Tuesday 4/13/21

 Another week has gone by. I haven't really done much this past week. I've been a little lazy, actually. I deserve it though, don't I? I think so. I worked hard last week (it was crazy busy) and now I'm in a 5-day stretch off. It's wonderful. I needed it. What I really need is a vacation. Even just a mini vacation. Like a weekend getaway. Spend the night in Estes Park or something. Something simple where I don't have to worry about work or home stuff. Yes. That's the ticket!

So yesterday I did something I've been dreading - I cleaned out my closet. Which meant trying on tons of clothes. I'm quite surprised at how much doesn't fit me anymore. I've gained so much weight over the past several years (let's be honest - it's 85 pounds I've gained). Which is disgusting to me. A lot of the weight has to do with the medications I'm on. All three of them cause slowed metabolism and increased hunger. Yay. Go meds. Couple that with the depression I had been dealing with and an overall lack of movement . . . well, it's a recipe for disaster. So there was a lot of trying on clothes that don't fit anymore, and a lot of looking at myself in the mirror, and I was quite taken aback with how damn fat I really am. Most of the time I float through the world feeling pretty okay with myself but then I'll catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror or see a picture of myself (like the ones hubby took of my baptism), and I think oh my goodness how did I end up like this??? It's really disheartening. But yesterday, as I went through my clothes, I think it finally clicked. I need to try and lose the weight. I need to really try - not just say I'm going to and then be lazy and do nothing (which is what I have been doing). If for no other reason than to be healthy. For myself. For my family. If I don't put my foot down I'll just continue to get worse and I can't let that happen. 

What am I doing about it? Well, do you remember me writing about going paleo? I've been on a modified paleo diet for about 5 weeks and I've lost 10 pounds. Go me. I want to lose at least another 40. I've got my work cut out for me. So I'm going to be getting my butt to the gym. I'm going to actually go. And work out. I'm going to be getting my butt back on my spin bike. And I joined a program called Reset. Which helps you "reprogram" your mindset, gives you recipes, helps you make proper food decisions, helps you eat healthier. You eat healthier 5 days a week and then calorie count 2 days a week, so you don't feel deprived by calorie counting all the time. Maybe it's the extra little push I need. I signed up for a 12 week program. Hopefully the weight will keep coming off. 

In other news, I met some people at church! Sunday there was a pizza lunch at the church and we went and I met some lovely ladies. Joanne, and two others whose names escape me because my super power is forgetting people's names right after they tell them to me. It was nice to talk to some people, people I don't know, who welcomed me as if I were family. I felt less out of place (but still awkward because let's face it - I'm awkward). I had a good time there. Hopefully there will be more family functions we can go to so I can continue meeting people and maybe even make a few friends. 

And I've been drawing and painting birds. Yay birds! I had a custom order for some birds, but I've done more too. My creative juices are starting to flow. Kind of. Anyway, here are the custom birds I painted: a cardinal, a blue jay, and a pileated woodpecker.

I love how they turned out and so does the commissioner. Again, yay birds!

Anyhoo, that's all for this week. 

Tuesday 10/22/19

The past 4 days have been pretty, um, annoying. My mood is not where it should be. I'll elaborate on that . . .

Last Friday I had a horrible day beating myself up because of my weight. So much so that I was in tears. I happened to glance in the mirror and really get a good look at how big I've gotten (I weigh in at 235 pounds, people), and I lost it. Every negative thought I've ever had came flooding back, making me feel worthless and useless. I did everything I could to counter these thoughts but in the end they won out.

Saturday I worked, primary nursery, meaning I would be doing all the deliveries myself. And it was busy (I did 6 deliveries - one a set of twins). I was bitter and angry and overwhelmed and tired and in pain and my mood was sinking fast. I tried desperately to keep my head above water, to tread faster and harder than I ever have. But the fact that I had to work so hard only made me more bitter and angry. I came home from work exhausted and utterly defeated (though I tried not to show it).

Sunday I worked, primary nursery again. And again it was busy and I did 5 deliveries by myself. I didn't feel like myself. I wasn't as bad as I was on Saturday, but I definitely wasn't myself. I was not quick to smile or laugh. I tended to shy away from conversation. I still felt angry and overwhelmed. When I got home, hubs said that on Monday I should do nothing. Just relax.

And that's what I did.

