Monthly Archives: May 2014

One of those ‘do not bother to read’ posts

I worked out this morning, as usual, although it’s been hard every day this week. I just don’t seem to have the energy that I need. Perhaps I’m not eating well enough.

I’ll admit something here that I’m not at all proud of. Two days this week there was a woman swimming laps whom I’ve never seen before. She’s older than me. Fatter than me, and her swimming form is worse than mine. Yet when I’m in the lane next to her, she almost keeps up with me! I can’t figure out how I’m moving more efficiently yet she’s like some weird slow turtle and she just kept turning up. I found it so annoying!

I vowed not to swim near her again because I was letting her ruin my swim experience, but due to circumstances beyond my control, there she was in the lane next to me today, plodding along slowly, but somehow almost keeping up with me. I don’t know why I was so annoyed by it. How can someone appear to be moving slowly and awkwardly be somehow nearly keeping up with me? AM I THAT POOR A SWIMMER?

I realize this makes me sound shallow, mean, and a bunch of other things, but I’m angry these days, I really am. I began to wonder if I looked like her. If I looked like a pudgy armed woman who swam badly for an hour. I felt so self conscience! I had to remind myself that it really didn’t matter at all if I looked like that, the important part was that I was working out.

But of course it matters very much to me if I look like that. I never realized how shallow I am. It’s funny because for almost 20 years I’ve considered myself too fat to be judgmental. Now as I creep towards a normal weight I am and I’m embarrassed by it.

I did my volunteer stint today and by 4:30 we were all done with work and so we sat around for the last half hour talking about music and then the conversation moved to local bar/night scene. Pretty soon they were talking about these downtown bars that my husband frequents and I found myself getting profoundly depressed. These “girls” are all under 30, they are still at the partying stage of their lives which I left behind long ago. But my husband, a 48 year old man is hanging out with them and I felt sick. His girlfriend could be their age or younger. I hate myself. I hate my fat. I hate my wrinkly skin. I fucking HATE everything and everyone at the moment.

Shit. At this moment I could do something rash. My self hatred is out of control.

I’m going to have to take an ativan tonight, I fear.

My counselor this week strongly urged me to do something, anything in order to interact with some people other than my mother and father. I promised I would, but I scarcely know where to begin. I don’t have a single friend or even acquaintance. I have no idea where to begin. The only place I can think of to start is joining the local walking club and seeing what happens. I’ve been talking about it for eons, but I used the excuse that I have no hiking shoes. It’s true I’d need better shoes for certain hikes, but for some of the local ones, I can probably get by with shoes I have.

It’s times like this when I am consumed with hatred for my husband who I feel has put me in this position, but truly he isn’t the reason I have no friends. I have no friends because I’m shy, awkward, sometimes too choosey. Where do I get the right to be snobby? My god I am ashamed.

But he is free to walk downtown to see all his 20 and 30 something friends. To smoke, have beers, talk and flirt.

Fuck.

I’m really sorry about this diatribe of mine. Really ashamed of my behavior.

It’s already Friday! What if I haven’t lost any weight this week? I haven’t done well, but I haven’t done horribly. I have no idea what to expect on Sunday.

But I know one thing. I’m not eating right. I need to do some actual meal planning. On nights when my parents and I “fend” meaning we eat whatever we feel like, I make really bad food choices. I end up grazing and having no idea what I’ve really eaten at all. I need to make an attempt to make sure that I’m getting more whole foods and quality proteins.

Tomorrow I will see if I can plan my eating better. I’ll get outside and do some walking. I’ve been wanting to go to the local farmer’s market and see about getting a few vegetable starts. My folks are taking a drive so I’ll have the house to myself for a while, a really rare thing.

I have been entertaining the idea of entering a 5k (walking only) on June 21st, but then I looked at the route and got scared. It looked like it was all hill. I will investigate it this weekend so I can put my mind at ease, hopefully. You’d think if it was going to be a hilly hike, they’d promote it as such. But maybe not.

Oh man I’m low.

I’m sorry.

It’s ativan time.

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Is Getting Realistic a Bad Thing or a Good Thing?

I had an interesting talk with my counselor yesterday. I attempted to explain to her that I am now at a spot I have been at many times before in my life. Nervous, self doubting, wondering if I’m deluded or not. These things cause me to eat more, chew my fingers, want to stop exercising. Make knee jerk life decisions.

All my life I’ve been a quitter. When things get hard, I just give up. But all my life I’ve also had what some people might consider unrealistic dreams. I guess it depends on who you are. If I had confidence and some success already under my belt my so-called unrealistic dreams would be do-able and reachable and people would consider me a genius. But because I am timid, shy, and afraid, my dreams will remain dreams and out of reach.

