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.