I'm Not Cut Out For Full-time Work

I'm conscious of where I'm at. If I weren't, I think I'd be back where I started.

But I'm about 10 pounds back up from where I figure my "good weight" is (260).

I'm 20 pounds up from where I was, though.

It's hard to accept that my focus has gone in other places, and my health takes a back seat. It's hard for me to wrap my brain around it. I don't know how long it takes to adjust to a new job? For me? Probably forever.

I'm a complicated person. I realize this. I feel like I have personal stuff to get in order, but life keeps happening, so personal stuff doesn't get in order.

But maybe it never does.

So, my new job - I have a love/hate relationship with it. Fancy that!!! Me?! Yes.

I love the work, the feeling of helping people, being helpful, and being in my element. But I hate that it consumes my life, and that my world, 80% of it, all revolves around WORK.

From 5am, to 5pm it's work. I'm either there, or planning to be there.

Get up, get ready, go, work, come home, unpack, pack for the next day, lay out clothes, try to come down from the day.

REPEAT.

It's taken its toll on me, and I'm miserable.

It's a weird misery.

I feel useful and valuable (at work), but I'm worthless in the areas that are important to me (my home life).

The most important - to me - is the home life.

I can be replaced at work. I can't be replaced at home.

I only have a few years until my kids are all out of the house. Though they need me less than they used to, they don't need me tired, ornery, and useless.

I feel caught. I've got a fantastic job (I really do - I landed a job in my niche with a great company), which is why I didn't turn it down. But it was more than I wanted - which is why I'm regretting it.

I pray that it's not all for naught, and that God will send something my way. I really do. I don't care about how hokey that sounds. I'm hanging on by a thread daily. I feel regret, embarrassment, fear, when I think of moving on from this position. But I also feel trapped by where I am.

I don't want this to be me.  I want to continue taking care of myself and the people around me. I want to figure things out. I'm 40. I'm on the top of the hill riding down and I don't think I'll have myself or the world figured out in the next 20 years, but I dn't want to look back and wonder where they all went, either.

Somehow I Survived

I'm back from camping. I had a really nice time; it was great to get away.

Only, I'm not feeling well. I don't know if I caught a bug or ate something off. Or... if I'm just worn out and a bit dehydrated. I may never know. My muscles ache and my tummy isn't doing so well.

But I had a really nice time. It was HOT-HOT-HOT the first couple days. I felt like I could never stop sweating. Strangely, I got used to it, though. I tried to stay in the shade as much as possible (I get sun sick). I felt a bit like a pariah at times, while everyone sat in the sun, and I stayed off under the table umbrella.

I didn't swim, either.

My anxiety/self-consciousness made me think that my kids probably thought I was a slug. At one point one of my sons made a comment about me sitting around all day, and I felt a bit bad about it. I don't know if he was joking or not (he said he was), but it made me self-conscious a bit, and kind of hurt my feelings.

I was doing the best I could.

I was cooking for everyone constantly, and hung out in the shade to do it. I didn't swim because it would have been too much work. I had my period, and... just - I find swimming too much work most of the time. There you go.

I don't know how I made it, but I did. I hate heat, I am miserable on my period and the two of those things should have sent me for the nearest hotel. I really am thankful that (somehow) I survived. And enjoyed myself. I wish I could be the kind of person who throws on a bikini/swimsuit, and is in and out of the pool all day, not worrying about drying off, getting dressed all the time. But it just isn't me. Life would be easier if it were, though.

I feel like I'm a very difficult person. Too many phobias, too many hangups.

__________

I weighed myself this morning, non-official, and was UP FOUR POUNDS. I don't think I ate that much at all this weekend, and totally stayed on track with my eating (except I had some drinks). I didn't hike, and wasn't too active, so maybe that's part of it. I don't know. But I don't think that's truly a gain - I'm hoping it is the extra water retention. Either way - I'm a bit nervous for my Wednesday weigh in.

Now, just to get rid of these leg cramps. Ugh. I take magnesium, which is supposed to help, but it doesn't seem to be. I don't know why I have them, but they're annoying.