I’d like this pattern to stop. But at almost 57 perhaps it’s too late for me to try to reinvent myself.

These are heady thoughts that I can hardly put into words. Being me really wears me out. It’s utterly exhausting. I’m not sure if this is part of me being borderline, but it’s hard. It’s the thing I will regret as I lay on my death bed. Why didn’t I try harder to finish something?

I really hate knowing I’ve been given the BPD label. It’s common these days that if a woman is a high strung mess she’s borderline. In fact, any woman we don’t like or we feel behaves badly is borderline. Not that many people even know what makes a person qualify as borderline; they just use it to describe despicable people. No one stops to think about how exhausting it is to be borderline.

Perhaps I’m a slightly different sort of BPD because I’m aware of my bad behavior to a fault. In fact I feel terrible guilt and shame over my past behavior.

I’ve also been labeled as chronically depressed and have general anxiety disorder so perhaps it’s the combination of the three labels that makes me the unique loser that I am. (I know. Stop calling myself names).

After many years of psychiatric drugs and counseling all I did was get worse and get fatter. I ruined a relationship with a very good man who I could have very easily been happy with for the rest of my life. I fucking ruined it. I’ll be consumed with guilt over that for the rest of my life.

My counselor says perhaps I am romanticizing that relationship and I think she’s right, but I did ruin it. I could have still been with him.

I was going to add to that paragraph, “He would never have hurt me.” But in truth he did hurt me. He gave up on me. But who can blame him? I don’t blame him. He had every good reason to give up on me.

It’s all well and good to tell me not to wallow in this shame. After all, what good does it do?

But realizing all this about myself doesn’t do much for my confidence when I think about finding love again with someone “respectable.” It’s as though I don’t think I really deserve a decent man. I already ruined the only relationship I had with a decent man. Do I deserve another chance?

I like to think I do but only time will tell.

I have not been reading my ACT book as much as I’d like to, but I think about one of the aspects of it which is doing things within our own moral code. This is something I want to be more aware of as I go forward in my life.

I knew from the beginning that my husband (current one) and I differed morally. It always made things difficult. In the end his extreme lack of morality caused him to cheat on me and ruthlessly dump me.

Yet he’d be the one to tell me I’m full of shit calling him on morals. He’d blame me instead.

Regardless, our morals are different and I tried to convince myself that I could have different morals, more in line with his, but it never felt right, like wearing a coat three sizes too small. It didn’t fit. Period.

I am very self aware right now. (At least I think I am). And I know I 1.) Don’t want to regain any weight and in fact want to continue losing weight; 2.) Want to see my website dream come true, or get realistic and get a decent job, and 3.) Eventually hope to have a new and great love in my life.

I realize I have just let my website dream go down the drain because I’ve lost confidence in myself. I’ve been at this place so many times in my life I have lost count. I write that I want to see it through, but in truth I’ve already given up on it.

When I get to this point there’s almost no hope of talking myself back into it. It will only be half hearted. My foot is already out the door of it.

So even though I felt I really had nothing to lose I will probably stop moving forward on the website idea. Shame. I guess. I’ll never know.

I don’t think I can get hired, but I will begin to search more earnestly for a job. I need it to be a fairly secure job with benefits, so that makes it even harder. I will look for jobs with the city or the university, places like that.

I’ll get up and do forty hours, if I am “lucky” enough to get said job. And I’ll do my best to keep losing weight and squeeze in some exercise. But at least I will be able to give some money to my parents monthly, something I feel guilty about right now. A job, in fact, is probably how I will meet my next Mr. Right.

I also give a lot of thought to what I will do if there actually is settlement money from my husband’s lawsuit. There will be money, it’s a matter of how much. I suspect my share will be between $20,000 and $100,000. For so long I’ve dreamed of starting my own business but even if I got the highest amount, it’s not enough cushion to start my own business. Still, I’ll keep my eye on businesses that go up for sale, just in case.

In this town you can’t open a restaurant for much under $100,000 and for a long time my husband and I were going to do that. We’ve had a few amazing ideas that I know would be successful, but we just didn’t have the money to make it happen.

There’s a coffee shop in a good part of town that is for sale right now. If I had my hands on the money now, I’d seriously consider it. Opportunities like that are pretty rare here.

I just want something to devote myself to 110%. Something that exhausts me so that I don’t have time to dwell on my sad state, my husband, my nerves, my fat. But every single thing I can do has the potential to make me nervous, especially having my own business. Get real!

I guess at this point I’ll begin trying to improve my resume and applying for more jobs. I will also keep feelers out on businesses for sale.

