One Mother Rambling Through Life

Rantings, Ravings, Strange thoughts, a little bit of this, a little bit of that, and a lot of ME!

 There is a school of thought that you are worth as much as your favorite clothing. Mine is a sun dress I got year ago. It has holes and rips. It has new rip almost daily. From my children, or my pets, or life. It rips and tears and loses value in the eyes of anyone on the outside. To me these are memories. The rip from chasing the dog so the kids could give him a bath. From sliding across the floor for the save. Chasing a giggling child and catching a sharp corner on the way. Appreciate the moments that life does give you. Appreciate the clothing that shows the wear of the life that you have been given. Each moment however small is your survival. As someone who has struggled with suicidal ideation or the focus on suicide as a way to solve problems it is these moments that can pull you back from the edge. It is a sad thing to admit. It is sad to share that I have had pills collected from my legal prescriptions in a bottle to help create a perfect cocktail, a gun barrel in my mouth with the safety on to know how it might feel, and a bottle of poison with the ideal of it might be that time. These little things have pulled me back. I think about my kids not knowing their mother loved them enough to stay alive. My parents feeling like they had somehow failed me because of the choice I made. My pets missing me and not being the same joyful beings that no human deserves. I was never a successful writer because my writing in like cliffs notes. I say what is needed and rarely express more than that. Please. If you are feeling suicidal and you cannot find a moment to pull you back call the suicide hotline. I would never wish for anyone to really be gone. I understand that at times ever moment, second, etc are not just hard but it is like physical pain. You cannot breath, your chest hurts, you feel your heart beat, you just want it all to stop. I understand. I have been there. AS I type I am there. I am typing trying to grasp at something that feels like it can tether me to the earth. I feel like a burden to everyone around me. I feel like they all deserve better. I feel like I am standing in the way of the better thing that they could have if I was gone. I have expressed that I felt like my partners straying was linked to finding their youthful spark but a part of me also feels like they would be happier if they could be with someone else. I think it is why I truly understand the need to call the hotline. I am there with you. I struggle. I have to find something almost daily that makes me continue to fight here. It is why those that understand call suicide "losing a battle with anxiety and depression". Because that really is what has happened. It is not selfish but losing to the desire to self preserve. The ides that being gone is better than being here for those around you. We don't want to leave but in a weird way we feel like leaving is more beneficial to those we love than staying. But again before you ever reach that stage and want to level up to suicide. Please call the hotline. You are worth staying, no matter what your brain, anxiety, depression,  mental state, whatever is telling you.   800-273-8255. 

 I like being anonymous. There was a time when I was an artist and a writer. I delved into my feelings full bore. Most of the time now I feel like a fraud. I feel lost in a way, like a shell of the person I once was. I feel like the rules keep piling up against me and changing. I am always the bad guy in the wrong. It is hard. As we age we lose who we were piece by piece. I think we are supposed to accept it gracefully and find family and children as the new thing to fill those holes. But it really doesn't work that way for most. Most of us feel those losses and suppress the feeling. I believe that is why we have the "mid-life crisis". It is related to suppressing our regrets for so long that they will no longer allow themselves to be suppressed. At that point we do something super stupid to be young again. Does it work? Nope. Once that youth is lost or we make the choice to move to a stage beyond the youth it is gone. No choice good or dumbass will get it back. Pretend all you will. Live as a young adult. Be sure that you are ready to move to the next level before leveling up. Listen to your partner. If your partner expresses that they are not ready to level up. Grind it out. If they fall off in the grind it will safe your some heart ache. If they fall off there then they would have probably cheated after leveling up and at least you can drop them from your party before you are tied together with other bindings that are more permanent and lasting. Bindings that create a new need to work it out and maybe create a never ending string of heart ache and pain of their continued need to fulfill the things they denied themselves in their youth. Will they find a brighter rainbow? Nope. They will hate that they made the choices they did, they will find a temporary spark of youth, but they will only be able to feel it if they cheat repeatedly. There is reason for the once a cheater always a cheater. It is based in the loss of youth and chasing the spark. So please heed my warning. If they are not ready, do not level up. Find someone who is ready to level up with you. We are all chasing the win. The prince or princess at the end of the level. Make sure the one you are leveling with makes you feel like that perpetual royalty. Otherwise you will always feel like the bar wench on the side that was settled for in order to avoid shame on the family name. You will never level the same. You will feel shackelled. You will feel secondary. They will cheat. You will always wonder if that it where they are. YOU ARE WORTH MORE. Believe it. Own it. 


