Today is a bad day.

Today, I am having a bad day.

Fuck, I'm having a crappy week.

I'm going through this "woe is me" phase.  Feel sorry for me, because I feel sorry for me!  Feel sorry for me, because my life sucks.  Feel sorry for me, just feel sorry for me!

I feel so sorry for myself every single day.  I wake up feeling sorry for myself.  I come to work, and I feel sorry for myself.  I go to bed feeling sorry for myself.  I don't want to anymore.  I just don't!

Today, I got pulled into a meeting with the boss duo.  Regarding my attendance at work, among other things.  Boss Lady started with positive things, telling me how good I am doing, how our office has never been this organized or run this well.  How she sees real potential in me.  However, my reputation is starting to ruin that potential.

Apparently, I have a reputation.  And not a good one.  I miss work too much.  I visit too much.  So, I've been sick a total of 7.3 days since July.  I hate making excuses for myself almost as much as I hate feeling sorry for myself, but I suffer from depression and anxiety.  Some mornings, I can't even get out of bed.  For me to only have missed 7.3 days since July, I think that's pretty damn good.  AND three of those days were an actually physical ailment, not just mental.  SO, 4.3 days were missed due to depression and anxiety - NOT BAD AT ALL.  At least in my opinion.

I ended up having a panic attack during this meeting.  It was not good.  I ended up saying things I shouldn't say.  I mean, whatever, they're my feelings, and I deserve to feel my feelings.  But I guess I need to check myself before I wreck myself, right?

Anyway, so I'm feeling good now.  On the Ativan, keeping me together.  Thank god for drugs.

The Truth pt. 2 (AND THANKS!)

Whoa.  I didn't realize the amount of support I would receive from all of you.  The last post I wrote was definitely not easy, but it was easier than I thought it was going to be.  It certainly didn't "flow" like a story should.  But...  it's good to get it all out.  One day, perhaps, I'll take everything I've written and form it into the best chronological story I possibly can.  Maybe.  If I ever run out of things to do!

I figured that, since I had such an outpouring of love from my last post, I'd continue writing a few more of my thoughts and life changing moments down.  It'll be easier, because I'm on a computer this go around.  Although I only have 8 minutes left, so this may be a short one.

Abuse victims often turn into abusers themselves.  It's what they're taught, it's what they learn.  He taught me that "love" was equal to "pain" and "violence".  So, I started to do it back.  NEVER, I repeat, NEVER have I ever shown that type of "love" to my son.  Nor will I ever.

I started having weird blackouts, where I wouldn't remember things.  I don't think it happened often, but it happened enough for me to remember talking about them.  They were weird.  I don't remember what happened during them, either.  Obviously, they were blackouts.  I think it was part of my "fight or flight" life that I had now established.  And I fucking fought.  Was it right?  I don't know, to be honest.  Am I sorry?  Nope.  I'm not sorry for hitting him back.  I'm not sorry for cornering him.  I'm not sorry for locking him in our bedroom.  Not one bit.  Because if I hadn't hit him back, or cornered him, or locked him in a room, I could be dead.  And I really, truly believe that.  Or I could have ended up in the hospital, which I'm surprised never happened.

So I'm not sorry whatsoever for defending myself.  And never, ever will I apologize for that.

I will apologize about the pain I may have caused him.  But never will I apologize for standing up for myself.

I remember after I found out about his mistress, the second family he tried to start.  I flipped the fuck out.  It was a terrible fight.  I threw his clothes off the balcony.  I threw his phone off the balcony.  There was so much yelling, so much screaming, and SO MUCH denial.

The Cycle

And so it has begun again...

First of all, let me start by apologizing in advance to all those whom I love and who love me. The cycle... it's begun again.

My anxiety is back in full swing. And I really don't know what to do about it. It's like... the only thing that makes me feel "normal" is when I am with people. But then my anxiety forces me to stay inside. I don't want to leave. I don't want anyone to come over. I just want no one and nothing. And everything and everyone at the same time.