I’ll try to write here more often as I’ve slacked off lately. It’s not that I feel I have interesting things to share, it’s that it’s my only place to be accountable. When Cynthia told me to “stop eating candy” I listened, and I haven’t had candy for two days. I can’t afford to let go of the tender grip I have on my health and fitness journey.

This journey is much more than simple “health and fitness” now that I think about it. It is also the key to my mental health.

As a side note, my husband and I spoke yesterday and I caught up on mundane things with his family and what’s happening in town. He is in a “I hate this town” mood and I am glad of that. I told him he’d be happier in a bigger city and that I think he should go. I can’t say enough how much I hope when he gets his settlement he leaves. I want my town back.

He also flirted with me and said, “I’m always going to flirt with you.” I said, “That’s okay. It’s not like I think you’re sincere.”

I feel sorry for him. And pity is what kept me with him for eight years. I also still find him interesting and I hate myself for that. But the bottom line is that I’d never take him back even if he wanted me, and I do hope he leaves the area.

 

 

Not in a good place. Hanging on to hope.

I am certain if I weighed right now, I would weigh more than I did on Sunday. I have begun eating candy like I used to, by the bagful, and it is really upsetting.

I have also destroyed my hands by biting the skin on them. They hurt so much.

It’s embarrassing to admit both of those things. But I am a high strung, nervous person and that is what I do to myself. That is why I am fat in the first place.

Every day I get up thinking I will get it under control today. Every day after I swim it goes downhill. I eat a good breakfast but when I’m done swimming it’s several hours later and from then on I make bad eating decisions.

And swimming yesterday was horribly difficult. From the beginning to the end I was exhausted and wanted to get out. I never found a zone. Never got my mind off of how hard it was. I realized I was sore from picking weeds this weekend. I’m not sure if I should take two whole days off from swimming.

I am at a crucial place in my health/weight loss journey. I must find strength somewhere to get back on track. I can’t stop now.

I vow here to go back to no sugar except what is in my one or two cups of coffee a day. I’ve done that since the beginning with no ill effects. I say that here, but I say it without a lot of confidence. If I can just get today under my belt, perhaps tomorrow will come easier. I don’t know. But I have to try.

I do see my GP today. I’m going to talk to her about an ugly bump on my shin that I want removed, about my (self diagnosed) irritable bowel syndrome, about taking over prescribing my anti-depressant since my psychiatric nurse practitioner has moved away, about hormones and thinning hair. I won’t be chatting with her about my weight, but I just feel going there and weighing officially might help me.

Tomorrow I see my counselor, so I’ll definitely bring it up with her.

I’m nervous because of the website project. I’m filled with self doubt about it. I’m utterly baffled by whether it’s a good idea or a ridiculous thing to attempt. Although those things aren’t mutually exclusive.

The “wise” thing to do would be to get a good job with benefits. Even typing this I have to laugh. You know how hard it is to do that these days? I do apply for jobs now and then, but I never get a call back for an interview. Is it my age? My lack of recent work experience? Something else that pops up on my resume that I cannot see? I don’t know.

The truth is that I am not certain I am capable of working full time yet. That is one reason why I am volunteering, to see if I can get back into the working world. I need to have a little more patience with myself.

In addition to worrying about my website project, I am very aware that my husband has pulled away from me completely. He doesn’t contact me about anything any more and it just feels so weird. Like he never existed. Yet he did/does.

I worry that when I don’t hear from him that perhaps he’s left.

It’s impossible for me not to think that to him, I am nothing. Not worthy of even remembering.

He abandoned me. Discarded me. And now he is behaving as though I never existed at all. The humiliation of it seems never ending.

In spite of the fact that I’d like contact with his daughters when they finally move here, I really would prefer if he’d leave town. I don’t think he will at this point. Where else can he go?

The other day when we were bickering he basically “threatened” to drop his case and return to the UK as though to punish me for wanting some of his settlement. I said, “No you won’t. You’re not doing the case for me. You’re doing it because it’s your last chance to…” And he interrupted me to say he would drop it if he wanted to. That this case won’t make or break him.He made it clear that he is better than his lawsuit. This is the story of his life, never admitting to his failures. Refusing to admit that he needs this settlement to have a future. Trust me, he has no future without it. Unless he finds a woman to support him.

If he were to return to the UK, he’d settle into a dismal life of living off benefits again. I think he would rather die than go back to that life.

Even with his settlement, it’s no guarantee that things will work out for him. He has a history of things falling through his fingertips. Of course he places the blame for that on everyone else, primarily his mother and father. At this point I imagine I only remind him of his failings.

I am sad that I still see things on the news or online that I’d love to talk with him about and find out his opinion. I really liked sharing things with him and running ideas by him. I hate that he’s taken that away from me. I hate that I miss and love him in spite of how I do not exist to him. I feel like crying now.

