Today was hard. Struggled to wake up and get to work. Struggled to get projects done. Struggled to eat. About three people noticed I wasn’t myself and asked if I was okay… Some of whom I didn’t say a thing to. They just sensed it. Even my db boss tried to crack a joke and talk to me.
By midday, an hour before lunch, I felt tired and went to my car for a nap. But for some reason, I just cried. It just came out. More tears. I didn’t sleep at all. I just lay there, holding myself.
After an hour, I wiped my eyes, straightened myself and got my work done. Somehow I stumbled on two of my friends going to get lunch and I joined them.
I wasn’t hungry but I bought something. Sat in the sun. And munched a bit with them…
I wouldn’t say I felt better after that… But I felt a little less reclusive. I could talk to people. Be a little more open.
Compared to yesterday where I kept to myself and any interaction with a person made me tearful.
Today I finally spoke to the bf. I realise that sometimes I wanna be made to feel special. Sometimes I forget that life happens. If we have a stupid fight,he must come back and apologise. But at the same time when I’m grumpy and say stupid things then I try to not apologise.
In love, there shouldn’t be cards. They shouldn’t be right and wrong. Only choices.
I need to hold myself accountable for my shit. He tells me that he feels I’m not committed to him.
I am confused. Some days I want to choose him hands down. I feel a deep complete love for him and I wanna spend forever with him. Despite his financial issues and flaws.
Other days I see my family and I feel a deep love for them. I feel a deep need to make them happy, to not disappoint them. And with that comes a sense of guilt that I’m with him.
Im not ready to let go of him. Despite everything. I’m not ready to leave him.
I feel like the right thing to do is to break up with him. Everybody says so. He’s not good for me.
But he’s the only person who doesn’t make me feel judged. The other day he called me sexy and it lit me up. He acknowledges my morning grumpiness and tries to cheer me up. He let’s me eat all the pizza I want without commenting on my tummy. He’d still spend the day at the beach with me if I chose to wear s bikini. He’s seen me puke my tummy out because I got angry at him and downed two bottles of champagne out of spite and he still tried to help me feel better.
Yes we fight. A lot. But we talk a lot.
I keep thinking that when I’m thin, things will be different. But I know it’s an excuse. An excuse to keep me safe. To not make me choose.
Yes, this time last year he was cheating on me with that young Un who still tags his sister in things. Recently I’ve been fantasising about other men. I know it’s not the same, I didn’t act on it…
I don’t know. He’s changed. He’s less angry. He’s less secretive. He’s trying…
I don’t trust my mind when I’m depressed.