Knitting machine

     So, I crossed the two-mile mark on my knitmeter. I'm feeling pretty good about that. I'm working on another scarf out of my stash yarn. Of the three I've finished, only two are actually intended for specific recipients. The pink "feather" scarf was just a fun idea to make, although I have no clue who is going to end up with it.
     Today's new project is a scarf out of the purple loopy yarn I got at the fabric fair this past spring. I had intended to make team scarves for the lupus walk, but they didn't work out the way I'd planned. It would take too much yarn to make one scarf, so I wouldn't have enough for a team. I'm sure this will find a home among someone on my gift list.
     My gift list... Ah, there's something I'll never learn to control. It started out with eight people on it. It's already almost doubled, and I know I'll find more people that I have to make presents for. And I'd be willing to bet that over half of them won't be planning to have gifts in exchange. It's not that I'm upset about that, it's just... I make gifts for people out of love, not greed. But there will always be a greedy child inside me who wants awesome presents back!
     Oh well... I'm writing this on the break room at work. I'm supposed to be knitting, not talking about it. I think I'll get back to what I told myself to do tonight.

A ray of hope

     This wallow in self-pity has to stop. So I'm going to post something positive.
     I own two pairs of jeans. One is lighter blue, and is very comfortable. I wear the heck out of this pair. The other is a darker indigo color. They look awesome, and I love that they aren't as baggy as most jeans in my size. But they're just a little snug, so I don't west them as often. But I wore my dark jeans to work last night, because I needed a change. And they fit!
     I don't know what words can describe how stupidly happy I was when I realized that my pants weren't pinching at my waist. I don't know what I'm doing to lose weight, but I hope I keep doing it! I know my value isn't tied to my weight, and I've been this size for about five years, but I'm sick of being this large.

     It took me a year to fit into a size 22 comfortably. I'm going to try to be in a size 20 by spring. My ultimate goal (since 2000) has between to get back to a size 16. It would be nice to buy clothes that aren't plus-sized.
     It's the week where I eat the crap I have in the cupboard, but I get paid on Friday, and I have a new grocery list app on my phone. So now I write up a menu and shopping list that I can't forget. Emotional setbacks aside, I'm still moving forward. Just a little slower sometimes.

The self-loathing continues

     I'm disgusted with myself. When I was in high school, I lived at least a half hour from all of my friends. I didn't get to hang out like a normal teenager. Weekends were spent at home. I watched TV or read a book, and was happy. I lived on my own. When I didn't have a roommate, there were many times I'd go days without seeing anyone. I was sick in bed for a week without any outside communication, and didn't care. Now, I fall into a bottomless pit of despair if I go two days without having someone to hang out with.
     I was mad at myself for feeling lonely, so I didn't most of last week in a mass of rage. So this weekend, I decided to let myself actually be sad about it. That resulted in my crying for almost two hours. That merely resulted in me getting a massive headache. So I accepted an invitation to go out with Roomie C. I had a panic attack and made everyone leave early. (I won't believe they wanted to go too.)
     I hate this. I don't feel any better today. I've tried ignoring the sadness. I've tried cheering myself up. I tried embracing my emotions. I don't feel like myself yet. The longer this lasts, the manner the little voice in my head gets. People tell me things will get better in time, but when? In the meanwhile, my little voice is explaining that no one wants to be around me because I'm unpleasant and moody.
     Fuck that little voice! All it does of make things worse. I don't want to think about why people don't like me. I don't want to feel like I should push my friends away before they start to hate me. Something has to change soon.

I don't like it here

     I cried today. The first time in a long while. I hate this bottomless pit I've been trapped in for so long. I don't know what to do about it, or even what I want anymore.
     It feels like no one notices my suffering. When I see one of my friends is upset, I sometimes have to restrain myself from pestering them till they smile. But I feel like I have to hide from them. I don't want to turn up my music to hide the sound of me crying. I want someone to ask me what's wrong, to actually care about my answer, to let me cry on them.
     Of course, I don't dare seek someone out. I've put too much effort into being the one who will always be ok. But I haven't been that person for a long time. I allowed myself to believe my own lie, and I don't know how to function anymore.

