It's my party, and I'll cry if I want to.

My birthday is here.  I hate my birthday. They seem to be getting less amazing and more mundane. Let me explain. Six months ago I moved from the 50 mile radius that I spent 26 of the 27 years of my life in.

For the last five years I worked for a company that I put 150% of my effort into.  I kind of stopped hanging out with a lot of my friends because of this all-consuming job. I missed opportunities to go (for free) to Latin America, and things like that because this job was supposed to be my future, the all-encompassing EVERYTHING.  Two years before I started that job, I made and immediately spent thousands of dollars on going to more than 150 concerts all over the country in one year, therefore also blowing off some of my oldest friends to meet the friends that I had only for the concert-going period of my life.

As I became more and more overweight I set goals for myself, like "I'll surprise my old friends and show up when I've lost 20 pounds, 50 pounds, 100 pounds, 150 pounds..." and "I'll ignore Facebook [which is where I keep in touch with some of my oldest friends] and suddenly put new and pretty pictures of the thin-me up so they'll want to see me again." "When I get a job that pays me well enough to travel, I'm going to ask some friends to go on a great trip!"

So much bad and worse had happened to and with me during the last two years of this so-wonderful-job that I was left with very few people in my life. I moved, and I ended up leaving the company that I dedicated all of my efforts to.  Subsequently, in the last six months of unemployment, it is as if the sh*t finally hit the fan.  Now, no one really contacts me on a regular basis, and in return, I have nothing new to contact them about other than "Hi, doing the same nothing today, the dog park was empty today, very unusual! The dog has gas, it's very stinky. How are you? Loving married life? Beautiful children! New boyfriend? Awesome!"

As I stated before, I can't stand my birthday.  It falls around father's day (I was a "Father's Day baby"), my father passed away years ago, since I've all but disappeared from all of my friends, I have nothing and almost no one around for my birthday.

My siblings and I never really did the presents thing for one another - for whatever reason it just wasn't like that.  Not to sound super selfish, but I received one (albeit very nice) gift from my mother, and Facebook 'Happy Birthday's" from everyone else.  It just seems kind of .... disappointing.  Then I feel really selfish for feeling like I even deserve anything for my birthday, because I know there are people who have even fewer people and things than I do.

I watch my sister call, text, e-mail, facebook all of her friends - she has dozens of them at home. My brother has the same thing - I watch him and his 'crew' that he has been friends with for literally 15-20 years and I just feel terrible. I finally told my sister the other night about how I feel about my birthday.  She had been giving me a hard time about not caring what we did on my birthday, not caring if we went out, not having an opinion on what to do. I started crying in the middle of the restaurant. It was horrible.  I'm crying again now as I write about this, and again as I re-read it.

So, as stated in my previous entry, I have pretty much just given up. I'm back to many of my old habits, I haven't given any thought to even doing Weight Watchers at all, I haven't been to the gym in weeks because of that stupid pedicurist. I just don't care.

My outsides are cool, my insides are blue...

I slipped quietly into the night a couple of weeks ago. I haven't blogged, I fell away from twitter and all of my accountability, and got lost in my own mind.  In this time, I also gained 2.5 pounds (awesome!!!!).

I was house/pet-sitting, as many of my twitter followers may know.  The first week was great - I was cooking and doing well with exercise.  The second week wasn't as great: I was running out of money and couldn't go grocery shopping, so my roommate ended up buying a lot of the food that we ate that week (I went home almost daily to take the dog out when she worked, then we hung out, etc). Therefore, we ate out a lot. I off-and-on followed my diet, half-heartedly ate on target with Weight Watchers. Ugh.

Week two of house-sitting was a disaster:  The puppy I was house-sitting for tore her Cruciate Ligament during an unexpected and unwanted (on my behalf) play-date with a rough player.  This then required a vet visit (with my rapidly depleting bank account ending up empty), and nearly constant vigilance until her owners came home. I didn't mind at all, she's SUCH a sweet dog, but I was so nervous for her, being 12 months old and having this injury. Thank goodness the owners were kind about everything.

In addition to that, during the second week away my sister took me to get a manicure / pedicure with her, because I've had a horrible six months.  How is this so bad, you ask? <this might gross some people out> When you get a pedicure they tend to shave some dead skin off of your feet with a razor blade that is made for doing this. My pedicurist straight-up cut my feet up, going way too deep and taking off good skin. I was literally bleeding in multiple places on the back of my heels, and it has been really painful to walk on my heels at all.  Two weeks later, today is the first day that my left foot is not painful to walk on, and my right foot is still sore.

