it would be. Drinking did me no favors, smoking makes me eat, Xanax makes me pass out. I just need to get myself together. Routine needs to become my drug. 

Manic

I’ve lost 16lbs since my surgery. The scale has been kind lately, and I feel like I have found a groove with my eating and diet. I have been doing well with it and feeling better, and I haven’t felt that in a long time.

Weed is not my friend. Weed makes me binge. I need to stay away from it forever. 

I’m manic. Last week I was depressed. This weekend is the party, so I imagine I’ll stay manic until Sunday. I’ve only slept 7 hours twice, and then 6, and then 5 for the past 4 days. It’s 5am and I’m awake. I’ve been awake an hour. I went to sleep at midnight. My brain will not shut off. 

I told my husband I don’t want to have another baby. I explained why. I told him if it was a deal-breaker, we still could - that I would rise to the occasion. I told him I don’t want him to be disappointed for the rest of our lives. We decided to wait until September to decide fully. I really hope he’s ok with not having more… I can’t even begin to get into my thoughts on it right now, but I really have given this thought, and I’m not sold. 

I want to be medicated. I want to stop skipping work. I want to stop feeling suicidal. I want to sleep. I want to quit my job. I want to move away. I want to buy a home. I want to be thin. 

Thoughts on screen

Another depressed day. I think I have PMDD. It’s so hard to fall asleep lately, and even harder to wake up, because there is no dose of Unisom that doesn’t make me lethargic in the morning. Before I know it, I’m calling out while practically still dreaming, and then regretting it at 9am. The baby is happy, but his mommy is a fucking train wreck. 

Today’s plan = no smoking, no binging, no purging. No more spending money or even thinking about money. Cook the planned dinner. Coffee for breakfast and 600 cals of a decent planned lunch (kudos on the shopping for lunch, kiddo). Something to reward myself after all this hubbub bullshit if I can just make it to evening time. Take a shower at least twice. 

Maybe my cigarettes will arrive today… I wish, but doubt. Tracking says no… 

I need to calm the fuck down. Maybe I’ll take a Xanax if this extreme feeling of anxiety persists. It’s been days of it currently. I don’t know how to shake it. I don’t know how to stop feeling bad. Xanax isn’t even what I want to be doing. It works, but I hate it. I can’t stay present whether I take it or not.

I think I have to quit watching that show. It’s too triggering. I need content that doesn’t make me spiral. Does that even exist lately?? 

I think I need a new job. I was good when I didn’t have to go to work… my mental health can’t handle my fucking job. That’s rich. 

Drink your coffee and take a bath, you fat slob. Shave your fucking legs. You don’t even deserve your husband… do something with your kid. You’re a dumb fucking stupid mom. 

Your own mom is a piece of shit, you know. She is a terrible mom, and your lack of love for her is not your fault. You’re already a better mom. You’ll continue to be a better mom - don’t worry. You don’t have to listen anymore. You escaped like you always wanted to. It’s ok that you did that. Let yourself run away. 

Sensory bin for baby. 

Mia

I’m bulimic. There’s really no question about it at this point. It’s definitely several times a week, sometimes several times a day. I definitely can’t keep smoking. I definitely need to control myself better. 

I would like to take credit for the cinnamon roll, but how can I now? I allowed a terrible swerving of direction that has now crash landed me where it always does - in the fucking toilet.

It’s too easy. To fix mistakes. And not think, “I want to die,” anymore. The alternative is so pretty. 

I wish I was pretty. I don’t think I ever got the chance to be… I don’t think I will now. There is only fading left. And how tragic that I never figured it out. We don’t always have enough time or focus or energy I guess. I placed it elsewhere. Probably the only thing that kept me alive. 

But then again what kind of life is this?? Should I just focus late in the game? There is always a standard. I want to live up to one. Just one, ffs. 

It’s not impostering if you’re not even believable. Then it’s just you not deserving to be there.

I wish I was going to a convention this year. I need a fucking vacation. 

Relax

Going back to work has been challenging, but I’m managing. Money is tight which always stresses me out. My mom has been stressing me out. My husband’s mom came to visit, and that stressed me out, Covid has been stressing me out. Baby’s future has been stressing me out. Lots of things stress me out.

Anxiety = binge and purge, and I don’t know why.

