It's been a crazy few days; there's the new job, which still largely sucks but is at least a job. Just exhausting me. Plus I was having a really hard time because there's a guy in my class who reminded me of the boy just enough to make me sad. And he kept talking to me, too,
And then my dad got put in the hospital again. First they thought he had c-diff after his time in the burn unit. Then it was friggen' e. coli. Then he wasn't responding to the meds like he should have, so they did a colonoscopy. Considering my grandmother's colon cancer I was terrified. Found out today he does not have cancer! He's got ulcerative colitis. Sucks, but much better than it could have been.
And then ... the boy is back. I don't know in what ... capacity, I guess the word would be. He had a fairly good excuse for part of the time I didn't hear from him. He literally wasn't able to answer. But he also knew it was going to happen and didn't warn me. And he left me hanging for weeks after that was over. So I'm not very happy about that. Of course, I wasn't his girlfriend at the time, so I suppose he didn't owe me any explanations. Other than he knows from experience that it fucks me up when someone vanishes and ignores me. So I'm still a little hurt, and I still don't really trust him. I'm sure he'll be around for a while and then flake the fuck out on me again. But I love him and couldn't refuse to talk to him or see him. Well, obviously I could have, but I didn't want to. I fully realize the idiocy of this, but right now I feel like it's worth it because after spending one night with him I feel better than I have in months.
Anyway, a side effect of all the changes/emotional ups-and-downs this week is that I had another burrito freak-out on ... Tuesday? I forget. Anyway. I've had one meal a day that was waaaaay too high in carbs, every day. Except yesterday, because yesterday I hardly ate because I was too upset/confused/excited/nervous.
Some of the issue was lack of planning, too. If I don't pack my lunch the night before, I'm going to end up buying junk because if I come home I'll have a hard time going back to work plus I just get distracted and don't eat anyway and then I'm so hungry later I eat things I know damn good and well I shouldn't.
I have the weekend off, so hopefully that'll help me get back on track by being at home and eating what I have here.
Showing posts with label more about the boy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label more about the boy. Show all posts
Friday, August 24, 2012
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Forcing myself to eat and drink.
I don't feel hungry at all today. It's to do with my period, but I know that if I don't eat something, and something with protein, then later on my stupid body is going to start screeching for food and I'll be more likely to make idiotic choices. I also don't feel thirsty, and in fact feel bloated and gross and like every sip I take just sloshes around in my stomach when I move, but I'm making myself slowly steadily hydrate.
Really all I want to do is go back to sleep, because the a/c makes it nice and chilly in here, my cousin is just studying anyway, and I'm bored and sad and always tired anyway. So cuddling into some blankets and drifting off sounds just about the right speed. Of course, I'd just end up thinking about things I shouldn't and getting upset and never actually falling asleep. It's been weeks and weeks since I've been able to just crawl in to bed and sleep. The only way I can fall asleep is if I'm absolutely exhausted, to the point that my eyes are burning, and I either watch tv or read until my brain just shuts off. Otherwise, no matter how tired I am, I start thinking, and moping, and crying. It's ridiculous and it's pissing me off. But my brain saying "this is stupid, why are you upset about someone who doesn't care about you" doesn't seem to have any effect on my stupid emotions. If anything this crap seems to be getting worse instead of better. Time is supposed to make the pain less, dammit, not make me more lovesick and stupid! Grrr. I suppose it's because he didn't actually tell me it was over ... he just stopped answering me. That's just an extra mindfuck right there.
I got Blue Diamond Almond NutThins today, ranch and pepperjack flavors. I figured having something crunchy to munch on would be helpful with the pretzels and chips taunting me. So I'll slice up some cheese and have cheese and crackers, and it shall be loverly. I also got some more strawberries, some lunch meat, and some straws. My water intake has been lower than usual the last couple of days because I don't like drinking without a straw. I don't really know why. It doesn't hurt my teeth or anything. Maybe it's just because I like to chew on my straws all the time. They're always all mangled. Everybody at the restaurant always knew which drink was mine!
I don't physically feel like eating, but I keep finding myself wandering in to the kitchen for something to munch on. It's stupid. I wonder if it's because I didn't have much protein, or much to eat at all, yesterday, or if it's just boredom.
