Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

Dear Diary,

::sigh:: I was doing so well. I've been very vigilant about my calorie intake, really being good with my food journal, getting some exceptional workouts in, and starting to see the progress I want to see.... and then yesterday happens. It always seems to happen this way too. As soon as I give myself a little credit for doing well, I fuck it up.

I was home by myself all night. Roommate has been gone almost constantly lately. It makes me really sad that she's only going to be living with me for a few more days and she's not here at all lately. So what do I do? Pour myself a couple drinks and load up on the cheese and crackers. It was all I had in the apartment and I ate way too much. I'm sure I went well over my calorie count and I feel like crap this morning. I look like crap too. I don't know if it's just my perception or what but I'm really furious at myself. I was doing so well. I was beginning to be happy with how I looked, and BAM, total fuck up. I'm such a screw up. I have to be extra careful today with my food and make sure to get as much out of my workout this evening as I can even though I'm beyond exhausted.

I had the weirdest dreams. I had been kidnapped by some hilljack group. I don't think they were quite human, but I don't think I was either. It was in a farm area off of a freeway and I was continually trying to escape and get another woman out of their as well (her resemblance to Amy Ackers was spot on). Weird weird weird.

I hate myself sometimes.

Loathe,
Haven. 

Nothing of note

Dear Diary,

My abs hurt. The trainer at my gym who teacher the 1/2 hour abs class is a sadistic little Natalie Portman look-a-like. I may be in love. Sorry Tech Boy.

Speaking of, he took me out to lunch today. I'm more self-conscious around him now. Maybe it's just how I'm feeling in general but I'm having a hard time looking at him. I'm extra body conscious right now. This heat isn't helping. I can't hide in winter clothes when it's 90 deg F out. ::sigh::

Driving into work this morning I was getting all teary eyed about Roommate. I sense a lot of crying coming up in the next week. I feel retarded. My brain was ruminating about her moving party too because Twiggy said she was going to be here. My mind is starting to race about the millions of ways that could go, the millions of things that might be said.

I'm trying to do everything all the time. Squeeze every last little bit of stuff in where I can and I just can't do it all AND do all the things I want to do. ::sigh:: It's great that everyone wants me to hang out. GF was even texting me last night wanting to take me out to dinner. I'm still not entirely sure she realizes I'm in a monogamous relationship. Roommate wants me to go out to dinner with her and a bunch of her friends after work tomorrow, but I want to go to the gym =/. Saturday morning I'm getting furniture with TechBoy then early dinner with Roommate and a beach BBQ with Tech Boy + the gym somewhere in there. Then Sunday... maybe I can breathe? Maybe?

Another gripe: why does everything have to always revolve around food and booze? Eating Disordered here! Hello. I want to be healthy and I want to take care of myself by not overeating, but everyone makes it so freaking difficult. If I don't eat, or worse, if people make stuff specifically for me because I'm vegetarian I feel obligated to eat it and then I have to pretend I'm happy about it and not freaking out about how much crap I'm putting into my body. This isn't fun for me.

Busy,
Haven 

Movin' Right Along

Dear Diary,

Roommate posted an event enlisting Moving Day help. It makes me so sad. Accepted right away and yet, tears. I had previously planned on doing a big cooking event with a bunch of other "friends", really mostly friendly acquaintances, a couple actual friends, a metric butt ton of strangers, and of course Friend and his wife. Roommate was invited but obviously, she'll be moving that day. I was torn at first. I LOVE to cook. What's more, I take a small pleasure in doing it better than Friend and a hell of a lot better than his wife. This event has a cooking competition aspect of it as well, and I won it last year. I'm supposed to come back as reigning champ and try to be the first to take it two years in a row.

But ya know what... why? Why should I spend a hundred/hundred-fifty bucks and hours cooking to impress a bunch of people that mean little, to less than nothing to me? Why should I put myself in a place that I know for a fact I'm not going to be comfortable in unless I'm extremely drunk and where I'm pretty sure (if the past is any predictor) that Club Boi is just going to try and worm his way into my skirt. Regardless of if Tech Boy is with me or not. Last year I brought Lady Friend with me and it didn't stop him.

So right now, I've decided to spend the day helping Roommate move. Maybe I'll still make the things I planned on making but for our little moving party instead.

Frankly, this is the more responsible decision anyways. Monroe is moving in the next day and I should really spend the day getting things ready for her and cleaning the apartment.

Grr, at the same time that little spiteful, vindictive inner bitch of mine wants to be there to make certain people uncomfortable. And show him just how much better my life is without him. I'm sure it sounds like I'm not over this whole thing yet. And to be quite honest, of course I still have some wounds regarding how he treated me. It's crazy how highly you can hold someone, how much you can believe in them, and then at the first, and literally only, presentation of struggle, the only time I stood up for how I should be treated, he completely cracked, turned his tail, and whimpered away unable to even discuss it. Oh yes, I'm still bitter. It's hard to care about someone SO MUCH (which yes, I realize this is in part a product of my own idealization, but it's also a result of his manipulation). But I also know that I am actually better off. I did make the right decision, and my life is actually better without him. And I don't need to prove that to him, or anyone else.

Roommate means so much more to me. I know we'll still see each other all the time, but it's important to me to spend the time with her.

Relieved,
Haven


Continued: Had a seriously solid workout today. I hate distorted mirrors. Some of them I look fine, others I look like a bloated circus clown. Awful things.

::sigh:: I'm not sure how to act with Roommate now. I want to spend a lot of time with her, but I feel like I'm imposing at the same time.

