Stumbling towards perfection. Inspired by her writing. I have accepted that I will always have these thoughts. I am *living* with it. This blog helps.
Thursday, November 2, 2017
Her blog is gone :'(
Thursday, October 26, 2017
My 34 days (trigger warning: weight, calorie counting, etc)
I only lost 1 lb during the first round, and even that was hard won. But swing shift is always hard on me. I am aiming for 16 lbs for the second round, just like Ana did. But since I'm starting from the extremely obese 214 lbs, I'm sure I'll have an easier time than skinny Ana Regzig did. Today is day 2, and for some odd reason I woke up at 8am. Ugh. I'm still in bed. My breakfast was a whole bag of super yummy jack links breakfast sausage, at 560 cals, 31.5g protein, 3.5g carbs for the bag. High calories, but the protein is worth it. Smells like Mom is up, and whatever she cooked doesn't even smell good. It smells smokey and my eyes are burning. I haven't decided on my daily calorie limits, just that I need 75g protein daily. I intend to do calorie cycling, since I need flexibility. Mom will randomly bring home leftovers from various church functions.
I've got a new battery in my lifetrak watch, which counts cals for me, and can also take my heart rate and be a pedometer. I've got plenty of protein powder, two 33 Oz bottles to serve as hand weights, and the old chin up bar I got years ago is up on the door frame. Let's do this.
Monday, September 18, 2017
Warning: relapse imminent
I got my ass back on those protein shakes by week 3, got some yummy Gummi style vitamins, and some of those vitamin C chewables, so damage from sudden random calorie cutting was minimal as possible. It's all I can do. I feel so stuck and frustrated and this has been my coping mechanism since I was so very young. I do not have a normal brain.
And back when I was living like that, I was much more productive, more creative, and even happier. My brain worked better. I thought things through, made decisions, and moved forward. And now I've gone backwards. I stopped writing, I stopped drawing, I stopped playing music, I stopped growing in all the important ways. All that grew was my waistline.
And for what? This job pays peanuts. I went through old bank statements and I'm making the same amount I made in retail. To be fair, even with the frustration, this is still a better job than retail ever was. I'm just so tired of having so little time to even do my own laundry, or wash my own dishes. I'm on swing shift right now. Some nights I get off at 11 pm, some days I start at 9 am, and it's so tiring. I spend most of my time catching up on sleep, or cleaning the homes of people who either don't care if they get pee all over their floors, or are incapable of peeing on their own anyway. And it's not like these people are mean, it's just that biohazard is everywhere and damn it this is why institutions exist, to control biohazard contaminants. If you can't even sleep unsupervised, then you belong in a hospital setting, or at least a nursing home. How am I legally allowed to do this?
And I'm technically not full time. I'm averaging 33 hours, some weeks are higher than others, but that swing shift makes it feel so much harder. I'm going to try to do just 1 hour a day on something personal. Perhaps 1 day I'll do laundry, another day I'll organize just 1 drawer. If I could dump the Saturday shift, that would really help. Saturday shift is the most painful, the most punishing. I can't move at all on Sunday, my only day off. So nothing gets done and Monday it's off to the swinging races again. But my paychecks show I make barely over $1050 each month, so could I afford dropping about $250 from that total?
But I think mostly I really am angry at myself. This job forces me to realize just how much free time I wasted back before I had this job. I allowed daddie dearest to suck up my time, and without paying me too. The one good thing about this job is I now have a spoiled-rich-family-approved excuse to not wait on his lazy ass.
Thursday, September 7, 2017
F#%#__#!!!!
That lardass should be quarantined until we know he's not contagious. Him "staying home" is not enough, because all of us who handle his pee and shit and hold the tissues while he blows his nose are still exposed. We only get gloves, no hazmat suits, not even masks. This guy can't even pull his own dick out to take a piss by himself. And saying "it's not his fault" does not make him less of a potential health hazard. If anything, it makes him more of a hazard. I am sent around to several different patients, as is everyone else in the field. It's a very incestuous little world, long term disabled care, and lack of proper quarantine procedures, because quarantine might hurt someone's feelings, means illnesses constantly spread and also recirculate, reinfecting over and over. When the hell did it become ok to sacrifice someone's physical health for the sake of someone else's feelings?
I have got to find a less risky job.
Wednesday, July 26, 2017
Le sigh
Not much going on, I did just today get asked if I'd pick up some more hours at that home health care job, and it's a new client this time, hoping this one doesn't weigh 300 lbs because wow is it hard to move such a heavy person around, even with a hoyer. And ofc daddie dearest still an ass, but more work hours would be a great reason to see him less. Not like he pays me anyway. If I don't get the new client, I'm going to look into trying out for some online jobs I've run into, with my first picks being the flexible hours ones ofc. I just need money. It sucks, but it's true. Mom is happy to have me here, we both agree we don't want to live alone and I'm still single (lack of gaydar sucks) but she can't keep shouldering all the financial needs. She's getting up there in years.
And really things will only improve if I were in charge of the money, because she is far too easily taken advantage of. Poor lady is a doormat and everyone knows it. Besides how she was bullied into taking the jailbird in, she's constantly hit up for money by everyone, even distant relations. They would not get anywhere with me.