PS If they are married. The odds are you are the spark of youth and they will never leave their family for you. Don't degrade yourself for someone who simply wants to feel more youthful. You are also so much better and worth more. 


I alway knew that I was not his first love but I never felt like a second place finisher until a few weeks into our relationship. I should have never pushed those feelings away then. Now 17 years later as I talk with our teenage son about his father’s recent nuptials I know that I should have trusted my instinct in a new soul crushing way. I was the rebound and consolation prize. I was the distraction from the feelings he was having about the loss of his first love. 

We met two months out from her decision to call it quits and his rock bottom. I was a young, driven, and happy college student. I knew what I wanted and what I didn’t. It was probably the time that I was the most headstrong. It was a little out of character for me. I was still searching and finding who I was. After a daily innocent existence I was dipping my toes into the water of life. 

I had dated a little but mainly I was just looking at what there was. I met him and I was hooked. And I mean that in a quasi literal sense as we played the fishing game and just laughed and had fun. I looked in his eyes and saw something that I saw as a future. I had no idea that in his mind's eye his future could only be satisfying and fulfilling with her. 

Early on when we were dating, in the time where you sell your best characteristics, he would reminisce about the romantic things he would do for his ex. Drive hours to leave notes and flowers and make sure that her life when they were together was the thing of songs and movies. It was wonderful. What young girl doesn’t want to think that their potential love will take care of their needs.

He was after sex. He used the line that “Anal” is not sex not to fulfil or connect with me but to fulfill his own lusting. As an innocent I needed more lead in and less lusting. I had no idea what I should do. I was not an oversexualized teen. I think he was confused about what he really wanted. You cannot have the virginal partner with the sex drive of a maniac without first building trust. Within months of having sex for the first time he was already looking at pornography secretly. Something that he openly called evil and wrong when we had first gotten together. Once again it should have been an omen of things to come. 

Of course there were signs. Ignores signs, but signs none the less. On the first Valentines together I paid for lunch. I got him a gift. What did I get? A gift? A card? A handwritten poem? A flower left on my car? Nope. Nothing. I got an excuse that he did not believe in the day. After his building up about how he made his former love feel like a princess I got nothing. But thankfully for him I was naive and accepted that it was just a shifting and was not personal. We just needed to build that relationship. Give it a few years.

A few years go by. We are married. We are parents. I have married him and given him a son. A person to carry his family name into the future. I ask him what the plan is for Valentines day and he has no plan. I cry on the phone. He feels pressured to get me jewelry which is something I don’t really wear but he is trying to fall in line so I am pleased. I am happy. I am forgiving. 

When we were dating he knew I was not big into house cleaning. He knew I struggled because it is a never ending task. That was something I never hid. Trust me. But as our relationship continued it became more and more evident that he was expecting some chore loving person. I tried. I really did but the never ending nature of the chores would just take over. 

I am a curvy girl. When we met I had been very involved in a sport. I was walking to and from classes. I was active.  But as I got older of course I got less active. I had three children. My thyroid hates me. I gained weight. Weight that only clinged to me and only starvation and daily long workouts alleviated. So if I wanted to have a life outside of work I was not able to lose weight. But I did it. But as I was reaching my lowest adult weight he had two physical affairs that I know of and countless or unknown emotional affairs. His excuse was that I was not available. He was working at a bar and I was busting ass losing weight. I got down to 142. I worked very hard. But it was not enough. I was not the ex who was built slim, tall, gorgeous, and with no kids. I was the college educated girl with flab, pregnancy stretch marks, and exhaustion from working and raising children. 

We moved for a fresh start. I messed up when I found that other men could appreciate me. Nothing was ever serious. I was an idiot. I grew up and rededicated to him. I changed careers and found something that I love. I worked hard over the summer to finish all professional courses so that I could move forward. Its not enough.

He had another affair after we moved. Maybe its the only one I caught him in. He was still in love and searching for her. He was still writing romantic loving poetry about how much he loves her and wishes he had her and would give anything to have her again. I can’t ever be her. I know that.

  I’m short, fat, and not fun. I get caught up on work things and lost in my work. I shut the work out when I am overwhelmed and focus on games, shows, kids, and not the things he thinks I should. 

So when he came to me and told me that he and his ex had been talking I was not as shocked as I think he expected. I saw it coming. When he said they were rekindling. I knew it was coming. When the divorce went through and we mediated custody I was prepared. When he married the love of his life, his first love, the one he was a poet, a romantic, a hero, and a dedicated man to I was not surprised.