Tech Boy wants to do things Saturday night, but I really want to spend time with Roommate. I haven't seen enough of him lately though and I feel our connection slipping again. I just don't, give a shit about his friends. I have almost nothing in common with anyone he's friends with. They're nice enough, but I always feel like I'm putting on my Susie-Smiley face with the Bonus Extra-Normal features. It's so dull. I don't do "normal", whatever the fuck normal is. People like to say that "normal" doesn't exist. Yeah, yeah, everyone is different to a certain extent, but normal definitely does exist. When everything you do is status quo and nobody would bother to bat an eye at anything that happens in your life, you're normal. Everyone wants to be different, to be "special", well guess what, everyone isn't. We live in such a self-centered, watered down society where mediocrity is praised instead of encouraging innovation. Yes, normal exists. I'm surrounded by it. If you've never challenged a single belief, a single thing you were told? Normal. Average. Not my kind of people. 

Just another Tuesday with Packing

Dear Diary,

I’ve been sick for the past few days. I hate being sick. Yesterday I was beyond worthless. I came home early from work and took a 4 hour nap, then went to bed at my usual time and slept in 4 hours late. I'm an insomniac. I never sleep that much. Called off from work today too. At least today I brought work home. Actually did 4-5 hours of work I’ve needed to get done. Good for me.

Watching Roommate pack is so sad. 11 days until she’s gone. Yesterday I started to tell her how much I’d miss her and nearly started crying. I’m happy that Monroe will be my new roommie, but she won’t be Roommate. I’m afraid I’ll lose my connection to her. She’s been so good for me. So steady. Just her presence is calming. She’s my best friend, and it’s going to be different when I don’t see her every day. I know not all change is bad, but I can’t shake the small dread.

Monroe texted me today. She has her security. I was going to cover her until her current roommates found someone and could pay her back. I can afford it, but it’s definitely a relief that I won’t have to. I hadn’t told anyone. Monroe is a little pressed for cash too, so I offered to let her pay the same amount that she’s paying currently. It’ll only be an extra $100/month for me. It’s not a big deal at all. Evil-Ex took me for a whole lot more per month. I wasn’t expecting her to have her security for at least a month, so it’ll really make things easier on me. That’s good. She also asked about maybe getting a kitten for Doc. I was afraid of that. Our landlords won’t be happy about it. And frankly, my poor kitty has been terrorized by Roommates kitten for the past two years, I don’t want to make him have to go through all that all over again. When we signed our lease it was for only my cat. Roommate had to go to the landlords and ask permission for her cat and they weren’t thrilled. I told Monroe the landlords probably wouldn’t be happy about that first thing, and that we should really give my cat a chance to get used to her cat before anything else. She agreed. I feel guilty though. And at the same time, I just want to give my poor cat a break.

My concern for my cat is a little ridiculous. I know.

I'm happy Monroe will be moving in, but she can't replace Roommate and it's so hard to be happy because Monroe is really, really happy to be moving in with me, when I'm so sad that Roommate is leaving. I bought Roommate a going away present. Little organic stuffed cats; a tabby and a black cat. In real life my cat is the tabby and hers is the black one. I'm going to keep the little black cat doll and give her the tabby so we always have them both. Each other. Maybe it's silly but it's the only thing I could think to give her that would mean as much to us both. 

I'm going to try and put on a happy face for Monroe though. I'll pick up some sparkling wine to celebrate the Sunday she moves in. She needs a safe place to stay for a change. A place where she's wanted for who she is. We have so much in common concerning the sadder aspects of our lives. 

I’m sad. Change is necessary, often good, but it makes me sad.

You know what else makes me sad? Believing that people can just stop caring about you. Believing that all the love, time, and energy I’ve put into them, was all such a complete and utter waste. Every now and again I’m forced to be reminded of him. Social media is such a pain in the ass sometimes. Talk about first world problems. We have way too many people in common as friends. I know I should just block him, but I honestly hope his seeing things I post hurts him as much as it hurts me sometimes. I’m sure it doesn’t. He proved quite clearly that I was easy to let go of. I still hope it hurts though.

Too much. I give way, way too much to people sometimes. Inevitably it’s the wrong people. It’s the people I wish would be good for me, while ignoring all the facts that point to the contrary. I just want someone to prove me right for a change.

I suppose Roommate has though, and that is definitely something.

Things make me sad so easily.  I guess that’s my nature though. I always want people to mean what they say, but more often than not, people throw their words around frivolously. Small things, not even big things.

Tech Boy for the last two days has been saying he’d bring me soup b/c I’ve been so sick. And yet, nothing. Barely even a text saying he hopes I’m feeling better. Instead I bought myself sushi and have been eating popsicles all day. Popsicles are the only thing I really want when I’m sick anyways. Apparently I turn into a 4 year old when I’m sick.

I’m lonely. I pride myself on being so independent but every now and again is it so wrong to just want someone to take care of you for an hour or two?  I’m ashamed just thinking about it, but I’m lonely and I’m tired, and I wish someone would be there for me sometimes. Too much to ask I suppose. Too much.

Sad,

Haven

Dear Diary

Dear Diary,

Since Therapist decided to lengthen the time between sessions I think it’s important that I begin to keep a journal again. I haven’t had time for all the hand writing. I type so much faster. So this is where I’ll do it. Sometimes I’ll make no sense. Sometimes I’ll make too much. Sometimes my words will only be perceptions, wishes, whims, and fantasies. Sometimes what I write will be true, sometimes it won’t be. Who’s to say? All I can do is write what I think, what I say, what I go through, and what I know to be true for me. All the day to day mundane and minute to minute drollery. Sometimes my life is fascinating. Other times, not so much. For now…

Yours Always,

Haven