Stuffing Feelings With Healthy Food... Is It Better?

The last few days have been stressful. This time of year can bring on stress and blues, but it also seems that my family is never without some sort of mini-drama going on on any given day.

Today the mini-drama was a health concern of one of my children that turned out to be a less than ideal diagnosis. Basically, he plays sports, and he contacted herpes from one of his teammates (or opponents). It is better than MRSA, the nurse told me, and also told me it was incredibly common.

Thanks. Still doesn't help. Still need to grieve a bit in my own weird way. Lifelong issue plays over and over in my head. I can think of a million lifelong issues that could be more painful. But there is also a stigma around this one. So I grieve a bit about that, and about... all of it, I guess.

My husband, as I said yesterday, has been working a lot of hours. So I've been riding this boat without him for the last few days. I've phoned and emailed him more times than are appropriate during this time, too. About the herpes, about our other child who continues to fester on creating drama. About parenting issues that I'm having a hard time tackling alone, unable to wait up and have a coherent conversation in the late hour that he gets home.

I feel like part of it is ME. The way I perceive life, the way I take things in. Possibly. I don't know if someone else would cope better with my life. The financial woes, the defiant child who I have PTSD from. I don't know where the scale tipped and I began to function day to day, but I haven't been able to reel back in from it.

Nobody would realize the agony that plagues me sometimes. I don't think they see that, and that is good. I worry that my kids see it manifest, though. I hate that.

Today I did pretty good with eating. Yesterday, too. I stayed within my calorie budget. Went to bed without having one more ________ -- something I wasn't sure I could do. Today I budgeted my calories lighter in the beginning of the day so I could heavy out in the evening since it was Friday and I want to snack.

Then I got hit with some drama. My chest tightened, my diaphragm raised. I just wanted to get home to my wine and my food and my bed and my computer.

I think I might be having some PMS, too.

I came home and tried to figure out how to maximize every calorie that went into my mouth so I could afford as much as possible. I did it. I am satisfied. But I can't help but notice I ate with a vengance. I gobbled and stuffed and fed my feelings -- on healthy food. On good choices.'

I kept the same pattern. I don't know if that's any better.

I Don't Know If Indulging Is Good

Cheat Days

Are they really a good thing?

Maybe a day. But any more than that, and trouble starts.

Today I'm feeling a bit frustrated. I'm feeling that skin-jumping feeling I often have when I'm "detoxing" from a day or two off.

There is something liberating about eating whatever you want, even in semi-moderation. No time spend logging, no worries about what I'm putting in a recipe, just not... worrying about.

But when I do that, especially in consecutive days/weeks/months, then the worry shifts to what I'm going to wear, how I don't feel comfortable in anything - not even my own body. So I guess the momentary feelings of discomfort win out.

I guess.

They do, they do.

Nobody said it was going to be easy.

I just wish that there weren't so many difficult corners to turn.

Today was my first day back to work. There's so much I haven't gotten done. We were snowed in a few days before Christmas, and that set me back. My husbands working all kinds of overtime so we can keep up on the bills - so I'm basically at single mom status with everyone at home. Paying bills, trying to make dinners.

I don't feel good. I feel edgy, jumpy, irritated. I feel like yelling at everyone, hibernating in my bed with a bottle of wine and something fatty, salty, and sweet. I feel like doing everything I know is wrong to make myself feel better.

Cookies make me feel better. Salty, gooey, sticky, greasy, alcohol... all that makes me feel better. Even if it is only for a few moments.

My bar (for myself) is set lower. Low. I know there are people who lie in bed and won't leave the house - and then there are high functioning people who get gifts out on time, and have money, get out to exercise, raise stable kids, and have a nice circle of friends.

I'm neither of those. I'm in between. I'm sick of feeling the way I do, with bouts of joy between the misery. I really am. When it's good, it's good, and when it's awful - it's really awful.

Right now every single bump in the house - just normal sounds kids make - sets my heart scattering. I'm on needles, pins and needles. I hate feeling like this. It makes me wonder if it is part of me not having my food and dealing with my emotions.

I just don't know.