On Monday I didn't get out of bed until 12:30pm. And I only got up because I had therapy at 2. It felt good to do nothing. It felt restorative. But I also felt guilty. Guilty because I had accomplished nothing. I took those feelings and went to therapy and vomited up everything that I had gone through and felt over the last 3 days. My therapist, M, said that I did good to stay in bed and that I might need another day of doing nothing. Which helped to relieve my feelings of guilt. He also reassured me that what I was feeling was normal and not a bipolar backslide (I had been worrying that all of this was going to lead to a depressive episode).

Today I'm feeling a bit better. I slept in a little, did the dishes, went to the post office, and did some reading. I'm more calm, less bitter, less angry.

I still need to lose some fucking weight though. 

Wednesday 7/24/19

It's been awhile again. And some things have happened. Yes. Things. Where to start. . . .

I start TMS next Monday, the 29th. I'll be having treatments five days a week for six weeks, followed by two treatments a week for three weeks. For a total of 36 treatments. I'm hopeful that this will work for me. I have to be hopeful as it's about the only hope I have. I will also going to group therapy on Wednesday nights to help with depression and the fallout of lessening symptoms. Yes, there is fallout from lessening symptoms - I mean, what do I do with my life when I'm not depressed? I've only really known depression. Who am I without it? The Southern Colorado TMS Center also does auricular acupuncture which they recommend for stress reduction. I'll probably give that a try. Why not, right? It might help and I need all the help I can get.

Next up, my psychiatrist had me tested for the MTHFR mutation. Which, of course, I have. Both copies of it. What does this mean? My body might not be able to metabolize folic acid which is necessary to make serotonin, dopamine, and norepinephrine. So, to counter this, I get to take the activated form of folic acid (L-methylfolate) for the rest of my life. In theory, this will allow my body to produce more of its own neurotransmitters and help with the depression. There's only anecdotal evidence to support this, but I'll take it. My other little ray of hope. I've been on the supplement for a few days now. No changes as of yet, but these things usually take weeks.

Those are the two big things. In other news, I haven't been doing great. I've been the opposite of great, really. I'm struggling, I'm drowning, barely keeping my head above water. I'm trying to find joy in the little things - a new song I like, the smell of rain, bumblebee butts - anything I can latch onto. Anything to help get me through the day. I wake up ready for bed, ready for the solace of sleep. I've found myself napping more and more, showering (or at least washing my hair) less and less. I'm starting to eat less (which may not be a bad thing - I mean, I need to lose weight, haha). I don't care what I wear or what I look like. I barely put on makeup. And all of this makes me hate myself more. Which increases my depression. It's an ugly cycle.

I'm really hoping the L-methylfolate and TMS help. I need them to. They have to - there's no other choice.




 

5/1/19

I want to write, I just don't know what to write about. I've been mildly depressed the past few weeks - some days more than mildly. Stuck as an emotionless husk (except for anger - I have lots of anger). And it just seems to be getting worse. I've even been having hallucinations again. I've gone months without those and now they're back.

I have therapy today at 2 and even though I'm depressed I don't know what I'm going to talk about. I mean, beat a dead horse much? I guess I can talk about body dysmorphia, seeing how I hate my fat and ugly self. So there's that. A topic! Go me!

I'm going to be having some new artwork soon. Hopefully. In maybe a different style than what I normally draw. I'm looking forward to that but am also scared because what if I fail? I get this crippling fear so much so that I don't even start. But I'm going to. I WILL! This week hopefully.

Wow. That's really it. I have no motivation to write or come up with anything even though I want to. Maybe I'll have more later. After therapy.

Who knows.

I'm out for now though. 

3/22/19

Well. I'm having a bit of a rough go of it today. Which is annoying. My mood is down - not depressed - but down. And all because my brain is an asshole and won't shut up. My brain likes being an asshole, and it's good at it. Too good at it. What's it doing . . .?

I was getting ready this morning and happened to really look at myself in the mirror. I look at myself in the mirror all the time but this morning . . . this morning was different. I was immediately filled with self loathing. I could see every flaw, every wrinkle, every fold of fat. I could see it all. The bags under my eyes, the dull grey color of my eyes, how my hair was just laying there, no volume, no real style. How ugly and fat I was.

You look hideous. You look old and worn out. You're fat. Are you even trying to lose weight because it looks like you're gaining more. You're so frumpy. You have no sense of style. How does Jeremy even still love you? Ayden is embarrassed by you. You have wrinkles every where I can see your pores you don't do anything with your hair look how your stomach hangs you look pale I'm surprised Jeremy hasn't leftyouyou'reworthlessyouhavenothingtogivewhydon'tyoujustkillyourself . . . . . .

