Particularly low.

It’s odd. I don’t know why. Yes, I do. I weighed today. I told myself I wasn’t going to weigh for 2 weeks and I did. And I was really up. And I guess it’s good that I didn’t weigh in front of my nutritionist and see how high I was and now I can get down to the nitty gritty and really work on my meal plan, except for I’m not. I feel like binging. I feel like eating until I just plain pass out. And I am at work and I just was walking to the vending machine to purchase something.. which I never do, because I have no need because there is always chocolates or something out.. but I want to eat so much that I wasn’t going to go get some out of the communal bowl, because I was going to be taking way more than my share (what’s new?). But I turned around and decided that maybe I should go to the recovery site, but instead I am going to pour my little heart out here. On this page.

I feel awful. I feel fat. I feel sad. I feel like eating. I am not hungry. I had my shake and now I feel like chewing and chomping and biting.

I went to the mall on lunch break thinking I could buy something cute to boost my self-esteem. Reasons why you should never try to purchase a heightening of your self esteem: 1) Rarely, if ever do you find something you really love for a price that seems reasonable, which means that you inevitably buy something you don’t like that much for too much money, or conversely, something you will probably never wear because it’s cheap. This leads to guilt. Guilt over how much money you spent and how that money could have gone to a better purpose and how are you going to make this garment fit into an overly full closet, where it will hang with tags until you donate it many moons later. 2) If you do resist the purchase, you feel worse. That won’t look good on me (read: my body is misshapen). That isn’t cute enough/too cute (I can’t wear fashionable clothes).

Better now. Went for a walk. Revived my senses. And feel better.

It’s odd.

V Day, Chocolate and Binge Eating

Freakin' Valentine's Day! What a lousy, made-up holiday! And we (read me) buy into it. I think it is more than just me. How much candy do we buy how bad do we feel if we don't have a valentine how ridiculous is it how long will this sentence go on?
Actually, I feel that I am fairly intelligent because I've found a solution. It was a really low point a couple of years ago, and my parents didn't get me anything and no one else did, either. The lowest was when (I was feeling sorry for myself) and my roommate came in with a big bunch of flowers. Now she doesn't have anyone either, but her dad got her some really nice flowers. So I then said "This is it! I am going to have a valentine next year!" (Actually, I believe I really probably uttered words very similar, if not those exact words.) And ever since that year, my roommate and I exchange gifts. It's taken the worry out of it. But it's still ridiculous.
AND THE FUCKING CHOCOLATE!
I have been off chocolate for like 3 weeks, and now-fucking bingeing at work. Fuckers! With their chocolate and love and heart-shaped cookies that are just fat rolled in sugar!
So . . experiment. I am still struggling with getting past that 3 digit nightmare and I've decided not to weigh my self for 3 weeks. By then, I should definetly be under and I won't even know it. I've asked RM to hide my scale and will tell the nutritionist tomorrow of my plan. We'll see how it goes.

By the by, I made my first post on my new web-board that I like. (good for me)
And I survived turning in my test and await the results with baited breath!

Oh, F@#$!!!

Ok, so it's Sunday, and I'm sitting at work. and we haven't had a client for about 35 mins so I endeavored to do some more of my homework--actuallly, it's a take home test. And I can't do it. I'm freaking out because I've worked really hard on this and now I just want to go home. And go to sleep. And never do math again. And give up.
Same thing with my recovery. And I got drunk last night (really felt I needed to--was so exhausted and just DONE with the math). And I weighed this morning.. and fuck. I'm screwed.
I want to give up-that is a LIE. I don't want to give up. I just want someone to do it for me.
I'm so tired.

FEELING (uncomfortable)

OK.

I need to just feel. I’ve been trying to think through all of my problems: all of my weight control/eating issues & dilemmas. And I have been wondering why I stuff myself with food so I don’t have to feel the feelings, because the feelings (or feeling the feelings) make(s) me uncomfortable.
Obviously. Always known this. Haven’t I?

I need to just feel.

This morning I started freaking out (perhaps it started yesterday) because I should not have weighed myself, and yet after weighing myself yesterday (another no-no), I knew that today I would probably be less than 300 pounds. (That’s right chickadees, I’m massive.) (OK ENOUGH WITH THAT KIND OF TALK!) Well, I wasn’t. And I guess I should have felt relived, but I didn’t. I think I started panicking. But I don’t know. Because I don’t know what I feel, ever.
----side note: Nutritionist asked: “What’s it going to feel like to weigh under 300?” I didn’t have an answer. I was thinking, “Normal,” but I knew I shouldn’t say that. I thought it would feel exactly the same—sort of numb, I guess. So instead I replied, “I don’t know.” Also the truth. I don’t ever Know how I feel.