I was writing a couple of days ago about my aunt and cousins' eating habits, and my aunt's fondness for diet trends. Well, my cousin, who is 17, informed me that she's trying not to eat gluten because every time she eats wheat she feels ill. Which is something she's never mentioned before. And I've noticed a lot of things labeled "gluten free!" in their house, from bread to cereal. Now, I don't think that wheat is necessarily a good thing for humans to be eating. But I do find the timing of this suspicious ... considering my aunt's stack of books by her bed is something called "Gutbusters," some diet recipe book, and a book called "Wheat Belly." I suspect she's on a quest to lose weight again, and has been blathering to her daughter about the evils of wheat. She does that sort of thing a lot.
"Wheat Belly" is only a couple of hundred pages once you take out the recipes and sample meal plans, so I figured I'd give it a read tonight. The author seems to contradict himself a lot. At one point he says excess weight causes diabetes. A few pages later, he instead says high carb intake/chronically high insulin levels are to blame. He says animals products are very acidic and can lead to bone loss, but then of course recommends them because of cutting out wheat.
He makes some valid points about how what we call wheat today is genetically different from the first grains cultivated. He says that it was around the 1950s that the dwarf strain of wheat we consume now was created and became widespread, and says that's when the problems he associates with wheat began, and really took off in the eighties when the government started in on the "low fat, high complex carb" crap. But that theory assumes that the change in wheat was the only change to the food supply, whereas the introduction of high fructose corn syrup, highly processed foods, and a lot of other things have come about in the last 60 years too. There's a lot of information about celiac disease and its correlation with other conditions, which was interesting.
Overall, though, it seems like in terms of health benefits the author was really saying "carbohydrates are bad. Wheat is just extra bad!" because he talks a lot about insulin and its effects on the body. But it was an interesting enough read.
Now it's the wee hours of the morning, and as usual I'm tired and seriously doubt I'll be able to sleep even though I'm tired. I fell asleep for a few minutes while I was reading earlier, but was in a weird position on the couch so didn't stay that way unfortunately. I might at least crawl in to bed with my Nook and see if I can read myself to sleep.
Really all I want to do is go back to sleep, because the a/c makes it nice and chilly in here, my cousin is just studying anyway, and I'm bored and sad and always tired anyway. So cuddling into some blankets and drifting off sounds just about the right speed. Of course, I'd just end up thinking about things I shouldn't and getting upset and never actually falling asleep. It's been weeks and weeks since I've been able to just crawl in to bed and sleep. The only way I can fall asleep is if I'm absolutely exhausted, to the point that my eyes are burning, and I either watch tv or read until my brain just shuts off. Otherwise, no matter how tired I am, I start thinking, and moping, and crying. It's ridiculous and it's pissing me off. But my brain saying "this is stupid, why are you upset about someone who doesn't care about you" doesn't seem to have any effect on my stupid emotions. If anything this crap seems to be getting worse instead of better. Time is supposed to make the pain less, dammit, not make me more lovesick and stupid! Grrr. I suppose it's because he didn't actually tell me it was over ... he just stopped answering me. That's just an extra mindfuck right there.
I got Blue Diamond Almond NutThins today, ranch and pepperjack flavors. I figured having something crunchy to munch on would be helpful with the pretzels and chips taunting me. So I'll slice up some cheese and have cheese and crackers, and it shall be loverly. I also got some more strawberries, some lunch meat, and some straws. My water intake has been lower than usual the last couple of days because I don't like drinking without a straw. I don't really know why. It doesn't hurt my teeth or anything. Maybe it's just because I like to chew on my straws all the time. They're always all mangled. Everybody at the restaurant always knew which drink was mine!
I don't physically feel like eating, but I keep finding myself wandering in to the kitchen for something to munch on. It's stupid. I wonder if it's because I didn't have much protein, or much to eat at all, yesterday, or if it's just boredom.