All of the negative thoughts started running together. It was hard to even separate them. My eyes welled up with tears as I stood there looking at myself and listening to my brain barrage me. I couldn't move. I was frozen there, trying my best not to cry because Ayden was in his room next door. I didn't want him to hear me.

Even 6 months ago this would have gotten to me. This would have hit me hard. Now, that's not to say that it didn't hit me. On the contrary. My mood went south in a heartbeat. But the difference between now and 6 months ago is now I'm stable. Now I know how to counter these thoughts and practice self care. And that's what I did. I countered these thoughts. I told myself that I was beautiful in and out. That even though I was overweight and not where I want to be that didn't make Jeremy love me any less. And you know what?

It kind of helped.

That sounds stupid, doesn't it? I'm sure you were waiting for me to say that it worked. That I went about my day feeling happy with no more negative self talk. But that's simply not true. That's, sadly, not how my brain works. It has been barraging me with negative comments all day. So much so that I feel mentally exhausted. But I'm countering them. I'm keeping myself from going deeper. I'm writing about it in hopes that this will help.

Six months ago I would have felt like shit. Today I feel down and worn out, but definitely not like shit. So I'd say that's progress.    

2/17/19

I'm sitting on the couch drinking tea, listening to music. I should be content. I should feel good. But I don't. I'm not sure what's going on other than I'm having an identity crisis of sorts. I guess. I really don't know.

I was putting on makeup this morning and took a really good look at myself. Y'all, I don't even recognize myself. I've gained so much weight - so much fucking weight - that I don't recognize myself anymore. I'm not who I used to be and it brought me to tears.

I feel so fat and disgusting and ugly right now it's not even funny. My self esteem is nonexistent. It makes me feel so low. I'm trying to make changes in my diet and physical activity to combat this but it's proven to be REALLY. FUCKING. HARD. I'm trying. My diet is actually pretty good. I need to get active though, I know this, but it's so hard when all you want to do is sleep. I've been so exhausted the past few months so it's been hard.

I'm trying.

And you know what? It's not just the weight (though that's the main thing), it's also the fact that I'm getting older. I'm 40 people and my face is changing. I have more wrinkles, I have grey hair. I think this is harder for me to swallow  than I ever thought it would be. I just assumed I would age gracefully.

Apparently I'm not. 

12/27/18

Well, I survived Christmas. Isn't that nice? Sure it is. It's nice.

I survived, but I'm not doing great. No, sadly, I'm still empty and tired and drained and fake and close to tears more often than I'd like. It's really frustrating. I'm tired of it, so fucking tired of it, but I think this is truly my baseline. I think this is as good as it gets. I think I'm either this, or I'm worse. And seriously, that sucks.

I worked yesterday and it was ridiculously busy. We did 6 c-sections and 3 vaginal deliveries (normally we do 2 c-sections in a day). I was running around like crazy (for those of you who don't remember, I'm a nursery nurse at a busy birth center - so I attend all of the deliveries). It was physically tiring, yes, but more than that it was mentally exhausting. All I wanted to do was curl up in a ball somewhere and not exist. It was like I couldn't cope. My facade of being okay started crumbling. I was struggling. I started binging on cookies and caramel popcorn (I'm an emotional eater and there was junk food everywhere). When I got home I had nothing left for my hubby or son. I was done. I wasn't very interactive. I went to bed.

And then I didn't sleep well because I was mulling over and over about how I wasn't very interactive with my family. Guilt. Beating myself up. Self hatred. All stuff I'm very good at. Too good at. So I lost quite a bit of sleep.

Today is a low day for me. Today I'm disgusted with myself. For my binging yesterday, for coming unraveled and not coping, for not giving my family the attention they deserve. I've been beating myself up today, contributing to my low feelings. Making them worse. I should be packing. We move in a week. And I did pack, a little. But I couldn't focus. I couldn't concentrate. My mind is a mess. So I packed 3 boxes and had to call it quits. Which makes me feel bad that I didn't do more. Making me feel worse. It's a downward spiral.

Maybe if the next 2-3 weeks were over. Maybe if we were moved and unpacked and settled and I was getting into a routine. Maybe then things would be okay. Maybe then I would feel better. Probably not, but maybe.    

Hang on, hang on
When all is shattered, when all your hope is gone
Who knows
How long
But there's a twilight, a nighttime, and a dawn
We break, we bend
With hand, in hand
When hope is gone
Just hang on, hang on
          -Guster

These lyrics are helping me get through. This song. Hang On . Because that's what I have to do . Hang on. I really have no other choice.

