not a nice person

I finally weigh 140lbs - I've been stuck here for a while. My temper outbursts have caught up with me at work. Today I was berated by my boss who told me that when he hired me he thought I was a good person but now he's not so sure.

I am not a good person...I can barely fit into a size 6.

I accidentally threw away my phentermine last month with all of my Christmas bags. I've been without it since just after Christmas.

Binging and purging has increased significantly. I let myself binge and purge on 4 Hawaiann rolls - my face broke out.

I have worked so hard and I'm still fat, ugly and worthless. I'm lucky to still have a job.

I am not allowed more than 300 calories until after my weigh in on Monday.

I truly wish my suicide attempt had been successful.

PMpSychotic

I feel like I'm slipping and losing it. I had dinner and drinks with girlfriends on Friday night and ate like a f*cking pig (worse than ever before). I also lied about my past. I don't know why - probably b/c if I told the truth - that I'm a depressive with an ED...well, that would just be too pathetic and honest...I needed something sexier, so I created it. I'm good at that. I do it all the time. No one knows me. I don't think anyone ever will.

Still PMS'ing. Anger and resentment builds and focuses its attention on my mother. Blame. Blame. Blame. It's all her fault I'm in my mid-thirties and have no children, no husband, no privacy. It's all her fault for being so selfish and not letting me leave her and start my own life. All her - not me...her.

I saw "the crush" on Friday. He looked right through me, of course. Who am I kidding? I'm not that attractive to men. Women will tell me I'm cute or pretty. Men don't. Accept it and move on. Stop allowing your heart to be wrung out like a dirty rag.

My weight is up four pounds and I want to die. I wish my period would just start already.

I have a project due at work tomorrow and I'm hoping to get an extention b/c it's not ready. I'm anxious about it and unable to sleep. Why do I do this? Normally, I would've worked late during the week to get it done, but I HAVE to workout. I was too lazy to work on it this weekend. I could half-@ss it, but I don't want to. I want to do it right. I can't even pray and ask God to work it out for me b/c I feel so distant from Him that any prayer asking for menial help seems trite.

My mind is racing...it's Sunday night...it always races on Sunday night. Tonight seems worse than usual.

I bought more Bronkaid yesterday. On Saturday, I took 13 laxatives (5 in am and 6 in pm). It made me feel "cleaned out" but it didn't make my weight go down...

I hate my life right now. I hate it.

meltdown

I had one tonight - a meltdown, that is. I went away last weekend and blew my diet on Friday (at 1675 calories...the most ever). Saturday, I managed to stay under 1000 calories and I was back on track Sunday. I went 3 days without working out and with the increased calories, I managed to gain 3lbs (I was down to 159.8 on Thursday 10/21. The trip was terrible and the weather completely ruined my plans...typical.

I purged for the first time in a long time (probably 4 weeks or so) in the hotel room. My friend and I shared a room and I snuck the ice bucket into the bathroom and pretended to take a bath while I did it.

I'm starting to feel more and more overwhelmed at work. I need to stay late and get on top of things, but that would mean I miss my aerobics class, which would mean I would stop losing, which would mean I would stay fat, which would mean I might as well curl up and die.

Tonight, I really wanted to stay, but I also really needed the workout. The instructor didn't show last night and I only got in about 30 minutes of low impact cardio. Well, tonight, a different instructor didn't show and I felt sheer anger swell up inside my veins. I wanted to throw a tantrum. I wanted to go off on the manager. I wasn't kind - they knew I was pissed, but I held it in and left.

Great. Now I haven't had a serious workout in 5 days! So, I went shopping instead. I've spent money that I don't need to be spending on a new wardrobe. I've skimped on some things and splurged on others. Right now, 14's are a little big on me and 12's are a little snug. I have a lot of clothes that I can't wear and it's frustrating in my new work environment where I'm surrounded by thin, pretty, professional women who have husbands and fiance's to support them so they can spend til their hearts are content on pretty clothes.