I was writing a couple of days ago about my aunt and cousins' eating habits, and my aunt's fondness for diet trends. Well, my cousin, who is 17, informed me that she's trying not to eat gluten because every time she eats wheat she feels ill. Which is something she's never mentioned before. And I've noticed a lot of things labeled "gluten free!" in their house, from bread to cereal. Now, I don't think that wheat is necessarily a good thing for humans to be eating. But I do find the timing of this suspicious ... considering my aunt's stack of books by her bed is something called "Gutbusters," some diet recipe book, and a book called "Wheat Belly." I suspect she's on a quest to lose weight again, and has been blathering to her daughter about the evils of wheat. She does that sort of thing a lot.
"Wheat Belly" is only a couple of hundred pages once you take out the recipes and sample meal plans, so I figured I'd give it a read tonight. The author seems to contradict himself a lot. At one point he says excess weight causes diabetes. A few pages later, he instead says high carb intake/chronically high insulin levels are to blame. He says animals products are very acidic and can lead to bone loss, but then of course recommends them because of cutting out wheat.
He makes some valid points about how what we call wheat today is genetically different from the first grains cultivated. He says that it was around the 1950s that the dwarf strain of wheat we consume now was created and became widespread, and says that's when the problems he associates with wheat began, and really took off in the eighties when the government started in on the "low fat, high complex carb" crap. But that theory assumes that the change in wheat was the only change to the food supply, whereas the introduction of high fructose corn syrup, highly processed foods, and a lot of other things have come about in the last 60 years too. There's a lot of information about celiac disease and its correlation with other conditions, which was interesting.
Overall, though, it seems like in terms of health benefits the author was really saying "carbohydrates are bad. Wheat is just extra bad!" because he talks a lot about insulin and its effects on the body. But it was an interesting enough read.
Now it's the wee hours of the morning, and as usual I'm tired and seriously doubt I'll be able to sleep even though I'm tired. I fell asleep for a few minutes while I was reading earlier, but was in a weird position on the couch so didn't stay that way unfortunately. I might at least crawl in to bed with my Nook and see if I can read myself to sleep.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Once again, being social is good.
(Weight wise, the news is that I ate well today. Other than that it's a bunch of blathering.)
I managed to sleep a little bit today, and woke up starving. I was in the process of making myself something to eat when somebody knocked on my door and my dog went absolutely nuts. It was a college kid doing one of those fundraiser things, and I thought that once I told him I was unemployed and couldn't help, that would be the end of the conversation. Instead, I ended up talking to him for almost an hour. It was quite a weird conversation; I think he was hitting on me, truthfully. He kept asking me questions, and telling me personal stuff, and complimenting me. I now know that this stranger used to have a Prince Albert piercing, has 21 tattoos, likes big women and was in fact in an amateur porno with a big woman, his sister works for a big adult film company, he takes certain drugs for "enhancement" in sexual situations, and he thinks all women should have at least three vibrators.
Most people would probably be uncomfortable with a conversation like that with a stranger, I think. I just laughed and shot back jokes about threesomes and strippers. But it was still a very odd encounter. He gave me his phone number in case I ever wanted help with "chores." He also said he'd been wanting to stop by and find out who had the car with the great racing stripes (they're not great, they're freaking stupid). It doesn't happen to me often, but I definitely got the feeling he was hitting on me. I might have enjoyed it more if he hadn't said "wasn't there a guy living here too?"
I said my mom lived here before and she was married.
"No, since then. A big guy?" and he made that shoulder gesture that means muscular instead of fat.
My heart sank and I tried to say casually, "I had a boyfriend for a while."
"Kicked him to the curb, huh?" he grinned at me.
"No. The opposite." I tried to say it in a tone of voice that would shut him up.
It didn't work. "Oh. Why?"
I had to swallow hard before I could say, not very loudly, "I don't know."
"Well, he's dumb! You're cute."
I just laughed and said thanks. Once he left, though, I felt really sad. Then I started to get paranoid and wonder if he was just pumping me for information because he's going to rob and rape me or something. But he looked like he was about to shit his pants when my dog was barking at him, so I'm not too worried.
I finished making my dinner and ate, trying to decide if I wanted to meet a friend for our usual Saturday night bingo or not. I didn't feel like facing the world but she guilted me in to it, so I showered and left. And I cried all the way in to town, and then was so early I didn't want to go in by myself so I sat in a park by a willow tree kind of in the dark and sniffled to myself. I hate how much I miss him. I hate that I miss him and not just someone. And I'm shocked that it's not triggering binge after binge after binge, honestly. I guess it's because in this case, I know that eating won't make me feel better. Sometimes it does. In this case, though, it wouldn't accomplish anything.
