I have a heavy feeling. Depression? I feel very angry. He has not been back for 2 weeks yet. Is he stupid? How can he put himself in any position that could possibly make me doubt him? It has not been 2 weeks yet. He has not been a part of my life in the last 7 months. Do I matter so little? Does he not care? Why would he create doubt now? I do not feel as strong. I do not feel as sure. I cannot make myself shrug. It has not been 2 weeks yet.

I have been suffering from terrible anxiety lately. Paul is set to get home in a little over a month and I am both excited and stressed. How did time creep up on me so unnoticed. I know I should only feel joy right now, but that is not exactly how I work. This six month deployment he has been on I have gone through exactly the same emotions at exactly the same times. It starts with me not really noticing his absence. I have become so used to him being gone for weeks that for the first 6 weeks or so it just feels like a short absence. I can deal. Then reality sets in, I become depressed, lonely, suspicious of his activities and feelings, and restless. After a couple of weeks of that I desperately try to establish a routine to throw myself into. I start watching what I eat, working out, getting crafty, reading, getting out. I pretty much stick to that until he has been gone for 4 months. The entire time I am doing this the negativity slowly goes away. I start living like I am single (except the whole pesky dating thing.) It is easier to pretend it is just me and my son than dwell on the separation. When there are only 2 months left I fall off the wagon. I get restless all over, I wonder if he has changed his feelings towards me, I stop working out, start eating more, become lethargic. Now I am at the next to final stage. Panic. I have 1 month to lose those last few pounds. I want to look perfect when we see each other again. Hopefully it will remind him of what he originally saw in me. Or at least his original attraction. I am working out twice as much, trying to skip eating all together, and get all those last minute things done (hair cut, color, outfit picked out, trip planned!!!) The last stage will be the night before he gets home-terror!!! I am trying to prepare myself for it now. At least I know to expect it. And I know to expect the first few hours to feel awkward and out of place.

So yeah- anxiety on anxiety on anxiety...

I am very disappointed in myself at the moment. I gained 2 pounds. I knew this would happen considering my inactivity and my increase in appetite, but it was nontheless depressing when I stepped on the scale this morning.

To give a little bit of "history" I was diagnosed with Body Dismorphyic Disorder a couple of years back. After looking into the disorder myself (since my doctor failed to give me any information on it at all) I found that some of my behavior does match that of someone who suffers from BDD, but I don't think I actually have it. Yes, I admit I am overly critical of myself. I am never happy with my appearance and always find something wrong with it. I also do isolate myself from time to time because I don't want people to see me. And I switch from looking in the mirror every 2 minutes to avoiding my reflection for weeks. But that's all women, right?

Anyways I have been sick for a couple of days. Headache, sore throat, sneezing and coughing. Typical weather change cold symptoms. Due to me feeling less than spectacular I have stopped my workouts and have been eating a little less than favorably. By less than favorably I mean I ate pizza twice this week (a no-no when you are sick anyways) and portions that are larger than my normal allowance. So today I step on the scale and find that I have gained 2 pounds. I am more angry at myself than shocked. I usually lose weight when I am sick because even though I do nothing and stay in bed any time possible, I also hardly eat. This time I ate (apparently too much.)

So my resolution now that I am starting to feel on the up side again is to start working out as soon as I can do five minutes on a treadmill without hacking a lung up, and to drastically cut my calories. I have a total of 44 days until my hunny comes home and I am bound and determined to reach my goal weight of 125 by then. That is now 14 pounds away. So I need to stock up on rice cakes, cottage cheese, and fresh produce. No more soda, sweets (other than natural), or cheats like chips and dip, pizza, or fast food of any kind. I am going to resume the behavior which resulted in my husband giving me the loving nickname of calorie nazi.

I am very angry at this moment. This is either the worst time to be focusing on posting a blog, or the absolute best time.