All day today, I’ve been feeling hungry. Or I think it’s hunger. Do I really know? Perhaps I do not.
-----flashback: Scene: An mid-1970’s California burger chain Carl’s Jr. A young flawed-heroine (very young) eating burger and fries with nice young friend and young friend’s mother. And eating everything. And young friend saying she’s full. And young heroine remarks that she isn’t. And parent is mildly astonished. And young heroine replies that she never gets full, she just starts to get a stomachache. And parent and young friend share momentary glance and parent tells young heroine that the stomach ache IS full.

I’ve been writing down differing feelings of my body (read: stomach) and my responses to them and if/what I eat on sticky notes while at work. An attempt to feel my feelings and recognize . . . patterns, perhaps. I’m not sure. I’m sure there was logic behind it originally.

I think I’m panicking at the idea of losing the weight. That’s why I’ve stopped. But I haven’t really been gaining because I won’t give up.

That’s it: I won’t give up.
I cannot.

I will get over this hump and it will be a memory.

Today, so far.

Tuesday morning.
Yesterday was the last Monday evening in which I will get to go home and relax for a few precious moments before school. Starting next week (Monday), I will be leaving work, going straight to Pilates, and then go straight to school. I am hoping that the traffic gods are kind and I might have a chance to stop at Pita Jungle for dinner before Pilates. Probably, in the scheme of things, not the best idea—to eat before working out, but I will be famished and possibly unable to make it as I won’t have time after Pilates/before school to stop to pick something up. And I won’t get out of class until 9:15 pm. OH! Plus I might get to see James. Very important point.
Class last night was pretty good: after some scary moments when I opened my book, and couldn’t figure out at all what I was supposed to be doing—thinking, “oh, fuck, I’m fucked.” I had just informed G that I was one day from being fucked. And it was untrue, I was already fucked! But, alas, I had skipped ahead and was trying to do the homework after last night, i.e. we hadn’t learned to do that yet.
So I was relieved and mildly happy. And I declare that I will do my homework from now on. No exclamation point.

Recovery.
I am still searching for information/help about ED (CO and BE). Ha! Just kidding that is Eating Disorder(s), Compulsive Overeating, and Binge Eating (Disorder). I’ve found a site called something fishy dot org. Strange site, but I am feeling better today. And will continue to check in there and maybe join a support group and/or board.

Yesterday, I was very upset and was looking at Rader Programs. Have you ever seen a commercial for Rader? I remember them from years ago..and every once in a while I will catch the same commercial and just cry like a baby. Or rather weep. Yes, I am that sick. I can’t see how I could stop my life, my job to go. If that time were to come, I think I’ve past it.

But something fishy dot org is nice. And I’ll do more reconnaissance and report back any findings. But I am definitely feeling more hopeful today. I’ve read a few articles and printed off a little saying. Maybe. Maybe.
:)

Help and uncomfortable

I am more uncomfortable in my skin than one (who knew me) might realize. Maybe not. Maybe, I am completely transparent.

I am on an odyssey. I am attempting to change myself, to better myself, and to grow. Grow into what? A better human being.
In short: I am trying to lose weight.
But it is more than that. Let me repeat: I want to change.

Right now I’m having difficulty. I am on the verge of a full-blown eating disorder (ED). I cannot stop thinking about food, weight, what I eat or how I’ve failed. I cannot stop eating. Not right now. I’ve tried to switch to overeating things that have less calories, and therefore, won’t be as bad for me. But I’m still eating. And eating. And Eating.

I’ve always been a compulsive eater. A social eater. A comfort eater. And let’s not forget an emotional eater.

It is getting worse, after a period of getting better. (Or so I thought.) I need help. And here’s the thing. I’ve been looking for help on the Internet. And so far, nothing.

Probably the best group would be OA (Overeaters Anonymous). But, as they base their 12 steps on Alcoholics Anonymous, they have a big relationship with God. I am having difficulty with that.
I will continue to search and keep you posted. Hopefully, I can find something for addicts. What I really want is a buddy. I know I’ve shunned this kind of help before, but I desperately need it now.

