I got a job. A job that will look absolutely marvelous on my resume but doesn’t at the moment contain a lot of actual working.

I’m not done with school, no where near it seems, but I chose to work becuase my motivaiton for my education was running dry. Running dry. As if it was ever “wet”.

I just didn’t want to be stuck in a dead end job with a low salary, and miserable for my entire life. Instead I ended up feeling really old and absolutely no where in my life. As if we’re valued by our emplyee status, and lets not forget marital status.

So I’m no where. No mans land. I may have a job, but it’s temporary as the education has to be completed one wya or another. I’m not married, and if I’ve understood my boyfriend correctly, I wont be married for another 7 years. Or maybe it was five. I can’t really remember as all I could think was, wow I will be really old.

It’s not that I care about the marriage part. It’s rather, why doesn’t he want to marry me. Why can’t he commit to forever after in writing if he can when he talks to me? What is so wrong with wanting a ring, a ceremony, tax benefits and commitment?

He got me to quit drinking though. Not forever. With the exception of 2 glasses of wine last week (work dinner, and it was nice) I haven’t had any alcohol since the end of January. Go me. He was threatening to leave me, I had gotten violent. Problem is that my drinking is a reason for issues I surpress. Issues as aggrevatin over a messy home, being the bearer of all economic problems and then there’s my over-weight issue. Which of course was a major cause of the alcohol.

The weight has not improved really. I guess I just substituted wine with candy/sodas. And now I’m hyped up on sugar instead of alcohol. Will this circle never end?

This is not a good subject to discuss. This is where I could go on forever. I mean, I could list item after item both big and small. I’ll do my best to keep this short and concise. I’m unsure if I’m supposed to only list one item or all, something is singular, so I will write this post about the single biggest thing I hate about myself.

The inability to love myself.

It’s not that I hate myself, it’s not that I ruin my life. It is however a deep seething inability to love myself that make me constantly trip over my own good intentions.

I have wants, and needs. I want to lose weight, I hate the way I look. But I constantly manipulate myself into destroying the good work I do. I lost 50 pounds so I felt I was entitled to… stray from my diet. I never turned back to my narrow path and soon the 50 pounds with an additional 10 had fixated themselves all over my body.

I do that constantly. Try to fix what depresses me, and then I think but I deserve…and I end up destroying my good efforts.

I quit drinking and wasn’t even longing for a glass of wine, so I went out and had one with dinner, which was followed by another the night after. Soon enough I was back to my old alcoholic ways. Or I stayed away from sugar for a year and never really longed for it but everyone was praising it so it must be good, or maybe that cake tastes better, or everyone else is eating it…

Or what about the time I smoked so much pot I hardly ever left the house?

I don’t do mediocre. If I get hooked I decide to take it to extremes.

If something is going well, I decide to destroy it. I don’t mentally decide, lets destroy this good thing, I just think my efforts have entitled me to deviate from the plan. Each time I know the cost and what the result will be. Yet I convince myself this time will be different and I deviate.

Somehow I feel, this is because of my inability to truly love myself. If I truly loved myself I’d let me be happy, let me enjoy my successes and stop ruining things for myself.

This is something I need to work at, I just don’t know where to start. Once I’m happy again something inside me will say “you deserve” and when my other self try to keep me on the narrow path the evil me will heckle and say What are you afraid of, you’re strong now. You can do this and still continue on your narrow path. But I never can.

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Quitting drugs, and in my part, alcohol, is not as easy as people want you to believe it is.

Did I not have spell checker, you’d be exposed to some awful typing.

I sometimes think of all of those blogging mommies who claim to have been an addict one time or another, but I cannot recall them ever typing while they were deep into it. And I’m deep into it.

Sometimes I think, oh sweet darling don’t get home for another hour or two, that way you can only guess how much I actually drank, instead knowing for sure.

I know, I’m deep in. I know it so badly that I do my best to hide it from my partner. I think he knows of this site so I guess I’m doing poorly job of it. However, my last boyfriend was an enabler. He would eat and drink and smoke pot way worse than I would. He would encourage my addictions and draw me deeper within them. I would try to break free.