It’s so pathetic. Yesterday I had the tiniest interaction with a man about my age at the pool. He asked if he could cut through my lane to exit the pool and I said, “Of course.” He was apologetic about doing it and I said, “No. I do it too.” He said when he attempts to hop out of the pool it’s not a pretty sight. I laughed and said, “I understand. In my 17 year old mind it’s effortless, but in real life it’s pretty awful. I’ll spare myself that humiliation.” He laughed and told me to have a nice swim.

I thought about that interaction for the rest of my swim. How nice it was to talk with a man my age. How nice it was to see him smile and laugh. Talking to someone with a swim cap on AND goggles and no make up really allows no airs at all. You are what you are. I really liked his eyes and his smile. I liked his sense of humor. I doubt I’ll ever see him again. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him before.

Shows how lonely I am.

This type of post should not even go public. It’s just me being tense and whining. What good does it do me or anybody else for me to share thoughts like this? Nevertheless, I’ll eventually hit the “publish” button.

Ever since I began reading about Narcissistic Personality Disorder I feel 1.) that the description fits my husband perfectly, and 2.) that I was a horrible sucker for being singled out by him and used by him. I hate that he destroyed my view of people in the world. I hate that I was so stupid I lost everything I had to this man and his ideas. I am filled with shame.

I feel like a broken record. When people complain about the same things over and over again then they must not be trying very hard to change things.

 

Well, I did get under 200 lbs. Just barely.

I ate so much last night. The more I worried about getting up and weighing today, the more I ate. I can’t express enough how I did not want to get up and weigh today, but I made myself.

It read 199.6, which I find a little bit hysterical. Last Sunday it was 200.2, I believe, so, wow, not even a pound, but that scale did read under 200 and that was my minimum goal. There you have it. A goal sort of reached, but I don’t feel very proud of it.

If I don’t buckle down, I’ll be needing a whole year or more to get the rest of this weight off. It’s my nerves, though. I’ve never known how to deal with them.

I didn’t exercise yesterday, and was going to walk today, but went out and did weeding instead, until the sun was too much for me. Tomorrow I’ll swim, the pool is open until 1p.m. thank goodness.

I am strangely affected by this shooting in Santa Barbara two nights ago. I read the young man’s almost 150 page manifesto and it read like a novel, almost. He was highly intelligent and socially retarded. A real outcast and loner. A virgin at 22 and he resented it so much that he wanted to punish all women for rejecting him. I can’t imagine the pain his parent’s are feeling, yet I want to blame them for not dealing properly with him.

I really hate guns.

My last husband, the good man, had suddenly in the last year of our marriage, started buying guns. When you live with a suicidal woman you must take extra precautions, so he bought a small in-house safe and a large garage safe. This man who had always been so open with me began to buy guns in secret and not tell me about them. Why? I don’t know.

He didn’t hunt, but he did go to the shooting range regularly and it became his hobby. I was glad he had a hobby because I had been asking him for years to try to find one.

But it was the beginning of the end of our relationship. I was fucked up, and he began lying about dumb stuff.

But I really do hate guns.

And if I am ever with another man, I pray I can be strong enough to NOT be with one who is gun obsessed. Okay, if by any chance he’s in law enforcement, I’ll be okay with it, but anyone else, no.

I guess I can’t fathom why some men love guns so much.

Even my current husband has two guns now and it doesn’t make me very thrilled to think about it given that he is highly explosive at times. No pun intended. My father asks me how a non citizen can legally own a gun in this country and I said, “They can.” I don’t know why, but they can.

You may wonder how he bought them since he had no money whatsoever, but his friend bought them for him. I gather he is supposed to pay him back one day.

He has talked now and then since we separated about blowing his brains out. Of course I fear he will. But I also figure he’s just too narcissistic to do that. Don’t get me wrong. As much as he’s hurt me, I do not want him dead. I really don’t.

In reading the ChumpLady website I kept seeing people referring to their cheating spouse a a “narc” and I didn’t understand what that was, but somehow I gathered that it’s short for “narcissistic” and then I ended up doing some research on Narcissistic Personality Disorder, NPD.

When I began to read the explanation of NPD I knew it described my husband, but he is also something worse. One shrink described a “covert narcissist” and when I read about that I was even more convinced. My husband is an extreme narcissist and tries to pretend he’s not. He’ll go to great lengths to make you think he’s not. But he is. And that is the worst sort of narcissist.

They never, I repeat, NEVER, admit that they’ve done anything wrong. He will never understand how much he’s hurt me. He took all I had to offer (mostly money) and when that ran out, without a care for my feelings, he literally dumped me, and used my mental health issues as the excuse for his actions. Suddenly he had no feelings for me, as though a button were pushed.

