Happy Tuesday

Happy Tuesday indeed!!

Memorial Day Catch Up

Stick in the ass-less Tuesday

http://youtu.be/f7jS2rD1Nv0

Vroom Vroom

I wake up this morning feeling horrible.

My throat feels raw and the day even looks overcast.

I lie in bed for what feels like hours with my cell phone in my hand trying to contemplate if I should call in sick or not?

I start to weigh the pros and cons.

 

 

Pros



 1.) It's Monday and I love Mondays.

2.)My favorite pharmacist will be there

3.) Its 9 long paid hours $$$$$

4.)Lots of people scheduled for today

5.)I get to type in drop off and do other tasks I normally am too busy to do

6.)I get to work with Chatterbox and she brings out my playful side

7.)I get to not eat for 9 straight hours

8.)I get to leave the house

9.)Most of my regulars show up on Mondays

10.)I smile and laugh a lot on Mondays

 

   Cons



1.)I have to be on my feet for 9 straight hours

2.)It's a long ass day

3.)I don't eat all day

4.)My favorite pharmacist and coworkers pry about my social life, I'm pretty private

5.)My feet will throb by the time I walk home late at night

6.)I have to deal with a lot of backed up mistakes that occurred during my absence

7.)Walking home late at night through dark neighborhoods

8.)Possible b/p scenarios when I get home

9.)Maybe Stick in the Ass will be on duty instead of fav pharmacist

10.)Going home to an empty house and being so wired it only encourages the Insomnia.

 

I decide to finally just call in because I feel really bad.

The person who answers the phone is one of my favorite floaters (*floaters are ppl from other stores or interns who work part time shifts at the pharmacy)

He immediately notices my hoarse voice and puts me on hold for my favorite pharmacist. I explain that I don't feel well and I'm pardoned for today. The truth of the matter is that the sweet Manager has schedules too many people. So I can call out without setting them back. After hanging up the phone I make a solemn promise to myself to make next Monday good for my coworkers by baking them a cherry cheesecake.

 

Minutes later just as I am closing my eyes and contemplating chugging Nyquil to sleep the day away, my ex calls me.

There is a coworker of his who's moving out of Miami back to his country and is selling everything including his car.

He has a 96 Ford Aspire.

It's a 4 cylinder two door little egg looking car.

It's only $800.00.

My ex suggests we go look at it in an hour.

I tell him that I can and so it starts.

 

My boyfriend was feeling depressed yesterday, so he took more sleeping pills than necessary. He reassured me that he would be fine, but I honestly got scared for him.

I said goodnight to him and worried all night if he would even wake the next day.

It took forever for me to even sleep thinking about him and what life without him would be like.

I couldn't wait to talk to him this morning.

I had an epiphany last night and couldn't wait to share it with him.

When we did manage to speak this morning my heart leapt with joy at his voice on the other end of the line.

While he was very nonchalant about it all I had some explaining to do.

You see, I binge on laxatives.

Laxatives are dangerous, they can actually kill you.

I'm so warped in my ED thinking that I gulp them down by the handful without as so much as a second thought to what the real effect they have on others.

I have no regard to anyone else's feelings at the moment but my own.

Worrying about my very handsome boyfriend last night because he took more than what anyone should in sleeping pills made me anxious.

I was able to actually put myself in his shoes.

I finally understood what he must go through when at my most inconsiderate, binge on too many pills.

I must put him through hell. We always end up arguing when he scolds me for doing that, because I defend my reckless behavior to no end.

The Russian roulette I play has no consequence yet.

He loves me, truly loves me. All he talks about is a future with me, he wants to live with me, bear his children, grow old with me.

I want these same things.

In order for me to do that, I have to stop doing so many behaviors.

It's hard, but I'll try.

I can't promise anything, but in the future I could be more considerate of his feelings if I demand the same back from him to no end. There are two of us in this relationship.

I really want this to work. I don't want to frustrate him with my Depression and Eating Disorder.

 

I shower after talking to my boyfriend and get ready to go see a possible car.

My ex is in a great mood lately with me, it's nice.

We talk about our daughter and then work.

He says although he doesn't say it often he's proud of me.

He saw me at work last week, he saw me in action, dressed in my lab coat, typing away, answering phones. He says he respects me. For someone who has almost been a full on introvert to suddenly start a proper job after so many years is no easy feat.

 

We drive to Miami Beach to see the car.

It's a small car, two doors and Purple!

It's perfect, I have to admit the minute we pulled up the car my heart dropped and my negativity took over.

Approaching the car I noticed while my ex went on gushing about the car that it was a Stick Shift.

Fuck.

I can only drive automatic.

He calls his coworker and he comes outside happy to show us the car.

