I'm just your average, everyday, divorced 38 year old girl -- overweight, tragically unhip,
and trying to make a life for myself. I live with two furry beasts, Dave and Abby, whose
feline mission in life is to choke me with their fur. Nothing special.
Friday morning. Even when I sleep well and get eight hours, I'm still exhausted - charming. I woke up this morning feeling as though I needed another night's worth of sleep and I'm still totally dragging as we speak. I'm tired of being tired!
On the home front, things might just be taking a better turn for Alcott, so keep your fingers crossed. I'm taking him to his brother's JV football game this afternoon, so I really hope he's not going to be miserable the whole time (because it will make it much tougher to enjoy the game - LOL).
For those of you watching the kittens' development with interest, they are crossing another milestone off of their charts as we speak: spaying and neutering. I never felt this guilty when I took Dave and Abby in, but I really do feel badly for Sally and Harry. Harry especially. He was just starting to really enjoy his, um, boy parts, and now they'll be gone. Really, really gone. My poor boy...I'll have to hug him extra tight tomorrow.
Tomorrow morning is my first Lighter Way class, which I'm very much looking forward to, then I need to take my dress for the Navy Ball in to the tailor's for alterations, then I'm going up to watch TCB's "under 10" soccer team play their second game of the season. Yea for weekends! I need to watch little kids playing soccer! I need to do yoga and walking and fitness wisdom classes to start my morning off right! I need to cuddle with kitties in the afternoon while watching TCB do something productive in the condo!
Bring on the weekend!!!
(By the way, TCB has asked for the URL to this site, so we will all have to be more circumspect in anything we might say about him. Well, it's really only me, but that's OK.)
Wednesday afternoon. Other than telling you - yet again - how stressed and busy I am, I really have nothing to report. Alcott, the social worker, and I had a lovely conversation yesterday by the end of which he had his arms, nose, and mouth all pulled inside his t-shirt and was not talking. I can't go into the details except to say that I had to turn away several times because I was on the verge of tears. I went through 36 hours of training, stood in line at the DMV for my driving record printout, got finger printed with the California Department of Justice and the FBI, and now I'm making a 14-year-old utterly miserable. How swell!
Tonight is my first night "off" this week and I'm undecided about whether I ought to be productive - clean the house, do some laundry, etc - or just collapse on the sofa in a fetal position after eating enough food to make me stop thinking and feeling. I cried on the phone with TCB last night, not because of anything he'd said or done, just because of my sheer mental and emotional exhaustion and frustration.
I used to decry my lack of social life, worry about the fact that I wasn't making a difference and that my passing (when it happened) wouldn't be remarkable at all except for the fact that so few people were impacted. Be careful what you wish for, my friends. I am responsible for one fragile little boy's future...and the weight of that knowledge has kept me from finding respite from my worries for at least the last week. Even when I'm sleeping. Even when I'm with TCB and the kittens. Even when I'm bingeing. (Even when I'm not.)
How is it fair that this fabulous kid - straight A's, a natural leader by example, athletically gifted, kind, articulate, soft-hearted - is in such a sucky system? Why can't I wave a wand and fix everything so that he never has to feel any pain again? Why do we have to have conversations that leave him decimated and feeling hopeless about himself and his situation? His pain is more than I can bear, but bear it I must. I'm his CASA and that's my job. Even when I don't want to. Even when I'm not strong enough. Even when there's no one that fully understands how hard this is. Even when it makes me cry at my desk in the middle of the afternoon. He is my boy and I am his CASA and we will pull through this, together.
Tuesday morning. So it turns out that just attending a therapy session doesn't "cure" Binge Eating Disorder. Well, darn!
I've been doing my usual evening bingeing every night (except Saturday and Sunday, when I was with TCB) since my appointment with the therapist last week. Additionally, I kept the food journal for two meals, right up until the bingeing started. I'd really hoped that I'd be able/willing to keep the journal, as a first sign that I was growing and recovering but, again, I guess just attending the session wasn't enough to make a difference yet. *sigh*
Part of my not posting for five days is down to my unhappiness with my unwillingness to stop bingeing but a bigger part is the fact that I'm staying really busy at work and keeping pretty busy at home, too. Saturday, I spent from 8am to 3pm with Alcott and his younger brothers, then I had my (very overdue) brow waxing appointment, then it was off to spend some time with TCB and the kittens. Since I didn't bring my laptop with me, I couldn't post from his place and yesterday was running around at work followed by more Alcott from 4pm to 8:30pm. Yikes, I'm tired!