So, this all kind of threw me for a loop and I ended up running back to old habits - eating out, eating junk, not exercising at all (partly not my fault).  I traveled too, and if I don't prepare, I generally don't eat healthily when I do. Staying with family up north I did okay, but those travel days can incur tons of calories.

So I came home from pet-sitting and visiting family, and my roommate told me that the dog has resorted to going to the bathroom in the house in protest of my absence. He is 6 and has not had an accident in the house since he was 5 months old: he's doing it to spite us - he's gone from having me 24/7 to being alone a lot. Literally, I was home yesterday, walked 50 feet down the hall to the trash chute and came back in to him having PEED ON THE FUTON in the time since I left!!  Then, I woke up today and he was suddenly pretty sick: according to the vet visit we had to go on today, he has colitis - probably from the dog park or the vet visit yesterday, where he had a check up from tooth surgery. 

I'm also starting a new job on Monday, and I'd be lying if I said that I was super excited about it.  As I've been unemployed, a friend of mine helped me get a job at a Fortune 1000 company where he works.  Now, not to sound whiny or selfish, but this job is in retail and I spent 5 years of my life trying to run as far as possible from retail. It has bad a history for me, I hate it. I am a great sales person, but I hate sales. These two things will be my job. I figured I'd take the job and start working (and hope for the best), but the stress has also added unwanted eating to my past two weeks.

In addition to all of the fun I've been having, my birthday is this month, and around my birthday I always tend to somewhat fall apart.  I've never figured out why, but I tend to go off diets if I'm on one, or lose myself. 

So, I'm "back."  Not fully, but at least I'm admitting to what I've done and what's happened. I really don't want to sound or come across as whiny, because I'm really not trying to be.  All of these 'reasons' are probably reasons for me to fight harder.  I just didn't. I don't know how to get back on track either...  I'm house-sitting again this weekend, then going to NYC M-F for the next two weeks, weekends at home.  Then, I'll be at home for a full week and back to NYC M-F again. The next month is going to be a huge test for me. I need to succeed. I'm at a make-it or break-it standstill. Who has thoughts, ideas?

<as I finished this, "Good Life" by OneRepublic came on. Having Biggest Loser 11 flashbacks. Happy thoughts.> 

PTSD

I've been dreading talking about this. I can't hide behind it anymore, as much as I want to. About 18 months ago, I was diagnosed with PTSD. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.  Without going into too many details, there have been about 5-6 separate traumatic events or time-periods over the span of 20 years that have taken me from 'great' to 'okay' to 'bad' to 'worse' to 'bloody awful,' where I sit now.

I grew up a bubbly, outgoing, fun, a total dreamer, caring, prepared for anything kind of girl.  In high school, I was voted most likely to go into the Peace Corps. I was in half a dozen choirs, head of many community service events, you name it and I had my hand in it. I grew up the center of the room: when I walked in, you knew it and I was comfortable there.  There was nothing show-boaty about me, I just was and still am me: as sincere as I can be...

During my adult life, I would say four of the aforementioned traumas have happened. In six years I gained 100 pounds. I'm starting to lose it (I'm down 38.6 pounds) and am trying to take precautions, but I don't feel any better. Living with PTSD is pure hell. I'm trapped behind this wall of anxiety and dread.  I cry at the drop of a hat.

Nearly any time that I have a conversation that sparks a debate or resembles one, I forget almost everything immediately thereafter. If I feel threatened, survival instincts kick in and I just lash out to get the issue to end. It almost always causes friction, and I can never explain myself properly.  If I can picture myself doing anything inside, it's as if someone threw me into a pit of spiders and snakes, and I'm closing my eyes and screaming, jumping around and trying to push them away.

I turn everyone away: I can't bring myself to respond. For example, someone e-mailed me about ten days ago, and I've been sitting on the e-mail dreading my response. There is nothing sour at ALL on either side, it is actually relatively positive, but it is something that I blew off to handle later and then blew up from a tiny grape to an entire vineyard.

In the past I went through periods of paranoia - not bad, but there. In my old place of residence, every noise was a burglar, and someone was definitely about to break in.  I saw a specific car on my then street, not identical to one that I feared, but a four door version of the two door car that I wished to avoid, and I broke out in cold sweats, panting, tearing up and eventually keeping a knife with me 'just in case.'