11/16/18

How many times I wished for change,
Gave up, gave in and called it fate,
Repeating all of the same mistakes,
Wasn't ready for what I'd find.
Whatever it is that turned the knife,
It was a long, long night . . .
      -Guster, Long Night


This rings so true for me. In several aspects of my life, but most notably dealing with my bipolar disorder and my weight. In both these areas I wished for change countless times. I've given up, given in, only to start fighting again which leads to giving up again. I have repeated the same mistakes, over and over again, despite therapy, despite knowing what to do (just eat healthy and exercise, seriously wtf), and despite having support at every turn. I don't think I've been ready for what I'd find (stability and possible weight loss) for God knows what reason. I don't know.

Although that's not an entirely true statement. Weight loss doesn't scare me. Failing to lose weight is what scares me. What if I give it my all and I still don't lose? What then? I'm a big, fat failure. And that scares me into doing nothing and sabotaging myself. I've been picking up on my sabotaging, my binge eating (although my binges are small, they certainly add up). My lack of energy, enthusiasm, and motivation to do anything exercise related. Couple all of this with being on 3 medications that cause weight gain and you have a recipe for disaster.

I don't know what it was that turned the knife but I'm finally so sick of how I look and how I feel that I'm finally doing something about it. Finally. After 3 years of constant weight gain (75 pounds to be exact) I'm finally ready to do something about it.

I bet you thought this post was going to be about my bipolar, my depression, right? Sorry, not today love. I need to write about my weight. I need to get it out there. I need to be accountable and I feel getting it "down on paper" will help with that.

So what am I going to do differently?  Well, for starters, I'm going to drastically cut down on refined sugar. My therapist suggested that I try the paleo diet but after researching it I know I can't be that drastic with my dietary changes. I'll fail. So I'm cutting down on sugar. I'm giving up soda - including diet soda, which was always my go to at work. I'm increasing the amount of fruits and veggies I eat, which shouldn't be too hard considering I already eat a lot as it is. I'm going to focus on eating whole foods rather than prepackaged processed foods, even though they are more convenient. Which means more nuts and seeds for snacks. I'm not giving up dairy because I love cheese so much, but I will be cutting down on it.

For movement I am going to try and go to the gym at least 3 days a week. Now that I'm over my blasted cold I plan on doing at least 20 minutes of cardio in addition to weight lifting. Cardio will have to start out slow for me as I am dreadfully out of shape. I ordered these workout DVDs that are 15 minute HIIT workouts that I intend to start doing 3 mornings a week. I would also like to start riding my spin bike again. All of this will start off slowly and build over time because 1. it sounds like a hell of a lot and 2. I'm so damn out of shape it's ridiculous. But that's the plan.

I'm not hoping to lose weight quickly. You know what? Fuck it. That's a lie. I would love to lose weight quickly but I know it's not going to happen that way. So slow weight loss it is. Slow and steady wins the race, right? So that's what we're hoping for.

What we're also hoping for is for my bipolar to cooperate. Because when I get really depressed it's like I can't work out. I can't even get out of bed sometimes, how am I going to get to the gym? And when I'm depressed? I eat. I try not to, but I eat. I eat to fill the void. Not a good setup for weight loss.

But this is where I'm at. Something turned the knife and I'm going to do this despite my depression and despite myself. I'm going to finally lose weight. Period.

9/17/18

I'm not feeling good today. Not physically, but mentally/emotionally not good. Which is especially annoying because I've been stable for almost 3 months now.

I think I know partially what's going on. See, I'm really feeling like a failure right now. In pretty much every aspect of my life. Home, work, personal . . . you name it, I feel like a failure.

Let's start with home life. Since I only work two days a week, I feel that it's my responsibility to keep up the house. You know, clean, do laundry, make dinners, all that fun stuff. Well, I don't. Not like I should, anyway. I cook on the nights that I don't work, and I keep up with laundry pretty good . . . but the rest of the cleaning . . . not so much. I feel it should be done once a week and I'm more of a once every 2 or 3 weeks kinda gal. And recently this has been making me feel bad but I still can't seem to get off my ass and do it.

Fail.

Along with home life comes sex. We'll just lump it right in there, why not. Let me tell you a little something about being on high doses of antipsychotics, mood stabilizers, and antidepressants: they take away your sex drive. Not only that, for the most part they've taken away my ability to have an orgasm. So, not only do I not want to have sex, I can't enjoy it when I actually do. I mean seriously, wtf. So this makes me feel awful for my hubby, who is still very much interested in love making. The solution? Let's be honest - there's not a good one. I give him blow jobs. It gets the job done but it's just not the same.