Anyway, I met my friend, and I consumed all my carbs for the day in one meal but overall behaved myself. I didn't even eat the pile of chocolate deliciousness she kept trying to push on me and ordering me to eat because she was full. No fucking idea how I managed that. By the time I headed home, I was feeling .... not happy, but at least not miserable. I felt slightly hopeful. It lasted a couple of hours before I started getting mopey and sniffly again. It's like I need constant stimulation, constant distraction, or else I start obsessing and missing him and moping.
I'm not naturally a weepy person. Depressed, yes, which is why I've been on Prozac for years, but that's just a biochemical imbalance (my personal theory is that my mother smoked marijuana while she was pregnant with me). That aside, I'm usually loud and cheerful and the life/annoyance of a party. Or at least a small group. I feel like my lovesickness is almost totally subsuming my personality. If this stuff doesn't start to pass soon ... fuck, I don't know what I'll do. I can't afford professional help. I guess all I can do is keep trying to process it. I should probably delete his number from my phone but I can't yet. I did finally get rid of the last of the pictures. I still have them on my computer, but I haven't looked at them in a week. I guess that's something.
I'm worried about what will happy in terms of my eating if I do start feeling normal again, though. It's weirdly easier now that it is when I feel happy. When I'm happy I'm more likely to toss everything to the wind because it doesn't seem important when I'm already happy. Of course, I'm not doing this because of being unhappy, because weight loss won't do anything for that either.
I managed to sleep a little bit today, and woke up starving. I was in the process of making myself something to eat when somebody knocked on my door and my dog went absolutely nuts. It was a college kid doing one of those fundraiser things, and I thought that once I told him I was unemployed and couldn't help, that would be the end of the conversation. Instead, I ended up talking to him for almost an hour. It was quite a weird conversation; I think he was hitting on me, truthfully. He kept asking me questions, and telling me personal stuff, and complimenting me. I now know that this stranger used to have a Prince Albert piercing, has 21 tattoos, likes big women and was in fact in an amateur porno with a big woman, his sister works for a big adult film company, he takes certain drugs for "enhancement" in sexual situations, and he thinks all women should have at least three vibrators.
Most people would probably be uncomfortable with a conversation like that with a stranger, I think. I just laughed and shot back jokes about threesomes and strippers. But it was still a very odd encounter. He gave me his phone number in case I ever wanted help with "chores." He also said he'd been wanting to stop by and find out who had the car with the great racing stripes (they're not great, they're freaking stupid). It doesn't happen to me often, but I definitely got the feeling he was hitting on me. I might have enjoyed it more if he hadn't said "wasn't there a guy living here too?"
I said my mom lived here before and she was married.
"No, since then. A big guy?" and he made that shoulder gesture that means muscular instead of fat.
My heart sank and I tried to say casually, "I had a boyfriend for a while."
"Kicked him to the curb, huh?" he grinned at me.
"No. The opposite." I tried to say it in a tone of voice that would shut him up.
It didn't work. "Oh. Why?"
I had to swallow hard before I could say, not very loudly, "I don't know."
"Well, he's dumb! You're cute."
I just laughed and said thanks. Once he left, though, I felt really sad. Then I started to get paranoid and wonder if he was just pumping me for information because he's going to rob and rape me or something. But he looked like he was about to shit his pants when my dog was barking at him, so I'm not too worried.
I finished making my dinner and ate, trying to decide if I wanted to meet a friend for our usual Saturday night bingo or not. I didn't feel like facing the world but she guilted me in to it, so I showered and left. And I cried all the way in to town, and then was so early I didn't want to go in by myself so I sat in a park by a willow tree kind of in the dark and sniffled to myself. I hate how much I miss him. I hate that I miss him and not just someone. And I'm shocked that it's not triggering binge after binge after binge, honestly. I guess it's because in this case, I know that eating won't make me feel better. Sometimes it does. In this case, though, it wouldn't accomplish anything.
 |
| Not for me! |
I'm not naturally a weepy person. Depressed, yes, which is why I've been on Prozac for years, but that's just a biochemical imbalance (my personal theory is that my mother smoked marijuana while she was pregnant with me). That aside, I'm usually loud and cheerful and the life/annoyance of a party. Or at least a small group. I feel like my lovesickness is almost totally subsuming my personality. If this stuff doesn't start to pass soon ... fuck, I don't know what I'll do. I can't afford professional help. I guess all I can do is keep trying to process it. I should probably delete his number from my phone but I can't yet. I did finally get rid of the last of the pictures. I still have them on my computer, but I haven't looked at them in a week. I guess that's something.