Paul has been gone for almost 4 months now. It still surprises me to say that. Out of sheer stupidity I have been living with his family this entire time. Perhaps it was not stupidity, but definitely optimism. My views have changed in these four months. I can't help but read into actions now. Words don't mean the same thing. I look back on conversations we have had from day one and hear them differently. I now feel as though I have been manipulated. Very diplomatically of course. Used. Controlled.

It sucks to realize that people have their own agendas for their well meant advice. I have always known that is the case, but I allowed myself to be misled in this situation because I wanted to believe their stories of some people doing things for unselfish reasons.

And now I am awake again.

*sigh*

Perhaps I should elaborate. My mother never tried to live through me, nor did she try to live my life for me. She allowed me to make my own decisions, and often my own mistakes. I never got the impression from her that she was disappointed in me for not making the decision she wanted me to. At the age of 25 it is hard for me to except that from some one who is not even my mother. It is even harder for me to handle when I feel as though the criticism has extended to my mothering. I am a good mother. I do things a little different than typical mothers. I don't lie to my son (even when other's think it would be more "tactful.") But I digress. In reality my anger is less about the criticism to my mothering decisions and more having to do with the setting up expectations and calling them goals, then expecting me to make every sacrifice it is possible to make to reach goals that are not mine. Add hypocrisy and double standards and you have pretty much summed up my true issue.

But alas, I am reminded of a piece of advice:

"Before you criticize someone, walk a mile in his shoes. That way, if he gets angry, he'll be a mile away-and barefoot."

It is weird for me to realize that I have been out of high school for 7 years now. I know that may not seem like a long time to some, but it seems like just yesterday I was a senior, or sophomore even. I can't believe how much I have changed since then.

If anyone is reading this and wondering what brought this train of thought up, I will explain. Even if no one is reading this (or someone is reading it but doesn't really care what brought it up) this is used more as a diary for myself than for the entertainment of others.

I recently had an "encounter" with a long time friend of mine from high school. For the sake of anonymity I will name her Anne. I have know Anne since we were in the sixth grade. She had a rocky childhood and I believe that is why I latched so firmly on to her as a friend. I have always had a problem with attracting needy people. Our friendship grew very strong in high school. I put her on a pedestals and ignored any flaws or mistakes she made. I loved her as though she was a sister and thought she shared the feeling.
Our senior year in highschool she got pregnant and dropped out. She married the boy who impregnated her and they moved in with his family. Shortly after she got pregnant I found out that my other best friend "Beth" was pregnant as well. Then shortly after I graduated I got pregnant. It was something the three of us kind of joked about. The three of us, who had all been inseparable in highschool, were now inseparable in starting our families.
We began to drift apart slightly after the birth of our children. Anne's marriage fell apart very shortly after having her son. Beth put the father of her daughter in jail, and I stayed with the father of my son. After the divorce Anne started running around a little. She was very attentive of her son though. He always came first. Beth went to school to follow her mother's path and teach. I went to school for a while but then dropped out due in part to major post partum depression and in part because my fiance became everything a girl despises in a male. I had to try to find a full time job to take care of my son, my fiance's drug problem and normal day to day bills. Anne spent the entire time my life was falling apart drinking and running around. Towards the end of my crisis she got pregnant again. Beth was already pregnant at this time (with my fiance's baby, though it was not confirmed to me until recently). We talked very sporadically at this time, but when we did talk Anne and Beth joked around about how I would be next, we had all been pregnant together the first time and would be again. I however had other plans. Things were very bad for me at this time at home and I knew I needed to get away from my fiance. So I married him. I know that doesn't seem logical, but it worked. I married him so I would not have to give custody of my son to someone else temporarily so I could join the military. This was suggested to me by my recruiter, though my fiance did not know that is why I decided to marry him before joining. I was his meal ticket missus. While I was in bootcamp Anne and Beth had their babies. Anne left the father of her second child and Beth at this time still claimed to not know who the father of her's was.