Fail.

Let's look at work. I have a good job. I'm an RN at a busy birth center. I help bring new life into this world. I actually really love my job. So what's the problem, you ask? I have my bachelors degree in nursing. I've thought about getting my masters and becoming a nurse practitioner. Either in neonatal or psychiatry. My problem is that since I've been doing ECT I can't retain any new information. I read something, and the minute I close the book it's gone. I don't remember it. There's also the added pressure and stress that would come with going to school and then with the new position that could potentially trigger an episode. As if that wasn't enough, right now we have several nurses on my unit getting their masters, one of them being one of my very close friends. This, honestly, makes me feel like crap. It makes me feel like such a failure because I can't do it too.

Not only that, I'm only working part time. I work two 12 hour shifts a week instead of three. I had to go part time almost 4 years ago because of my bipolar disorder, which had a huge impact on us financially. So much so that we lost our house. Our house we had built from the ground up and loved. We lost it because of me. And now, since I'm still only working part time, we probably won't be able to afford to buy another house. I feel like I should be doing more. I'm stable now, I should go back to full time. Everyone tells me no, don't do it, but I should be contributing more.

Fail.

How about my personal life. I lost several friendships due to my illness, and while I'm mostly over that, sometimes it still hurts. But let's talk about the present. I have my hubby and 2 good friends. That's it. I have my coworkers, but I don't hang out with them. I feel awkward and weird around them. I've been trying so hard lately to start conversations with them, join in conversations with them, to show interest, to be involved but I feel as though I don't fit in. I feel like an outsider. I feel as though I'm held at arms length. I also feel like my hubby doesn't have friends because of me. I mean, we lost all of our mutual friends thanks to me. But, I always wonder if he doesn't do things with former friends or make new friends because he's worried about me. That sounds very egotistical, I know, but I know he worries about me. So maybe he doesn't go play disc golf because he worries about me being alone.

Fail.

One last thing to wrap this up: my weight. Thanks to my meds I've gained around 80 pounds in the past 2-3 years. I feel so horrible and self conscious because of this. I feel disgusting and unattractive and tired and gross. I've been trying to lose weight and it doesn't come off. How does that make me feel? You guessed it - like a failure. I'm now seeing a dietitian and trying a new approach but I'm less than optimistic.

Fail.

All of this has been swimming around inside me for awhile now but really just came to a head today. I don't know why. But I hate it and I hate the way it's making me feel. I've been tearing up all day, feeling like I need to cry but I just can't. Maybe my hubby can talk some sense into me. One can hope. 

7/19/18

It's been a whopping 7 days since I last posted. And honestly, there's not really been anything really exciting going on. I have some depressive symptoms encroaching but they aren't too bad, just annoying. Some anger and irritability, especially while driving . . . But overall things have been pretty boring.

Probably the most exciting thing is that I saw a dietitian. She's a more holistic/spiritual/whole body/doesn't-believe-in-diets type of dietitian. I really liked her. The first appointment was 90 minutes long and was a ton of me answering questions and talking about my issues and eating habits and stresses, etc. I'm hopeful that she can help me. She's basically a food psychologist. A therapist for your eating habits. If that makes sense.

Damn, you know what? I got nothing else right now. I'm not in the mood to write. So yeah, I'm going to call it done for today.

3/23/18

This isn't really the post I want to write. I want to write an uplifting happy post or a funny post or anything but this.

I'm so fucking angry right now. Just so full of anger and irritability and hate it's ridiculous. And not only that but anxiety and racing thoughts . . . paranoia. I'm not sleeping well. I seem to be in an irritability type hypomania. It's mild - thank God - but it's frustrating none the less.

I'm getting so pissed at every little thing. Pissed to the point I want to either destroy stuff or break down sobbing. I'm trying not to do either.

One of the things I'm pissed at is how I look. My size, my weight. I've gained so much weight because of my medications and I can't seem to lose it. At all. I HATE how I look. I can't stand it. So much so that I want to self harm. And the shitty thing is that I have no drive to workout. No motivation. I'm ready to give up and give in because of my fucking moods. I fucking hate this so much. I hate what I've become.

And I'm so paranoid that other people feel the same way, that other people hate me too. Or at the very least dislike me and only tolerate me because they have to. I think other people are mad at me. I know these are probably delusions but I can't stop feeling that they're true.

