About yesterday.

For starters, co-worker and I had made plans to get coffee on Friday as a reward for getting through the week. I thought I could do that. I thought I could just be smart, be calm, and give myself a treat. That was all fine and dandy until the thought of it started making me panic. Then Thursday I ended up with more calories than I'd planned. So tricksy me decided that instead of going to coffee Friday afternoon, I'd stop and grab some on the way in to work so she wouldn't know what I ordered. We were going to get these super sugared up mochas that were like 350 calories with skim milk and no whip. So obviously that wasn't happening. I should have just got plain old black coffee, but I had mochas on my brain so I ordered a regular skinny mocha. That came to about 200 calories. I guess the good news is that I only drank about half because I just couldn't do it.

So to punish myself for what was supposed to be my reward, I didn't eat anything else all day. Until I got home from work and the Mr. and I went out to dinner. We went to one of our favorite bars and suddenly the only thing in the world that I wanted was nachos. So we split the nachos. And I got a beer. The Mr. was trying to calm me down and informed me that he was sure my portion of nachos was only about 600 calories. Which really failed at the whole calming thing, but I did not inform him that's about how many calories I try to eat in a whole day.

After that came chocolate covered pretzels. And after that came self-hatred.

So today rolled around. I had half of my tea (27). Then the Mr. and I went out to a coffee shop where we got some black coffee with cream and sugar (100). The Mr. got us a cheese plate (I swear he does this to me on purpose, he knows my weaknesses) and I ate some of his cheese. Then he made me my favorite kind of popcorn for dinner...air popped with fat free butter spray and salt and hot tamales mixed in. I'm too tired to figure out the numbers, but they're high.

Today was an off day. I spent most of the morning restless with manic energy. The kind that keeps you from actually doing anything, but is constantly whispering to DO SOMETHING. And now! Before you go insane!

Andohmygodyou'realreadygoinginsanewhycan'tyoufuckingdosomething!

Getting out of the house helped, but returning sent me into a steep decline. I spent a good amount of time this evening just laying in bed and feeling full of despair. Sometimes just the thought of continuing on seems impossible. I know I sound melodramatic, but I'm also being honest. If you're like my mother you'll be rolling your eyes and telling me to just get over it.

I've spent thirteen years trying to "just get over it" and it's like trying to run through a brick wall.

I'm not always like this. I am happy sometimes. Genuinely so. My highs are high, but my lows are in the pits of hell.

Anyways, I eventually dragged myself out of bed, channeling what was left of that manic energy, and worked out. That helped. Maybe too much. It sent me on an endorphin high that flew me out of that pit like a fucking rocket. I was laughing, I was chipper, I was full of energy and happiness. And now it's 3am and I'm slowly coming down, slowly losing that wild energy so I can go to sleep like a normal person.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm actually insane.