Even so I was devastated. I am a person who had always been good at a strong face through adversity. I can stand strong in the sun and break at night. If I can spare others the breaking I try always. The tears and rivers came when I was alone and unseen. For him the love of his life and his purpose was her, she was his first, his always. But to me he was my purpose, me true first, and me always. While he entertained to himself that I could go on easily without him I knew I would never trust and never be able to really move on. 

It is always hard to be the consolation and second place. I have always known second and always been pushed aside when the true love returned. I know I am not destined to be that. 

He asked what he had to do to make me see that I was not second? Not search for her? Let her go? If you write poetry, delete it. Delete the thought and feeling with it. Keeping it only shows its importance. 

I sit listening to my heartbreak mix in me small lonely swelling. I’m sleeping on the couch so the girls can have their own room and the boy can have his own room as well. It’s not like I need privacy. I am only here so that they can have me. At least to them I am not the consolation yet. Maybe later. The Ex or well I guess that’s me now. The wife is more fun so I should only give it time.


A brand new world. A brand new place. A promise of something more. I remember how it started. It was a normal day in my book reading articles and other interesting things I found as I perused the web. Facebook had several interesting posts that I hoped to benefit from as well. Other than that it was same ole same ole. He was perusing all of comings and goings as usual. Some days he did some days he did not. Today he did. I perused an article that made him think that I was thinking badly of him. Of course that called for questioning. Questioning led to him feeling guilty. When he felt guilty he turned it around on how I am the bad one. I always wondered why he did that. Later that night I found out why. 

“I think we should separate. I can’t trust you.” He said. “I can’t make myself trust you.”

“I have learned to choose you and trust you?” I replied through alcohol soaked breath.

“I just can’t.” He said.

He moved out the next morning. He said he was moving in with his mother. Later I found out that he had a girlfriend on the side and that he moved in with her. His rush to separate came from his rush to move on.

Three kids and a life together trumped by a more interesting suiter and no attachment. She had been hurt herself and shared his views of not needing marriage at the time. 

The deal we had struck the night before his departure that the bills would continue as they were. No notable financial change except that he would not be paying for groceries. I guess I just assumed since my understanding was that he was moving to his mother’s that it would not matter. I saw it as a time to think and not a real break. 

That was then. The new start. The beginning that was not requested. “We both need time to think and really reflect on our needs where we are.” That’s what he said. It seemed logical so I found no reason not to comply. He said he was not interested in any relationship or any other women. He lied. I chose to trust. I did not want to hurt him and I wanted to respect his wishes. I did not cry in front of him even though I was dying. I did not chase after him even though I felt my soul ripping from my chest. I thought it was what was right. He was his own person who deserved his own opinions, space, and respect. I thought that by holding the emotions back that I was giving him what he needed. I love him.

I focused my energy at the time on the kids and the house. I cried in private away from them. I sobbed uncontrollably at night with my TV streaming whatever seemed appropriate. It was awful. I would scroll through the movies and see things he would hate and would think “he hates this I can’t watch it. Oh he liked this one I should watch it.” So I spent my nights streaming the things he liked. Love stories? What are those? I am all about the comedies. 

The day I found out that he had moved in with his mistress, I guess, I found out by fluke. I had been trying to call him just to check in. Well that is what I told myself. I just had an off feeling from the moment I woke up. He was not answering and that made the feeling intensify. So I called his mother.

“Hey is he there?” I asked fighting back the emotions.

“What? He hasn’t been here. Why would you think that?” She said. She was baiting me trying to get information.

“Oh I must have misunderstood where he was going.” I said knowing it was best that she did not know. She would use it to her advantage. I learned that early on. My mother in law was one of those that no woman would ever be good enough or as good as her.

“Well. If I hear from him I will let him know.” She said. “What is going on? Are you okay?”

Right. “Things are fine.” I lied through gritted teeth. “I just confused his plans. He is with his friend from work this week watching some games.” I lied trying to be as vague as possible so that if she did reach him it would not be something that would throw him. Still protecting him. My phone line rang through at that point and it was him. “Sorry he is calling to check in so I need to let you go.”

“Okay. Well let me know if you need anything.” Her poisonous words sweet as honey. We had moved closer to her an his family for him but now I was alone. Must make the best of things. Switching to his call.

“You called.” He said unceremoniously. 

“Yeah I was worried.” I said. “I wanted to know how you were doing. I called your mom.” The line went silent. 