B&Ps are high lately. I hate it. I have been doing it too much. Smoking too much. I don’t know how to fucking relax without drugs. I feel good about current life plans, but not good with how much work it currently is or will be. I need more money and more free time. How the fuck do I do that?? I need to weight less and be more  I need to talk about myself less. 

Tigers eye, makeup, new clothes... this is my war paint and new wardrobe. I need a trip. A tripping trip, thanks. Really hope that gets to happen this summer.

Really hope I don’t gain as much as I think I will this weekend once the dust settles. No weighing in until Friday. Fml, I need to relax somehow... before I really start to hate myself.

Happy

Losing weight makes me happy. Shopping makes me happy. Being around my kids and husband make me happy. Stopping to appreciate my life and not comparing myself to anyone but myself, makes me happy. I need to remember these things. 

Things that don’t make me happy:

• My stupid fucking parents and all their families. 
• Food. 
• Bumming around. 
• Spending too much money on the wrong things. 
• Wallowing in self-pity.
• Smoking weed. 

I needed the last two weeks. Mentally and physically. Emotionally. I have processed a lot of things, reorganized a lot of things, planned and prioritized a lot of things. I am ready to go back to work now. I am feeling good in a lot of ways. I’ve lost 11lbs since my surgery. That was 16 days ago. I feel clearer and lighter in a lot of realms of my life. My sleep is wacky, but it’ll improve once my schedule settles a bit. 

My eating is under control. 9 days of no binges or purges and only smoking once... only one day of calories over 900, and it was still only 1400. It’s all going well - I just need to keep momentum and stick to my diet. Exercise starts 6/10... I’m ready for this change. I need it. 

This week promises to be challenging, but I’m up for the challenge. I say bring it on, Louis! 

Blueberry picking in the morning with the baby and mom friends. We’ll see how that goes... idk if in a “mom friends” person. I doubt I am, honestly...  but I get to wear a cute outfit and take photos, so can’t be all bad. 

Rest of year plan.

Do these shits:

• Lose weight (eternal goal).
• Stick to meal plan of <900 calories per day on a timed schedule. 
• Meal. Prep. 
• Don’t weigh in except weekly (eternally hard for me to do). 
• No more weed (!).
• Wear makeup on the daily - keep your nails and brows done. 
• Wear clothes that are cute - aka put some effort into it, bitch. 
• Play with hairstyles, even tho people will be like wtf at first. 
• Whiten your teeeeeth. 
• Save money like a pimp. 
• Be consistent with second job. 
• Heal from surgery in all the ways. 
• Start working out again - June 10. 
• Hustle at first job - aka don’t call out of work  
• Improve sex life for 5 months. 
• Go on vacation in October finallyyyyy. 
• Try to get pregnant - leave it up to God. 

Life is a shitshow

The past 24 hours have been pheeeew...

Surgical healing is stressful. I panic with medical things  I had a panic attack so bad I almost fainted.

I have had a lot of swirling thoughts about second baby... I am so unsure... I know what I feel right now but not what I want. There is so much indecision still and I don’t know how to decide, but I need to. I don’t know if I should give my husband this kind of chance at the risk of my own well-being. 

I spent hours on a spreadsheet of approved recipes and things I can cook and eat. Literally. Hours. I remember when it was like this before. Checking every product in the store to find the perfect one - least calories, low fat, low carbs, high protein, high fiber.... I don’t mind it. It’s an obsession, a hobby. And I have none of those. I want more money and less body and this helps with those things. 

Ana helps me. 

Finally, in other news, my mom is a psycho. She always will be. Who the fuck gets a letter and decides to shred it instead of reading it? You don’t even have to DO anything... She’s crazy, and I can’t do it anymore. I don’t want to, no matter the outcome of anything else in my life. I’d rather die alone than have someone like her in my life. 

I need a nap. 

Progress

Just spent the last two hours developing a list of items  for all three meals a day that are Ana approved. Calorie counter downloaded. Groceries added to cart. 

I plan to stick to under 900 calories per day until September and see how far I get. No meal or calorie changes until I weigh in then.

But I am not going to skip days eating, worry about exercise yet, or allow binges and/or purges. I will include exercise as I get closer - just still recovering from surgery currently and unsure how it’ll go for another couple months until I’m all healed up  

The past 4 days I have stuck to my counts. It has felt amazing. 

