Silent Treatmented

I am thinner than I have been in 4 years. I'm able to wear the suits I bought when I first moved here to go to school. Last night I put on the suit I wore to my father's funeral. I have to admit - (FOR ME) - I look great. One of my girlfriends told me her husband said I look hot. My female friends tell me all the time that I look skinny. A man (albeit a sleezeball) paid special attention to me on Thursday when I wore a red little sweater and told me how nice I looked. I'm in 10's! Finally! I'm thinking about taking back the size 12 suits I bought on sale last month b/c they are 12's and almost too big.

I'm able to do 2hr workouts twice a week, on top of my other 1hr workouts (totally a minimum of 6hr workouts/week).

I feel good about myself, although I'm still self critical and know I have a ways to go. BUT, at least I feel GOOD about myself.

Friday night I met up with coworker/friends at a bar and let loose for the first time in probably 5 or 6 years. I had three merlots and 2 lemon drop shots. I wasn't sloppy drunk, but I was happy drunk. So happy drunk that my friends took away my keys and drove me home. I KNEW how pissed my Mom would be. And have been paying for it ever since.

I got up early the next morning to go get my car and she wouldn't talk to me. In fact, when I tried to ask her if she wanted me to leave my dog out or put her up she said, "I don't even want to talk to you right now." She had that same judgmental-you're-not-the-daughter-I-wanted tone in her voice like she did when I was in my twenties.

She hasn't really spoken to me since. I feel like I'm in a loveless marriage and waiting for her to ask for a divorce.

Part of me feels abandoned. Part of me feels rejected. Part of me feels judged. And part of me wants to tell her to f*ck the h*ll off and let me live my g*ddamned life. Seriously! I'm sick and tired of her projecting her manic f*cking depression onto me. I'm not a charismatic christian. I don't want to end up like her...alone, believing I'm all alone b/c it's God's will and one day He'll spontaneously make me a millionaire. She doesn't work. She has "fibromyalsia" which I call b*llsh*t on and uses it as an excuse not to work. She has fantasies about prophecy and the 2nd coming and in the end...she's just like her mother. Alone and resented.

I don't want to end up alone and resented. I don't want to become her. I want her to let me go, but I feel so much guilt about that, that I don't think I will ever sever whatever tie she has to me.

FML FML FML FML

I can't win for losing. I also think she's jealous of the weight I've lost b/c she's not losing that much anymore (probably has something to do with the fact she makes every f*cking excuse in the book to not exercise).

I hate her. I love her. I want to be rid of her. I need her. I'm tired of being judged by her and shunned with her disapproval for not living my life the way SHE wants me to. It's not fair.

I wish I would just meet the man of my dreams who could afford to help me support her and let her live in my house so I could move on. She, of course, wouldn't approve of him b/c he won't be a televangelist or mega-church pastor and that would probably end our relationship forever. I'm afraid for her and how her life will end. I hate that, that is my solution...I wish I could afford alone, to let her live by herself...but that's not realistic with my job and salary. It's the only way out that I see.

And I don't know if that will ever truly happen anyway...

The crush situation...I wore the previously mentioned "red sweater" for him last Thursday. I couldn't tell if he "notice-noticed" me, or if he just looked in my general direction. I can tell you that I made him notice me by hanging around a coworker-friend all afternoon that he had to deal with until he approached her and made eye contact with me. To be perfectly honest...I don't think I turn his head, which makes me feel rejected.

Another friend called me this afternoon to tell me that a man she knows was coming by to meet me/check me out. He's early 40's, 2 kids, not interested in marrying until they're grown (no idea their ages). He did come by. He was attractive and nice. I don't think he was interested either though. I doubt I'll hear anything back. Probably not a good idea to "date" someone who works for the same organization I do anyway. (I tell myself these things to lessen how rejected I feel).

I don't understand what is wrong with me. I know that I'm not really pretty, but I'm not ugly either. I have friends who are much less attractive and have / had no problem. It's like there's almost a supernatural force that binds men from wanting to be with me. Maybe I'm using that as an excuse for my lack of desireability.

I'm tired of thinking about it. My Mom just opened my door without asking or knocking to let my cat in. That was an F-U to me...She never opens my door without asking fist. Fuck her. I fucking hate her.

Becoming thin isn't making me happy internally - it's just an external distraction that gives me something to focus on that I can change. My life...my situation...I'm not sure it will ever change.

If I were perfectly honest, I'd admit to what I think will end up happening to me. I think within the next five years or so I will be diagnosed with cancer and it will take my life. My Mom will help take care of me. Friends will come by and visit. But I won't have anything to look forward too, so it will just be an out for me. I can't say I'm not looking forward to it in a weird way either. My Mom will be taken care of with my life insurance (yes, I have a life insurance policy to make sure she will be financially okay). I worry that it's not enough and she'll blow through it. But I'll be gone and that's all I really want anyway...hopefully, I won't be able to know how things turn out for her.

God, what a fucked up blog entry. When do you think she'll start talking to me again?

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