All by myself

Do you ever fell alone in a crowd? Even when surrounded by the people you call friends? I feel that way all too often. I don't know why. There is just something inside me that won't let me believe that they really want to be around me. I don't know when this really started.
I never had a lot of friends growing up. When I joined any kind of club out group, I always found myselfon the fringes of everything. Nothing I could do would get me into the "inner circles." Even in adulthood, I've found a wonderful group of people, buy there is always that little voice inside that tells me they only tolerate me because of who I know, or that they only want something from me. It's a terrible feeling. It doesn't help that I had someone on my life that told me I was merely tolerated, and that these weren't really "my" friends. I've come to know differently, but it's hard to believe sometimes. That little voice just won't let me.
I don't like feeling so alone and emotionally isolated. I'm afraid to tell people when something is bothering me. I'm convinced that if I reveal how hurt and scared I am, the few friends I have will vanish. So I suffer in silence. I try to enjoy being around my social circle, but I know I'm holding large portions of myself hidden. I wear a mask that is confident and capable, when I am anything but.

Busy and a little insane

     Yeah, yeah, yeah... I know I said I'd be posting more regularly, but the computer was in an inconvenient spot, and I've been focusing my energy on trying to get the house together. I want to get the whole first floor put together so we can have a housewarming party. Also, it's hard for me to get around the house this week, thanks to my recent disagreement with gravity.

     It was Tuesday morning, 3:30 am, when I got up from my nap during lunch and was on my way back to work when BAM! I was face-down on the floor of the break room. I didn't trip on anything. There was nothing I was trying to avoid. My ankle just decided it didn't want to work for me anymore and quit. So I limped back to my desk, and went back to work, ignoring the fact that I fell. Half an hour later, the pain was worse, not better, so I let my supervisor call an ambulance to take me to the hospital. It was just like I thought, a simple sprain. The doctor told me to stay off my foot, and gave me crutches and an excuse to return to work on Sunday. I know I kept saying I needed an actual vacation, but this was not what I meant!

     I don't even know what I want to talk about today... I just woke up this morning, realizing I hadn't posted anything in longer than was reasonable. So...yeah... I'm here. I'm alive, and still in one piece. I'll try to sort out things to say and hopefully resume weekly Friday postings.

Home at WTF

     It's been a while since I was able to post on here. Much has happened, and I'll have to find my list of things to talk about before I can remember everything I wanted to say. But I have moved into the new house, and the unpacking is happening, slowly but surely...
     I have wanted to have a house for so long. It's been years since I decided I was tired of apartment living, but I couldn't afford to rent a house on my own, and being the sole income... Well, it just wasn't going to happen. But now that I have roommates, things are different. I am still living with Roomie C, but the rest of the roomies are new. Joe will be staying with us till the end of this month, then it will only be residents of WTF (use your imagination). We all have such plans for making this a comfy, cozy home for all of us. We have been discussing decorating and household rules for the last week. I still don't know how things are going to work out, but I have high hopes.
     As excited as I am about moving into my new home, this move was very stressful for me. I spent two weeks trying to get everything packed, but Roomie C had trouble remembering to bring home enough boxes. And even though I started packing early, the boys waited till the last minute, and didn't want to help me. By that point, they were worried about being able to pack their own stuff. Then, I stayed up all night/day on Wednesday helping the new roommates move in. By Thursday, I was exhausted, and emotionally drained. I quit. I told the buys that if they didn't pack up the kitchen, I was leaving it all behind. I cried all day Thursday, and half of Friday. At least, I wasn't an emotional wreck by Saturday. At that point, my body was giving out on me. I could barely walk, my feet and legs were so swollen that I was losing feeling in my toes. I was ecstatic to be able to sleep in my own bed again, instead of on the floor or someone else's bed. Being able to elevate my feet has helped so much. I can walk again and am starting to carry my boxes upstairs to my bedroom. I can't wait to get my dresser up there, next, so that I can unpack my clothes into it.
     Oh well... I shoudl go out to wait for my lunch to arrive, then get back to trying to figure out where everything should go! I'll post more soon-ish!