I found several new pieces tonight, including a cowl-neck dress that I feel gorgeous in. However, at the same time, I'm having to remind myself that I'm still a fat@ss and the guy I can't stop thinking about & crushing over has no idea I exist. He doesn't even know my name. We've made eye contact. I've seen him look at me. He's said "hi" to me, but I also know that I cannot gauge the difference between regular attention men give to women and "I'm-attracted-to-you-attention". I have absolutely no idea how to tell the difference and I've read men wrong all my life, so why would I get it correct now?

God, this blog is so self-serving and whiny. I broke down in tears twice tonight. I think I'm about to start my period. I'm a mess and I f*cking hate hormones. I hope I am about to start my period - at least that would explain the 3lb gain and inability to lose it.

FML. Really.

On My Way

Today I weighed in at 162. I've officially lost 30lbs in 2 months. I can no longer wear my 18's - I can't even get by with them...they fall off. I'm pulling out old clothes left and right. I spent all day Saturday shopping.

I fully realize that I'm not even half way to my goal (125); however, I'm close to half way and I feel like a different person.

I even have a crush that I'm trying to keep under control - i.e. realistically tell myself that nothing will ever come of it so stop your pining and prevent your own future heartache.

I weighed in and measured at the gym on Saturday. Since May 2009, I've lost 43lbs and 51.25 inches. I had to add the numbers twice!

I'm keeping my calories under 500 as much as possible. I'm for sure not allowing myself to go over 800 on "eat out to fit in" days. I'm working out 4 times a week. I'm feeling great and starting to feel pretty. I find myself smiling and feeling more outgoing. The anger and bitterness is starting to go back into their hole.

I'm on my way to feeling like living again. It's about time.

the day before normal

This is my typical weekend pattern:
Friday night: margaritas and Mexican food with one of two friends or go home and eat dinner with Mom and watch TV...go to bed around midnight.

Saturday: sleep in, wake up around 9:30, eat unhealthy breakfast, surf the internet for hours and hours and hours in bed. 5pm get out of bed and get drive-thru. Go back to bed and/or watch television or a movie in the living room. Go to sleep around midnight if I don't water the garden.

Sunday: repeat Saturday, except at 5pm, start freaking out b/c I haven't done laundry, haven't cleaned house, haven't changed the litter box, haven't accomplished anything...work up the motivation to clean and do laundry around 6 or 7pm. End up in bed around midnight.

On three day weekends, just add another Saturday. Occasionally I work up the energy to go to the grocery store on Sunday. I never have a list and get there and have an anxiety attack b/c I can't plan out what I need for the week.

Monday morning, I turn into a functional human being...but only when I walk through my office door.

I have a meeting with my insurance adjuster in the morning. I don't have to be at work until 1:15. I didn't do all of my laundry and didn't clean at all. I should have time to get some things done in the morning.

I wanted to start working out after work tomorrow. Sabotage.

I had plans to go to lunch with a friend on Sunday. I ignored her text and missed it. I texted her tonight and lied about having a crazy weekend that caused me to forget. I apologized. I haven't done this to her before (at least not that I remember). This is one of the ways I lose friends. I couldn't deal with it on Sunday. I couldn't deal with much of anything this week or weekend.

I'm PMS'ing right now. My emotions exacerbate significantly. In a day or so, I'll be less dramatic and more reasonable (fingers crossed). I'll probably read this and my previous post next week and cringe. Oh well - I promised to be honest. This is me and all my ridiculous honesty.

Tomorrow:
- strip/wash sheets
- finish laundry
- change/clean litter box
- scrub bathroom
- dust entire house
- vacuum entire house
- take out trash
- pack gym bag
- buy scales
- buy fruit & veggies

ambitious. we'll see.

the thin line

It's not working. This life that I'm living and the way I'm living it. It's not working. As a girl I would cry myself to sleep because I was convinced I was unloved and wouldn't find love in my future. My fear of being unloved turned inward as I became a teen. I would cry myself to sleep because I hated the way I looked. I thought I was fat. Thought I was ugly. I didn't have boyfriends and was afraid no one would ask me to prom. They didn't.