Even this young man, the shooter, who came from an affluent family in Los Angeles, simply thought he was too good to work. Too good to study or learn. Too above other people. My husband is that way.

And because he was incapable of taking orders from anyone, he couldn’t get a job because he wasn’t willing to start at the bottom. He would say he can’t have anyone see him doing anything demeaning; that he has a reputation to uphold and he comes from a good family. Over time I came to see that he really could not work for anyone, so my goal had been to try to set us up in business so that we could earn money that way. But I didn’t have enough money for that.

So it was fine for him to watch his wife suffer and hock all her jewelry and savings, and 401k’s to live, but not okay for him to roll up his sleeves and work.

Yes. Because he’s a narcissist.

They can be so terribly charming. He drew people to him like the Pied Piper, honestly. He could motivate ANYONE (except himself). He is extremely intelligent.

But he also has some big chips on his shoulder. He’s short. He’s not traditionally good looking. He came from a country and culture where your family name is everything, yet it meant nothing to the country he moved to. Under all his bravado and fancy dressing, he was terribly insecure.

Every now and then his “class” issues got askew. One time he wanted to buy Old Spice cologne at the grocery store and I said, “Please don’t. It reminds me of my dad. It’s cheap. It’s too sweet. Too strong. Everyone will know it’s Old Spice. Please don’t buy it.” He bought it anyway in spite of the fact that he had plenty of “real” cologne at home already.

He began to buy designer ties and other clothing from charity shops both in England and in the USA. It seemed like a harmless enough hobby, but how many ties does a man need, especially given that he does not work? Now granted, because he is odd, he usually did wear a tie every day, and sometimes he’d change his tie two or three times a day. It was his “thing.” It made him eccentric. He thought it set him apart from other people.

But over time his tie collection was so huge, and money was getting tighter and tighter and I would say, “Do you have to buy another one?” And then we’d fight. Yes, he did have to buy another and another and another.

Then he began to buy shoes from the charity shops and I thought that was a bit gross. But the weirdest part is that he’d buy shoes that didn’t fit. So they were a designer name, but he’d walk around in them with a half inch or more extra room in the shoe, and it looked ridiculous. So for a guy who cared so much about what people thought of him, I thought it was really odd that he’d wear shoes that obviously don’t fit him.

Things like that made no sense to me. He puts on airs yet he misses the mark. And he would not listen to me if I tried to enlighten him.

I feel quite a bit of guilt even typing this stuff because in spite of those faults, I loved his weirdness and his idiosyncrasies much of the time. And I feel sorry for him when I reminded of these things or, like the other day seeing him with grease on his t-shirt collar. It makes me sad.

I don’t think he’ll ever find someone who loved him in spite of his flaws like I did. But that’s not my concern, is it?

I admire how easily he can begin talking to complete strangers and find out all about them.

I hated that he smoked.

I loved how he fucked me (most of the time).

It hurts me to think that underneath all his bravado, he was like a little boy.

I need to stop this now. I just don’t want to give the impression that he had no redeeming qualities. He does.

Sunday Stats
Starting weight: 267 (mid October 2013)
Today’s weight: 199.5
Total weight loss to date: 67.5 pounds
Height: 5’8″
Goal weight: about 150 (about 50 pounds to go)

 

 

 

And the Drumroll Begins

I guess I must just not want to be a healthy weight. If I did, I’d try harder. I didn’t do well this week, and I won’t be a bit surprised if I am the same or gained a little.

Very discouraged.

This week I did reach out and start telling people about plans for my website. I emailed about 25 people in all. Every time I emailed someone I chewed the skin on my fingers and wanted to get up and go find something to munch in the kitchen. My anxiety and this project are connected.

I’m afraid to get up tomorrow and weigh, but I will. I have no choice.

Interestingly I have noticed a sliming in my butt and hips this last two weeks (my clothes are looser there) because I’ve started really challenging myself doing the dolphin kick on my back, and just a regular kick on my back in the pool. I go as fast as I can with my hands up behind me to touch the wall. I really, really push myself. It hurts! But I want muscle and strength.

It was not easy to go to the pool M-F, but I did it. I even considered going today, but thought by now my body really needs a day of rest, especially my arms. I should have gone out to walk, and I still may. I don’t know yet.

I spoke to my step daughters in London. One of them said they might be here in July. I was shocked. When I got done talking to them I messaged my husband and asked him if that were true. He said it’s a big “if.” I asked if he’s been working on their visas and he said no. I asked if he had plans to stay here or leave the area, he said it all depended on the case. I said ok. And that was that.

Then I thought, but the case won’t settle until October, so why are the girls saying they’ll maybe be here in July?