Thursday(s)

Gemini (May 21 - June 20)
You may be tougher on yourself than others realize, for they only see what you want them to see. You are like a stage magician, fascinating everyone with your hands waving about in the air. You can tell great stories, but people don't realize this is how you hide the sleight-of-mind you are performing out of their view. Don't just criticize yourself; take considered action to fix what's wrong.


Wow, B was right. I’m telling you. And it was worth the wait. I had to wait for like five minutes for this to load. Bizarre.
No shit.
No shit I criticize myself. And with good reason, too.
But good advise, that. “Don’t just criticize yourself; take considered action to fix what’s wrong.” By the way that a quote from Tarot.com. Just saying in case the plagiarism police come a knockin’ at my door.
Take considered action. Take action: no. Take considered action. Consider what you’re doing. Well… that’s news to me, an odd advise to a Gemini, at least this one. Because usually, we Geminis, get so lost debating and considering and calculating and planning logistics in our heads, that we rarely, if ever, take action. So when we do them, it’s usually spur of the moment, out of boredom.
It’s true.

Today is Thursday and it seems as if on Thursdays I am never ready to be here, at least in spirit. Which is ironic, because even if I’ve been late the rest of the week, it’s the one day I will arrive on time, early even. Or maybe it’s the opposite that is ironic. Because on Thursdays in particular, I am . . . flighty.. fly-away. . . elsewhere. Usually, I chalk it up to being out drinking heavily on Wednesday nights. But no so last night, and so, I am unsure if it is a pattern with any basis. But I digress.

What I digress from is unknown.. just general digression, I’m sure.

What is new with you, J? Ya know, I’m not sure. I had some job interviews with the Alliance for Companion Animals, and would like the pay increase. But at this point, I’m not sure that it is the best fit for me, either. I need something. I am still searching. I read a really neat little ditty about how AOL (read the devil-in-training—not quite evil enough for the full capitalized title) shut down the last maverick start up dot com. Humph. It was cool. Like cool used to be. Like cool is in my head. Like cool I am not. Like cool I want to be, and have always wanted to be. I still strive for it. I want freedom with responsibility. I want money, but not too much I have to feel guilty about. I want individuality, but with groovy conformist health insurance. I want to be important, but not so vital I can’t skip a day or go on vacation. I want to be smart, but funny. I want to waste time, but accomplish great things. I want to have fun and be easy-going, but have a sense of purpose and better the world.
I am special. I know it. I breathe it. And on this Thursday, I cannot forget it. Other times, I stifle it and can endure work. Not Thursdays. Usually, I am re-energized by my frivolity the night before. Maybe it is my lack of it that has today standing out-but I’m not sure of that as, I haven’t been productive all week.
Humph. Now what?

FREAK! ing Proud

Ok. Proud.

Which is extremely uncomfortable for me. Because, I mean, like what? And a little exuberant. At least I was. That was last night. Or last evening. Whatever.
Yeah.

