I was alone in the office yesterday so I weighed myself on the digital scale. I am officially down ten pounds since April (last time I was weighed for a physical). Unbelievably happy about that. I knew I had lost but I didn't know how much. *smiles*
My appetite has just been...gone. I know why too. Part of it is being so poor. I don't/can't spend a lot of money on food. When your shelves are stocked with canned goods and your fridge holds american cheese and bread and your freezer has frozen vegetables it's like what the fuck, I don't want any of this.
So I just...don't.
On the other hand is my roller coaster relationship. Yes, the fights have continued to the point of us almost ending it. Did I mention to you guys that I had been skipping therapy? Well, it affected me big time and I have spent the past couple weeks dumping so much shit on my man. Anger, jealousy, insecurity, etc.
Thankfully I realized I needed to see my therapist asap and went twice in the past week. I was able to analyze my *fucked up* behavior for two helpful hours. Can I apply what I learned? Time will tell.
Gotta believe in myself. This isn't my first rodeo. It feels like it though. I am all butterfingers and awkwardness. I am holding back and being inauthentic as a weak attempt to avoid vulnerability. The problem is, relationships require it. I am desperately afraid of putting my heart on the line. Afraid of what, you ask? Getting hurt. Lame, huh?
To break it down further, it seems that I avoid pain/discomfort. Hence, the heavy marijuana use and isolation from people who could potentially harm me.
The solution? Stay. In. Therapy. Do some thinking, walking, and drinking. Love myself. Trust D. with my heart. It'll either work out or it won't but if I don't get a handle on the fights I start then I will be alone for real.
PTSD is a motherfucker.
Think thin, loves.