Unhealthy relationship with food

I have an unhealthy relationship with food. I love food. I love eating. I love experiencing new flavor combinations and all that great stuff. But I have an awful lack of self control. I eat when I'm sad, stressed, angry, bored... you name it. The answer is food. So I fucking hate food. I'm fat, and of course it's food's fault I'm fat, not mine. :( I've had this problem for years and years and years. I used to kind of circumvent it by being bulimic, but now I just... get fatter. Now I'm on a diet. It's not a horribly restrictive diet, just kind of eating less and eating healthier. I won't lie, the healthier food is definitely delicious, but it just kills me that I'm basically forced to make certain choices because I've gotten so damn fat. I have gained nearly 60 pounds in the last two years. Granted I have a thyroid problem and 2 years ago I was throwing up everything I ate, but it's hard not to get disgusted with myself over something like that. I'm trying to be smart about this whole healthy eating thing... having small snacks during the day to keep my metabolism up, doing some exercise, eating fruits, veggies, lean meat, Greek yogurt, etc. It's just so hard not to pig out when I'm as stressed as I am now. It's a battle between how stressed I am by being fat versus how stressed I am by the rest of my life. I miss my comfort eating. I'm going through some hard times right now, and I really, really want to just console myself with a pint of ice cream. My stupid husband hasn't signed the divorce papers yet, apparently I'm unwittingly in a feud with Clayton's mom, we're trying to get things in place to move at some point in the next couple months, etc. It just makes me want to cry all the time and consequently stuff my face. How do you give up a source of comfort like that? I want to quit smoking too, but I'm pretty sure I'd be about ready to kill people if I were to do that at this juncture. Well, I may not have a choice about quitting smoking... we're going to be super broke next week, and it's going to come down to a choice between eating and smoking. That thought right there just makes me want to cry. I haven't eaten lunch yet. I know I shouldn't skip it, but I'm so angry at food right now I just don't want to eat. As if me not eating will teach food a lesson for making me fat. I'm such an idiot.

Wedding fever

Even though I'm currently going through a divorce, I've recently been caught up in trying to decide what Clayton and I will do for our wedding. It's actually probably in reaction to the fact that I'm getting divorced... like I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. Of course, it's probably in reaction to the whole royal wedding thing too. I dunno. In any case, it's a subject that needs to be addressed sooner rather than later if we're going to be getting married in a little over a year. The biggest challenge we'll have to address is that my parents won't be paying for my second wedding, so we're probably going to have to fund the whole thing ourselves, which rules out a lot of options as far as where we'd have a ceremony and all that. There's a minute chance that Clayton's family might pay for things, but we certainly won't be counting on it. So... yeah. At most we might be able to put away a couple hundred bucks a month, but I would much rather go on a honeymoon than have a wedding. It seems like the most likely scenario is that we'll end up going to the courthouse or something anticlimactic like that. Yay, so exciting. I'm not going to say I won't be happy just to go to the courthouse, because in the end we'll still be married, but it would be nice if we could actually have a ceremony of some sort. But then we have to take into account Clayton's huge family and the fact that they wouldn't be satisfied unless every one of them in a 500 mile radius was there. That's terribly frustrating. I don't want 100 people at my wedding, I really don't, but Clayton said that's not a terribly unrealistic estimate (assuming 10-20 guests from my side). GAH! Maybe it's just because I've been through planning a wedding before and he hasn't, but I don't think he even comes close to grasping just how stressful planning a wedding is, no matter how simple you try to keep it. Not to mention we'd be getting married in Missouri, and planning a wedding in another state would be way more stressful than planning something local. The courthouse is sounding like a better and better option by the second.

Not a fan of my bad health

My health has completely been in the toilet recently, even more so than usual. I had mono, which I'm just about over, I had a huge freaking ovarian cyst that I had to have surgery to remove, and on top of that I had freaking pneumonia. But then there's the pain. So much pain. And the vomiting on a daily basis. Those have yet to be explained. I have to get an upper endoscopy and another colonoscopy next week to make sure there's nothing serious going on. Had a couple lumps in one of my breasts, which thankfully weren't cancer but still must be monitored. I'm also having an ultrasound next week of my gallbladder and other stuff in the region since my liver enzymes are (still?) high. So in a nutshell my physical health is a complete and utter mess, and my psychological health isn't much better. To make matters more infuriating, the health care in this stupid fucking town is so crappy that I have to travel an hour out of town just to see a gastroenterologist, but seeing as I have a history of having an enlarged liver, I don't even know that he's the kind of specialist I need to be seeing. What makes me nervous though is that Clayton's mom has cancer, and she and I have some of the same digestive symptoms. I think that would make anyone nervous. I'm done bitching. Just needed to get it out. Got to focus on my crochet. Working on a special project.

It's easy to point the finger

I am livid. So. Fucking. Livid. This time it's not my future ex-husband or a boss or anyone like that. It's my dad. He said one of the most ignorant and hurtful things he could possibly say, which was that it was my fault for "allowing" my husband to cheat on me. So he basically blamed me for the most painful event in my life. Okay, here's the scenario: You're a newlywed with horrible self-esteem and basically no income, completely financially supported by your new husband. You find out less than three months into your marriage that he's cheating. What do you do? Okay, so here was my thought process. First, I wanted a divorce. I confronted him about it. He said he would stop. I had a horrible gut feeling this was a total and utter lie, but I pretty much had no place to go, especially with negligible income at that point. Plus, having low self esteem, I thought "What man in his right mind would want me?" So I tried to believe he would stop, but it ate away at me. I never stopped my vigilant search for proof he was cheating. I never let my guard down. And eventually it got the better of me. My mental health was in the toilet, he wasn't even lying about cheating anymore, and I finally came into some money and had some income, so I decided I'd had more than enough and I left. My parents said I should have moved back home with them, but aside from the fact that I couldn't have brought my cat (who was essential to my happiness) with me, the fucking shame of admitting I'd married the wrong man so shortly after the wedding kept me from even confiding in anyone about it aside from my therapist. I didn't fucking "allow" him to cheat on me. I gave him a second chance I shouldn't have given him, but I didn't have a whole lot of fucking options at the time. Another reason I'm so mad at my dad is he keeps treating me like I'm so irresponsible. I am almost completely out of their pocket aside from my phone bill, which they pay because I'm an extra line on their plan. I have a steady job and so does Clayton, our bills get paid on time, I don't ask them for money, and we're starting to even put money away for things. I'd say that's a hell of a lot more responsible than I've been in the past. But it would be irresponsible to have a real wedding with a nice dress and all. My first marriage was the most painful experience of my life. On what is supposed to be the happiest day of my life, I don't want to be constantly reminded that I fucked up by going to a courthouse in a potato sack (I guess that's what he expects me to wear) and going to a shady motel across town for one night for a honeymoon. God forbid I should want to feel pretty and special for one fucking day! I don't want a $10,000 wedding. I don't want a $2,000 wedding. I don't care if we just go to a park with some rented chairs and a few flowers and get married by a justice of the peace then go back to Clayton's family's house and do a pot luck thing. I really don't. But I want to feel like I don't have to settle for absolutely nothing just because I've been married once already. I don't see why I can't have anything nice because bad things happened to me. I don't expect my parents to shell out a fucking dime for my wedding to Clayton. That's fine. They don't even have to fucking show up. I'll get over it. But don't call me fucking irresponsible when my bills are getting paid, our debts are being paid off, and maybe, just maybe, I want to save up money we can easily spare on something special. If they're not bailing me out I really don't see what the fucking problem is.