Here’s the scenario: freaks are out. I mean really. Out. And about. So I’m doing my swim/workout thing. I like it. Not the least reason for it because you can’t exactly hold a conversation. You just do your thing and can be left alone, and aren’t a freak for not talking to people that you don’t want to talk to in the first place.
Background: I don’t go to the gym to make friends. I don’t go to be social. I don’t even go, really, because I like it—although from time to time, I do. Which, as above, is probably why I like the swimming. I’m fat and very buoyant. It’s good. I float. I feel light. It’s good for my always-aching back. It makes me feel long and slender (go figure). And the best part—the very best part is sitting in the hot tub (which under normal circumstances is akin to sitting in a pitrie dish)[side: apparently that is not how you spell it—there is no word in the dictionary.com that even comes close-so sorry for you out there]. Sitting in the hot tub. Lovely. Absolutely lovely.
Oh, scenario.
Ok, so swimming… and usually about this time of day I am the only female and the men are busy being gross and I’m hoping they leave me alone…which, for the most part, they are in the steam room and sauna. And I’m lost in my head. And floating and la de da. And I notice icky guy staring at me. Humph. Ok, start swimming like I mean it and give him less to look at (which involves me swimming farther below the water surface and swimming in a kinda sitting up position when swimming on my back-read backwards, because I’m sitting and so no longer on my back).
And then squeaky shoes guy is walking around the pool. And around the pool. And again. Annoying, but whatever. Then he stops and says, “What’s your name?” and I surprised reply, “Why?”
He says his name is Eddie. And I give my name (later, I wonder why I do.. need to practice giving fake name.. think it’ll make me feel better). And he says blah blah blah, in a thick accent. I reply, “What?”
“Will you do me a favor and walk into the steam room for a minute? Just a second?”
“NO. No.” Shake head. “No.”
Actually, I’m not entirely sure what he said. As I mentioned before, his accent was quite thick. But he did say step or walk somewhere for a minute. Enough. And I said no. No.
Powerful word, no. And I am so proud. Because I didn’t think it and not say it. Or say it and then think horrible thoughts and run out in a tremor. I just said it and then thought, “Freak!” and kept going about my business. Until, of course, I realized it. And then I kinda gloated in my head. Stuff like, “As if!” and “Loser!”
I take this as a sign of being stronger. Of being more competent and able to take care of myself. Honestly. Frightening isn’t it? You’d be terrified if I told you how that scene (repeated often enough) normally plays out.
Him: do me a favor
Me: I don’t think so
Him: Aw, c’mon.
Me: what is it that you want me to do?
Him: go over here for just a moment. Won’t take long
Me: how long?
Him: just a second
Me: well . . .
Him: it’s ok . . c’mon
Me: well . . .
Him: it’s easy. C’mon.
Me: well, ok.
Him: (suggests something unseemly in darkened corner)
Me: (giggling uncomfortably) I don’t think so… (weasling to get out)
Him: c’mon (weasel)
Me: (freaking out, but appear, at least reasonably, calm) I don’t think so.. I’m going to leave now.
Him: are you sure?
Me: yes
Him: c’mon stay
Me: I’ll see you later
Him: (smiling smugly) yeah…

This time:
Him: do me a favor?
Me: No.
Him: no?
Me: No.
Him: Thank you.

Wow. Easy. Powerful. Good.

NO. :) I love it. Need to practice it a lot.

I got a little antsy and thought that I should leave, but true to form, “fuck it,” and kept swimming. And freak staring guy and freak squeaky shoe Eddie guy left and I was alone and able to relax and feel strong and a little proud. It put me in a really good mood for the rest of the evening.

Money: unsweet bedfellow

Uncomfortable.

Money. Lovely fricken money. Fantastic when you have it. A mother when you don’t.
Yeah, and I don’t. Wonderful, smart me wasn’t exactly paying attention and I spent and I spent and now I have nothing. Nope, for more than a week I will have to subsist from my credit card, which is precariously close to being maxed.

Lovely feeling, isn’t it? That feeling that you might not make it. What are you going to do? Not enough money for gas, food, lights, water. Actually, I have paid for lights. But not for water, or Hot water. And, strictly speaking, I haven’t paid for Hot or water in two months. So, yeah, they want their fricken money. As it is, I’m going to have to run from one account and take out half (of my lovely forty dollars-for the math geniuses out there that’s a twenty-dollar bill) take all the cash in my wallet (six smackaroos) and deposit it to cover gas (for car: already purchased) and pilates (check already written: but who knows when it will clear) and then call and beg my nutritionist to NOT cash the check I wrote last night for 60-some-odd dollars, because it will be as a giant rubber ball.

Back to the feeling of it. How does it feel? Have you felt that way? The “oh-my-gawd-I-have-not-enough, what-am-I-going-to-do-?” feeling and question that is indelibly tattooing its mantra through your head, through your veins, attacking your heart and then seems to ooze through your skin, so you stink of it? Ever felt that way?

Confession: I intentionally didn’t pay bills. Was freakin’ tired of having nothing. Nothing! So when I would be completely caught up and pay my Hot bill and my water bill: I didn’t. Just didn’t. B urged me not to do it. I said it would be fine. And the truth is, I would probably be fine, but I broke down and paid the light bill-which I had finally caught up, and therefore, wasn’t late yet. That’s right, folks! Wasn’t late (yet).

Bully for me.

So now that I’ve written my stupidity down. Ehh. Doesn’t feel too bad. But I have yet to start dwelling. And I live it. I move in, make a little space, plop down and begin to nest. I wrap myself in it – get all warm under the oppressive mantle and begin to smother and as the blanket blocks out most of the light, I begin to pray to I know not what that the lights will not go out, and I will make it through.

Ever felt like that? It’s damn uncomfortable. But yet, as it is known, it’s not scary or truly intolerable. That’s frightening.