it is what it is.

i have all these strange ambiguous feelings that morph into unambiguous feelings and then back again.  i’m not really sure how to put this all into words, but i’ll try.

i go from feeling empowered and in control, proud of myself that i’ve been sticking to jenny and sticking to working out.  hopeful that soon i will start to see a change in my body, to feeling like i couldn’t give a shit about anything, and “oh, why don’t i just eat that entire pizza because i just don’t care”.

it’s not like a craving or something like that, it’s just total and complete ambivalence.  and i don’t give in to it because i know that it will swing back to caring and i know that i’ll hate myself if i totally give up.  (i mean hate myself more than i already do).

and it’s not just with food or sticking to jenny.  it’s with everything.

one minute, i’ll feel ok.  life is what it is, and the next i’m planning my suicide because nothing seems worth it.

last night, i was watching khloe & lamar (back to back episodes for at least two hours, don’t ask… ) and when it was over, ice loves coco came on and all i could think about was how sad i was that i didn’t have a man to take care of me and be my companion.

a man.

seriously.

and then i immediately snapped out of it and thought how glad i was that i didn’t have anyone else to crowd my space or to clean up after, and why would i want a man anyway… i’m a lesbian.

but i still have those sad feelings about being alone and having nobody to play with or hang out with.  i guess there’s no ambivalence there.

i dunno.

i had more to say, but i got pulled away to work, and my thoughts drifted.  i’m sure i’ll write more later.

full disclosure, this entry has nothing to do with zombies.  i just thought that it was a nice  title.  sorry to disappoint so early in the morning.

i’m super tired.  i’m not sure why.  probably because i have to get up 50 times a night to pee.  but that’s ok.  when your diet consists of mostly water (in the form of lots of veggies and fruit), that’s what happens.

and to that point, i’ve lost 7 pounds, and jillian michaels is trying to kill me.

i’m pretty sure my internal emotional roller coaster, although par for the course of the past 7 years, is mostly due to me not getting enough of the following:

sleep
touch
love
human contact
human connection
mothering
reassurance
money
sex
flirting/being flirted with
being desired

and also likely because of getting too much of:

being alone
eating shitty
not moving my body
low self worth/esteem
hopelessness

it’s all very clear, and i guess i’m on the road to fixing it, but it’s a painful process.  especially since all the work that i did do prior to 7 years ago pretty much was for naught.  and that pisses me off, to be plain.  cause i worked my ass off to get myself in a good place, where i kind of liked me, and i was in shape, and healthy and trying to take good care of myself.  and then paxil and a badly broken heart fucked everything up.

i blame julie.  i will forever blame julie.   i blame the way she handled the break up, how she treated me, how callous and insensitive she was about my heart (which she promised to take care of) and my feelings. and i fought for her.  i fought to be friends with her afterwards.  i broke my back getting her to open up to me just a little bit, and then she took advantage of me and my vulnerability.  it was fucked up.

and i blame myself, for being so weak and for needing her approval and her friendship so badly.   if i could have just walked away from her when she first left me, it might not have been so horrific.  but it i didn’t, and it was.

and i learned from her, never to let anyone hold my heart.  i learned to distrust people and their motives, and to be leery of anyone’s intentions.  i learned that i am and will always be alone, and that i am ultimately unloveable.  i learned that i’m fun and funny to have around, but nobody takes me seriously, and that my big personality is overwhelming to people, so i’d better keep it under wraps.  i learned that i am not worth fighting for.  and from her family, who professed to love me so much, and care so much about me, i’ve learned that i’m not worthy of being loved or cared for, and that i am disposable, and easily disposed of at that (which is something that i ultimately learned from my own parents, but having it reinforced was just so much the icing on the cake).

and so here i am.  filled with regret and and remorse and self loathing.

iiwii.

i am, as i mentioned before, on jenny craig (again).  i’ve lost 6 pounds.  i’m already completely obsessed by the number on the scale, but not yet at the point where i am restricting my food intake to such a degree that one extra splenda packet sends me into a panic spiral, but i know that’s coming.

this morning, i read this, which was like a smack upside the head.

i’m starving myself to be thin, so i can feel ok about myself.  and i know that being thin is not going to make me feel ok about myself, but it will make me feel less disgusted and less disgusting.

but why can’t i just be ok with being a fat person?  why do i feel like a foul disgusting cow?  (no disrespect to cows meant!)  why do i feel like i have to be a size 8 or smaller in order to have worth?

it’s not fucking fair!  it’s not.  and i know life isn’t fair, but that’s not fair either.  i didn’t ask to be born.   i didn’t ask to be here at all, in fact, i wish that i never was.   there should be some kind of compensation for that.  life should be fair, and then, if you fuck it up, then and only then should the fairness scale be tipped.  you should also be able to earn back fairness for good behavior.  that’s just how it should be.

but it isn’t.

and so i starve myself, and force myself into societies standards, and little by little, chip away at my own being.

i feel like i’m in a constant (minute by minute) state of flux.  one minute, i’m ok.  slightly hopeful, in “ready position”.  the next minute i’m despairing.  ready to jump off the ledge, worried about everything.

it’s maddening.

it’s crazy making, actually, cause i don’t know whether i’m coming or going.

in other news, i’ve lost 6 pounds so far.

but…

(you knew there was a but, right?)

but i have impingement syndrome in my right shoulder and have been told that i am to do no physical exercise involving my shoulder, so my jillian michaels 30 day shred is on the shelf until i’m healed.

how long is that supposed to take you might ask?

the doctor says 3 to 5 MONTHS!!!!

there is no fucking way i’m shelving my whole exercise plan for 3 months!  i’m fast tracking this weight loss.  i’m not sitting on my ass for 3 months.  not happening.