“What did she say?” He said the irritation coming through like a chime. 

“That you were not there. I said you were with a friend watching some games.” I said my strength edding at his baritone. 

“Thank you.” He said. Silence. When people mention silence you could cut with a knife you really don’t understand it until you are experiencing it. 

“So where are you staying?” I asked through emotionally weakened vocal chords.

“With a friend.” He said. 

“From work?” I said.

“No.” He responded curtly. 

“From where then? School?” I said grasping for more innocent possibilities.

“No, not from school.” He said. “Just someone I met.”

“A guy friend?” My voice a hair from cracking with emotion. 

“No. It’s a girl I have been talking to for a little while.” He said. “I like her.” He blurted.

“But you said…” I said without thought.

“I know but it is complicated. The heart wants what the heart wants. I don’t want to hurt you but I love you both for different reasons.” He said. “I want time to explore what I have with her.”

“So you knew when you left.” I stammered. The hot tears stinging my eyes.

“Yes. I’m sorry.” He said. “This doesn’t change our arrangement for now. You stay at the house and I will continue to pay the bills that I paid before just not the groceries. Sorry I need to go. She will be getting back soon and we have plans. Bye.” He said, hanging up before I could even bid him goodbye. 

So here I am the afterthought. The days became a week. The week became a month. The calls became less frequent. I died more each day.

You would think with the decreased calls the big brother watching would stop. Nope. I still received texts most days either about a search I made or an article I read.

“Why did you search about grief?” He said in one text. “I’m sorry I have hurt you.”

“Why did you read about emotional abuse? Do you think I was emotionally abusive?” He texted. “I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

“You spent a lot of time online today. It was pages and pages of posts that you looked at.” He texted.

“You have a lot of online activity.” He texted.

It was all along the same vein. “You” did this or that. “I” am sorry I hurt you. “But you did…” and “I can’t move on.” 

The day I was served with divorce paper was a slap in the face. The only solace was that it did not include the idea of taking the children as full custody and was only shared. I collapsed in the doorway envelope in hand as the person left. The kids were at school already. I was home with a cold. It didn’t matter. 

I remember clearly my first thought. “My family has no idea. I am alone.” I had not told my family what was going on. He had complained about them hating him in the marriage so I stopped telling them what was going on. I wanted them to love him like I did regardless of his actions. So when we separated I did not tell them. As the separation dragged on and I lost myself day by day I just cut myself off from everyone. My family, friends, and acquaintances had no idea. When they would question my moods I would attribute it to work stress and the stress of raising increasingly independent children. If they knew that I was telling tales that did not push it. 

My new adventure. He had taken the step I never could. From what I understood he had left the girl he was with when we separated but was staying with a single co-worker in a sort of bachelor pad. She was a mess and he did not want that. He wanted more than that. More women. A co-worker had relayed to me at one point that he was with a lot of women and was not holding back. 

In his drunkeness he would call and tell me about his conquests. “She had a tighter…,” “She let me…,” “her toes…,” “she did…,” etc and so forth. If it could hurt me or make him more virile sounding it came out of his mouth. It might have killed me more and more but it kept going. “You are fat,” “You are lazy,” “you are worthless,” you are…” and that went on as well. 

When his lawyer presented the evidence that I was not a fit mother I was floored. He pulled all of his evidence of my admitting my wrong doings. He had deleted all of my evidence off of my phone before he left. Anything after the separation was not counted. The children were in my care and there was no evidence that during that period they were in any danger. I hoped that it would be enough. It wasn’t. 

I was alone. My kids were taken and my marriage dissolved. 

After a few weeks when I was forced from my home and living in the car I was at my wits end. I cheated but that was it. I was alone. No kids, no husband, no family, friends cut me off because I disappeared, and co-workers thought I was nuts because of my emotional mood swings. I was lost. How do you come back from that?

My opinion. You don’t. I guess if you talked to people you would be much better. I did not talk to anyone out of fear of hurting the one who was hurting me. I did not make it out of this story. I took my 9 mil and ended it in my car. The only thing I had left. Please talk to someone. If things are bad share with someone. Let someone in. It is such a waste if you end up like me.

What is strength? Is it an imagined thing that we use to push ourselves through? I am strong! Is it something that we can measure? She is stronger than I could ever be. Is it something that some have and some do not? She was never strong enough for that.