I fear he will get that money and up and leave. I’ve sent his attorney two emails asking to come meet him to talk about this agreement my husband and I have to share his settlement, but he has not contacted me. After this holiday weekend I will get more aggressive.

I felt my heart pounding, wondering if my husband has been paying money for visas, and making plans to bring the kids over when he has done so little for me. He’s such a secretive person! He always said everything was on a “need to know basis” and I’m just not that calculating.

Today I remembered something that happened after we had been together about a year and a half. We had not been getting along. I had him sleeping in my guest bedroom. I had been asking him to leave. I had found a huge stash of porn of really fat ladies on his computer and I was so grossed out. That’s not the only reason we were fighting, just one.

(He can say he really likes big women, but to me there’s nothing sexy about that kind of body. Knowing that’s the kind of body I had made me hate myself more. Plus they all looked like strumpets!)

So, the next morning I wake up and move about the condo quietly and by about 4pm I thought, wow, this is sleeping pretty late, even for him. I went to check on him and came in and saw that he was gone.

All day I thought he was in there asleep.

I began to scream.

It wasn’t too long before he contacted me and told me he had returned to London because life with me was unbearable. Then I found out he had used my credit card to buy his fucking ticket and I was furious. He told me not to panic, that he’s send me the money right away, but I didn’t believe him. He did pay me relatively quickly, to his credit, or I should say his parents paid me.

He then told me he left a note for me in a drawer at the bottom of the stairs. I said, “How was I supposed to know it was there?” I can’t recall much of it, but it was mostly about how awful I am to live with and how he can’t take it any more. And even though I knew that we had no business being together and were worlds apart in every way, I was absolutely devastated that he had left.

I ended up taking an overdose and being hospitalized, of course. Within a few weeks we made plans for me to go there to England to live for a while, and that began the beginning of us traipsing back and forth. And my money started to slip between my fingers.

But the idea that he was capable of slinking off in the middle of the night without facing me, and using my money to do it. I should have realized: THAT IS WHO HE IS.

And that is the man I fear now will take his money and go.

Divorce attorneys don’t work on contingency basis, so if I want to hire one, the only thing I have left is a gold ring worth a couple thousand at most. I paid $5,000 for it four years ago, so I don’t really know what I could get for it. But I suppose I might be able to retain someone with it.

I hate to. It’s the only nice thing I have left and I’d never be able to replace it. Sigh.

I would like a consultation, at least, because I think there’s something to the fact that he has not started divorce proceedings yet. Perhaps it’s good for the case that we’re still married? Perhaps it’s good for the girl’s visas if we’re still married? Will I get fucked over if he doesn’t give me that money because we’re still married? I need to find out.

All this time I thought we’d take care of the divorce after the settlement, plus I had hoped he’d help me get a UK visa. It’d be so nice to have.

He acts like I’m being unreasonable when I suggest he would bail on me, when he has done it before. This money is the only thing I might be able to get my hands on to pull myself up and have an independent life again.

I’d love to have my own small home someday! I’d love to have my stuff out of storage once and for all and quit fucking moving. I may even stay here because my parents like me to be here, but at least I would know it was a choice I made, not that I had to stay here.

Several times this week I tried to talk myself out of my idea for the website but it always kept coming back to not having anything to lose. I doubted the idea this week as well. Is it stupid? Will anyone like it? And again I realized if I surround myself with talented people, it has a chance.

When I tell people my ambition their eyes get huge. I wish I could share it here, but not yet. But it is a massive idea.

I think to myself, hey, you’re going on 57. You can’t be an entrepreneur now! It’s too late for you. And then I think, fuck it, why not now? Why not me?

Even if I fall on my face, I will have:

  1. Met new people.
  2. Taken a chance.
  3. Followed through.

Working through my fears is something I have never learned. I have always chickened out at the last minute, ALWAYS.

When I was 18 I wanted to go audition with a rock band and I got to the place and couldn’t open my mouth. No confidence at all. And I just left.

I have a lifetime of push coming to shove and then just turning tail and giving up.

One reason I can’t do that with this project is that if my brother is recommending me to people I do not want to seem like a flake. It would make him look bad and I won’t do that to him. The idea that he is taking me seriously makes me feel good. That must mean he doesn’t think I’m crazy or stupid. I respect his opinion so much that his faith in me is a real boost.

If my plan succeeds, and that is a big “if.” But if it did succeed, it would have so much potential that it might give jobs to my brother, daughter, me and many others. Plus it’d be fun.

And to say it was my dream and I made it happen. Well, I want to know what that feels like just once in my life.