As a young woman just out of high school, I lost weight. I felt pretty. I felt sexy. For the first time in my life, men paid attention to me. Still, none of them interested enough in staying around for a serious, long-term relationship. I cried myself to sleep because I feared I would never marry. I didn't.

Then I met someone. Someone I wanted to be 'the one'. I got pregnant. He didn't want it. I wanted him more and ended it. Shortly after that, he ended our relationship and I died inside. I checked out completely. I withdrew from life. I didn't work. I didn't go to school. I slept all day. I watched television and ate all night. I slowly lost my friends and slowly gained fifty pounds.

My mother chastised me. My father ignored me. I started praying. I started reading the Bible and searching. I moved far enough out of the depression that I was able to start planning and setting goals.

My first was to get out of the hellhole my father had me living in that was soon to be my coffin. I moved in with my mother and needed her support. She was initially cold and untrusting - partly because I had given her reason and partly because she can be cold and untrusting.

I set a goal for myself - get a bachelor's degree. Check. Did it. I started working part time and seeking full time employment. Check. Did that too.

Once I started working, I felt important. I felt like I had purpose. I was good at what I did. I discovered that I was organized, hard working, reliable and self assertive. People admired me. I made friends with my fellow, mid-twenty-something co-workers. Our friendships grew and we developed a close-knit group who took vacations together and spent weekends together.

I made two decisions - to start dating again and get a Master's degree. One man I met through a work acquaintance and the other I met online. Both were horrid, horrid experiences. The first man, Steve (I think), was looking for a wife. He was a wealthy rancher and in his late thirties. His bio-clock was ticking and I thought I had the choice of pursuing a financially comfortable life with a man I would never truly be in love with. He was irritated one night when he called and I couldn't meet him because of work. He stopped calling shortly thereafter and I later learned that about the same time his ex-girlfriend became pregnant and they married. There went my comfortable life.

The internet guy was an obnoxious, alcoholic, liar who helped me make a decision. I decided that if I couldn't win at a game, I wouldn't play it. That was 2002. I haven't dated since. I haven't been kissed since. I've only been (sort of) asked out once since.

Since, clearly, I was a relationship failure; I focused all of my attention on grad school and work. My friendships were starting to come apart, however. Little quirks and nuances that each of my friends possessed started eating at me. Resentments settled it. Jealousy settled in. I started detaching and pushing away. More and more time was spent focusing on school. I received a promotion at work. My friends began resenting me and pulling away - this has been a recurring theme in my life.

Master's degree? Check. Next goal - doctoral program. This time, a little glitch…my father was dying of cancer. I wanted to move away. I wanted to start over.

I had been living with my mother the entire time. She initially supported me. Once I started working, we split the bills 50/50. She was making decent money for the first time in her life, but she hated her job. That was nothing new - she hated 'working' period. She has fibromyalgia and has struggled with depression my entire life. I wanted to get away from her. Not completely...just physically. I wanted my own place. I wanted my own life, but she needed me. We developed a codependent relationship over the years and I couldn't (and still can't) sever it.

I was accepted into a program in a neighboring state. My mother moved with me. I knew my father was dying, but I chose to move on. I supported him throughout his illness. His new wife hated me and tried to separate us. After I moved, he never called me again. He never spoke to me again...not even as he was dying.

I went back home when I learned he had a few days to live. I watched him fight death surrounded by the walls of his home - walls that his wife stripped of any photographs or signs of me or my brother. When it was over, I was relieved. I felt a tremendous amount of guilt for the feelings of relief.

I inherited a sizeable amount of insurance money that helped me through my doctoral program. On the day of my graduation, only my mother was present. My brother, my grandmother, my uncle didn't come. I wanted my brother there, but only if he would have made an effort to get there on his own rather than having my grandmother pay for it. I didn't necessarily want my grandmother or my uncle there, only because of the conflict it would present with my mother, but what hurt the most was they never asked about it. Once again, but for my mother, I was alone.

