Thursday, August 29, 2019
Thursday morning reflecting on 43 years of marriage
I blew it again last night. I drank too many margaritas, ate too much popcorn, and even had a piece of cake and glass of milk. All day long, I did great, but when evening comes, and loneliness encloses me in its pervasive fog, I start in with my margaritas. Then, I need carbs. I don't know what it is going to take for me to make the changes I need to make. I am so sick of being fat. And, of doing nothing other than thinking about it and writing about it constantly.
Sigh.
I will try harder today.
Just glad to get through the anniversary day. August is a bad month for me. It brings back so many painful memories. My mother telling me to leave the house and never, ever come back. Telling me what a disgrace I was. What a fool of a young woman I was to even think I could talk to her about what was going on with me. She had never been there for me for anything in my life--why in the hell did I think she would be there for me at the most critical moment of my life up until that point? Craziness. I can still picture the conversation in the kitchen of her house. I never felt like that was my home. I was almost 14 when we moved into that house, and I left it for good at 17 to get married.
I didn't sleep well again last night. As I was lying there awake, I was trying to remember my wedding day. I can remember very little of that day. I don't know where I got dressed or if anyone was in there with me, but I am assuming I got dressed at the church and the bridesmaids were probably there. I can't remember the name of the girl who let me borrow her wedding gown nor how I knew her--Teresa something and maybe I knew her from working at Watson's? I can't remember the reception at all. I am clueless about what food was served, who was there, etc. I don't remember where we went that night to spend the night. I can only remember that when we arrived at our destination, we discovered that the bottle of Blue Nun someone gave us had exploded open in our suitcase, so our clothes were covered in wine. I have some other memories of the days following that, but I don't wish to discuss them at this point. They are too painful to write about and too painful to think about. I don't want to start this day that way. When will I let all of that go? I am 60, and still, I cannot come to terms with some of the decisions I have made in my life. Sometimes, it makes me feel so hopeless. It makes me want to keep drinking so I don't have to feel. But, I am weary of the drinking life. Mostly because I am fat. I need to think about how it hurts me physically and how numbing myself does not allow me to find healthier ways to try to address the excess emotional baggage I have been carrying around for years.
Sigh, again.
Breakfast: pork tenderloin and cheese sandwich, coffee with creamer, half a glass of milk (520 calories)
Sigh.
I will try harder today.
Just glad to get through the anniversary day. August is a bad month for me. It brings back so many painful memories. My mother telling me to leave the house and never, ever come back. Telling me what a disgrace I was. What a fool of a young woman I was to even think I could talk to her about what was going on with me. She had never been there for me for anything in my life--why in the hell did I think she would be there for me at the most critical moment of my life up until that point? Craziness. I can still picture the conversation in the kitchen of her house. I never felt like that was my home. I was almost 14 when we moved into that house, and I left it for good at 17 to get married.
I didn't sleep well again last night. As I was lying there awake, I was trying to remember my wedding day. I can remember very little of that day. I don't know where I got dressed or if anyone was in there with me, but I am assuming I got dressed at the church and the bridesmaids were probably there. I can't remember the name of the girl who let me borrow her wedding gown nor how I knew her--Teresa something and maybe I knew her from working at Watson's? I can't remember the reception at all. I am clueless about what food was served, who was there, etc. I don't remember where we went that night to spend the night. I can only remember that when we arrived at our destination, we discovered that the bottle of Blue Nun someone gave us had exploded open in our suitcase, so our clothes were covered in wine. I have some other memories of the days following that, but I don't wish to discuss them at this point. They are too painful to write about and too painful to think about. I don't want to start this day that way. When will I let all of that go? I am 60, and still, I cannot come to terms with some of the decisions I have made in my life. Sometimes, it makes me feel so hopeless. It makes me want to keep drinking so I don't have to feel. But, I am weary of the drinking life. Mostly because I am fat. I need to think about how it hurts me physically and how numbing myself does not allow me to find healthier ways to try to address the excess emotional baggage I have been carrying around for years.
Sigh, again.
Breakfast: pork tenderloin and cheese sandwich, coffee with creamer, half a glass of milk (520 calories)
Wednesday, August 28, 2019
43rd wedding anniversary
Today is my 43rd wedding anniversary. 43 years ago, I was a very frightened and confused 17 year old. I can't say anything other than that right now.
By the way. I ate way too much last night. I was doing well, and then I grabbed a bag of goldfish and ate the whole bag (350 calories). I was already at 1690, which isn't bad for me. I typically have between 2,000 and 2,500 calories a day. I am trying to eat only 1,500, but I feel okay if I stay between 1,500-1,800 to try to lose 1-2 pounds per week. I am not going to lose it eating 2,000 per day. I did well Monday. I am trying today. I've had 690 calories so far (that's breakfast and lunch).
It is now 7:48, on this, my 43rd wedding anniversary. I am sitting in front of a computer while my husband watches TV. I am feeling like a failure again because I have consumed too many calories, again, and plan to consume more. I am terribly lonely and wonder what I could have done differently to be a happier person. I don't know what I can do. I can lock myself away at night, starting at 5 PM, and not watch a movie or get on Facebook or check email. I would not drink if I did that, and I wouldn't eat much. I want the freedom to choose, but I can't and don't make good choices. I feel doomed to be this whale of a woman for the rest of my life. I don't have the words to express what I want to say. I do, but I can't bear the thought of anyone reading them somewhere down the road, so I can't write about how I feel--not here, not in a paper journal, not on FB--nowhere, and I have no one to share my feelings with. This is what it is to be isolated and to have no meaningful connections to anyone (peer). I am sad beyond words.
By the way. I ate way too much last night. I was doing well, and then I grabbed a bag of goldfish and ate the whole bag (350 calories). I was already at 1690, which isn't bad for me. I typically have between 2,000 and 2,500 calories a day. I am trying to eat only 1,500, but I feel okay if I stay between 1,500-1,800 to try to lose 1-2 pounds per week. I am not going to lose it eating 2,000 per day. I did well Monday. I am trying today. I've had 690 calories so far (that's breakfast and lunch).
It is now 7:48, on this, my 43rd wedding anniversary. I am sitting in front of a computer while my husband watches TV. I am feeling like a failure again because I have consumed too many calories, again, and plan to consume more. I am terribly lonely and wonder what I could have done differently to be a happier person. I don't know what I can do. I can lock myself away at night, starting at 5 PM, and not watch a movie or get on Facebook or check email. I would not drink if I did that, and I wouldn't eat much. I want the freedom to choose, but I can't and don't make good choices. I feel doomed to be this whale of a woman for the rest of my life. I don't have the words to express what I want to say. I do, but I can't bear the thought of anyone reading them somewhere down the road, so I can't write about how I feel--not here, not in a paper journal, not on FB--nowhere, and I have no one to share my feelings with. This is what it is to be isolated and to have no meaningful connections to anyone (peer). I am sad beyond words.
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