Friday, August 03, 2007
I am very annoyed with myself today. Again, about weight. I have only lost five pounds at the most the entire time I have been trying to lose weight. I am starting to wonder if I am just destined to stay the same I am now. If my body just won't lose anymore.
There are still a couple things I am dying to fit into to wear before summer is out and that does not look possible. Just ten more pounds - that's all I want. It really shouldn't be that hard, should it? Only ten more!
I am crabby and annoyed and just fed up. I love to eat! I love to eat when I want and what I want and I have always been able to do so, and now the fact that I can't is lurking behind everything I do. Every thing. It bothers me so much. I just want to lose those final ten.
I don't even know how I lost the first five. I just ate a little teeny bit less, and started walking every day and swam a couple days a week. I have continued this regiment and have not gone up or down. So I am wondering if that is just how I am gonna be. If this is the weight I am stuck at now.
I kind of want to just eat one meal a day for a couple days until I am down but I know that I'll shoot right back up after that when I go back to eating my normal way. Sometimes I am so torn about myself because there are days when I just simply don't care.
I think "I'm not fat!! I'm not even close to fat! So big deal that I can't fit into the same cute pants that I love!" That does happen sometimes. I am happy with myself. I know I'm skinny. I know my husband still wants to bang my brains out. And I think that why does it matter? I'll eat what I want, in proportion, but I will eat what I want and be okay.
But I am not satisfied with myself which just brings everything down. It's really really frustrating. I just want to fit into my old clothes. And I don't want to throw them out and buy new clothes that make me feel good because what if one day I can fit into them!?
I don't know what to do. Just ten pounds. That's all I want. Maybe I should just eat fruit and vegetables for the next week so that by the time I go on vacation I will be down to my normal weight that I have been at all my life.
I want to cry just thinking about it! I just recently looked at a picture of these baggy pants I was wearing and my stomach was showing a little and I was so cute. And now, when I try those pants on, they are so tight. Not even a little baggy.
That was my skinniest point, I'd say. And I want to get back there.
Thursday, August 02, 2007
A month after New Year's Eve, literally January 31st, he didn't come home. And to be quite honest, I can't even remember how long he was gone. It could have been one night, it could have been 1/2 a day, it could have been two nights.
It's funny, isn't it? How your memory does that to you? So many things I don't remember. I try so hard to remember. I think I am trying to protect myself by blocking out painful things.
All I remember was that his parents knew he was not home, again. I was so calm and relaxed. I only started worrying when they said they were coming over. I knew something had happened then. I knew something bad. I didn't think death; I thought jail. I thought a crime. Something we would have to go through. And sadly, sometimes I wished it was death. It sounds so horrible to say, but I was living in hell and couldn't bear much more.
They came up and we stood in the kitchen for what seemed like eternity before I said "Okay, what happened." Negatively, preparing for the worst. I remember his mom saying the exact words, "Well, he's not dead." Sarcastically, annoyed. And I knew that whatever he had done was possibly worse than death. I knew that everything I had been going through and every moment was culiminating to this.
He was in jail. He was arrested the night before for something with drugs. They didn't know much else. I stood there. I just stood there. His parents stood there too. We just stared on. I finally said "Well, what am I supposed to do?"
What a ridiculous question! What stupidity! Like they were going to tell me what to do with my life. Like they were going to tell me how to handle their fucked-up son. Like I would listen to their answers anyways.
I started crying then. I did not want to cry in front of them - such vulnerabilty, such a show of emotion for people I did not show emotion in front of. His dad hugged me then, held me really, for an eternity, minutes upon minutes.
They told me they would not leave me alone. They wanted me to call someone, and I told them I would. But who to call? No one really knew what I was going through. No one knew anything. I could not just surprise them with this thing - completely out of the blue. Besides, I didn't need anybody.
But I told them I would call my friend. I told them I would call Amber. And true to my word, I did call her. But she was in another city and could not get back.
I spent the night by myself, knowing my husband, my brand new husband, was sitting in county.
