Confessing a Bender

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I have been on a self sabotaging spree.  I have had a lot of stress come to a head in the last week and I am handling it very poorly. 

This past summer my husband and I decided it was time to start a family.  I went off my birth control with lots of reservations.  The first was I am so old.  Every one will have their opinion of how old is too old but I am 38.  I imagine what life will be like having a teenager in my fifties.  It doesn’t really sound that good.  The other major reservation is finances.  Since my husband and I both worked in the new home business when we met, we had certain expectations of what our future held for us financially.  Well everyone in that industry is finding themselves in reduced circumstances.  And I ask myself, can we afford to have a child?  No.  Everyone tells me that no one can afford it, yet it works out anyway.  I guess so, but I won’t believe it until I see it.  In the meantime it really stresses me out. 

I didn’t realize that my birth control was a mood stabilizer.  I feel like I am a hormonal bipolar wreck without it.  I really feel like a crazy person.  I was able to handle it pretty well until I began to have my period every two freaking weeks.  And then I Googled that shit and got my freak-out on and now I have a Dr’s appointment on Friday.  So who knows what I am in for with this but none of the options I found during my research were any good at all.  Oh and the every two weeks hormones exacerbate the crazy.  My poor husband.   

Finances.  We don’t live extravagantly, we don’t make enough.  At least we aren’t behind on the mortgage or any other bills.  But it is constantly a worry.

I am so old that some folks I went to High School with decided it was time for our 20 year reunion.  Why in the world does that bother me?  I’ll tell you why, because of the freaky way it makes you time travel back into your old high school self that was insecure and ok, insecure covers it.  I have not worried about what to wear in the way that I did Friday night to go to a casual bar meet up with my former peers since I saw them on a daily basis.  It is insane anxiety and completely unnecessary, but it happened.  So I knew there was no reason for me to go to the actual reunion dinner thing.  If I haven’t spoken to these people in 20 years, the forced small talk would KILL me.  I hung out with two of the people I really still like on Friday and I figured that few of the people I would really want to talk to would be there.  And since I am friends with them on Facebook, we could plan to get together if we really want to without the crazy stress of a freaking reunion.

In addition to wrestling with whether or not to attend the reunion were several events on Saturday my husband wanted us to attend that were overlapping.  We normally ride the couch on Saturdays and do housework so this was unusual.  I was also working on Saturday to cover someone’s vacation, and I hate working on Saturdays and my husband hates it too and he gets cranky about it.  And I get cranky about it.

I also had to work Sunday at an event for work.  I had a booth at a fundraiser.  It was fun, but sometimes crowds can stress me out.  So, as you can guess, after my weekly weigh in Saturday morning, I had a nutty weekend with my eating.  I was very very bad.  No tracking and no gym time.  I continued in this negative space through Monday night because I didn’t have any laundry done.  I usually do my laundry on Saturday so that I have clothes for the week.  I only have enough clothes for a week of work.  I told you we don’t live extravagantly and I am losing weight so I am down to the smallest clothes I own from my previous yoyo down.  So I sat on the couch and ate myself into oblivion while I did my laundry.  No bootcamp.  Yesterday-the same.

So when the shit hits the fan, so does my plan.  I ate myself sick last night.  I literally woke up at 2 am thinking I was going to puke my guts out and I think it is because of the massive quantity of chocolate chips I ate last night (in addition to the night before).  Before I changed my gluttonous ways I could eat.  I mean, loads of rich foods without consequences to my internal plumbing.  The richer, the better, the more of it I ate.  I obviously can’t handle that anymore.  And really, I shouldn’t attempt it in the first place.  It is just such a knee-jerk reaction for me.  But I haven’t been off plan in this way in so long that I am surprised to find that I can’t go that far off the map without it making me feel bad instead of good.  I am not talking about feeling bad as in guilty for doing something I know I shouldn’t, but literally bad sick.  I feel like crap and I felt like crap all weekend every time I ate junk and drank alcohol.

I made my salad this morning and I ate my usual breakfast and I am going back to boot camp tonight.  Maybe the damage can be undone.  Maybe it can’t, but for the first time there has been very little reward to outweigh the bender I am on.  The overeating and the bad choices in food didn’t come with that usual high.  It just sucked.

I can get off this crazy train right now.  I choose me.  I choose health.  Maybe by tomorrow this hangover feeling will be gone.