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.
Starting weight: 267 (mid October 2013)
Today’s weight: 199.5
Total weight loss to date: 67.5 pounds
Goal weight: about 150 (about 50 pounds to go)