Heya, Monster.

A SoberBlog by a TallWoman.

Archive for the tag “Idiocy”

Reality Check

And I’ve got egg on my face to boot.

Update: I sent an email to admin (not a frazzled one like my post) asking for a meeting so that we could talk about my concerns with my schedule. I then itemized those concerns. They got back to me pretty quickly and clarified things. Turns out? The online program I rely on for my schedule was incorrect. Things got ironed out over email and we are moving forward. Good.

And? I’m embarrassed. Not in front of admin, but in front of all of you.

I feel, I react. I charge forward. I am the bull in the adage.

Anne was right – I’ve got lots of anxiety, and it’s all ready to boil up and over at the drop of a hat.

Wendy is right, too – I need to prioritize my health for mine and my family’s well-beings.

How do I walk in when I know the slate isn’t exactly clean? That’s the issue right now. I am the problem. My hackles are up and I’m ready for a fight – because I’ve been conditioned to fight at this point.

I’m working on the anxiety. First, I’ve been exercising more, which feels good. I start tomorrow with back to work and am going to work my exercises into my early mornings. That’s the plan as of this mo. Second, when I see my therapist tomorrow, I am going to propose to her that my anxiety is its own issue. There is still the possibility it’s an off-shoot of my new meds, but even so, anxiety is my middle name and I would love a life with far less of it. I’ll bring it up to her, and then I will call my shrink and see what she says. Meds are my concern now, because they could be exacerbating some of my heart issues, which stinks, because I think I do better on meds and have done better these past few years. It would stink if I had to cut them out. That, however, can be figured out as we go. Get back, Anxiety! Down, boy.

Okay, so that’s it. I just felt like I should come clean. I go back tomorrow and all of this pent-up anticipation/anxiety crapola should die down once I get back into it.

Day 1,163. It’s not you, it’s me.

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Math.

1 bottle of vino = approx. 650 calories

1 food binge while drinking said vino = approx. 1000 calories

23 days sober = 23(650) + 23(1000)

Total Calories Not Consumed in 23 Days Sober = 37, 950

Holy. Fucking. Shit. That’s a shit-tonne of calories that have not gone into my body. Wow. I’m kind of floored. And kind of super-fucking proud that I cut back on my calories so significantly, even though I didn’t really do anything except stop drinking the booze, which would then, stop giving me the cravings to eat yummy, fatty foods while I was drinking the booze. I’m also kind of surprised I maintained that intake for almost the past 3 or 4 years straight. No wonder I had some self-confidence issues. No wonder I was missing my svelte self. Jesus Christ.

# of days I had no idea what an idiot I was = All of them.

# of days I was actually an idiot = ALL of them.

I will admit to continuing to be an idiot. I tried putting on a smaller sized pair of jeans yesterday, thinking the pounds had already all melted off because I feel mostly good in my body, but? Nope. Not yet. Yes, of course, to losing some of the bloating, etc., but all those years of ingesting … everything I wanted … has really added up (math)… literally. The non-idiot part of me knows it’s going to take a bit longer than 3 weeks to shed these lovely alcoholic curves, but I have hope. More than I did than when I was imbibing, as I found myself day after day stuck at the same weight, with the same puffy shape. … And now I know why. … Idiot. … Again.

 

Day 23, I understand if you roll your eyes at me. I would.

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