And now for your SNL Weekend Update...

No, not really. But it was an interesting title.

So last night I went to my first Overeaters Anonymous meeting. I'm still not sure if it's the group for me. I don't compulsively over eat, but I do have a warped relationship with food, and maybe that can get it under control.

I mean, I've downloaded a dozen apps to my ipad and iphone to help me keep track of shit, but I don't use any of them. It's like the lists I mentioned in my last entry - if I ever used them, my life would be a whole lot better. But I don't.

I feel another bitch session coming on, so let's get the food stuff out of the way first. I've been lousy at watching what I eat. I took four days off the shake, and I could tell a bit of a difference because I wasn't getting those two servings of fruit in. I did cook fajitas the other night. Prepped, shopped and cooked. And mostly cleaned too. Was pretty darn proud of myself. Last night - Wendy's chicken strips. :(

SIGH. And I've been away from the gym for almost six weeks now. With my shortness of breath lately, the idea of getting on a treadmill is scary. I need to get back there. I'll admit it - I felt good when I went. Not overly fantastic because let's face it, I'm still sick. But proud of myself, and it's not often I feel pride anymore. It's not often I feel anything positive anymore.

And here comes the rant:


I know what I need. It's a whole new life. I need a new job, one that doesn't make my brain feel like it's atrophied. I need a new body - and the only way that can happen is if I work to improve the one I've got. I need to travel, to do exciting things. And I need a new relationship - or at least I need to fix this one so it seems like new. There's just so much that's happened, so much that's gone on that I doubt it's ever going to be possible.

He'll never forgive my mistakes. He'll never like my friends. He'll never really trust me. Right there, that makes a case for a new relationship right? But I love him. And he knew Dad, and loved him. And no one will ever understand when I break down and cry over a Jimmy Buffet song like he will.

I'm just TIRED of being miserable. I've been in a serious funk for over a month now - hence my absence from the gym. And of course he doesn't buy it because I've gone out with my friends and had a good time. Or so he thinks. How does he know if he's not there? How does he know I'm not crying on people's shoulders? Of course I barely cry in front of anyone these days. When I do cry, I'm usually having imaginary conversations with him in the car, or talking to dad - in the car. Because it's the one place I'm truly physically alone. If I'm home alone, I never know what time anyone's coming home. Mom usually calls, but he won't. Because he's hoping to catch me doing something I'm not supposed to.

In his mind though, no matter what I actually AM doing, it's something against my marriage vows. Like if I'm playing a game on my iPad, he accuses me of chatting. Every night I set my phone alarm and he accuses me of texting my "boyfriend". I wish I had a boyfriend sometimes. Someone who'll treat me good with romance and love and not hostility and suspicion.

I know he loves me. I know he wants me. But I don't honestly know how much more of this I can take before I just lose it and take off. Every time I get in my car, I spend at least five minutes mentally calculating how much money I've got, how much gas, and how far I can get before running out of both. A few people I've talked to, are amazed that I haven't snapped yet. And these aren't the people I normally bitch to. I have one friend that I've been honest with as far as my mistakes, and his, go. She knows how things are at home. I've told her how much we relied on him to keep things going, to keep things clean, but then did nothing to help him.

She knows how mom & I sit on the couch and watch the shows from the PVR. She knows how much it annoys him too. She knows all about the abortions when I was younger. She knows about my miscarriages. She knows about how I feel about my bestie and new niece. And she understands when I tell her that I need to make the sacrifice worth it.

I'm so bloody bored now. With everything. Even security doesn't provide the same thrill that it once did. Maybe because I stopped taking the club shifts so I could be home earlier. I've never taken an overnight shift because of him. And to be honest, I never really got pissy about it, well, not after I got this job. Because once I had both jobs, I didn't need the hours. But as much as I love my security job, I need something to punch it up.

I'm not sleeping well. Even with OD'ing on melatonin. Because once I wake up in the middle of the night, for whatever reason - him trying for sex, his snoring in my ear, or having to pee - the affects dissipate and I'm up. Then I'm lying there, staring at the clock, wondering if I should take another one or just pray to fall asleep quickly. Neither really works. And with his high-ness (and I mean that literally cuz he smokes weed) passing out pretty easily, he doesn't get it. And he says I snore, and I know I do. But I'm willing to do something about it, like try that dental device I saw advertised on tv. He's not. I can't go the rest of my life like that. AND he hogs the bed. He starts out fine, but then stretches out diagonal, and there's no room for me. But when I try to nudge him over, he calls me a bitch. And when I DO sleep, I clench my jaw, so I'm constantly waking up with major headaches that sometimes develop into migraines.

I don't do my night time routine anymore. When I was sleeping alone, I did. I didn't have to worry about anyone saying anything negative. I brushed my teeth, washed my face, put on my moisturizing cream, exfoliated my hands, covered my zits, took my pills and yes, even did the damn eye cream (I know it hit me in the tub in July, but I was using it before hand, it just didn't hit me that I HAD to). But now, if I go to bed after him, I know I'm setting myself up for some form of comment.

Yeah, I kind of miss the days after dad died when I had the bed and a room to myself. It's not that I need privacy, like he seems to think. But the room is always a disaster, no matter what I try to do to clean it. I'm sick and tired of weed on the floor all the time. I'm tired of tripping over his clothes because he decides to step out of them wherever he feels like it. I'm tired of pee on the toilet seat AND on the floor.

I'm tired of the look in his eyes that tells me I'm useless. I'm tired of being called selfish, inconsiderate and mean. I'm tired of the way he treats me, like I'm stupid. Because then I start believing I am.

I haven't really written anything in months. I've toyed with a few things here and there, but every time I get an idea, I'd like to get down on paper, I freeze. I have a lap desk next to my bed that I should be able to pull out whenever I have an idea (because my lap has disappeared under fat), no matter what time of the night because I am an adult, and I can do these things. If I can't sleep, I should be able to go into the other room to watch tv without being accused of doing anything wrong. If I want to sit up and surf the net, I should be able to do that without dealing with crap. I'm an adult. I've earned the right to pretty much do what I want, as long as I'm not causing someone else physical harm. But I can't, because too much of what I do plays into his insecurities and his perceptions, and that hurts him emotionally. So I don't.

And I don't think I'll ever be able to.

I'm so stifled - my actions, my thoughts, my personality - it's ridiculous. And I know I brought it on myself, but really? He's holding on to all of it with both fists. And now, reading all this, I know the solution seems to be to split up. And when my heart no longer breaks at the thought of him gone, when I know for certain I won't regret it the rest of my life, maybe then I'll do it.

Because really, who needs to be happy & fulfilled?