As some of you may have noticed, I went private for about 24 hours and while I am now back to open blogging I am thinking about going to an ‘invite only’ basis.
I have had a few questionable views on my blog. I am concerned that the very few people who I actually don’t get along with in real life have found it and are going to use it against me in any way they can.
Eating has been a nightmare.
I have been extremely stressed.
Can anyone relate to my downward spiral?
Depression seems to be knocking on my door and it’s a persistent little bugger. I find myself lost in thought. I find myself easily distracted from life’s day to day events. The smallest of triggers can send me into an emotional nosedive that I find so hard to correct.
For example, today we went to the Ladybug Bazaar, the first of many Bazaars here in this town that comes when Christmas is near. I went sans children and I felt so alone, so empty. Even though I was with my grandmothers, my aunt and my cousin it felt wrong. Not so much festive and tedious and not so much enjoyable as aggravating. Everywhere I looked there were tiny babies in wraps on their mommies’ chests and I had this squeeze of nostalgia for the two years prior when I too had a newborn cuddled against my chest as I enjoyed the festivities.
I find it so ironic. Last year I weighed around 325 if not more at this time of year but somehow I was happier. Not happier with my body and certainly not healthy, but there was something that is missing this year. I don’t know what it is and have yet to put a finger on it.
For the last week and a half if not two weeks my girls and I have been sick. Runny noses, sinus pressure, cough, sore throat, achy muscles and joints. Not pretty. I missed both my Zumba classes last week because of it and my body is reminding me how good it feels to move and how awful I feel when I don’t. Today we had to do a short sprint across a busy street to get from the Bazaar to the bank. That first sprint had me crunched to one side with a splitting side cramp and it didn’t let up until several hours later. I need to move. There is no excuse not to move. If even a little so I don’t feel this way anymore.
I am pretty sure the term DH is pretty common around the blogosphere and I will be using that from now on to refer to well . . . my DH because like I said I am not sure what might be repeated where (which actually really sucks considering this is supposed to be my own personal diary of sorts – I should be able to say anything I want.) Anyway, I am sure that is one of the leading factors to my roller coaster of emotions. Once upon a time Princess Dieter said that DH was like a drug to me and
I think it’s true. The really horrible part is that I recognize the addiction. I recognize the dependence. I recognize the detriment and yet I don’t want to stop. I don’t want to change it. How horrible is that?
Princess Dieter also brought up the theory of being a masochist and I think in several ways that might be true. I don’t know if I think I deserve pain, if I think it’s inevitable so I deal with it or if I actually enjoy it but it’s there. It’s there when I torture myself thinking about the betrayal. I don’t just think about it either. I dwell in it, wallow in it. I imagine it again and again and play it out again and again in my head. I torture myself by scouring the phone bills for phone numbers, reading into the minutes spent on the phone. Reading into the number of text messages sent back and forth. I torture myself on a daily basis. Do I deserve that? Do I not deserve better? My brain tells me of course you don’t deserve that and of course you deserve better but there is a feeling deep inside me that contradicts my brain.
I have been medicating with food. What’s new right? Yeah, old news I know. If you’re disappointed in me, you can bet I’m 1000x more disappointed in me.
And this is where my mishmash of ramblings trails off. Goodnight blog world.