I'm worried about what will happy in terms of my eating if I do start feeling normal again, though. It's weirdly easier now that it is when I feel happy. When I'm happy I'm more likely to toss everything to the wind because it doesn't seem important when I'm already happy. Of course, I'm not doing this because of being unhappy, because weight loss won't do anything for that either.
Friday, August 10, 2012
Well, that went okay.
I didn't clarify in my previous post that my dad only tends to analyze my food and bug me about my weight if he notices I'm not eating "normally." Other than that he'll make an occasional comment but has learned to basically shut the hell up because I refuse to talk about it. But if he smells dieting ... it's on.
Anyway, it wasn't bad. For dinner he made a big bison burger patty with gouda cheese and we shared it. He also made corn on the cob, and had some leftover carrots and potatoes he'd cooked with a pot roast, and some cheese-filled garlic breadsticks. Here's what's interesting about my dad: he's concerned about my weight, and yet he piles food on me. I said I wanted one potato; he put two on my plate. I said I didn't want any carrots (I don't like them cooked), he tried really hard to get me to eat some. Then he decided to make the corn too. Then he offered me the breadsticks, and I said I had plenty. But he plopped on one my plate anyway! And keep in mind we each had a half a pound of freaking buffalo too! I scarfed the buffalo burger - was delicious - ate the corn, and gave the rest to the dog.
Breakfast wasn't an issue, I'm never hungry when I wake up. I had a glass of milk, and we headed out. We had lunch at a restaurant, and chicken and salad didn't raise any eyebrows. For dinner he made steak and baked potatoes, and I ate some of the small potato. I was tempted by the white cheddar Cheez-Its. And his bowl of mini candy bars. And the ice cream. But I didn't have any of it.
Of course, on my way home I got all weepy and upset and nearly engaged in some emotional eating. The only thing that stopped me from making a pit stop at Perkins for my favorite kind of pie was that I'd been crying for an hour and knew I looked like hell. Oh, I know eating won't solve anything. I know it won't create a magical answer to my text messages and make my unrequited love .... requited. I still want to order up some subs or go for tacos or something, because I'm sad and nothing is making me feel better. Of course, I know that in the end food won't either. I'm just sad and feeling hopeless. I hate that I feel like this because of a man. I keep waiting for it to pass, to not feel like my life will never be complete again without him. It's pissing me off.
Anyway, it's two in the morning and I haven't gone crazy on carbs yet. I'm truthfully not sure how I've managed the last few weeks. I don't really have any concrete reason for wanting to lose weight -- other than so some more of my clothes fit. I feel like I'm largely stumbling along in a state of numbness when it comes to my eating, and I sort of wonder what will happen when that wears off. If that makes any sense.
Anyway, it wasn't bad. For dinner he made a big bison burger patty with gouda cheese and we shared it. He also made corn on the cob, and had some leftover carrots and potatoes he'd cooked with a pot roast, and some cheese-filled garlic breadsticks. Here's what's interesting about my dad: he's concerned about my weight, and yet he piles food on me. I said I wanted one potato; he put two on my plate. I said I didn't want any carrots (I don't like them cooked), he tried really hard to get me to eat some. Then he decided to make the corn too. Then he offered me the breadsticks, and I said I had plenty. But he plopped on one my plate anyway! And keep in mind we each had a half a pound of freaking buffalo too! I scarfed the buffalo burger - was delicious - ate the corn, and gave the rest to the dog.
Breakfast wasn't an issue, I'm never hungry when I wake up. I had a glass of milk, and we headed out. We had lunch at a restaurant, and chicken and salad didn't raise any eyebrows. For dinner he made steak and baked potatoes, and I ate some of the small potato. I was tempted by the white cheddar Cheez-Its. And his bowl of mini candy bars. And the ice cream. But I didn't have any of it.