The internet has made fortunes for people and given unknown people the chance to be famous when they would never had had the opportunity without it. I don’t care to be famous, per se, but I do care to make money and help support my family. My mom still works now and then and I know she’d love to give it up. My dad only just retired a year ago and he’s almost 80. I’d love to be able to help them.

I’m making a frittata tonight and I think it’s going to be good. But the drumroll has begun: will I make it to 199 tomorrow?

 

Exhaustion and Tension = Weight Gain

You know, all I wanted to do this week was lose one measly pound in order to get under 200 and I don’t think I’ll make it.

I’m super nervous and so I seem to have very little control over what’s going into my mouth. I went to see Godzilla yesterday, and it was awesome, but I ate popcorn and candy and then I sat and chewed on my fingers. They hurt today.

My stomach/bowel issues are not good and I have been denying them for several weeks. Constipation when I should not be constipated and my prune juice is barely doing the job these days. I finally made an appointment with my GP to talk about it next week, although I think I will still resist the whole colonoscopy thing. I’m just not emotionally ready to deal with that.

My volunteer job causes me some stress because we have quite a bit of responsibility and we’re dealing with stressed out parents who are mortified that their child has been sexually abused, or they are mad because they’ve been separated from an abusive spouse who hit them in front of their kids. They are realizing that Oregon has really strict laws when it comes to what you do to kids and in front of kids.

But the main thing causing me stress is my website, my “proper” website, not this blog. I rose to the challenge this week and explained on paper what it is I hope to accomplish and then I wrote to some people in the community to tell them about it. I also wrote to a second cousin. I wrote to my brother who is asking his friends if they’d like to collaborate. I put my neck out there.

When I do that I begin to panic and that’s why I’m nervous.

What am I doing? Why am I qualified to do this? Who do I think I am?

Well, I have an idea, I have nothing to lose, I need to try it. I think my main fear is that I’ll fall on my face, but so what? I haven’t lost anything, but I will have gained experience. I’ve just been such a quitter all my life, yet all my life I wanted to be an entrepreneur and have my own business.

But this stuff, this stuff is for younger people, not me. I suppose that could be true. I may be blind to how idiotic this endeavor might be. I don’t think my brother would be contacting his friends, though, if he though I just had a stupid idea.

The truth is, if I had the gumption, this idea could work quite easily. The only thing in my way is ME. I have to keep reminding myself of that!

I’ve got stomach cramps. I’m exhausted because my mother is very inconsiderate and makes a ton of noise every morning and I slept from about midnight to 4:30 a.m.

I’m going to drag myself to the pool and get through an hour swim and then I don’t know what else I’ll do since I’m so exhausted.

People overeat when they are tired because the stimulation of eating keeps them awake for a while. I’m no exception.

Today is Thursday, and I will apply myself today, Friday, and Saturday in the hopes that when I get on the scale on Sunday, it will say 199. That’s not asking too much.

200 Pounds and Counting

I was very worried about what I would weigh this morning; I struggle so much with evening munching these days.

I was 202 last Sunday and the Sunday before, but thank God today I was 200.2. I’m calling it 200. There’s no doubt in my mind, that sometime this week, I’ll get below 200 for the first time in perhaps 15-20 years.

I don’t know what I weighed for so long, because as I struggled with my weight and watched it continue to go higher, when I did go to the doctor I asked them not to tell me what I weighed and I’d look away from the digital reading. They respected that. But should they have?

Yesterday Old Navy had a sale on all their khakis so I went to see if I liked any. I ended up buying a pair in size 16, which sounds so small to me, but I realize it’s not. My size 18s are on the looser side, my size 16s are a bit snug or fit fine.

I shop at Old Navy because they’re ridiculously cheap. At almost 57 I have to select my clothes carefully there because I do not want to be seen as someone who dresses in an age inappropriate way.  I am not into crop tops or super skinny pants. Someday I hope to have money to shop elsewhere too.

One way for me to remember that I may feel small, but I’m not small, is to try on clothes that are too small. It wakes you right up and can make you feel you haven’t lost any weight at all! I am truly enjoying wearing clothes that fit me; they are another factor to help me not re-gain the weight.

I’ve mentioned that odd feeling of taking up less space and feeling like I can’t imagine getting smaller, which makes no sense when you’re still 50 pounds overweight. But I suppose when you’ve been big for a long time it takes a while to get used to one’s new dimensions. When I lie on my side in my bed and my knees are touching, it’s uncomfortable because much of the old padding is gone. I’ll often accidentally touch my thigh and think, oh my gosh, that’s firm!

It’s funny what weight looks like on different bodies. My mother, twenty years older, and two inches shorter, weighs about 180 and she alway gets digs in that she weighs less than me. But the difference between a body that works out and a body that does not, is astounding.

