I hate my life. I hate myself. I'm so depressed right now. I don't want to be married anymore. I don't want to have to deal with my husband's kids anymore. I want to just pack all my stuff, and my daughter's stuff, and get the hell out of here.

I binge when I'm depressed. I ate tater tot casserole. I'm seriously fighting the urge to go stuff myself stupid with it. It's not even that good, but the kids like it. I hate feeling like this.

I had to pay my husband's motorcycle payment this month cause he was broke. He makes 3 times as much as I do. We have the same bills. He's gone to buy more stuff for his fucking aquarium now. Left me home with 4 kids who are running around like wild Indians, which I'm not allowed to reprimand because "I'm not their mother", and he goes shopping. After asking me for money to pay HIS bill cause he was broke.

I hate my life. I really don't want any more of that casserole. I'm not even the slightest bit hungry. But part of me really really wants to just pig the fuck out. Punishment? Maybe. But for whom? Me or him?

I'm hoping this is just PMS, and I'll feel better after I take some midol.

I wish I had some alcohol. Mellow my ass out. I feel like I'm a nervous wreck. I always get mad when I'm depressed.

Here are some websites that talk about the health benefits of calorie restriction:

http://www.longevitymeme.org/topics/calorie_restriction.cfm

http://www.calorierestriction.org/

http://www.lef.org/protocols/lifestyle_longevity/caloric_restriction_01.htm

There's some very interesting reading in there, and I'm actually kind of excited at the prospect of researching this subject further. It kinda makes me feel justified somehow.

Yesterday was bad. I felt really good about myself all day, then someone left a fun size butterfinger on my desk. I hope they rot. Well, I couldn't just leave it there, or throw it away heaven forbid! Oh no, I just HAD to eat it. Afterwards, I felt awful. So guilty and angry at myself. I looked it up online and found out it only had 100 calories; woo hoo!! That's not so bad, I can totally live with a 100 calorie slip-up, I will just be very careful about what I have for dinner.

Wednesdays are my husband's night to cook. What a laugh. I should rephrase that. Wednesday is my husband's night to thaw something out, or tell the kids to make a sandwich. Hrmff. He put two frozen pizzas in the oven for the kids, and said that he and I could just eat leftovers. I didn't have any salad left over, and I didn't have the stuff to make more, and I'm fucking broke as a joke right now what with having to buy school supplies for 4 kids. So the only thing in the fridge was this stuff he calls Ziti. It's a pasta dish with tons of cheese. I thought, ok, I'll eat just a little bit of this and drink tons of water and ice tea, and it'll be fine. Not fine. I ate the WHOLE FUCKING BOWL. All of it. I hate binging! I was miserable! My stomach was so full it was painful. I ate it standing in the kitchen, all alone, watching Hannah Montana. And do you know what my husband said when he came in there and saw that I had eaten it all? "Damn babe, you musta been hungry". The fuck? I didn't say a word. I was so embarrassed and ashamed of myself. I thought about throwing up, but couldn't do it. I hate throwing up. And besides, he followed me. He seemed to have absolutely no clue why I was in such a bad mood after that. Last night was the first time I had serious thoughts of divorce. But I also know that under different circumstances, his comment wouldn't have affected me so badly. I'm so angry. At myself, and him, and just life in general. But I recognize that these are my symptoms for depression. If I can just wait it out, and try not to bite anyone's head off (or divorce my husband), then these feelings will subside.

After stuffing myself stupid last night, I feel especially hungry today. I'm not eating until I get home. This ache in my belly is my punishment for my behavior yesterday. My mother-in-law brought me some cucumbers and tomatoes from her garden, so I'll be making some Persian salad tonight, and that's all I'm going to eat. We'll see if I can manage to not gorge myself on it...

My best friend still hasn't said anything to me about the blog I posted in myspace. I don't know if she just hasn't seen it, or if she thinks I'm ridiculous. Hopefully she's just ignoring it. On the homefront; I discovered last night that I'm actually more embarrassed to eat in front of my husband than I was before I told him about all of this. I thought getting it out in the open would make things easier. But now every time I try to eat, that evil little shite living in my skull starts whispering to me again. "Don't eat that in front of him or he'll think you're making the whole thing up just to get attention." I still haven't lost enough weight for it to make a difference, but my thoughts are obsessed with losing, losing, losing! I've also come to the conclusion that my job may have been another trigger. I fucking hate my boss with all my liver. She's a red-headed hag, and I hate her. Control. It's mostly about control for me. I have no control at work, and that bitch likes to remind me of this every chance she gets.

I told my husband last night that I have been struggling once again with an old enemy. I told him the whole thing, from start to finish. I told him how afraid I am of passing this on to our daughters, how ashamed I am of not being able to control what goes on in my head so I exert control over what goes into my body. I explained to him what I see and what I feel when I look into the mirror, and how I'm so afraid of losing his interest and his love by not being perfect. And he said all the right things. He assured me that he still loves me, will support me through all of my struggles, and reminded me of the vows we both took; in sickness and in health. He told me that he will always love me no matter what, regardless of the fact I'm not perfect. He said that in fact, one of the reasons he fell in love with me in the first place is because of my imperfections.

I finally got it all off my chest and am no longer trying to hide anything. So I should be feeling pretty good today, right? Well, I'm not. He decided to take me out to dinner to show me all's well and how much he still loves me. After all the pretty words and reassurances, he still doesn't get it. He bought me a steak, which has always been my favorite thing to binge on; but I'm not ready to binge. I ate a few bites of it, then gave the rest to our middle daughter who didn't like the burger she ordered. Honestly, I don't blame her for not liking it; it looked like a piece of greasy cardboard. I ended up eating 3 bites of steak, and about a cup and a half of steamed veggies.

So my problem now is that I don't know if he took it seriously or not. Does he think I'm making it up for attention? How could he though? He knows how I was raised by a complete lunatic. He knows I despise anyone trying to get pity (deserving or not). How could he think I just want attention? That's totally out of character for me. Or is it just my fucked up brain doing its own thing? It's almost like there's someone whispering in my ear, telling me he's just patronizing me. I thought I would feel better after telling him about it, but now I just have even more to be paranoid about.