24-2 (Thoughts of a tired one)

Not much to tell about the second shift.
Food-wise, I did relatively good. I had no solid food at all, but the offices were full of sweets and I think I took some too much. But my belly feels Ok this morning, I will step on THE SCALE tomorrow morning and tell you.

I kinda lost my heart last night when someone told me the story of one of my clients. It was so sad and brutal and unfair, I thought about it the rest of the night and first thing in the morning:
A couple doing drugs together, having a child together, betraying the world and the trust of their littel boy together, and one night, in a drug rush and nightmare, the man left his little boy burning in the flames of a barbecue and simply went away. Later, the police found the little dead body. Now both are in a mental hospital and hopefully stay there forever.
I called home immediately to check if everything was OK there.

And ever since, I ask myself, why I cannot be more grateful for what I have instead of wining because of my ruined body. One day, I will die anyway. Why is it so important to me how I look on the outside? Why do I not feel good just because there are higher numbers on THE SCALE? I am an intelligent woman, why can´t I find another source of self-worth than the size of my clothes?

But still I cannot change.

And I get worse. In the last few weeks and months, I realized how much older I am looking now. There are wrinkles around my eyes, I know that they are related to smiling, but who gives a ..... about that? I don´t want them. And I am looking so tired, even exhausted. Well, having a little baby and working 60 to 80 hours a week plus 24h shifts does not help. And I guess there is no make-up in the world which can cover that.
And most of the time, I think:
Well, if you look this old and fainted and sick, you should at least be skinny enough. And you can never be skinny enough.

And sometimes I am so scared, because I am kinda happy right now, family-wise and life-wise, and it can only get worse, right? My food, my weight, my looks, they are things that truly and deeply depend on my ability to control myself. My ability to check numbers and movements and to fight the hunger. And what is hunger, anyway? A little pain in the belly compared to the feeling of inner strength and control? Why am I wining about that? A bad day, a high number, maybe a littel self-hatred, why do I constantly pity myself?

I guess I am just weak right now, and I have to get my strength back. And if I am strong again, I just walk on, I restrict, I lose, I fight, and in the end I can feel good again, as a mother, and as a woman, and as a person with some issues...

I will get up now, I will take my own challenge, I will keep busy and will not eat until hubby gets home from work. And I will prepare a low cal dinner for both of us, so that there is no way for him to get fast food again.

I will not pity myself anymore.
I will not pity myself anymore.
I will not pity myself anymore.

And I will do everything as close to perfect as I can, ending up in being thin, strong and powerful again. I will be me again.