maggiemiller

I’ve been feeling like having one safe place where you can tell the entire truth with no sugar-coating is therapeutic. I have been trying to get my bipolar daughter to embrace her bipolar-ness because I think it’s an energy drain to pretend to be something  you are not–to constantly maintain a facade. I’ve been feeling great relief to have a place to talk about feeling fat, about not being able to stop eating in bed and stuffing my face when all I really need to do is have a good cry.

My sister, however, is thinking that it solves nothing to just “spew” your crap all over other people; that ultimately you’re the only one who can change yourself anyway, so just buckle down and do it. (She’s always been a “spewer,” but she’s deciding she’s been making a mistake by doing that.)

So now I’m pondering this. There’s merit to both sides.

I was going to some on here tonight to dump my sadness after sitting up with my cat all night who suddenly couldn’t walk and who was in extreme pain with the most pitiful meows–about how I stayed up all night making sure he had food and water and carried him out to pee a few times, and a heater by his side–and about taking him to the vet and holding him as they put him to sleep. He was 18 and in addition to his newly spontaneous arthritic fracture, had kidney failure, thyroid problems, deafness and some sort of constant distress that caused him to meow aggressively constantly. So I WANTED to talk about how hard it was to decide; how guilty I feel; how the house seems to empty now; how even though it annoyed me that he’d gotten so frightened in his old age that he sat on the top of my headboard and slept with one paw on my head for comfort, now I’m going to miss that paw and feel the empty space where he always was.  I had to call both of my grown children. One arrived at 5:30 am to sit up the rest of the night with us as we waited to go to the vet. The other is in grad school and too far away, but said his mental good byes by calling us while we were at the vet.

Well, look at that. I talked about it anyway! lol

I didn’t have anything to binge on in the house but one small handful of chocolate chips, so I ate those, but then took myself to a farmer’s restaurant and let her feed me farm-fresh local organic food and didn’t even stop anywhere for dessert or ice cream.

I AM having a diet coke with vodka right now, though, and feeling pretty glad to have it.

I worked in Emergency Rooms until very recently and sometimes when obese people would come in due to a crisis and I would lift their breasts, or belly to put monitor leads on, or get into their nether regions to get samples of one sort of another, I’d sometimes find long-forgotten bits of food. Cheetos love to hide in body fat.

So that’s one of my worst nightmares. To be THAT person who arrives with the Cheetos stuck under my boobs or in the fold of my belly fat.  Since I love to eat in bed, it could happen if I don’t stay right here!!!!!

I’m one of those people who never cry…well very rarely. But today I cried. A lot.

I knew my dad was going to be served papers related to my filing for guardianship and I wanted to tell him myself instead of have some random sheriff show up. I went and sat to talk to him and within two minutes he was yelling such horrid things to me and accusing me of such terrible things that I had to leave–well, he demanded that I leave and never come back.

Twice this weekend he drove intoxicated and once spent an hour on the ground outside in 30-something degree weather before someone found him. He left my mother, with alzheimers, to go out to drink and so she didn’t go to the dining room for two days. I have to get the car from him before he  kills someone.

Anyway, I drove all the way home and did NOT get ice cream. I did NOT get candy. I did NOT get cookies.

I cooked a meal of fresh veggies and pasta—crying and throwing pots and pans every which way—it wasn’t a peaceful process, believe me.

But the fact is, I didn’t binge.

And I think it’s this group. It’s the only thing that’s changed.

You all wrote such kind and honest and supportive things after my last post where I spewed all this horrific stuff out that I think I feel surrounded by your intentions  and lifted up by you.

I would not have thought it possible. But it happened.

It was a small thing, but it felt large.

Thank you all–every single one of you who answered me. You really did make a difference.

So today, on this national day of service, I want to thank the people who took the time to try and change MY life.

I am so frickin’ mad and sad all the time, but it’s usually pushed down under the surface. My father is a hateful demented doctor who never lets an opportunity to rip out my guts pass him by.

My only sister joined an end of the world cult and moved across the country to build her underground shelter and left me with my two demented parents.

My daughter is crazy bipolar and is usually very angry at me because I want her to keep a regular schedule; eat regular meals; take her medicines as prescribed and call once every few days to let me know she’s still alive and well. Instead she tells me I “used to be” the one person she could talk to but now she has no one. She takes such high doses of her meds (NOT as prescribed) enought that she could easily end up accidentally dead, and yet she expects me to remain silent.

My boyfriend (the first truly kind man I’ve ever been with) has turned out to be one more irresponsible person that needs someone to take care of him. He’s financially incompetent, though he works hard for me in my business. I’m feeling more like his mother and less like his lover.

My 18 year old cat, who was feral when I found him and never liked to be touched, now follows me around literally 24 hours a day meowing VERY loudly because she is deaf and I suspect as miserable as my father is. I swear, I think my father has reincarnated early in my CAT just so he can follow me around and meow at me in person when he’s not yelling at me over the phone.

I’m so tired of taking care of all these people who end up not even liking me in the end. I feel so terribly sad and worn out and angry–all at once.

Oddly enough, my business is growing and I’m getting press right and left and my customers are all happy, but my family has disintigrated and I feel like a total failure every night because there is not one suffering person in my universe that I can actually help, no matter how hard I try.

I’m so lonely with all of this responsibility and no one to share the decision-making with.

I WANT to eat myself into a stupor. If I did drugs, I’d probably emulate Amy Winehouse. If I drank, I’d probably be downing a bottle of liquor a night. If I smoked, I’d probably be smoking 3 packs a day.

Instead, I eat crap and hold back the tears and daily dream of running away and leaving everyone I know behind to fend for themselves.

That’s the REAL truth of my life and why I’m carrying 35 or 40 pounds around that didn’t used to be there. It’s a slow form of suicide, I think.

I don’t think I’ll ever stick to any reasonable eating or exercise program until I find a way to deal with the rest of it.

OMG I used to be Miss Pollyanna, Miss Optimistic, Miss Everything-is-going-to-be-okay. What the hell happened….?

I made it though today with no processed sugar.

I made it through today, working until just now, 4am, with no junk food.

I made it through today content, mostly.

Yay for one good day!

I’m checking back in, even though I fell off the wagon before I’d fully climbed on it! I’m gonna stay on that darn thing, even if it’s just dragging me down the road while I’m gripping it by my fingernails! I’m NOT giving up this time, even when I blow it.

Blowing it is part of me, and this time, I’m going to accept that too.

(If I type that last sentence 50 times, will it make it true….?lol)

My business is going oh so very well and I had an exciting and successful week with two different reporter/photographer teams out, and one more due here in an hour.  But unfortunately, we also hosted a community event at which perfectly healthy and delicious food was served. But guess what food people left behind???? THE DESSERTS!

I only ditched them this morning after having way too many of them the past two nights. So in the trash they went.

So here I go again.

Day One AGAIN.

Hi everyone!

I’m a skeptic! Does this really work?

Convince me!