Sometimes I wonder what is wrong with me. How does a person get to be 43 with no job, no career, no money, still renting, no relationship? I feel like there must be something integrally wrong with me. Yes, I chose to be a mother as my children are the most important thing to me in the world because they are the only ones who will (I hope) love me no matter what. They are the only ones (other than my sister) who I feel like love me unconditionally and love me exactly as I am, not for who they want me to be. Should I have worked while raising them? Should I have let someone else raise my kids by putting them in before and after school care? Should I have just had kids and gone, fuck it I’m going to work 40 hours a week and only see them on weekends? Because at least then I’d have a fancy car, my own home, money?
Society wants me to be that person.
How long can I blame my anxiety? How long can I blame PTSD from childhood? When was it that I had to start taking responsibility and just get the fuck over my anxiety and depression and suppression?
I’ve committed to three years of study for a bachelor that terrifies me because I know what is involved to get me there and my Anxiety Bitch (AB… so let’s call her Abby)… Abby wants to just be in the future past all the stuff she finds difficult, all the firsts, all the practicing, all the being judged and given feedback, Abby just wants to be at the part where I’m already working and earning good money helping people. What if I can’t get Abby out of my way. She just wants to protect me, I know that. But what if I can’t convince her to stop protecting me?!! What if I go on this study journey and I end up letting her pull me away? Then I’ll be a failure of a human all over again. Useless. Unproductive.
I don’t want to die a failure. I don’t want to be that poor excuse for a human who is on Centrelink forever. I want a job. I want a career. I want money and the house and a nice car and to not have to worry about how I’m going to pay my bills. So, how do I convince Abby that by standing in my way she is actually causing me more detriment than she is saving me from?
This is the sort of shit coming up for me, amongst other shit, now that I am not using food to dull it all down. All these parts of myself are showing up, showing their (my) personalities and I’m having to try to figure out how to get to where I want to go despite them. It is hard enough to fight the rest of the world but I have to fight an internal world full of sometimes contrasting energies as well?
I’ve been cleaning for an inspection. I want to be rich enough to pay someone else to do that for me on a regular basis in my own home, seriously. During the cleaning I found my wedding ring and my engagement ring. Timing, amIright? He is off having some romantic weekend with his new “stunningly hot” (his words) girlfriend and I’m having all sorts of shit come up around that, from the feelings of never being good enough for him, to fear for her and seeing this play out from the outside and hoping it will be different for her and I happen to find my wedding and engagement rings. Hah! I just love how the Universe has this way of piling shit so high on my pyre and I’m here hoping it’s not going to collapse around me and burn me to death and cause a mammoth earth-destroying fire. I mean, I’ve been living in this place for 1 and ¾ years now and they show up now? Seriously.
So, I gave Baby Gurl the wedding band. If she didn’t want it, I was going to chuck it. I have no attachment to it. The wedding band is just symbolic of a system I never agreed with to begin with and doesn’t really mean anything at the end of the day. It doesn’t magically mate you for life. It doesn’t keep you together no matter what. It doesn’t make the other person fight tooth and nail for you. It means nothing. To say I’m even more disillusioned with marriage than I was to begin with is an understatement. The engagement ring on the other hand (LOL, no pun intended but…)
I always wanted my own diamond solitaire in a white gold ring. So, why can’t I have it? I love this ring. I chose this ring. He would have chosen me an ugly one I hated but he did the smart thing and took me to the jewellers and asked me which out of the rings I preferred. I chose my own ring, luckily, because I love it. So when I found it I thought to myself, why the fuck should I have to not wear it now just because we aren’t married? It’s a beautiful ring and it was given to me and it is mine. The time I threw my rings at him, I took the engagement ring back so I could have it back rather than waiting for him to figure out how to give them back to me and prove he actually wanted to be married to me (hint: it never fucking happened, but I did take the engagement ring back before the wedding band). I took it back because I love it. Maybe it’s a symbol of who I am, who I always have been and who I’m always meant to be… solitary.
Plus, I’m so obese right now that it doesn’t fit on the finger it was fitted for and I’m putting it on the other hand and, it would be kind of funny to be in Voldemort and his stunningly hot girlfriend’s head if they saw me wearing it. Like, what would you think if your ex continued to wear the engagement ring? Seriously though, he might have paid for it but the fucking proposal was lame as shit and I chose the ring. Fuck him and anyone else who wants to judge. I’m claiming the ring for myself also because that marriage is a part of me now, it will always be a part of me and while the vast majority of it was miserable, it has made me who I am today and I will honour that part of my journey by wearing the ring I love. When I lose weight and it gets too loose for my pinky finger I’ll just wear it on my right hand instead of my left. As long as I don’t give a shit what other people think I’m good with this choice.
Anyway, I expected to hear from Gimme a lot more than I have but she’s been relatively quiet. I mean last night I got the kids a kebab and she piped up wanting some fizzy drink as well but I did well. I resisted. Then she was yammering on about some ice cream today too but I didn’t get any, so all in all I’m still winning and it is day 14 already. I can barely believe it’s been two weeks already. Tomorrow is weigh-in day, it’ll be interesting to see how much I’ve lost. As a reminder, last Monday I was 139.6 kg. So I’m hoping to jump on the scales and see 137.6 kg for a 2 kg loss. Keep your fingers crossed for me.