I'm pushing people away because I fear that they are all sick of hearing about it, and that they are going to leave me anyway. So, before they get a chance to leave me, I'll leave them. Because that's completely normal, right?

I haven't spoken to my boyfriend in over 24 hours. That's weird for me. I can't even go an hour without him! But I'm going through this... this "he's gonna leave me" phase. So, I'm pushing him away.

And it hurts! It hurts me! So why do I do it? Why can't I stop it?

It's the fucking cycle... I just want to be normal.

Willpower, Where Art Thou?

So, it appears as though I may have stupidly deleted my "No, I'm Not Pregnant, I'm Just Fat" blog.  I decided today that I was going to start blogging about my weight loss again, because that seemed to help last time.  So, for now, my blog will change from personal stories to weight loss stories/motivation.

Which, I suppose, is still quite personal to some!  But not to me!

As of this morning, I weigh 213.6 lbs.  Which means that, since my lowest weight of 191 lbs, I've gained 22 lbs.  NOT COOL.

None of my clothes fit.

I get winded walking up the stairs.

Everything aches ALL THE TIME.

I'm getting more and more depressed.  Which leads me to eat more, which causes me to be more depressed...  The cycle goes on.

I'm breaking out in pimples.  AT AGE 31!

My boyfriend and I went to Cypress Hills a couple weeks ago.  I wanted to go hiking.  But I couldn't, because I was sweating and aching and huffing and puffing not even five minutes in.

Worst of all, I am setting a terrible example for my son.

Andrew and I have started taking a class together called MEND (Mind, Exercise, Nutrition, Do It!).  We've been to one class so far, and it was great.  It's a very supportive environment for both of us.  Andrew feels very welcome and comfortable there, as do I.

The other shitty thing is, now that I'm a single mom (half the time), I can't afford nearly as much as I could when I was married.  Trying to come up with delicious, healthy, AND cheap meals is very difficult.  Especially since we both love food so much!  Neither of us like to eat the same thing two days in a row.  We like a variety!

Do you have any delicious, healthy, and cheap meal ideas?

So, to sum things up...  I'm trying to get back on my way to a healthier me.  Time to restart.

NOW.

The Truth

This post contains some really private, graphic stories about my relationship with him. Feel free to read.... or not...

It's time to tell my story.

He and I started seeing each other in 2004. Shortly after getting together, I got pregnant. It was a stressful time, and it wasn't good on our relationship. We started arguing. Things weren't great.

When I was a few months pregnant, things got worse. The first time he hit me, it was with a frying pan. He hit me in the stomach with a frying pan. Right in my pregnant belly. He hit our unborn child. He could have KILLED our child.

And still I stayed. Why? Because he apologized. He told me how sorry he was. He told me he'd never do it again, that he just lost his temper. He was so, so sorry.

Did it happen again? Of course it did. He kept happening. Because of the immense amounts of abuse, because of what he did to me and how he treated me, I don't remember the first years of my son's life. I don't remember his first word, his first steps. I don't remember his first haircut, the first time he laughed. I remember nothing.

Well, that's not true. I remember things, but mostly bad things. I remember the day he punched me in the face while we were driving down Avenue C, and I remember him refusing to take me to the hospital even though my nose was gushing blood because someone saw him do it and he was going to get HIS ass kicked.

I remember getting pelted with boiled eggs because I was peeling them wrong.

I remember getting a whole cantaloupe thrown at my head. A WHOLE cantaloupe!

I remember the time a butcher knife was thrown at me because I was trying to get out of the house because he was angry at me for something.

I remember getting screamed at daily because the house wasn't "clean enough".

I also remember pushing his buttons.... I know I totally did. Not that that excuses his behaviour at all.

I remember the day I found out he was cheating on me. He had just come back from Halifax, and brought me a gift. I was unpacking his bag while he was showering, and I found another gift in the bottom of his bag. I asked him about it, and he said it was also for me! Which I didn't believe... So I looked at his cell phone. "I love you" "I can't wait to be with you" and on and on and on it went...