i’m afraid that i might injure my shoulder further if i ignore the doctor and keep exercising, but i’d rather be thin and not have the use of my right arm, than fat with a good limb.  it might mean i have to have surgery down the line, but so be it.  and it definitely means being in pain all the time, but fuck it.  no guts, no glory!  no pain, no gain!

right?

i’m feeling very emotionally overwhelmed today.  i’m not sure why.

my eyes feel heavy, like i’ve been crying, but i haven’t.

my body feels heavy, like i’ve been crying, but again, i haven’t.  it’s that emotional hangover feeling that i get after a huge teary release.  strange.

today at work has been a veritable shit show.  one emergency after the next.  but i suppose that is why i’m here, right?  so it’s all good.  but i’m ready to go home and crawl into bed and sleep the sleep of the dead.  i can’t believe it’s only tuesday.  all day yesterday, i thought it was tuesday, and i woke up this morning to find that it was monday all along.  major buzz kill.

this week is going to be a long one too.  lots of stuff that needs to get done, and what feels like not enough time, although, at the same time, it feels endless.  hard to explain.

i just have to keep holding on i guess.

so that’s what i will do.

i started jenny craig again.

for the umpteenth time.

i’m going to be successful, i know it.  this time it feels different, like i can do it.  not different from all the other times i’ve done jenny in the past, because i’ve successfully lost lots of weight each time i’ve done it (this makes time #4, if you don’t count the time that i did it for a week and then started bingeing again).  i feel grounded.  i feel like i’m not going to freak out and start eating everything in sight.  i just want to get through it, fast, and be done with it so i can pick up my healthy lifestyle that i had before i took paxil and gained 80 pounds 7 years ago.  i had my shit under control then, my food shit at any rate. but the paxil totally fucked me.

i’m clean now.  no meds, no substances, and i’m eating healthy.

i’m also working out.  i’m doing jillian michael’s 30 day shred.  i’m hoping that my dedication to this and my hard work pays off quickly, because i can’t be in this body for much longer.

i won’t say that i have hope, but i do feel better that i’m doing something.  although i know i had to wait until i was ready to even get started.  but i’m ready now.

Where do we go from here?
How do we carry on?
I can’t get beyond the questions.
Clambering for the scraps
in the shatter of us collapsed.
It cuts me with every could-have-been.

Pain on pain on play, repeating
With the backup makeshift life in waiting.

Everybody says time heals everything.
But what of the wretched hollow?
The endless in-between?
Are we just going to wait it out?

There’s nothing to see here now,
turning the sign around;
We’re closed to the Earth ’til further notice.
A Stumbling cliche case,
crumbled and puffy faced.
Dead in the stare of a thousand miles.

All I want, only one street-level miracle.
I’ll be a an out-and-out, born again from none more cynical.

Everybody says time heals everything.
But what of the wretched hollow?
The endless in-between?
Are we just going to wait it out?

And sit here cold?
Well, We’ll be long gone by then.
And lackluster in dust we lay
Around old magazines.
Fluorescent lighting sets the scene
for all we could and should be being
in the one life that we’ve got.

(Ah, Ah, Ah)

In the one life that we’ve got.

Everybody says that time heals everything.
But what of the wretched hollow?
The endless in-between?

Are we just going to wait it out? sit Here?
Just going to Wait it out? Sit here cold?
Just going to sweat it out?
Wait it out.

feeling disconnected, unsure, not welcome.  it is uncomfortable and confusing.  i feel unwelcome in the room and unwelcome in my own skin.  and i am completely aware of the fact that this unwelcome feeling that i am having is coming almost directly from myself. but i’m not really sure what to do about it.

i’ve been thinking quite a lot lately about moving to london, if i can swing it.  i don’t think i can do it until pj passes away, but i’m in no hurry to have that happen.  in fact, if it never happens, i’d be ok with that.  i love that cat!  but he’s 15, and not entirely well, so i know that it is inevitable.  every day i get to have him is a gift and i know it.  but oh how i want to live in the uk!!!!  but when i start to really think that it might be possible, i get scared, which i suppose is only natural.

i keep thinking of myself as an old lady, living in the english countryside, a spinster with lots of cats.  tottering around talking to myself.  not a pretty picture, but certainly prettier than the same old lady living in oakland.

it’s rough being the only girl in a group of 16.  that’s me and 15 boys.  a team that is headed by a manager and senior manager who are also boys.  it feels marginalizing.   it’s only as marginalizing as i let it be.  but it is an uphill battle that needs fighting every day.  i had to have a conversation with one of my team members that who was just recently made a manager that he cannot belittle me in front of the whole team.  he can tease me all he wants, my skin is thick enough to deal with it, but not in front of all the other boys, as it diminishes me in everyone else’s eyes.  although, this person is very parentified and demeaning to pretty much everyone.  if he doesn’t agree with what you have to say, he just poo poo’s it outright and treats the person like they are an idiot for suggesting it at all.  it’s pretty silencing.

i have more to write, but i need to do some more thinking about it all.

i am so stuck.  and one of the problems is that i don’t or won’t do what i need to do to get unstuck.   i’m miserable, but on some level, i must like it, because i won’t do what it takes to be un-miserable.

i must have told sandra a million times, that i don’t want to get better.  a concept that baffled her.    and i couldn’t really explain to her why i don’t want to get better.  but i just don’t.  i don’t care.  i have absolutely zero hope that anything will ever get better or feel better.  i am totally apathetic.

i realize that i can’t complain about my situation if i’m not willing to do something about it, but i’m not really complaining as much as i am just giving a voice to my feelings and my thoughts.  my situation sucks and i am miserable, but it’s almost like i’m ok with it, even if i’m not really feeling ok with it.

iiwii.

sad.
lonely.
tired.
worried.
critical.
frightened.
stubborn.
needy.