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.