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
The interview went fine, I believe. I was hardly nervous - I have found I am barely nervous about anything these days. I was only afraid I wouldn't get it. However, I was not scared of the interview process.
I already have a job so I knew that if I failed at getting this job, I could not be disappointed for not having a job because I still do!
It was a dark orange/red brick building that had defintely seen better days. I would also say that it must have at one time been a factory. I got there early and made my way upstairs. I walked.
I was wearing a professional suit, but the weather here is incredibly hot (as it is most places, I believe!) and thankfully, she said I could take off my suit coat. I met with two women.
Social work interviews are the worst. You have to answer a series of situational questions. One that I can remember goes like this: "A child has been living with their foster parents for quite some times now. He/she loves living there and has transitioned smoothly. The foster parents would like to adopt, but the child would not like to be adopted. What are some of the possible reasons for this?"
How nervewracking! The questions were not for specific answers but broad ones. My experience with children is vast, but certainly not in the foster or adoption system. I did not want to seem foolish. I did not want to seem like I knew nothing.
We will see. They are hiring 4 or 5 individuals. That is good news. I am excited for that. However, I still worry that I do not have enough qualifications for the position. I did tell them that I was planning on going back to school and that I was almost done with my state certification.
I will find out within a week and a half, they said. They told me not to worry if I do not hear back from them soon. I took that as a good thing, that they liked me, but I do not want to get my hopes too far up.
So that, Amy, :) is what happened.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
I have an interview today, yay!! Finally, finally, FINALLY, in social work with children - the exact reason I went into this field. I am so very excited, but trying to limit myself because I know the chances are slim I will get the job.
They want the new hire to have their Master's degree and I have not yet begun to climb that slope. I wanted to get a job in my field before I went back to school. I am hoping that this is the lead I need, and that even if I don't get this particular job, that other interviews will come my way.
I am so excited about this possibility. This particular job seems like something I would love to do. I hope I impress them with my wonderful friendly skills, and with the little professional experience I do have. I hope they see something in me worth hiring.
I know there are many other candidates, probably some who are much more qualified than me, but everyone has to start somewhere!!
Eeeks!! My excitement needs to be tamed so I am not disappointed if/when I don't get it.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
I can't handle it today. I just can't. I don't know how to even explain to him how I feel.
We were discussing our bills. Discussing how tomorrow I'm going to a bank to fill out an application for a loan. We have no collateral - no house, no boat, nothing. And the car I do have - a discontinued sports car to one day become a classic - is not worth anything to them either apparently.
He is such a fucking bastard sometimes. He says he is sorry that we are in this fucking mess, but it doesn't help one fucking bit. We still owe a shit load of money, and every penny is because of him. Because of him I opened another credit card so I could pay rent. Because of him, we couldn't pay off his credit cards that already existed and now the interest is incredible.
But he doesn't see it this way. He gets defensive. He says that I should have had a full time job when we got married then. It's my fault of course.
I fill up with anger and frustration and all kinds of hatred but I cannot express it fully. The only thing I can do is tell him that I am mad at him for those things. And he says sorry for one second and then changes his course five minutes later.
He fucked up my credit. He fucked up everything related to it. Before we got married, my credit was a beautiful thing. I paid them off in TOTAL every single fucking month. Now I can barely make the minimum payment.
That wonderful car I was talking about? It is incredible. My dream car. But since I have no money, I cannot put anything into it. I need to start thinking of a new car, or if I should put money into this one. Each of those things requires a loan for me. And I can't fucking get one until his fucking bills are paid off.
The ramifications of what he did go deep. Every time I think we are a little better, something else pops up and my anger bubbles over again. Will we ever be rid of his fucking stupidity? Will it ever be officially over? Will I ever be free to mostly forget that he was a fucking crackhead who wasted our money?
I wish he would be grateful for everything I do. I am the one who made the appointment with the bank tomorrow. I am the one going. I am the one who pays the bills every month. I'm the one who keeps track of everything. I am the one who found our new fucking apartment; I am the one who figures out what we need when we go shopping. I am the one who keeps track of the fucking money in our fucking account.
Such a fucking ingrate who fucked up my life.