Now I try to fight for my right to drink. I know it sounds crazy but it’s my last refuge, it’s my last… addiction. I gave up all of the others, way down to sugar. And it’s driving me insane what else can I look forward to?

When you give up to everything, the one time you let yourself free, you will take the step one close further to addiction, to deprivation, to the bottomless pit that is darkness. Because you finally let yourself have something.

That is why I get drunk more often now, than I did before. Because I refuse myself, and I refuse myself everything. All the time.

Someday this will be the death of me, but right now I cling to hold on and how do I do this? By getting drunk….

* I don’t want to tell you how many type-o’s I had with this post, because that’s just sad, I’m that deep into this shit.

The worst thing about you being right and me wrong is that you are in fact right. I drink too much. You are however wrong when you state that I will become and alcoholic by forty, because I’m an alcoholic now.

I lie to you… there’s only one glass left in that Bag in Box (when I know I switched it out for a completely new one just the other day). I hide from you, I fill up my wine glass when you’re doing laundry. I pretend you don’t see, sometimes you pretend too.

I know I should quit,and I know a lot of my “wants” will be fulfilled if I do. Weight loss to name one. But I did, and then I yelled at you when I wanted a glass of wine.

I’m afraid of pushing you away, and I think I’m a nicer person when I get my wine. I just don’t think that adds up tot he days I hide the amount I drink from you.

Remember the other day when you went to watch some football. Then when you came back I wanted a glass of wine. That wasn’t my first, rather my forth and I think you knew.

You’ve tried talking to me but I can tell you’re afraid of loosing me too and I don’t know the answer any more. I don’t know the right approach, because when I get like this, and you comment on the drinking, I get mad. I get oh-so-mad. And it would tear us apart. I’m sorry I tear us apart. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. I just wish you’d happened before I grew accustomed to a drink here and there and everywhere.

I love you so much but I don’t know how to kick this, and I can’t let you be the focus of all my anger if you’re on the right side. I need you to stay in fake oblivion until I’ve figured this out. I can figure this out.

I already know I’m an alcoholic. Yet I fear to say it out loud. I don’t want to admit, because you will deprive me of the one thing I feel I need the most. Yet it is killing me, and I know it.

I can see that you see it, even when I try to disguise it. My gift and my curse have always been that I can see what you think, even if it’s about me or about another. I can see when you lust, I can see when you feel sorrow and I can see when you see something that I lie about. I see it, but you don’t call on it. So I lie some more.

Remember when I made a fuss about what seemed like nothing. My friend was over, you behaved like a perfect gentleman, and I fussed. Cause I could see. Her want, your want. Yet neither of you made the other aware. But I could see. It  has always been my gift and my curse.

When I was younger I could tell who wanted me, who wanted to say something, who felt disgust. I could always tell. It never bothered me. Boyfriends ago, it never bothered me.

I can tell when you see me. I can tell when you don’t. I can tell when you hide from me, and I can tell when you don’t even try. I can read you. I can read you better than anyone ever has, no matter how close to you. It hurts me. It makes me love you. It pains me. It makes me a drunk, it makes me want to change.

I don’t think I can until I can make you understand, just how deep in the shit I am. I am in the shit over nothing. And nothings going to change.

I’m an alcoholic.

I gained a lot of weight the past year. Weight I worked hard to shed off. But as we all know gaining is easier than losing, and I definitely turned a blind eye towards the gain until it had completely taken over.

My reasoning was the birth control pill. I started taking it (again) last summer when I met my boyfriend. The pill was driving me crazy. I was always hungry for more, no matter it be food, sweets or alcohol. It was just too hard to stop eating. So I didn’t. And I became angry, and angrier. I couldn’t control my mood swings, and I cried all the time, over nothing.

I went off the pill and found myself another birth control method (IUD) and all of a sudden I became sane again. And I weighed myself, and I wanted to die. I weigh more than I have, ever before. I weigh as much as two people, my length, should weigh. I realize I have a lot of work ahead of me but I am motivated.

