The juggling act

Oh dear, have fallen to pieces with fatigue the last couple of days.  Arse!! I would say 'not happy' but I'm too tired to be unhappy.  Which is some sort of positive at least.  So is the fact that I seem to be more and more catching myself before I say shitty things about myself. The shitty things come when I'm constructing the sentence in my head, but I'm pulling myself up and not letting the shitty version come out of my mouth.  The goal is some kind of nirvana where I don't have the shitty thought to begin with. Remarkably, I'm also quite positive about reaching that state. So although I didn't do any self hypno yesterday (smack botbot) progress is evident and Sandy is happy.

I'm probably fretting a bit too early in this process about all this positive energy not really translating into controlled eating. Miracles should happen after a week and a half of positive thinking and self hypno. Apparently.  This week has been pretty erratic in the eating arena and it's not thrilling me much but as I said in an earlier post may have to suck that up temporarily while concentrating on the confidence/self esteem issues, which ultimately are why I'm fat.  Just don't ask me right now would I rather be skinny or have great self esteem. The answer may not be entirely politically correct, but I at least realise now I can't have one without the other.

I sometimes get massively frustrated with my ability to keep what I see as all the necessary balls of my life in the air.  Why shouldn't I be able to work on my confidence, eat like a weight loss champion, exercise, look after the kindest man in the world, the dog, the cat and the house, maintain good friendships, come up with and develop great business ideas, focus on finding a job, expand my mind and look fabulous while still being basically chronically ill with ME? Why? Because I'm not a fucking octopus, that's why but for some reason I still feel like a failure for not doing all of the above and more. You see why I have to focus on self-esteem right now.

I know a few gorgeous women who are in the same position only more hardcore because they have kids. I would never dream of calling them slackers or useless or failures.  I think they are awesome, and tell them as much on a regular basis. Why am I not that, even though I don't have kids? Why are my 'weaknesses' so much more terrible than other people's?

I sometimes despair of my utter freaking headcaseness, I really do.

I don't think it's a bad thing to have high expectations of yourself, that's how people achieve in life, that's how art is created and records are broken and science has breakthroughs and all the other fabulous things that happen when humans extend themselves mentally and physically. But the line between high expectations and unrealistic expectations seems to be a bloody fine one. Or is that just me?

I don't want to be lazy or mediocre or half baked, but I also don't want to be continually fretting about not getting (as I see it) far enough fast enough, in my weight loss, my emotions or my life.  Largely because I can see how it backfires on me in self beating uppage and loathing, thereby paralysing me, thereby making me not progress far enough fast enough. Hmmm, seeing a pattern here...

Missions for today: self hypno, self belief, and remembering I am not a fucking octopus.  They're very tasty fried with loads of salt and chilli, but I don't want to bloody be one.