I was one of the few graduates in my class to get a job offer before graduation. They pay was terrible. Really, really terrible, but the work was what I thought I wanted to do. I have been there almost two years. At times, I love my work. Other times, I want to run away.

Shortly after being hired, I bought my first house. And I have been here ever since...in this house. I have a mother, a house and a job, and that is it. I have a few friends, but no one who knows me. I haven't allowed anyone to know who the real me is since I left behind my old work friends for my post grad program five years ago. I went to church for a while and developed relationships there, but have completely dissolved those friendships. My faith has begun to dwindle and come into question.

People at work are starting to notice that something is wrong with me. I've been asked if I'm depressed, but have covered it up with medical excuses.

My relationship with my mother is at an all time low. Other than Social Security income, she is completely dependent on me financially. She hasn't maintained employment since we moved here five years ago. I place a lot of blame on her for the way my life turned out. She has no idea. I resent her because she has chosen not to live her life. She and my father divorced twenty years ago and she refuses to date or remarry. She doesn't have friends. I am her friend, her provider, her caretaker at times and her daughter. She has no life and neither do I.

Tensions are at an all time high. The air is thick with tension and anger. Somewhere around twenty-two, I stopped the guttural, deep and painful crying. It went away for several years and was replaced by numbness. It returned when my father died. I can literally feel a stabbing pain in my heart again... the same pain I felt as a little girl who was certain she would never be loved... the same pain I felt as a teen who hated the way she looked...

At thirty-five, I have the exact same pain and the exact same feelings. I hate the way I look and I am certain I will never be loved. How the hell can someone feel this way for thirty, f'ing years?!

Most of my weekends are spent in bed, with my laptop. I'll get out of bed for food and sometimes to take some photographs. Mostly, I stay in bed and escape in television, movies and the internet. I do have some good weekends when I'll tackle a project like starting a flower garden. Once every six weeks or so, I will clean my house like a meth-fiend. Those weekends are almost always followed by a weekend in bed.

I daydream about being told I have cancer and choosing not to treat it. I go to sleep with images of laying my head down on the lunette of a guillotine and closing my eyes, waiting for the blade to fall. I've fantasized about suicide since the age of five or six. When I was fifteen, I swallowed an entire box of Actifed and only woke up feeling incredibly slow and drowsy. I didn't tell anyone about it. After the abortion, my desire to die was overwhelming. The only thing stopping me then was my fear of spiritual repercussions.

I no longer want to kill myself, but I am tired of living an anesthetized life. I feel like I just might be someone who has passed on and is caught in between worlds. Most of the time I feel intensely angry with intermittent bouts of intense feelings of sadness to the point of full blown grief. There are times when I can laugh. At work, I am very, very funny and make people laugh. That's my only escape from the angry - making people laugh.

This anger and sadness has to end. I have to make a plan to change things. I want to change five areas in my life:
- my appearance (weight/makeup/wardrobe/style)
- my emotions (anger/sadness)
- my faith (settlement)
- my finances (spending/saving/investing)
- my relationships (friendships/boundaries/to be further explored)

I am starting with my weight. My weight is a physical consequence of how I choose to deal with pain. It is my first target - probably because it is the easiest to control when I really try. Tomorrow is the last day I am going to allow myself to indulge in eating. I'm also going to buy some scales. Ugh. I haven't owned a set of scales in three years, but it's time and they are essential for holding me accountable.

This is my quest for happiness and these are the target areas that I think will help me get there. I hope this blog doesn't become too self-indulgent, but I can promise it will be honest. Hiding who I really am and my true feelings from the real world is exhausting. I don't have the energy to do it here too.

Please help me God - this thin line I've been walking is starting to vanish and I'm afraid it's the line between life and death.

To Do Tomorrow:
- buy scales
- diet plan
- workout plan