When I get to do something (i.e. go to a job, get an interview, etc) I am able to like a light switch really turn the old me back on. Phone interviews are always amazing - I am a pretty good phone person.  When people ask how I am (friends that I still have left), I'm always FINE (f.i.n.e. see liner notes here)!

Lately, I've been feeling so stressed out to where I can't cope.  I have been trying to find a job and have applied for around 100 jobs and have been turned down for 30 so far. It's really difficult, because it's bringing up so many of the past issues, and with no job, money, or insurance, I can't even see a therapist to deal with this stuff..

I started a job 10 days ago and left it 6 days ago after one of my new colleagues, who unprofessional and very slimy, said things to me that made me slip into yet another 'funk.'  Knowing that I didn't deserve what I was getting there, I opted to leave. I finally listened to my gut. It didn't make me feel any better though, and I still don't feel any better.

Recently I have become kind of internally aggressive. I've pictured myself punching people who upset me. At one point at the job last week, to the piss-ant who ignorantly told me that I would receive no love and be a cat lady forever (I hate cats), I pictured horrible and somewhat violent things happening to him.  I am probably the least violent person I know. Sometimes things don't affect me immediately, but they affect me a few days later, it builds up, I stress eat, regret it, etc.

So, I don't know what the gist of this is.  I'm on such a roller coaster of emotions, I just want something amazing to happen to me. I want so badly to be happy. I have fleeting moments where I picture myself to be: a carefree adventurer, an athlete, someone who just loves herself to pieces, a gym-rat, able to stand solidly on my own two feet, financially stable, in love, happy, satisfied. I yearn for those days. I need those days to start. I need an up-swing.

DISCLAIMER:  I'm not looking for a pity party, I just needed to get this out. Only a few people in my life know about my PTSD and only one family member even knows most of what I wrote..

Movin' on up, and lookin' back.

So, I took the unemployment train to job-town and got off.  As I'm still waiting for all of the dust to settle, paperwork and red-tape to be completed and rubber-stamped, I will only say this:  it's in sales, and I'm so happy to have a job again!

Now let me complain for a paragraph.  My last job had jeans and sneakers attire, and I was there for more than 3 years, but less than 10.  Yes, I'm trying desperately to pretend that I have a shred of mystery to myself.  I lived in comfort, which I think could have helped me get to the weight where I was at my highest (300.0!). Today I wore shoes that not only gave me two new blisters, but the one that I already opened up. My feet, well, you get the picture. Why do women put ourselves through this!?

Today I would like to address irrational fears.  I have so many of them that I can only laugh at myself.  These are my favorites that I can remember off the top of my head from childhood:

1. If I go on that sailboat, I will sink it, or will cause it to tip over when I change sides.
2. If I ride that horse, I will break its back.
3. If I ride that bike, I will pop its tires.
4. If I walk over a grate on a city sidewalk, I will fall through. This might explain my fear of falling.
5. I will sit in a chair and it will break because of my weight. (that may have actually happened....)
6. I will cross 200 pounds and die, or should die.  (that was at 183 pounds at about age 15)

Now, most of these fears came to be before I was 150-175 pounds, some of them as early as 5-6 years old (the sailboat thing, definitely by 5). Ridiculous to think that 250 pound men do the first 4 things easily without a problem and I was simply terrified. I don't understand irrational fears, nor will I try to hide mine.  I'm sure I'll remember more.

Last night I went through my closet to do inventory on what fit and what didn't.  I have some clothes that are brand new and never fit, but were in purchased in my "goal" category, but fit now or will very soon.  Some clothes are (finally!!) too big. Even better, I have some clothes from 3-5 years ago which are probably about 15-20 pounds away, meaning mid-summer.  I have a pair of Old Navy size 20 jeans (meaning size 16-18 at a Women's store) which are so close to fitting and I haven't been able to wear them in easily 4 years.

I can't even bring across in words how lamely excited I am about this.  From late 2004-2010, I gained around 100 pounds. I'm down to 262.6 (woo!), slowly shedding. I wish I could drop it in 5-6 months like in the Biggest Loser, but I know in "the real world" this takes time, probably 15-18 months total for me (from January 1, 2011).  Plus, as I've previously stated, Kate Middleton at St. Andrews age / pre-wedding scary-skinny is my total body look alike goal.

I could rant forever, but I will stop here. Comments are appreciated and welcome! :)