My first concern is though, that I don’t want to weigh half of me (121) because the last time I weighed that little I was around 11 years old, just a tad shorter than now, and I never looked fat. I want to weigh around 143. Last time I did, I was gorgeous.

My second concern is, this has to be slow. I don’t want flabby skin, and I need to change my patterns. I have been overweight for the major part of my life, and its my habit. My habit to constantly hate my body. Its a habit I want to break.

I want to be brutally honest here. I would love to show what I look like but I’m afraid. I would love to tell you what I eat but that is boring. I would love to share, but I don’t know how. All I know is that I will do this, one step at a time.

The funny thing? I don’t really like candy. I don’t really drink sodas. I hardly ever eat chips or really fatty food. I do love my wine and my troubles start there if for no other reason than that I get the sweet tooth when I drink. The funny thing is, I eat healthier than most people I know. I just drink too much…

Fear is controlling and paralysing.

Our fears dictate our choices and motions. Every second step is decided before hand by our own ulterior motives, all controlled by fear.

I quit drinking for a month because I feared I was an alcoholic. When it wasn’t that hard to quit, I began drinking again. It is a reward, for having the energy to stay alive. It sounds negative and dangerous but I’m not suicidal, no matter how that sentence is construed. I learned a decade ago that I would never end my life deliberately, it does however not imply that I’m happy enough to stay alive.

I have someone who loves me that I love so much it hurts. I sometimes love myself, sometimes hate myself.

Probably bipolar, I sometimes just don’t have the energy to be all that I can be. Other days I think it will suffice if I’d work as a waitress for the rest of my life, happy just being me (like Phoebe in Friends), but I know it wont. I am too smart, with too much to offer and just not enough energy to give. Anything.

We are our own worse enemies and its when we look beyond our own view of ourselves, look through other peoples eyes, that we shine. I’m trying my hardest to just shine.

I’ve gone over a week without alcohol. I would be lying if I said I didn’t think about it, but it was easier than expected. Maybe all I needed was to decide. Really decide to give it up. Although I keep thinking, in a month I’ll be able to have a glass of wine. Just that one glass.

I read somewhere that if you can stop at one glass, what’s the point of having that one? I thought it was a stupid question, didn’t they drink wine because they loved the taste? Did they only drink to get the alcohol effect of it? I never really got that part anymore, the reaction. Mostly due to my built up resistance to alcohol but also due to my weight. Massive abundance of fat will do that.

I gave it all up. Sugars, actually all carbs, and then alcohol. I’m only on the first week but I’ve been here before, that’s why I know the headache is a side effect. A horrible side effect because I never get headache usually. The constant thirst is another. Sure I’d get thirsty when I was consuming alcohol but that was because I hardly ever drank any water. Now I’m drinking gallon after gallon and I’m never satisfied. I don’t have diabetes. I already checked.

I don’t want to walk through life hating my body anymore. I don’t want to be constantly tired and upset. I need to remember that when the cravings kick in. Remember that I want more out of life than food and alcohol. I want to be able to feel good about myself.

There were so many things leading up to today. I knew it was time to stop drinking I just didn’t want to take the plunge. Not right out there, completely. Not until I just felt that the weight was weighing me down (obviously) and the alcohol was everything and nothing. It was everything that was wrong and nothing with it was helping me.

I need to lose… crudely? Around 100 lbs. That’s about the same weight as a youngster. It’s scary. It sure as hell didn’t help that I have been drinking constantly. Almost every day, still excluding the few days I work nights. They haven’t been enough in numbers to make a difference. I have been fearful for my own self.

I think my biggest problem has been the thoughts. Around noon I’m already planning the alcohol consumption. Buying my wine, beer or planning the drinks I intend to make. Which sane 29 year old does that? After that I just sit on pins and needles and wait for it to be an acceptable time to start drinking. When that occurred all depended on what time the Man got home.

At least I don’t have any children and I don’t really have anyone to be responsible for but me. I’ve got to appreciate the small things. If I had been a mother I might never have had the epiphany that is going to lead to my sobriety. I will stick with this. This will be the end of it all. It will.

Today’s fault, ate sugar. I couldn’t quit sugar because I’m weak? Tomorrow will include no sugars.