"strength

  
[strengkth, strength, strenth]
                    
noun
1. the quality or state of being strong; bodily or muscular power; vigor.
2. mental power, force, or vigor.
3. moral power, firmness, or courage.
4. power by reason of influence, authority, resources, numbers, etc."
Dictionary.com
 
Above is the common definitions, or the first 4, as listed on dictionary.com.
 
It is hard to be strong in all areas of life and we sometimes stop being the merry juggler and let all of the ball drop stepping back to ask ourselves Am I strong enough?
 
We are as strong as we need to be to keep putting one foot in front of the other to move forward as much as we have the ability to do at that moment. Some moments we are moving at a snails pace and are lucky to get one foot forward and other times we are the fasted sprinter in the world. This is where the you do you idea comes into play. Don't lose heart when you feel like things are not going well and you just can't. Did you wake up today? Are you still breathing? Those two things are enough to say that you did have strength. Maybe it is not much but it is something. When I am wrestling with life's heavy thoughts and decisions that are not easy sometimes all I can promise is that I will wake up and be present. I don't call it procrastination when the reason you are putting it off is because today you can't. Mentally, physically, whatever. As long as you do it when you are back to a place you can it is not procrastination.
 
Life is hard. Don't make it harder by getting caught up in what you didn't do or can't do today. I wake up and I'm just present. I need to put the batteries on pause for the day on life so that my brain can use the energy to process the emotional wreck that life can make me. Life is worth moving forward. We only get one so take time to be weak so that you can be string enough tomorrow.


It was a difficult day all around. I woke up in my cramped flat alone. My children were at their grandparents for the event because I did not want to expose them to the crazy that could ensue. I got dressed in the formal clothing that had been picked out for me. I got my makeup done by the woman who was sent to me. I got into the ride provided for me. I held it together. The car was a nice Black town car like you would expect for a funeral procession. There was champagne provided in the back with strawberries. I sipped on the champagne as we rode along to the event venue. Appropriately Run, Baby, Run came on over the radio. I took a deep breath to stifle the tears that were threatening to burn at my eyes. I knew this day was coming. It had been coming for a year but I was still not prepared.

A man in a black suit held open the door to the large event venue with banners and balloons awaiting all of the key players to arrive. I was escorted around the side of the building to a side entrance and then to a small room that looked like a preparation room for a wedding or quinceanera.  In the room was a chaise lounge and maple side table, small dressing table with mirror and chair, what looked like a door to a small bathroom, and a flat screen TV on the wall opposite the chaise. There was again more champagne that I could help myself to and a card on the dressing table. It was strange for there to be a card with a little blue gift box behind it. I sat on the lush pink Chaise lounge covered in pillows with my champagne flute, card, and box in hand. I placed the crystal flute on the small round side table and opened the card.

“Dearest Friend,

We have been the best of friends forever and I hope we can be the best of friend still in the future. Remember when we used to share everything and want to be exactly like one another?”

Yes, we were 6 though.

“Remember arguing over the same Ken?”

Yes, the one with the bendy arms so he could really hold Barbie.

“Well I guess that happened on a larger scale now. I hope in time we can both be happy and move forward. I still love you.

Larger scale my ass.

I took a gulp of the champagne and threw the card across the room. I opened the little blue box that held a while gold pendant necklace with a heart that had beautiful script engraved with my name. Only she would think that this is appropriate. None of this was okay or appropriate. It was actually pretty tacky but without having spoken up before today I was stuck. Waiting alone. I could hear the party guests arriving.

I tried to reason with him but he saw no issue with it since we were friends. He is an idiot. I had no idea what to expect and I was stuck. I was pretty sure there was a butler or something strange outside of the door so I could not make a run for it. I looked at my hand and the diamond wedding band. I thought about how we had gotten to this point. It was not one person’s fault in the end. It was a freight train left uncontrolled. But I was the one run over and leaving alone.

I turned on the small flat screen in the room and flipped through the channels while I attempted to drink as much of the bottle that they had left me as possible. I shared a bottle much like this with her on my wedding day. Seems like it was yesterday but that is gone. Still alone.

I grabbed the small white throw from the back of the throw and closed my eyes. If I am going to be locked in here I might as well get a nap out it. I could hear her chastising me about hair and makeup in my mind. Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! I chanted in my head. I nodded off only to be awaken gently what seemed like moments later by the man in the suit. It was time to go. I did a quick mirror check and I hadn’t done any real damage to my hair or makeup.

A strange medley played as I was escorted into the event hall. All eyes were on me as I was led to the small table before the clergy follow by them. We were positioned facing the clergy. Side by side. I could feel his body heat beside me like an old comforting and familiar tingle in my body.