I memorized the number and texted her. Calling her a home wrecker and all kinds of other names. Once I calmed down, I found out that she had no idea he was with me... he was taking our child to go on play dates with her and her children.

The stories are never ending. I can keep going.

Like the time I found out that he actually picked up a hooker with our son in the car! Brought her back to our house, and in my son's words "went in your room and closed the door".

That's all for today. I've got so much more.... but that's all I'm going to talk about today.

A Happy Post!

347 days. It's been 347 days since my life changed forever.

The last 347 days have been full of victories, triumphs, downfalls, and scares.  It's been 347 days of learning and living and loving. But that also means I've spent 170+ of those days without my strength and unconditional love. It's hard not having him around all the time... but I'm getting used to it.

The last 347 days I've leared so much about myself. I'm loud and obnoxious and overly confident. I'm loving and giving and get easily attached to people and things. I love everything and everyone. I'm becoming better at expressing my feelings, even though I do it in the wrong way sometimes. Okay, not sometimes... more often than not. 

I've also learned that I never ask for help. And I probably never will. But I will always be the first to offer my help! If I ever do ask for help, it's because I REALLY need it. 

I've realized that I've got it pretty damn good. I've got a beautiful brand new car, a roof over my head, clothes on my back, and food in my cupboard. My power is on, and I'm currently watching Netflix, waiting for my turn on my 40" flat screen so I can watch Big Brother. I'm posting this on my smartphone via WiFi. 

I've got it great. Life is good.

Today, I went to Walmart, and there was an older gentleman outside. He stopped me and we spoke for a couple minutes. He's had it rough the last while. He's been ill, so can't work. He's on disability, which we ALL know is next to no money. I asked him what he needed... he said he needs money. I apologized, said I don't have any cash, but I'd gladly pick him something up in the store. He said, "Well, Geez, I'd sure like some Cheez Whiz!" I gladly went into the store, bought him the big jar of Cheez Whiz and a loaf of bread.

Because I'd like to think that someone would do that for me.... or maybe he'll pay it forward when he can. I've got to have faith in humanity, faith that there are good people in the world. 

I've discovered that I'm unconditionally, impossibly, unapologetically, happily head over heels in love with my best friend. I have been since the moment I met him, and I always will be. He's always been there for me. I can't even put into words what he means to me... that's how much he means to me.

I've come to the conclusion that I am an amazing mother. Not only to my human child, but to my fur children as well. My son is becoming a wonderful human being. He's so well-adjusted. He's so smart, kind, well-mannered, gentle, loving, and crazy! I've never seen him happier than he's been the last 347 days.

I've made some awesome friends and strengthened some existing friendships. I've been promoted at work. I bought a new car. I did Drop Zone again, raising almost $4000. I reconnected with my sisters. And I've done so much discovering of myself. It's been difficult at times, but I've done it. 

To everyone that's been a part of this journey, this 347 day journey... I thank you. My son, Andrew. My love, Benny. My daddy! My momma. My sisters, who have always been there for me, even when I wouldn't let them be. My coworkers, who have become like family to me. Beth, Nigel, Cam... they've been with me every step of the journey. All of you, you are my strength... You've given me words of encouragement (and food) whenever I've felt down. I love you all. More than you'll ever know.

She knew that she would be okay....

I seem to only come here when I'm feeling really down.  And today is definitely one of those days.

I'm really lonely.  I miss my son.  I miss my boyfriend.  I miss my best friend.  I miss my job.  I miss everything today.

I'm so...  alone right now.  And I fucking hate it.  I don't like being alone.  Everyone says that I need to get used to it...  I know.  I know I should learn to like being with myself.  But I don't see that ever happening.

I don't even know how to describe how I'm feeling right now.  I want to say depressed?  But it's not depression.  I've been there...  This is not depression.

I just wish I knew what it was.