My stomach feels so empty. I feel free. And way too tired. Night. 

Broken.

I feel sad. Lonely. Tired. I don’t feel capable or lovable. I am dreading my return to work. I am afraid of it. I am questioning all of my life decisions and hating myself. I am missing the past. I am longing for escape and to avoid pain. I feel pity for those who think me capable. 

Will there ever come a point in my life when I’m happy? Or will I always choose a path with drama, hurt, depression, sadness, and anger? Is that what makes my life this way? 

Am I just broken? And will I always be? How do you fix yourself?

Rambler

Today was perfect. My stomach is so empty right now and my head so full of endorphins. I wish my surgery scar wasn’t itching and my bellybutton wasn’t scaring me, but I feel really relaxed. It was a perfect beach day aside from kids getting sunburned... 

I have eaten well for several days now. I need to keep it up. 

I finally wrote and mailed the letter. Mother’s Day is the only thing to determine now... idk wtf. I’ve never cut someone off before that I felt like I needed to un-cut til now. 

Nighty night.  

I need to lose like 100lbs

This weekends planned eats:

Friday:

Breakfast:  

3 egg whites - 45

Single - 50

Salsa & veggies -30

Half English muffin - 60

Sugar free blackberry jam - 10

Total: 195

Lunch: 

Tuna with onion, relish, lite Mayo - 150

Lettuce and tomato - 40

Rice cake - 45

Total: 235

Dinner: 

Sweet potato - 120

Asparagus - 50

Chicken thigh - 130

Total: 300

Dessert: 

Fudge pop or pudding - 100

Day Total: 830

Saturday - beach day:

Breakfast:

Watermelon - 85 cals

Coffee protein drink -160

Total: 245

Lunch:

Turkey sandwich (no cheese) - 200

Apples and caramel - 60

Carrots and ranch - 60

Total: 320

Dinner:

Salad mix - 30

Chicken breast - 100

Dressing - 45

Bleu cheese - 50 

Almonds - 50

Total: 275

Day total: 840

Bring rice cakes to beach if munchies happen... can have a fudge pop or pudding if desperate, and if you don’t fuck this up...

Sunday:

Breakfast:  

3 egg whites - 45

Single - 50

Salsa & veggies -30

Total: 125

Lunch - salad or sandwich or tuna @ 250

Dinner:

Pork ribs (2lg) - 300

Grilled zucchini w/evo - 100

Sautéed cabbage - 25

Total: 425

Dessert:

Pudding - 70

Day total: 870

I can do this... I did more than this before. I need to get my eating disorder under control, and there’s only one way to do that. I need to get myself back to control. Ana, please let me channel you... 

In other news, I am sad about Covid. We all are. But damn, son. I never wanted to live in the end times. Probably why I’m so suicidal all the time lately. 

I don’t think I want another baby. 

Jumble

I cannot stop binging and purging... how do I again?

I need to smoking weed, stop taking benzos, stay on my diet... I’ve been losing weight. 6lbs in a week while I’ve been on bed rest. It’s great but holy fucking shit do I have a long way to go. Physically and mentally so far to go. Miles and miles before I rest. My mom loves Robert Frost... I wonder how she is these days... I should resolve that before Mother’s Day. But I don’t want to. 

I need to decide. A lot of things... Or maybe I don’t. Maybe fate will decide. I need to decide if I will late fate decide. I don’t want another baby. Or do I? I need to decide... I need to decide about Hailey. About my parents. About my husband. I need to decide what I want my life to look like. Why does no one tell you that you never get to stop doing that once you start?? It’s not just at 18... it’s endless and exhausting. I’m tired of all the decisions. 

I need real friends. I need a body I don’t hate. I need medication. I need to take better care of myself. I need my husband to get healthier. I need a new job. I need to take better care of my kids. 

Do I deserve to eat before bed? Do I deserve to digest something today?

I hate people. Except artists. Artists I envy. Why can’t I ever be as cool as I wish I was? Why am I so scared to be whatever the fuck I want to be? Who bred that fear into me, and how the fuck do I get rid of it?? 

Tomorrow we make an anklet for a good person. 

Fuck it.

