here. I thought I was going to be closer to my eye Dr. from work, than I would
be from home. Thankfully my boss told me how long it was to get there. I thought it would be less than an hour, turns out it was closer to 2 hours. I spent a good part of my day in the car yesterday. I was super frustrated with my eye appointment, too. I drove all that way to have the Dr. look at me for 10 mins. and tell me that he wanted the opinion of his partner before agreeing to the surgery. He told me that he’s quite sure he can do it, but he wants a second opinion on the rosacea and what impact it would have on me in 10 years or so.
So, I now get to drive out there again next Sat (at least I won’t have to miss work), to find out if we can move forward or not. In the meantime, it’s more of wearing my stupid glasses. I honestly thought this was going to be easy. This Dr. has a way of really making me feel less than…. I got that feeling the first time in there, as well. I’m sure that it’s just b/c he’s forced to Concentrate on the negative, but it’s also little comments about how I don’t close my eyes all the way when I blink (which I didn’t know), etc. Stupid, I know. I’ve never been able to accept forms of what I might consider criticism. It’s most certainly a large character flaw of mine.
While driving back, Ryne called (without Brian knowing), saying we didn’t have anything at home for dinner. Man, I was so frustrated. Although, there might not be a lot of dinner items in the house, there are some. I wish Brian wouldn’t blow it off and tell the kids to wait for me to figure it out. I was already spent from the day, so I stopped at a place on the way back and got them a pizza. Which I hate myself for, because the kids need to eat healthier than that. I found myself a little overwhelmed, and I got my own dinner (Suzy Q and a 20 oz. Coke)….
I came home to a filthy house, and like all too many times, I found myself retreating to my bedroom. I just needed an escape. My order from Amazon had finally arrived yesterday, and I was so relieved that my Fifty Shades books had come in. So, I tried to block everything out and just get lost in the book. Of course, it only works to a certain degree. Brian’s out there “dealing” with everything, and I can hear Junior making Brian crazy. Caleb’s going through his usual Nascar fanaticism, which makes me nuts. Ryno was actually on pretty decent behavior last night, though. Was good to see. I took a minute to look at Facebook, which was a huge mistake, given where my head was at for the day. I’d sent my niece a package for her birthday (which actually arrived on her bday. Usually I’m late). My sister was nice enough to put on fb a picture of her w/ her gifts. The caption was “Auntie Men’s birthday gift.” I saw that, and I nearly died…. Then my sister, put under the comments, “stupid auto correct.” For anyone else, this would be a funny thing. It crushed me, though. I just think, oh great, now I’ll be a joke to her 350 friends (or whatever she has, or whatever we share). You get the joke, right? Jen looks like a man, so she’s
now Auntie Men. I can hear everyone thinking that. You’d think at the age of
40, I’d have come to terms with the way I look, my low voice, etc. I haven’t.
It kills me just as much now, as it always has. I’m very aware, all the time,
for example, when I’m in a meeting setting (like an IEP), that I’m different
than most women. I would give anything to have a higher voice and to not look
like this. I can’t change it, though, so I need to accept that I’m not feminine
looking, or even acting (although inside, I know I’m overly feminine in so many ways).
Anyway, because I’d gotten home so late, before I knew it, I was 150 pgs. into my book, and it was 10:00. I’d been up since 4. I knew I needed to get to sleep, but that’s when it hit me. I had a realization that I think I hate myself. It just blindsided me, and it overtook my whole being. I thought about the dirty house, and how I’d talked to Brian about not doing any picking up, even though he’d gotten home at 3:30 that day. Look, I lived with Brian for 3 years before I married him. I’ve always known he’s not the “picking up”type. Plus, back then I wasn’t near as anal about things as I’ve gotten (esp. in recent years). I thought it’s not his f@cking fault. You chose to hide in the bedroom, rather than clean up. So, I started cleaning, like insane cleaning. Cleaning the f@cking toilets, cleaning. No matter how much I cleaned, though, the demons just kept beating me up over everything. I thought about how, I haven’t wanted to be intimate with Brian for the past 9 days (being intimate doesn’t
necessarily mean sex. I’m certainly not going to talk about sex with my husband on here). Instead of getting my needs met with him (because I have missed cuddling, etc.), I chose to get my needs met through that dang book.
I CHOSE TO DO THAT. I thought about the kids and the struggles with wanting to make things better for them, but I CHOSE TO HIDE IN THE BEDROOM, instead of spending quality time with
them. And it’s not like last night was the first time. It’s happened too
often lately. Of course, then my head goes to my weight. Holy sh!t, there
was/is no mercy there. I thought about my friend Gerry, and how he was one of the most physically fit and health conscious guys I knew, and how now he’s a
quadriplegic fighting for every little movement. I have a perfectly functional
body, which I CHOSE to keep on the bed last night, while eating Suzy Q’s and
drinking soda. What a waste I must be to God. How can he possibly be proud of me? What a waste I am to myself. I can’t blame the weight on anyone but me. I CHOOSE to poison myself on a daily basis. So, after my cleaning frenzy,
I decided to work on the board, which I haven’t touched in months (the corkboard with the body I want to have, and other things out of life that I want. I’m supposed to look at it in the morning to remind me of my goals and look at it each night, being able to look at it and know I’d done everything within my power to reach those goals that day). You know why the corkboard has sat there for months? Because, despite buying several fitness magazines, etc., I couldn’t find the exact body I wanted. I have one person’s abs on there,
and a picture of Ally Vincent from now (winner of the Biggest Loser. In
reality, she looks phenomenal, but I look at that picture and think she
looks thick). Even if I do lose 40 lbs., I don’t think I’ll be happy with my
body. Lately I’d been thinking my goal really should just be to be able to wear
shorts in public. I know that won’t be enough… So, I find myself chasing a
weight # (on and off, mostly off), but it’s a prize I know I’ll never be happy
with. While I do like my looks better, the less weight I have on, I’ll never
like my looks. I’ll never be a “normal” girl. I don’t know where to go with
this. Like I said, many times in this entry, my life (all of our lives) are about choices. In almost every instant, it looks like I make the wrong choices. Which, is why, this morning, in the light of day, I still hate myself. I hate myself for the food choices of this morning, and the fact that I don’t care, despite all I have in my life. Dear God, I have a lot more work to do on myself than I thought.
This entry isn’t about needing to hear that, oh no Jen, you don’t look like a guy, or Jen you’re being too hard on yourself. This entry is about me getting my feelings out, so I don’t become a non-participant in my own life today (as I do in most). In fact, this blog would be so much easier for me, if I thought that only people that I don’t know read it. So, that’s what I’m CHOOSING to tell myself today. Those reading this, are just people who stumbled upon it on the internet somehow. Those people read this, because they relate to my f@cked-up-edness. Believing this, will allow me to post this.