Not really a mourning person

So as most of you know, Tony and I had made the difficult decision to put our Bea-Bea to sleep in late July. For those of my friends that have lost a pet you understand how difficult of a decision this is and I have to keep telling myself it was the right decision. And I am driving myself crazy over it. I try not to cry a lot when people can see because I don't want those that are not pet-lovers to think I am crazy (ok, crazier) but I still cry over her most days. I miss her fat-moosey breath and her wet slobbery kisses. I miss her following me around and making sure that I am OK (lil puppy really don't care what I am doing, she is her own doggy). I just miss everything about her. Now, I know it is normal to mourn but dammit, I really suck at this mourning thing. I know that part of the reason is when both my grandparents and my loved mother-in-law died in the same year (getrud and granny in the same week) that I could not properly mourn. I was in school, working and it was the freakin' holidays. It was a pretty shitty time and I don't think I have ever completed mourning them. Now with Bea being gone, I am stuck in this mourning rut. And I am depressed. And I am angry. And I am hungry. 

Where does that leave me? Hell, I dunno. Mostly it leaves my fat-ass in the kitchen looking for a snack. Food is always there for me. Always ready to wrap me in it's warm, comforting embrace. Food always loves me, it doesn't judge me. Food doesn't care that I have gray hair (and eyebrows, who the hell gets gray eyebrows?!), wrinkles, or bat-flappers. Food doesn't leave me, sure, I can eat the last bite of something but I can always get more. Food is my constant, it is my lover, my friend, my partner-in-crime, my happy, my sad, food is my everything. And it is a damn shame that it has to go.

I can't keep on turning to food. I can't mourn through food. I can't live through food. Food doesn't make anything better in the long-term. In fact, food is what made Tony sick. Food killed his liver. And food is killing me. I am so very tired of being the "fat, jolly, girl". I am tired of "you have such a pretty face". I don't want to worry about sitting in a chair or people laughing at me. Hell, this life is hard enough all of this extra worry.

While I have had a few set-backs these past few weeks, mainly stopping  the Weight-Watchers meetings. Which WW meetings were my rock and I hate that I had to stop going. But with the bad economy and poor attendance the meeting closed. And the online thing doesn't really work for me. So, now what? Well, first of all, this crazy eating mass quantities of whatever the hell I want, has to stop. Eating till I have a belly-ache? Has to stop. Can't breath because I am so full. Stopping. And then perhaps the weird right-upper quad pain that I am pretty sure is my gallbladder committing suicide might just stop.

Now, I am left with what is going to happen. Do I grieve through the food, do I let these set-backs rule my life? Do I gain back the almost 50 pounds I have lost? I dunno.

Hate, jealous and pettiness, Oh My!

I want to be a good girl, really I do. I want to be nice and sweet. I want to smile and nod and be a good hostess. I want to say nice things about all people and never be mad. I want so bad to appreciate the hand that life dealt to me. I want to be ignorant to life's pain and struggle. I mean ignorance is bliss, right? But as the saying goes I can want in one hand and...well...umm...have excrement in the other. Nothing says life like a hand-full of excrement.

But, alas, this is not me. I am not a good girl. I am mean and hateful. I frown and disagree and generally want people to go the hell home. I don't want to make you a snack and if you want something to drink the fridge is in the kitchen and DON'T drink my last Pepsi. I talk about people (boy this isn't easy to admit) and I am pissed off all the time. I can't seem to appreciate anything and I am fickle. Not only am I not ignorant to life's pain and struggle, in fact, I like it so much I tend to make things harder on myself. I am petty and jealous and generally a pain in the ass.

And yet, while I would love to spend the next, oh say 5,000 words or so telling you about how much I suck, I don't really think it is very helpful to me or to anyone else. I guess what would be better to say is I am human. I have my faults. I hurt and I am sometimes hurtful. I am not perfect and I want to be.

I am at a point in my life where I want to be a better me. The best me I can. I have been working on my weight, 46lbs down, forever gone. I am trying to be patient with my weight-loss. It took me 36 long painful years to get to this weight and losing it is hard. Somewhere along the line it stopped being about what I am eating and more about why I am eating. And that's not easy. Being truly honest with yourself is painful. And it's not something I am ready for yet. I know I binge eat. I know I eat to cover my emotions, to fill the void left in my life. But what is missing? What am I looking for when I look in the fridge? Companionship? Acceptance? Love? Sex? What am I looking for?

I think I am looking for me.