Today is a new day to get it wrong all over again

Maybe I am being a bit pessimistic in my title, but hey. I keep doing the same thing over and over that's been bringing me grief, I might as well embrace it.

According to the voice in my head this will never stop. I won't get back to taking care of myself and I'll never be able to devote myself to exercise again. Or I will, but it won't work.

I don't like feeling this way: phsyically or emotionally. Physically my skin is itchy, especially my tummy and speaking of my tummy, it's downright bulbuous. I have officially lost the slight indentation suggesting a waist line I had a couple of months ago. Now it spills out in loose folds over jeans that fit just right a couple of months ago, and I feel like it's a full time job trying to find clothing to disquise my stomache. My lower back also hurts and my knees are creaking. And worse yet I feel like my insides are close to exploding, that my vagina is a dry husk.

Emotionally, it's much worse. I'm in a fog and I don't have the energy or inclination to do anything about, except to eat or have a glass of wine. When Kevin iniates anything, even cuddling I have to pull away. I feel so disgusted with myself. I also feel like I have no control over anything, career wise, so why bother. I hate to say it, but I think a lot of this is stemming from my work situation(s).

I left hellhole and took drastic steps to get away- it wasn't as planned as it could have been. Then I came to the ministry of UBSURD and I was making less and doing menial work. No matter how hard I try to get away from these situations I keep finding myself in them. What I want is a job with little politics, organized, proactive leaders and recognition for my contribution- and to leave at 4:30 most days of the week. I didn't realize I was asking the impossible.

Sigh. So now there's this new teleworking thing and if I could work from home a couple of days a week, I think that could be a good interim, if not long term, solution. I just worry SD will jump all over it and insist I stay in the office. As if I wouldn't have the common sense to know when I needed to be in or not. I'm too much of a worker bee not to try to live up to expectations of me.

Thank god the teleworking thing came along when it did, I would be miserable without something to hang my hopes onto.

To be honest, I'm hoping the answers are in here- in this journal. I need something to point me in the right direction and keep me on track because god knows it's not coming from inside and Kev's not exactly a voice of reason when it comes to eating right. Yeah, he does workout a lot and nowadays people tease him for being thin (as in, you look like a male model, good on you skinny!) but he eats worse than most 8th graders and lives on junk. When I replicate his unique relationship to food I just explode. So I need something or someone to be like a parent to me, to remind me of the bigger picture, to tell me that the food isn't worth it, it changes nothing.

I need someone to step in, gently, and point to the future and cajole me in accepting those shitty feelings, to ride them out and tell me it's okay I have a house that I really love. It's okay to enjoy this and to feel overwhelmed. Because on top of the whole I feel guilty thing is a sense of overwhelm- what the fuck do I do with all of this? How do I take care of it and maintain it so it doesn't deteriorate like the condo did.

That someone could remind me to take it a day at a time and to enjoy it. She would also soothe me and love me through the nights- when I tend to say fuck it, I lasted all day, now it's my turn to bust this wide open and get what I really want. Food. Large quantities of food to fill the black hole of need and sadness.

But why so sad. Why so destructive. It's like I am hell bent on hurting myself. Maybe I should hand write the rest.

A time to stop

Big sigh of relief. I always feel this way when I finally sit down and devote a little time and space to talking to myself like this. I should do it more, a lot more, but somehow it usually gets pushed to the back burner.

Okay, here's the thing. I have pretty much everything I ever wanted right now. We bought and moved into a cute house. It's a 1912 character house with gleaming wood floors, a new, stylish kitchen and a yard. And I love it. I don't regret it. (I do miss the second bathroom however).

But I have not been able to stop bingeing. Or drinking. This house is beautiful and the first thing that pushed me off the rails was when Kevin's parents got angry with us for wanting to buy it and putting in an offer. Irrational since, it's our freaking house. Understandable since most of the money was coming from the sale of the condo, which they bought, more understandable given the announcements of the bail outs. It's not like we'd planned to place a bid during that time, and it actually happened a week after when we were already "in" to the process. But they reacted like were idiots and we didn't understand anything, and were so rude and cold and mean it almost pushed me even more into holding my ground. Because I knew, deep in my core, that this recession wouldn't change the Victoria market that much-- I'm not saying we won't be feeling the pinch here, we will, but I know in my gut that it will remain roughly the same. (If I'm wrong I'm sorry). I also knew I needed to leave the condo and have an outlet for myself. And I also knew that we were meant to live here. It already felt like home.

The first night we slept here it was like sleeping at home. No weirdness. No waking up at 4 am grasping my pillow wondering where I am. It feels natural and easy here. Even the amount of cleaning feels just right.

So why then, did I feel so guilty and undeserving for so long that I started eating uncontrollably every night?

Then, just before we moved it was the pre-move chaos. And eating right and getting exercise was impossible. The first couple of weeks was hard, too. There was always so much to do it made more sense to grab burgersand fries and I was stressed out so I had two, three, four beers.

And then there was work. The work situation hasn't improved despite leaving the old job because now I'm in the unbearable position of being an underling with no authority. Oh wait, I mean I continue to be in that position, only for less pay and just as much meaningless work. And now our new ED is working around us and I can't stand her. Her favourite employee is an ass sucking lazy shit and anyone who surrounds themselves with such obvious sychophants is bizarre.

So what am I going to do. Because the truth is I can't change SD, I can't know what the recession will bring. But I can stop doing this to myself.

Because let's face it. I am punishing myself. I am so bent on punishing myself it's uncomfortable. But why, why am I punishing myself?

It's hard to put into words and I worry that a year from now it will be infinitely clearer to me, but now I can't define it. It's just a feeling. When we were kids we wanted a house more than anything and now I have one. A nice one. The kind of house I like and the kind of house that when others enter they can't help but notice that it's a good house. I am uncomfortable with having something valuable, like when I lost weight. I felt like I had no right to enjoy this new version of me and a new phase of life.

But the truth is I don't really know why or how this is triggering me so much. I only know that it is. And I want and need it to stop. Starting this weekend. Starting today.

Here I go.