Of course, on my way home I got all weepy and upset and nearly engaged in some emotional eating. The only thing that stopped me from making a pit stop at Perkins for my favorite kind of pie was that I'd been crying for an hour and knew I looked like hell. Oh, I know eating won't solve anything. I know it won't create a magical answer to my text messages and make my unrequited love .... requited. I still want to order up some subs or go for tacos or something, because I'm sad and nothing is making me feel better. Of course, I know that in the end food won't either. I'm just sad and feeling hopeless. I hate that I feel like this because of a man. I keep waiting for it to pass, to not feel like my life will never be complete again without him. It's pissing me off.
Anyway, it's two in the morning and I haven't gone crazy on carbs yet. I'm truthfully not sure how I've managed the last few weeks. I don't really have any concrete reason for wanting to lose weight -- other than so some more of my clothes fit. I feel like I'm largely stumbling along in a state of numbness when it comes to my eating, and I sort of wonder what will happen when that wears off. If that makes any sense.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
I think I'm going to be doing a lot of this.
I'm only a few days in here, but I have the feeling that -- assuming time allows, which right now it does since I haven't found a goddamn job yet -- I'll be writing a lot. The reason for that is simple: eating properly is fucking difficult. It's hard with all the ads for pizza and assorted other crap being thrown at you. It's hard when your well-intentioned friends push chocolate at you. It's hard when you're tired or lazy and just don't want to cook chicken breast when McDonald's is down the street. We all know this. It sucks. And writing about it doesn't necessarily help.
But what I think writing may help with is the high emotional content to my eating. I'm not nearly as bad as I used to be about it. I had some fucking epic binges, back in the day. Now at least my emotional eating tends to be having macaroni and cheese for dinner instead of chicken, rather than having macaroni and cheese and cookies and ice cream and chips and whatever random other crap I picked up at the store. So that's definitely good. But the emotional eating is still a problem, because I know that one episode of it can quite easily lead to a string of horrible days ending in giving up. I know this because of how my body reacts to sugars and high levels of starches. It's addictive.
There are things I can do to mitigate those emotional eating slips; for example, taking chromium definitely kicks up my insulin receptors and allows my body to deal with it better in a biochemical way. And drinking a lot of fluids helps keep the water retention factor down. My next meal being properly composed, that's another big one. But of course the best thing to do is, you know, not cause the problem in the first place. Which is where the blogging comes in, for the most part.
See, I love my friends. And I know they love me. But I also know that they're tired of hearing about me being heartbroken over my ex. They all think he's a douchebag and I should be over him. Most of them don't say that, but I can read between the lines. To be fair, for the first month or two I was upset, they thought he had been just a casual boyfriend. They didn't realize I was in L-O-V-E with him. I was embarrassed to admit it, and scared to admit it, and never did admit it to him. So my friends were in a frustrated mindset before I really told them why I was so upset. But still ... they're tired of hearing it. And I'm sort of tired of saying it, and I'm definitely tired of feeling it .... but it won't go away. I still feel heartbroken over him almost every moment of every day, and it makes me want to reach for the comfort food because I don't really have anything else to comfort me.
And of course, there's the stress of being jobless. And the fact that my grandmother is dying, I really haven't even begun to process that shit yet. And all the other little and not-so-little things that make up the ups and downs of life. Basically, I just need somewhere that I can announce "I FEEL MISERABLE AND HEARTBROKEN TODAY AND I HATE THE WORLD!" without feeling like I'm dragging down the people who care about it. Even if nobody reads this (or nobody but Amy, hi Amy), that's okay. It's there. It's written down. I have documented how I feel and have let it out in some form other than talking to my cats like a crazy woman.
Actually, I sort of feel badly for anybody who does try to slog through all of the crap I'm bound to throw out. It's gonna get awfully boring and repetitive. But that's the beauty of blogging - I can say whatever the hell I want, but you don't have to read it! And maybe some would say all the crap I'll spew doesn't belong on a weight-loss blog, but here's the thing: it influences how I eat, and how I feel about myself. If I'm not at least mildly mentally healthy, I'm not going to make any progress on the physical side of it.