Boot camp changed me. I moved on to a point. I admit I got a little wild after getting out of bootcamp. I couldn't move my son to live with me, so I drank and partied alot. I also became alot more responsible. I told my husband I wouldn't deal with his shit anymore and filed for divorce. I was all business at work and all play during my liberty hours. I met a MAN. A real, honest-to-god MAN! He was everything I needed. Grown, mature, funny, responsible, gentle, and drug free. We became involved shortly before I got out of the military. We got engaged shortly after I got out.

When I came home I came home to different people. Well I should say I came back to the same people, but I was different. Anne was involved with a man who was nearly twice her age and both were involved with meth. She had two children at this point and spent little time with either, though she did love them more than anything according to her. Beth had two children and was involved with a friend I had know since 5th grade. Within a month Anne was pregnant with her third child, by a third man. I began to see that she was not high on this pedestals. I began to realize how much she tried to put me down to make herself feel better. She had done this for as long as I had know her but I always believed she was right. I noticed she put her own needs and desires above everyone else's. For instance, she wanted cheaper drugs so she tried to break up my relationship with Paul (the real MAN) and convince me to date her dealer. Needless to say I was not interested. I was in the middle of trying to secure custody of my son and did not want to become guilty by association so I stopped communicating with Anne as much. I tried when I first got out to get her to quit but then realized I couldn't save her at the cost of my son's future.

Shortly after I got full custody Paul and I picked up and moved to Virginia where he was now stationed. Anne had her third child. I got married, Beth got married a couple of months later, then had her third child a few months after that. I spent my time trying to learn to deal with my husband's long absences and take care of my son. I went to school and became a certified medical assistant and got recommendations to continue my medial education. Anne broke up with the father of her third child and began running around again. Beth almost finished her teaching education then dropped out. She got pregnant with her fourth child. We began talking alot again. Her second child was diagnosed with Autism (the child she had with my ex husband while I was still engaged to him), her third had serious medical issues and weight loss. Anne started calling more after she got involved with another man. He was the "risk taker." She started working at a bar and talked less and less about her children and more and more about this man she became obsessed with. She constantly "jokingly" insulted me and tried to convince me how bad my life was.

When I had been in Virginia and married for three years Anne called and told me she had bought tickets to come out and visit me. I was both surprised that she had invited herself to stay with my family and mildly happy since I had not seen anyone from "home" for three years. The time finally came when she showed up. We picked her up at the airport. She acted as though she thought I should treat her like a fucking celebrity. I was not amused. The night after she got there she got drunk and told me that I had not changed since highschool. She meant it as an insult since I was often perceived as anti social and melancholy in high school. (I always thought of myself as more rational than my friends in high school and they could never understand that the things they considered fun were things I typically considered too childish for me.) I told her the problem was that she had changed too much. She responded that she had grown up, with a very vicious look on her face. I left it at that. During the rest of the week I was just praying for the visit to end. She drank from the moment she got up to the moment she went to sleep. She never mentioned her children or shut-up about the love-hate relationship she had with her boyfriend who she had every intention of cheating on. She spent the week telling me how miserable I was, how my husband wasn't as good as the guys she dated, how my son was spoiled, how bitter and hateful I was. She asked me if I was angry at the world and then got very angry when I told her I wasn't, in fact quite the opposite. I loved my life and couldn't be happier. The week took forever to end, and by the time it did I realized I couldn't stand Anne. I thought more and more about her comment about me not changing and about her growing up. I realized that that was not what the issue was. The issue was that I decided I needed to grow up after I had my son. She stayed Anne. She never tried to grow up. It was still all about Anne. I couldn't afford to let it be all about me, I had a son. She had Anne. If becoming an alcoholic was "growing up" she had definitely passed me. On a day to day basis I got along better with women over the age of thirty. Her crowd was 21 and just legally drunk and typically high. It seemed to me that life froze for my two best friends. Both stayed "home". Neither moved on from high school. And while I remember it so well, I have been out of high school for 7 years now...

well here I am. Just thought I'd get one of me up here, kinda trying to learn my way around this blog thingy.