It's Called A Pity Party, I Hope You Brought Snacks.

Generally I like to try and find the silver lining in most situations, and in this shit week of epic shitness, it seems that the upside is this: After much bitching and moaning about missing my weight loss goal, I actually ended up beating my personal goal for this week by two pounds, as well as beating my overall challenge goal by one pound. I am now officially down 37.3 pounds since January, and if Abbey and Rich both fall off a cliff, or suddenly catch a bad case of the super bloaties, I could win this challenge.

While winning the whole challenge is not likely (they would both literally have to not lose any weight this week, or next week) for me to stay ahead, I'm doing better than I thought I would. So that's nice.

I wish I felt better. Yesterday's post, while maybe being a bit inappropriate, was really the exposing of the rawest of my raw nerves. I've pretty much had a stress stomachache about that situation for the past year and I've been doing my best to just ignore it. As you all surely know, internalizing bad things is a terrible idea. Things like that tend to fester inside of you and grow like cancer. Things like that also tend to make you want to binge until you're far too full, or far too drunk to feel feelings.

People walk in and out of your life, that's what we do. It's how it goes, and nothing lasts forever. I get this. You can't always help but hurt people, especially the people you love, especially when all you're doing to hurt them is just being yourself.

I'm super tired of being me this week.

Yeah. That's it.

I'll be back to normal soon enough, and I do apologize for all the negativity here lately, but as we have learned before: I lack a filter. Also, my therapist is on vacation this month, so I'm using you guys.  :-)