The rest is a little hard to admit...and talk about, but I talked to my cousin Mel today, and she said to put it all out there...and so I will. I went to a routine follow up Dr.'s appt. this morning. All was fine. Dr.'s don't scare me in the least. I was fine until I got in the waiting room, and had time to myself. Then, out of NOWHERE, I had a fucking panic attack about taking the job, living here, everything. I literally started shaking and crying. I tried to pull myself together before the Dr. came in, but of course, the non-observant Dr., didn't seem to care or notice what I was saying, or my obvious state of mind. That was fine. She sucks anyway, and the last thing I wanted to do was talk to her. From the Dr., I went out to take my physical and drug test for the new job (about an hour away). I cried the whole way (I probably should've smoked a joint, just to sabotage the whole thing). I pulled myself together to get in there and get it done, but both providers I saw, asked if I was okay. I just replied that I'd gotten rattled on the drive out. And again, once on the road, the tears flowed. I don't know if I've ever told you this, but I rarely lean on Brian. He can't handle seeing me sad. He's used to me being the strong one, in every situation. When I lean on him, it tends to make it worse. Anyway, I stopped by his work on my way home. I just needed a hug. I told him I was freaking out, and he told me not to take the job. I don't know that, that's the answer, but I love that he supports me. Of course, he doesn't know how bad of shape I was in. It was also totally contradictory to what a friend had told me earlier. So, I get home...cry some more, and then I pull my shit together to call Melinda. She's always so positive and has good advice for me. She was a great listener, and let me get it out. Later, I text another friend for support. She was awesome, as I knew she'd be. Anyway, the day has continued to be full of tears. And then a good friend recently just called me. She was worried b/c I hadn't posted on the blog, yet, and thought I might have had a bad weigh in. I don't tell her enough, but she's a great friend. Of course, I just fell apart again, and really wasn't able to talk on the phone.
The gist of the freak out: 1 hour commute each way, who is going to watch the boys?, we'll have to move again, and it's still in IL...which I hate...so for how long...do I need to move the boys to their 3rd school in 3 years, and then again next for 4 in four years. We aren't in the fucking military. We're just losers...Well, Brian's not. I am. I should be able to figure this shit out.
I've tried to deal with today, by eating bad food and now drinking. The bad food didn't help, but I've just cracked my 3rd beer, and apparently that's the magic drug of the day. You wouldn't think that someone that takes an antidepressant and 4 anxiety pills a day would need more than that. It's the first time since I've been on the meds (well 2nd, there was that little thing of turning 40), that I've required an additional mood leveler. But what the fuck. It's working for now. Hopefully, I'll go to bed soon, and will wake up tomorrow having a better day and not acting like such a pussy.
Here's the breakdown: 6 weeks on ETL, Total weight loss 12 lbs. 6 oz. Pretty fucking pathetic. Please don't let that stop you from trying. ANYONE will see better results than me. I truly believe in it.
8:15 Smoothie (water, spinach, flax seed banana, blueberries)
11:30 Wendy's Cod Fillet sandwich, med fries, med Coke Zero
2:30 4 fucking pieces of chocolate (We got them at out HOF banquet this weekend)
6:30 3 slices of pizza (green olives, tomatoes, cheese)
2 (312) beers + a Coors Light, and likely more....