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.
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