The clergy was saying something but I couldn’t hear him over my own heartbeat. I focused on breathing. I was being handed a pen. It felt heavy in my hand and my arm felt like it was weighted with sand. I looked down at the paper. I took a breath. I put my hand done on my side and he on his own. The Clergy took the paper and signed below and stamped it.

It was done. I was divorced. It was strange. I felt like I couldn’t breath as I watched the clergy start talking with him and with her. They were smiling. It was nothing like our somber moment. They signed. The clergy signed. The crowd went wild. Everyone was excited. They kissed. They were now married. Legally together after their affair.

She was my best friend from childhood. He was my husband. They had an affair. I was left alone. She came up with the idea of a divorce party and wedding ceremony. She said it saved on time and that way I would be there with her almost like her maid of honor. It didn’t feel like an honor. It felt like being stabbed repeatedly in the lungs and people asking me how I was breathing.

She ran over and hugged me in giddy excitement and returned to her people. She glowed. She grabbed him and a couple of other people and went into an alcove. She had whispered that she had an announcement and that she hadn’t even told him yet in my ear. But I was feeling unsteady.

I sat with a flute in my hand and watched the crowd that looked like lights and blurs through my shocked stated. People came over and patted my shoulder or hugged around me but never stayed long. It was crazy but it was done. Officially a divorcee. Officially a single mother or was it co-parenting mother?

A handsome friend sat next to me and put his head on my shoulder. He laughed and talked to me about how I make a good pillow. He held my hand. It was fuzzy but I think he propositioned me somewhere in there before bursting out laughing. After he got his laugh out he looked at me seriously and told me he was there for me whatever I needed. Not to be me. Not to be here. To be invisible. The backbone to have not done this.

I put the flute down and stood just as she returned from the alcove. He looked pale walking behind her as she filled the room with her glow. She picked up the microphone interrupting the festivities. For her announcement. She was pregnant. They were expecting in 7 months.

He wasn’t prepared for that. She was tacky announcing it at her wedding. He was done with having his own babies but wasn’t careful when it came to his affair like he was in our marriage. I remember that being a part of the fight when they finally came clean that although she was a friend he had no idea what he could have brought home to me. Karma.

She ran up to me just bubbling over and I congratulated her because what else could I do. Then she bubbled around the room to all of the guests. Some were excited, some shocked, and some outright angry with her. No one had pictured this being the way it was. Anti-marriage and divorce banners flying with wedding banners. It was like a divorce party threw up on a wedding.

My eyes were running with tears that burned like acid. I wasn’t really prepared for that announcement on top of the other pain. He came over to comfort me and I pushed him away and ran out. Back to my prison with the pink chaise. Once locked in my little room I let the tears freely flow. I turned the TV on loudly to cover any noises I might make. I locked the door. I drank from the champagne bottle between sobs.

A small knock on the door broke me more. Why? Why follow me? There he was handsome as ever. As much as I hated him he was the man I loved, married, had children with, and lived with for better or worse until a year ago. He held me as I sobbed more.

Some women are more than ready when the day comes. I thought I was. I thought it was be nice to be able to move on. His chest felt like home. His arms felt like shields. And his breath like a warm blanket. I hate you. I hate me. I hate this. Why do I still want this?

He patted my head and got up and left. I was alone again. My sobbing complete. My body yearning. My soul dying. My heart shattered against the wall.

The man in the suit drove me back to my cramped flat. I put on pajamas. I went to bed. I will start again tomorrow. Hello rock bottom.

I am starting tomorrow! I missed the delivery that would have helped me start today. So I am picking up my package of products at the Post Office today. So today is my final day of preparation prior to starting. Mental preparation because I have to be ready mentally to really change my habits in almost every way. Three meals and snacks daily to two meals and no snacks daily. Plus that is two micro meals. Maybe not micro meals but smaller meals.

Plus Physical preparations  for the increase in water that I will be taking in for the new diet. I'm going to be like one of those huge water balloons on youtube ready to pop at any minute. Don't get me wrong I drink water throughout the day usually just not to the volume that is required for this diet to be successful. Plus I usually drink coffee and soda and I will have to severely cut back on my soda intake for this to work as well.

I can do it! I can do it! I am willing to do what I need to do to make this work. I don't care if the product taste like medicine and are the consistency of drinking toothpaste I am going to make it though and give this my all. I am sick and tired of being fat.

Cheers! I will let you know how the first day goes!

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