It's come to this. I can't ignore the facts that are staring me in the face. I've attempted to write in this space about my thoughts about things in particular, planning and life and not dwell on my own failings and insecurities but I have got to kick myself in the butt to do something.
I awoke at 3am last night with both of my arms sore from laying on them, my feet sore from standing during the day supporting a weight I'm uncomfortable walking around with. I have blood glucose issues that are controlled well with diet and meds but those cause me to have miserable digestive distress that I quickly "take a break" which extends through a weekend filled with indulgences, excuses and regrets.
266. Eight pounds heavier than when I restarted last week. All from one weekend. I'm killing myself slowly. I fear what I'm doing to myself - which leads to anger and hatred of myself - which leads to paranoia and anxiety of what others probably think of me - which then leads to additional self-loathing because I feel that comes across as arrogance to think that anyone cares that much - which then leads to additional anger at myself for the self-pitying useless wretch that I've become at this point.
I'm hampered by indecision and bound by guilt. Guilt of spending too much money, guilt of not spending enough, of wasting time and working too hard. Of overthinking too many things and not thinking enough. Of focusing on the details and missing the view and of wiping it down and thinking it done. Of depending too much on others and not delegating enough.
I'm ready to rend myself into two. Need a Me(2) to accomplish the projects and allow the time to relax. I'm not claiming that what I'm feeling is anything special or unique or even worthwile mentioning. It is important to me because this is what is happening to me right now and failing to do anything about it is my own damn fault.