Another Year Passes

The end of 2014 is upon us. Another year has just flown by. I can still remember sitting at my dest in February wondering how I was going to make it through my spring semester classes. And here I am, challenging myself by becoming a full time student and excelling.

I continue to be appreciative of my job. I know I have it good there. The work is not stressful. My office is close to school. And there is downtime a couple of times a year where I can get school work done during working hours.

It was my goal last year to talk more this year. I’ve kind of done that. Occasionally. But my silence has been loud and pushed some away.

I’m learning new things about myself. That’s a life long process.

So, here’s to 2015. I hope to:
~ Continue to enjoy the classes I’m taking
~ Work to my full potential in both work and school
~ Talk more/write more/communicate my true feelings more
~ Lose weight the way I want to

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Looking Back

This past year has led me on a journey I never thought I would have ever been on. There were immense highs and hellish lows.  I regret nothing.  Everything was a learning experience.

I miss my husband terribly.  I still love him with all my heart.  I whole heartedly wish that things would have turned out differently.  I’m still having a difficult time coming to terms with the reality of our relationship.  I have a hard time saying it out loud.

Another year has passed and I’m still just as entrenched in my eating disorder now  as I was 5 years ago.  Maybe some of the behaviors have lessened or changed, but the thoughts are just as intense.

I went back to school and that was the best thing I ever could have done.  I love every minute of it.  I have no doubt that school saved my life this semester.  And quite possibly the next one.

I’m looking forward to the new year.  I want to be able to let go of my past and move on and grow.

Not Doing Enough

I slept most of the day away, the weekend in fact.  And I’m still tired.

I really should have been reading.  I need to finish this book for my literature class.  And write a paper for Thursday.

I’m trying really hard not to feel guilty about sleeping.  My body obviously needed it, otherwise I wouldn’t have slept at all or for that long.  It’s just really hard not to feel guilty when I know I’m capable of doing so much more.

Yes, I work and go to school.  But it’s only two classes.  I should be able to handle this.  There are some people who work and take three or four classes.  Now, that’s stressful. I don’t even have a high stress job.

I should have been cleaning my apartment because my mom is coming to visit next weekend.  I’m sure she’ll find something to complain about the state of my apartment.  It’s just hard when I feel like I’m doing the best I can, but I know I can do better.  And this will just be reinforced by my mother.

I want to do more.  I need to do more.  Then I won’t be stuck in my head so much.

I need that escape.

Just Getting Through

I am so bored right now that I started taking pictures at my desk. I feel too guilty reading the book for my literature class, so I just have it sitting there taunting me.

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I’m so bored right now. But I’m going to take it and run with. It’s better than being anxious and on edge.

I ended up going and staying for my sociology class. I’m glad I did. I got to talk to classmates and really tried to concentrate. I did find myself zoning out a few times, but I’m okay with that. It’s not material I don’t already know and regardless, I think I was engaged about 75% of the time. I’m pretty proud of myself for that. Plus, my test god pushed back a week. That really helps because I was worried I was going to have to pull double duty with studying for the test and writing my lit paper for next week. Now I just have to concentrate on my paper. 🙂

I got home last night and was really agitated and frustrated and angry. I didn’t want to do anything or even really watch anything. I was unpacking a box my parents had sent and just started throwing stuff out of the box. I was just so angry. And I broke down. I didn’t want to cry. I had been holding it together fairly well. I had managed to stop any tears from falling earlier, but I just couldn’t stop last night. I eventually managed to pull myself together. I don’t like losing control when I haven’t scheduled it.

I have a book to finish by tomorrow (which isn’t happening, but I’m going to try), a paper that’s due next Thursday, and a test the Tuesday after that. Then I’m looking at Thanksgiving and then finals. I can’t break down until after finals. I just have to keep going until then. Just putting one foot in front of the other and getting through each day.

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And this is the view from my desk. It’s always fun looking out at the cement wall of the building next door.

Panic Attack Junction

Yesterday and today have been icky panic attack wise. I got one on the way to work. I almost went back home when I got off to change trains. And on the way home, I got another one because the subway car was too crowded and got off to wait for an emptier train. As I was waiting I started to cry.

I was already tired and I’m sure that restricting at lunch didn’t really help, but I haven’t had two panic attacks in a day in five years.

I didn’t have one this morning. Well, not a full blown one. But I did have increased anxiety. I didn’t know if I’d be able to make it to the subway station so I called a car service. (Ugh. I know that sounds ridiculously selfish and spoiled. But it was either that or stay home from work. And that’s never the better option in these situations.)

I know I restricted more than normal yesterday, so I’m trying to eat better today. Breakfast went okay. It was easy to handle. Just slow and steady. And then came lunch. It started out rough and just got out of control. I debated for a while about getting lunch, but I finally ordered something comforting. I knew it would be stressful, but not like this.

I had gotten over the majority my mealtime guilt quite some time ago. This doesn’t mean I still didn’t feel any guilt, but it usually happened after meals. Today’s was during. I almost put the food down and started crying. Then it just got really difficult to swallow. And then the panic set in. And BOOM! Panic attack.

So incredibly not fun. Now I’m just trying to keep it together so I can go to class this evening. I don’t want to skip class, but I’m not 100% certain that I can make it through the whole lecture. But I really want to go to class. But I also just want to sleep.

Holding On

Oh my goodness.  It’s a little before 1:00pm here and I still haven’t finished my essay that’s due today at 6:00pm.  This is the same essay that was due last week.  I hadn’t finished it and told my instructor what had happened.  She gave me an extension until this week to get it done.  I’m really appreciative because she could have just said, “too bad,” and lowered my grade.  But I’m still struggling with getting it finished.  I have 2.5 pages out of 5 done.  And it’s really bad writing.  I’m so not happy with it.  And I hate to say it, but at this point, I just don’t care.  I just want the damn thing done.

I just want to be able to go home and take a nap.  Right now.  Please.

Or at least just lie in bed with my puppy.

I just need the weekend to come.

I felt like I have a firm grasp on the box labeled “emotions.”  But now I feel like I’m starting to lose it.  I’ll be fine one minute, then about ready to burst into tears the next.  I’d really rather not come into work each day.  Actually, I’d really rather not wake up so early each morning.

Figuring it Out

I had known for some time that my marriage was over.  I just really didn’t want to admit it.  I was holding onto hope…  Hope that it would get better.  Hope that if we both worked on it, we’d be stronger.  Hope that I really was overreacting and being too emotional.

I love school.  Even the homework (although I may deny it during finals).  And talking to different professors and reading for pleasure again helped me to figure out the exact field and focus I want to eventually work in.  I knew it was right because as I was thinking about job possibilities, I was open to location.  If work took me away from my beloved New York City, I’d be okay with that.  That’s how I knew.

The second red flag came about as I was speaking with my literature instructor.  She was asking what I wanted to do with my degree.  After I told her, she asked, “What will your husband do?”  I couldn’t answer.  Oops.  Until that moment, I hadn’t considered him at all in my plan.  But why should I?  He never factored me into his plans.

He had planned out our future; my future.  He got upset when I voiced my concerns, frustrations, and possible flaws and would try to quiet me with a, “It will be okay.”  That caused me to get upset and angry and we would both explode.  When I tried explaining my issues, he would get angry and say I was overreacting and being silly.

How exactly can I overreact or be silly when I’m just expressing how I feel?