I’ve settled into a Monday through Friday exercise routine of swimming for an hour. On the weekend I try to get out for a good walk, but the weather does not always permit. Half the time when I need to get dressed and get to the pool, I really don’t want to go. I truly am forcing myself. I am thankful that going to the pool has become a habit and grateful that weather rarely keeps me from it.

My swim routine doesn’t change that much. That way, if I forget how many laps I’ve done, I know I need to last the hour. I generally don’t forget when I got there. I warm up in the water for only a minute or two and then begin slow freestyle laps.

I do 20-24 lengths freestyle and then four of breast stroke, two side stroke, two back stroke, and two lengths of the dolphin kick on my back and then I do that two more times and the hour is up. I spend close to 15 minutes cooling down and stretching in the water. That routine is about 30 lengths times three = ninety. Ninety laps of 25 meters comes to about 1.4 miles. That would not be much of a workout on land but in the pool it can be.

For the last couple months I have tried to improve my form and swim stronger and faster to burn more calories and gain muscle. It’s hard to tell if I’m improving in that regard. Sometimes the entire first set feels difficult and more like a warm up, which it probably is. That’s the period where my body is saying “Just forget this swimming stuff.” I’m hitting the endorphin phase in my second set and so it feels pretty good, but during the last set, especially the last ten lengths or so I feel exhausted, but still determined. It’s almost always a struggle to get to the end of the three sets, but I rarely skimp unless I’m running late.

Swimming is like any other exercise, you get out of it what you put into it. Staying in the pool and not challenging myself, doing slow laps on my back in a lazy frog kick, will not burn many calories. You must swim cleaner, better, faster, stronger, longer.

I know I need a few lessons, but I can’t afford it right now. I am going to hate to realize all the things I do wrong. Many non swimmers don’t realize how very technical swimming is. I haven’t had a lesson since high school and while the movement is as natural to me as hopping on a bike, my technique is probably lacking. I do benefit from watching swimming videos on YouTube, of which there are many.

I’ve spoken to my counselor and my parents about taking my website to a whole new level and I’ve had so many ideas ricocheting around my head that I finally put it on paper, which was fun. But afterwards I felt that it was really ridiculous for me to attempt something so huge all on my own. A habit I have of talking myself out of something challenging.

Plus, I don’t trust my own judgement on whether it’s a good idea or not. I suppose the good news is that it will cost next to nothing to try, so I have little to lose and everything to gain.

I’ve written to my second cousin who will be moving to town in a month or so to ask him if he’d be interested in working with me. He composes music for video games, believe it or not. And I need a young sound person, one I can trust. I don’t know him well, but I’ve heard many good things about him. Because my website is for teens, primarily, I need some youthful concepts to go with my ideas.

This week I plan to get in touch with some people from the media departments at the local colleges. I have to start this, and if I wait for all the students to be on their summer break, I’ll have less to choose from. I am really, really nervous about this.

I wrote to my husband and asked him how much of the business he wants in order not to sue me later. He has not replied.

I figure he really despises me now that we had that altercation and he made a fool of himself in public. Funny thing, I realized later that when I got out of the car I was facing a man who desperately needed a cigarette. I’ve seen that look on his face many hundreds of times and it’s a time to step back and let him have his way, because there was nothing that could compare to his ugliness while in that state. Nothing. I’m not exaggerating. There were many times when he’d try to quit when I’d honestly feel like lighting one for him and putting it between his lips.

Since that’s the first time I’ve really lost it since we separated, he is probably feeling pretty smug with himself — “See, she hasn’t changed!” But I don’t really care what he thinks of me any more. His perception is utterly skewed and I feel sorry for him. I tried to hate him this week, but I don’t. I love him. I just don’t like him much. And I don’t want him back.

Sometimes I used to say that I didn’t want him back and wonder if I meant it. I said it because for me, putting your dick in another woman is a deal breaker in a relationship, married or not. I knew I’d never recover from it. But still, I didn’t quite believe myself when I said I didn’t want him back. Now I do, so I guess that’s progress.

Oh yes, and I heard from his daughter that it’s okay for them to contact me. He must have realized how stupid that sounded to forbid me from interacting with them. Not an easy feat these days when they don’t even live with him.

This week will have challenges that I’m quite nervous about, but will force myself to do them. I honestly think that forcing myself to exercise has shown me that I can force myself to do other things I’m hesitant to do.

I love the pool. I love the water as much today as I did seven months ago when I started swimming. I am convinced that exercise is the key to alievating my anxiety and depression and is far more effective than any pill I could pop.

Sunday Stats
Starting weight: 267 (mid October 2013)
Today’s weight: 200
Total weight loss to date: 67 pounds
Height: 5’8″
Goal weight: about 150 (about 50 pounds to go)