I really hate fucking feeling like this. And I don't know how to make it stop.

10/25/17

I'm sitting on my couch wondering what I should do with my day. I haven't done anything all morning except drink coffee and scroll through social media. I should workout, I should, but I just can't seem to do it. I don't have the drive, the motivation, the energy. In my current state of mind I just don't care.

I'm near tears right now. So close to completely breaking down and crying. I'll be sitting here, empty and dead inside, but seemingly okay, and then BAM! Out of nowhere I'm hit with this wave of horrible feelings and thoughts. It's literally like this wave that violently washes over me, knocking me down, rendering me helpless and leaving me gasping for air. I suddenly feel worthless and hopeless, depressed and full of despair. I see no light, no color, only darkness. My mind races with terrible thoughts.

  I am nothing. Nobody cares about me. I'm fat and disgusting. Noone would miss me if I'm gone. I'd be better off dead. I should really kill myself. 

Over and over and over again. I see images of me slitting my wrists or downing all of my pills. My brain tells me my hubby and son would get over my death, they'd move on and be better off and happy. I try to silence these thoughts, stop them in their tracks. I counter them at every turn but it's no use. The thoughts and feelings win. I'm left sobbing and hurting and confused. I curl up in a ball and try to sleep as sleep is my only escape. I can't always sleep though. Maybe I'm at work when the wave hits, or the grocery store.

The past few days the wave has been coming more frequently. It is unrelentless. It is persistant. It is making me question my strength and my resolve. I don't want to feel like this anymore but I don't know what else to do. I know I don't really want to kill myself but I'm worried that my brain will convince me otherwise. I need help.

Explosions

I needed to write this because if I don't I seriously think I'm going to explode and that would just be messy and a pain in the ass to clean. I mean really.

Anyway, I'm going through a bit of a downswing but this is one of the few instances where I know why. Or at least I think I know why. Stress. Motherfucking stress. Well it's not all stress, but there's some damned motherfucking stress up in here. What kind of stress? I'm so glad you asked.

Moving.

That's right, hubby and I are moving. But this wasn't our choice, nooooo. Our landlord informed us that the owner of our house wanted to sell so we needed to move. Now, moving is stressful enough without having to scramble to find a place to live on a very narrow timeline. Good news is that we found a place (nicer than where we're at now) and our moving schedule fits within the timeline. Go us. But the stress and uncertainty has reeked havoc on my moods. I've found myself depressed, overwhelmed, anxious, withdrawn, angry, and wanting to hide away. I have no motivation. For anything. Even showering is a task I have to force myself to complete. I can honestly say that I'm fucking sick of it.

But this isn't the only thing, oh no. Right now I think I am at the lowest point in my life in regards to how I feel about myself. I hate myself. I hate everything about myself. My weight, how I look, my complexion, my hair, how I dress, how I do my makeup . . . the list goes on and on. I'm the heaviest right now that I've ever been. I know this is mostly thanks to my bipolar meds as all 3 of them cause weight gain, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that I'm fat, my clothes don't fit right, and nothing I do seems to help. And that makes me feel like complete shit. And I beat myself up over everything which adds to the depression and makes me feel worse. I'm trying to eat healthy and work out but I have no fucking motivation. Seriously - some days I can barely get out of bed to take my son to school.

This is not helping me.

Maybe I Should Starve Myself

So I was up at 4:30 this morning (which is better than the 3:30 I was up yesterday at) and I was thinking, holy fuck do I feel fat. And looking at myself in the mirror I'm all, holy fuck do I look fat. And my general over-all feeling is holy fuck I'm getting fucking fat. And so I decided to weigh myself which was fucking stupid because holy fuck y'all - I gained weight and I'm fucking fat. I'm the heaviest I've ever been in my life. I didn't even weigh this much when I was 9 months pregnant.

My mood was already not great because I'm not sleeping well and I was up early and I have a headache (again) and I'm generally just battling depression right now. But now I have to live with knowing that I've gained even MORE weight. Which makes me feel worse.

Seriously. I'm considering starving myself. Which is a lofty proposition because I obviously love food. I was going to be starting a new clean eating plan starting the first. I think I'm going to start it today. I've been bad about working out as I have no motivation because Clancy (my brain) is an asshole and I've been fucking depressed as fuck again. Well, now I have motivation - I now have over 40 pounds to lose (though I'll be happy if I can at least lose 20 of it).

This is frustrating as hell.