Out of Controlishness

My food's been really wild-ass. I am obsessing way too much. And acting on it. I look at myself in the mirror or in pictures and am mortified to be built like this these days. I have a roll around my mid-section. I'm up another size. I feel so grotesque.

I'm incredibly out of control with my emotions, too. Confused, confused, confused. I hate this. Really, I couldn't be more uncomfortable. I'm trying to acknowledge it and call it by name, but it's been so long since I've done that, that I'm out of practice. I know I'm failing at it because I'm still drowning myself in food.

Sometimes I truly wish I was an alcoholic or a gambler or something. At least you can stay away from those vices, those addictions.

I have stuffed down my feelings for a long time. My therapist tells me I'm angry. I don't consider myself an angry person. Then a friend of mine told me I have passive anger. I'm thinking there's some truth to that. So, I'm trying to find my angryself. I'm very afraid of that notion because certainly she can't be rational.

My husband says that women can't cry and be rational at the same time. I think I've proven to him that his belief is wrong. I wonder if angry people can be rational. I suspect the answer is 'no'. I don't want to be irrational. I certainly don't want to eat over it.

I need a safe place. A place where I can go and have my fit and get it out. Therapy helps a some. When I go there, often I leave feeling like I need to puke.

I have written letters to RR. She's seen the most honest and brutal parts, but even still, I am holding something back. I don't know *how* to be angry like that. I want to journal by doing some physical handwriting but I don't want anyone to read it, and I don't trust my environment. I want to write it out even if it's nonsense. I know journaling can be cathartic. I've actually sent journals to friends and asked them not to open the box -- to keep them for safe keeping. Then I retrieve them and destroy them. Journaling is such a crazy thing. Craziness can come out while journaling. I sometimes wonder if I were to die unexpectedly if my journals might make me famous. (But then I have a reality check. She slaps me in the face and reminds me how uninteresting I am, especially in today's world where it's so hard to carve out some uniqueness.)

It's times like this that I really ponder going back to twelve step meetings. I wish the meetings were at times more convenient to me (10 p.m.-ish). As it is, I miss so much of my kid's lives, that I can't bear the thought of going to another commitment and missing still more time from their lives. I do miss the meetings, though. My food was so good after a while. I practiced the tools of calling RR and letting her talk me through a binge. I used the tool of reading literature -- the same books that I recently pulled out of a drawer and stacked on my bedside table. I was working out then. I need to get back. But I have to have accountability. It's the way I'm wired. I'm not self-disciplined enough to do it alone.

I hate food. Loathe it. The more I try to resist it, the more I want to have it in my mouth. There's so much going on in my house and so much crappy food comes and goes through this house that I am feeling defeated. I hate food. Food clearly hates me, too. We are members of the Mutual Admiration Society. Sadly, there are far too many meetings....

It should be easy, right? It should be easy to grab an apple for breakfast (and eat it -- not just put it on my desk for show then throw it out a week later after it has rotted). It should suffice to eat only a salad for lunch. (That's what skinny girls do.) Seems easy. And what about dinner? There are actually people out there who skip dinner. Or, even better, FORGET to eat it! (wft?!) I wish I could go a day in my life and 'forget' to eat....

Writing tonight has helped me not go out to my kitchen and grab a funsize bag of m n m's. Thanks for reading....I need to go to sleep before I *do* find my way out there and eat.

Grrrrr... (<~~~ that's not my stomach growling, btw)