After telling him the problem, his coworker "Alvaro" insists that driving shift stick is easy. He even wants to give me a crash course to which I respond, Yes, crashing is what may happen.

The car runs great. I can't buy it, so our test drive ends up at a light. There is a large construction van next to us that calls our attention, the driver motions for our attention.

"How much!" he yells too excitedly.

Alvaro gives him the specifics and the driver will call him now.

"You're my lucky charm." Alvaro says happily at the prospect of another buyer.

I smile awkwardly and wish I knew how to drive this. I can see myself driving this.

Afterwards when the sale between us is a bust, he mentions another car for sale in a farther part of town.

My ex drives us there taking a short cut he knows.

We pass by a car dealership and he eyes a Lincoln Towncar like the previous one he owned and sold.

We pull in right fast and he chats up the woman who runs the lot.

I wander around aimlessly looking at all the nice cars I can't afford.

There is actually a black 4 door 8 cylinder Saturn that catches my eye but its out of my price rance, she wants $2,200 for it.

My ex can't afford his dream car, but talks up the seller for the Saturn explaining how much I currently have on hand to buy any car.

"I can work with that." she says

My $1300 suddenly is on the table.

I test drive the car which runs great but afterwards pulling up back into the dealership am worried maybe she meant to finance the car. She asks if I'm ready to deal.

I'm confused.

"You give me $1300 I give you the title, cash deal, no fees."

Wow.

Suddenly it's so surreal.

I'm signing on the dotted line, and guess what, this car is now mines.

Folks, I now am a car owner again.

The car's air conditioning stinks, the back driver's window doesn't roll down. Other than that we're good.

The inside of the car is in good condition.

It needs an updated radio and some TLC.

It also needs a tag and insurance.

So my ex and I head to the tag agency.

The tag would cost me $400; as for insurance, well that's up in the air.

So tomorrow my ex will take me to another tag agency to transfer the Beetle's tag to me.

The Beetle's tag is expired and also in my ex's name. So the cheapest route would be for him to be on the title with me. For $160.00 I will have a clean tag.

Insurance is still on the table, my ex can add me to his and we'll split the costs, but my sister disagrees and suggests I go about that on my own. We'll see tomorrow. I have to work at 5pm with STICK IN THE ASS.

I only work 5hrs.

So tomorrow is another day to deal.

I'm very happy right now, my daughter loves the car.

It's a good car. I texted my older brother who's a retired mechanic to look at the car sometime this weekend.

I hope it's nothing too bad.

When I get home I get a tap at my bedroom window and it's my boyfriend's mom?

What a sweet surprise, I always light up at the sight of her.

She has a newspaper for me from my lovely boyfriend, Sunday papers are my favorite of the week.

I talk with her for a bit, mostly gushing about my new car, then head inside to open the paper. Inside are magazines and a surprise. My boyfriend has sent me a card and a cute clutch purse.

The purse actually matches the car!

It's fate.

I miss my boyfriend so much it's been almost three weeks since we've seen each other. We see each other this Friday.

I can't wait to jump on him in every sense of the word.

 

 

Also I found out today that they are building an IKEA very near to me.

Is it bad that I'm actually excited about this LOL!

I love IKEA. Ah Mecca!

 

My horoscope even had good news for me.

So this blog is super long, but I just had to share.

Oh, my daughter got her science project back she got a B.

Eh, it's not an A but it's not a D or F.

 

 

I'm full of hope and that's always a good thing.

Please pray for me and my new expensive venture.

 

I wish you all a good night.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Happy Mother's Day

 

 

Happy Mother's Day to all the Mom's out there who are fighting the good fight. I know some of you are struggling in your daily life. Being a single Mother is hard. You bear the brunt of it all.You wear many hats.. 

I am a working mom, depressed mom, eating disordered mom, tough mom, lonely mom, tired mom.

Every day I wake up and can't believe I get to start the day again, different if I can.

No matter how fatigued I am, how tired of this life I am, how willing I am to finally give up, I hear my daughter say "Good Morning Mommy."

And just like that, I can't.

 

As broken as I feel in my spirit, hers would be equally so if I ever really checked out of this life.

I'd rather continue to suffer in my sadness and go on so she could have a chance at something.

Not turning your back on your responsibilities as a parent is what sets you apart, it's what makes you a Mother.

 

Anyone can push a baby out.

Not everyone can raise a child in spite of their means, their capability.

It's what you do that defines you.

I know I've had hard choices, but through it all my daughter is the only reason to try. To keep trying when I feel like I can't possibly go on.

I'll never turn my back on her. I can't give her everything but I can always be there for her. She needs her Mom.