(Made no progress on the story, btw. I read instead!)
But what I think writing may help with is the high emotional content to my eating. I'm not nearly as bad as I used to be about it. I had some fucking epic binges, back in the day. Now at least my emotional eating tends to be having macaroni and cheese for dinner instead of chicken, rather than having macaroni and cheese and cookies and ice cream and chips and whatever random other crap I picked up at the store. So that's definitely good. But the emotional eating is still a problem, because I know that one episode of it can quite easily lead to a string of horrible days ending in giving up. I know this because of how my body reacts to sugars and high levels of starches. It's addictive.
There are things I can do to mitigate those emotional eating slips; for example, taking chromium definitely kicks up my insulin receptors and allows my body to deal with it better in a biochemical way. And drinking a lot of fluids helps keep the water retention factor down. My next meal being properly composed, that's another big one. But of course the best thing to do is, you know, not cause the problem in the first place. Which is where the blogging comes in, for the most part.
See, I love my friends. And I know they love me. But I also know that they're tired of hearing about me being heartbroken over my ex. They all think he's a douchebag and I should be over him. Most of them don't say that, but I can read between the lines. To be fair, for the first month or two I was upset, they thought he had been just a casual boyfriend. They didn't realize I was in L-O-V-E with him. I was embarrassed to admit it, and scared to admit it, and never did admit it to him. So my friends were in a frustrated mindset before I really told them why I was so upset. But still ... they're tired of hearing it. And I'm sort of tired of saying it, and I'm definitely tired of feeling it .... but it won't go away. I still feel heartbroken over him almost every moment of every day, and it makes me want to reach for the comfort food because I don't really have anything else to comfort me.
And of course, there's the stress of being jobless. And the fact that my grandmother is dying, I really haven't even begun to process that shit yet. And all the other little and not-so-little things that make up the ups and downs of life. Basically, I just need somewhere that I can announce "I FEEL MISERABLE AND HEARTBROKEN TODAY AND I HATE THE WORLD!" without feeling like I'm dragging down the people who care about it. Even if nobody reads this (or nobody but Amy, hi Amy), that's okay. It's there. It's written down. I have documented how I feel and have let it out in some form other than talking to my cats like a crazy woman.
Actually, I sort of feel badly for anybody who does try to slog through all of the crap I'm bound to throw out. It's gonna get awfully boring and repetitive. But that's the beauty of blogging - I can say whatever the hell I want, but you don't have to read it! And maybe some would say all the crap I'll spew doesn't belong on a weight-loss blog, but here's the thing: it influences how I eat, and how I feel about myself. If I'm not at least mildly mentally healthy, I'm not going to make any progress on the physical side of it.
(Made no progress on the story, btw. I read instead!)
Friday, July 20, 2012
Writing so I don't eat.
See, right now is a perfect example of why I came back to this long-neglected blog. It's 6:45 a.m. and I haven't been to bed yet. This is partially because I stayed up all night yesterday and then sort-of slept from 11a.m. to 7p.m. But it's more because my brain is running in circles and I'm feeling miserable, and I knew that if I went to sleep before I was utterly exhausted, I would end up sobbing in to my pillow. And my friends have to be tired of hearing this shit -- even if any of them were awake. Furthermore, a couple of them are severely fucking irritating me with their responses, and of course those are two that know about my regular blog.
It's nothing earth-shattering; it's nothing a normal person my age hasn't gone through several times. But it's only the second time I've been in love, and the first time I've been dumped. I am not fucking dealing with it well. For example, I know he's on his way to work right now. I know he'll spend all day outside in the godawful heat, because he does landscaping. I know he'll be all tan and muscular from months of work, and that he's got a new tattoo I haven't seen. And I know I'll never see any of this, because I haven't seen him in three months and he hasn't communicated with me at all since June 11th. And it makes me sick to my stomach. It also makes me feel helpless, and hopeless, and that makes me want to drive to McDonald's for some greasy, carb-laden, nasty junk food, because my emotional eating has been completely out of control since December.