My surgery is over. I’ve lost 5lbs in 3 days. I’m tired. I’m depressed. I’m fucking bored. I’ve been binging and purging daily. Idk why I can’t stop. Everything overwhelms me and makes me feel awful. All I do is sleep and cry. My thoughts race and I have to take Xanax to feel calm. I have googled suicide 3 times today. 

The husband and I had a 5am argument. I told him I couldn’t do it anymore. I meant it. I’m tired of being abused. I’m tired of his mental health making mine garbage. I’m tired of this endless cycle with him where I’m told how awful I am. I already feel that way and don’t need the echo. 

I hate all my fucking friends. Because I have none. 

I’m alone in the world aside from my child - even my step kids don’t fucking listen or care. They’re too gone. My husband is too gone. 

At this point my fantasy is a home close to nature with no one else around. Just me and baby boy and no one else. I don’t care if he’s autistic even if everyone else seems to have issues with it. I just want to work my job and feed my body in moderation and clean my house and make art. That it all I want and I’m sick of all these motherfuckers in the world preventing that from happening. I want to save money and accomplish that. 

I don’t know what I thought surgery would fix. It’s not fixing me. It fixed some issues preventing me from fixing me, but I need to fix me and I don’t even know where to start. I want meds. I don’t want to have another baby. I want a better body and to feel ok in it. I want to lose weight and never feel this way again. I want a husband who isn’t so broken or to not have one at all. I don’t need people. I just need work and money and to be left alone. I can have fun by myself and prefer it that way. 

So how long do I wait? When is the date and time and place to pull the plug? I feel change coming. I am going to regain myself. I am going to do what I need to to take care of myself and my child and fuck the rest of the world. 

Barely hanging on

Nothing is new. Depression is still here, shocking I know. 

My husband sucks. He’s a rude insensitive selfish asshole who tempts me to seek attention elsewhere. He fucking sucks, and I think after surgery I need to think some things through. I need an ally in life and not just another responsibility all the fucking time. 

My college friends are pieces of shit. They will never include me properly, and I literally don’t even like any of them but I’ve given them too much of my energy for far too long. I am officially done with them at this point. 

I don’t know how to make friends. I want to be picky. I want to have a social life. I’m tired of Covid. I’m tired of my husband. I’m tired of friends who either don’t know me and expect me to be strong or have expectations for me that aren’t me. I don’t want to live up to them anymore. I just want to be messy and flawed and that be ok. I want someone to fucking vent to. 

This summer will be a major test on my life. 

Hating me

I have general self-loathing and no energy. My body hurts all over.

I am so fucking depressed I could just die. I wish I would. Nothing makes me happy lately except sitting on my couch with my baby. That’s all I want to do. I want to wear raggedy ass pajamas and lay on my couch under a blanket with my space heater on and not move. I want to kiss him and feel his soft hair and smell him and nap when he naps and play and do nothing at all. I want to watch tv and play on my phone and take hot showers and eat junk food and shop online not do fucking anything productive. But my life doesn’t get to look like that. I don’t get those days unless I steal them from someone else and cause them to suffer in my place  

Sometimes, when I’m talking to someone else and giving them a pep talk, I will feel a glimmer of hope. But it’s so fleeting lately. It’s like when you wake from a dream and you can’t quite remember what you were just doing. Or like when you try to think of a specific word and the wrong one keeps coming to mind. That’s how I feel - like I should be able to grasp onto some kind of happiness. But I just can’t. It’s right there but out of my reach.

I really thought that my lack of physical activity and fitness was making me as bad as I am, but even when I am active, I still feel like shit. Yeah, my diet contributes. I’m not going to pretend that my binge days are not affecting my mood. And last week I purged way more than I’m even going to acknowledge right now. But I’ve taken a walk daily even though I felt like I was dragging feet made of stone. I’ve cleaned my house even though I feel the urge to stop and sit every 2.5 minutes. I’ve had sex with my husband even when I felt zero sexual urges. I’m doing all the things and I still can’t feel better. I know my health is a huge issue that I need to resolve.

I need meds. My brain tell me every single moment that everyone hates me. My husband, kids, everyone. I'm ugly. I'm stupid. My job sucks. My health sucks. I'm worried about my baby. I feel like all I do is fuck up, and I don't know what to do to stop doing that. I try to cope, and I have panic attacks. I try to breathe, and I feel suffocated. 

I have so much to do, and I don't want to do any of it. And I feel insecure about my new hair...