Mom's teach you lessons, Mom's teach you love.

 

So I'm all alone now, in tears because I have ED now demanding his pound of flesh.

Tomorrow is another day.

A new start to the day. What will you do differently?

I'll be here for starters, the rest of the day is a gift.

 

"MOTHER"S DAY" Vlog here on YOUTUBE..enjoy

http://youtu.be/sEYQr9Seois

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Full of Fridays

Weird Science

So I tried to upload vlog, BLOGGER is tripping saying I have no vids WTF!?



 

Follow the Vlog on my YouTube Account I guess.

Have any of you encountered this problem before?

Grrr I hate technology.

 

http://www.youtube.com/user/ladikaat69?feature=guide

Under pressure

Revenge of the 5th

May the 4th be with you...

Fridays with ED

 Damaged people are dangerous. They know they can survive.
To deliberately hurt yourself is too counterintuitive. It’s not as if I’ve never been self-destructive before, but it was always in the context of trying to make life more bearable, to make living through some sad moment more tolerable. But a deliberate overdose is not part of a night out or a party: It is self-destruction for its own sake, and it is consequently the purest and most deliberate act of hatred I have ever committed.

When I’m done, after this big huge buildup, then there’s an overwhelming feeling of calmness, an overwhelming sense of peace.


It definitely feels like a compulsion, definitely feels like, “Do it, do it, do it, do it, do it.” And I am like, “No, no, no, no—yes!” This is not the kind of thing that you can just call anybody up and say, “I’m thinking about hurting myself,” because one of two things will happen: they will think that you are bananas and will not be able to deal with you, or think you arid trying to commit suicide, which is a very different thing, and will call the police. So you have to be very picky.

This is a coping mechanism for me. Will I return to it? I certainly hope not. But I have not experienced the greatest tragedies of life. I’ve certainly experienced some of the really nasty ones, but who knows what’s out there waiting for me, for any of us. And as long as I know that this coping mechanism does make me feel better in the short term, it’s technically on the table, and I’d like for it not to be on the table.
And you know what? It felt so good. It made me feel light, free. ... I suppose I should feel ashamed, or disappointed in myself. It’s like a relapse into old, familiar, self-destructive blackness. I had been doing so well, and now I’m back to where I started from.

I would never kill myself intentionally. I couldn’t do that to my family, my friends … But to have fate step in and give me a shove, that’s a different matter. Then I have the exit, without the guilt. I am ashamed of myself for thinking like this. But more than anything, I am frightened that it makes me feel so much better to think about it. Sometimes it eases the terror, the sense that I am condemned eternally to this hell.
Feeling hopeless and full of despair is just a slower way of being dead.

You know that things aren’t going well for you when you can’t even tell people the simplest fact about your life, just because they’ll presume you’re asking them to feel sorry for you. I suppose it’s why you feel so far away from everyone, in the end; anything you can think of to tell them just ends up making them feel terrible.


Sorrow prepares you for joy.
It violently sweeps everything
out of your house, so that new
joy can find space to enter.
It shakes the yellow leaves
from the bough of your heart,
so that fresh, green leaves can
grown in their place.
It pulls up rotten roots,
so that new roots hidden
beneath have room to grow.
Whatever sorrow shakes from
your heart, far better things
will take their place.



Most of the people who come to believe in Control-of-Life-and-Death-by-Weight. They are convinced that loves and losses can be titrated in pounds. That if only they were thin or thinner, everyone who didn’t love them would love them. Life would be magical, easy, illuminated. In other words, they believe what many of us believe: If we control what we put in our mouths (and the size of our bodies), then we can control everything else. So we spend our lives focused on losing weight, believing that thinness will provide invincible protection from rejection, grief, and sorrow.
I don't know if this is true or not.
I only know, I hate my body, myself and she needs to do better, always better. We are failing. We feel alone.

Loneliness is like starvation: you don’t realize how hungry you are until you begin to eat.
That terrible thing that happened to you is always going to have happened to you. There’s no self help book that’s going to fix that. There is no fixing it. You can’t fix having been born human, either. And every day you have to eat. Every minute of that day, you have to keep breathing. No choice. But you can breathe and walk at the same time. You can breathe and make friends, and go to parties and fall in love. Once in a while, you can even take a quick break from breathing to eat all the cookies, oh my goodness! Pain is like that too.
Sometimes it doesn’t matter how loud you scream—nobody’s coming. The only one who can save you is you.
Illness is not something a person has. It’s another way of being.

It’s always dark in the beginning.
… Perhaps someone, somewhere will create something so beautiful and moving it will change the world.
      Perhaps that somewhere is here.
      Perhaps that someone is you.
–please find this.

Thank You