I know it wouldn't fix anything. It doesn't matter what I eat; he doesn't care about me. A couple of my friends, when I say things like that, have tried to tell me I should use it as a reason to lose weight so if I see him again I can rub how good I look in his face. I gave up on trying to explain it to them, but that's stupid in several ways: 1) I probably won't see him. 2) That's incredibly high school. 3) He loves big women. His ex before me was even bigger. Losing weight would make me less attractive to him.
Another of my friends is completely "in love" after dating a guy for about two weeks, and keeps talking about how "it's scary to give your heart to someone completely." I want to fucking throttle her every time she says something like that, especially when I just poured my heart out about how much I'm hurting and she answers with, "I wish I could make it better. I just had the most amazing day with my boyfriend and then we had sex all night. But it's scary to give your heart to someone completely." Gah.
And another one, when she asks how I am and she can tell I'm sad, thinks it's appropriate to lecture me about how I met him. We met on a sex site. I wasn't looking for a boyfriend, he wasn't looking for a girlfriend. It just ended up that way. But this friend always jumps in to, "I just think you were really looking in the wrong place. You can't expect to have a real relationship with someone you meet like that!" Never mind that it wasn't supposed to be any more than sex. He's the one who took it anywhere else -- and if as soon as we'd had sex he'd changed, that would be one thing. I'd write him off as a jackass and move along. But for two months after he kept telling me how I was so special, how he couldn't wait to see me, how he was so glad he knew me. And I've tried to tell her, every time, that I'm well aware you don't go on a sex site intending to find a boyfriend. But instead of acknowledging that however we met, I've had my heart broken ... she just lectures. I've hardly talked to her the last couple of months because of it.
Time for this stream of consciousness to end, because I have to take my grandmother to a chemotherapy appointment. But at least I spent the time typing instead of binging.
It's nothing earth-shattering; it's nothing a normal person my age hasn't gone through several times. But it's only the second time I've been in love, and the first time I've been dumped. I am not fucking dealing with it well. For example, I know he's on his way to work right now. I know he'll spend all day outside in the godawful heat, because he does landscaping. I know he'll be all tan and muscular from months of work, and that he's got a new tattoo I haven't seen. And I know I'll never see any of this, because I haven't seen him in three months and he hasn't communicated with me at all since June 11th. And it makes me sick to my stomach. It also makes me feel helpless, and hopeless, and that makes me want to drive to McDonald's for some greasy, carb-laden, nasty junk food, because my emotional eating has been completely out of control since December.
I know it wouldn't fix anything. It doesn't matter what I eat; he doesn't care about me. A couple of my friends, when I say things like that, have tried to tell me I should use it as a reason to lose weight so if I see him again I can rub how good I look in his face. I gave up on trying to explain it to them, but that's stupid in several ways: 1) I probably won't see him. 2) That's incredibly high school. 3) He loves big women. His ex before me was even bigger. Losing weight would make me less attractive to him.
Another of my friends is completely "in love" after dating a guy for about two weeks, and keeps talking about how "it's scary to give your heart to someone completely." I want to fucking throttle her every time she says something like that, especially when I just poured my heart out about how much I'm hurting and she answers with, "I wish I could make it better. I just had the most amazing day with my boyfriend and then we had sex all night. But it's scary to give your heart to someone completely." Gah.
And another one, when she asks how I am and she can tell I'm sad, thinks it's appropriate to lecture me about how I met him. We met on a sex site. I wasn't looking for a boyfriend, he wasn't looking for a girlfriend. It just ended up that way. But this friend always jumps in to, "I just think you were really looking in the wrong place. You can't expect to have a real relationship with someone you meet like that!" Never mind that it wasn't supposed to be any more than sex. He's the one who took it anywhere else -- and if as soon as we'd had sex he'd changed, that would be one thing. I'd write him off as a jackass and move along. But for two months after he kept telling me how I was so special, how he couldn't wait to see me, how he was so glad he knew me. And I've tried to tell her, every time, that I'm well aware you don't go on a sex site intending to find a boyfriend. But instead of acknowledging that however we met, I've had my heart broken ... she just lectures. I've hardly talked to her the last couple of months because of it.
Time for this stream of consciousness to end, because I have to take my grandmother to a chemotherapy appointment. But at least I spent the time typing instead of binging.
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