Snooze Monday, Apr 23 2012 

I woke up this morning at 4:43.  I was having a panic attack.

I do this sometimes.

I wake up and my heart is racing, my feet are twitching, and I can’t get calmed down enough to go back to sleep.

And the first thing I wanted to do was stress-eat.

B r e a t h e    s i s t e r. . . . . .

I sat up and put my feet on the floor.  I started taking some deep breaths.  I put my arms high up over my head and did some yoga-style stretches.  I rubbed some Oil of Olay on my face, and took a big drink of water out of the bottle I keep by my bed.

And like an adult, I calmed myself down.  Without binge-eating.  Or Xanax.  Or even a bubble bath.

Sound simple?  Perhaps to you.

But it truly is a battle for me.

Soooo….. let me explain to you why these panic attacks happen early in the morning.

For 2 years, Player called me every morning at 7:30 on his way to work.

Like clockwork.

He was the one person I knew I could count on to call me every single day.  And he did.  I can’t even explain how I felt in the beginning of our relationship.  I was wonderfully clueless back then, and every time my phone rang and I heard his ring-tone, my heart would just sing.  He had the most beautiful voice in the world to me.

“Good morning, Angel.”

It may not sound like much, but when you’ve never been spoken to in this way, it is really an amazing thing.

He would go on and on about how he felt about me, and how amazing I was to him.  It really calmed the needy, insecure beast within me….more than I even knew at the time.  I could then go all day without talking to him, and still feel filled up with love.  But most days I would hear from him at least 3 or 4 times throughout the day.

It felt good to be wanted by someone I was so attracted to.  I was so drawn to him.  And I felt loved.

But once I realized who I was messing with, and how many other women he was running this same game on, I pulled away.  He would still call me in the mornings, I just wouldn’t answer.  He would text throughout the day, but I would purposely leave my phone in my bag so I wouldn’t hear it.  And it wasn’t long before he knew I was onto him and that he was losing me.

And slowly, he stopped calling as much.

And even though me distancing myself is what was causing the lessening phone calls, it still hurt me.  And I would get upset that he wasn’t calling anymore.

I guess because I wanted to win.  I wanted him to choose me.  I wanted him to come after me and proclaim his love and devotion and tell me that he couldn’t bear to live his life without me.  Even though I knew damn good and well that wasn’t going to happen.

So the calls went from daily, to a few days a week.

I would wake up in the mornings, and just stare at the clock until I knew he was at work.  And then I would just seethe because I hadn’t heard from him.

This behavior has escalated into morning panic attacks.

I will wake up out of a dead sleep, gasping for air, heart racing, with jittery hands and feet….reaching for the clock to see that it is only 5 a.m., and praying that he will call me.

Some mornings I would just lay there.  Other mornings I would go outside on my sun porch and drink a whole pot of coffee.  Some days I would get my kids to school, and then come back home and eat a dozen donuts…punishing myself for not being enough to win the attention of this man.

He’s been gone from my daily life now for almost 4 months.

And I still wake up in a panic most days….longing to hear that ringtone singing out from my cell phone.  But knowing full well that even if it did, I wouldn’t answer.

Co-dependence is a cruel bitch.

He’s just not that into you Saturday, Apr 21 2012 

Thank you for the warm welcome back to blogland.

I have received so much encouragement via emails, texts, and Facebook, and I just want to say thank you.  Accountability always plays a huge part in me actually making a change.

Seeing a therapist has been a huge part of my coming to this point.  And this isn’t the first time I’ve gone to therapy, trust me.  Yet she was able to unearth YEARS of emotional constipation I didn’t even realize I had.  I have been able to work through many of the reasons I feel like I just don’t fit in this world.  I understand what types of situations set me off, and so I can more proactively steer clear.

I highly recommend seeing a therapist if you have any type of addiction whatsoever.  You will really come to know yourself.

Maybe a little more than you want to.

But know this, it has brought me such freedom from two major things:

  • The self-loathing I project on myself when love kicks me in the jittles.
  • Your opinion on my choices.

My entire life I had thought of myself as a fat girl.  A diet failure.

But what I’ve discovered is that I have not only been out of control in that area of my life, I have been out of control in EVERY area of my life.

My day would generally end with binge-eating or 2 bottles of wine.

My home used to be a constant disaster, still is sometimes.  And I mean to the point where you have to step over things to get through the room.

There were times that I had the money to pay my bills, but I used it for other things; creating a financially disastrous situation.

I pursued men that I knew were either uninterested or already taken.

So this week I brushed off my copy of  He’s just not that into you by Greg Behrendt and Liz Tuccillo .

And read it cover to cover.  Again.

And honestly, it brought me to the realization that in 3 years, I really haven’t moved forward at all from my previous habits.

And as strange as that sounds, it was fantastically liberating.

So now where am I?

To tell you the truth, I’m not really sure.

But in the mean time, I am going to make better choices for myself.  I am logging my food diary on  I am starting with some light upper body strength training.  (Cardio is out for time being, I have a broken foot.)  I am going to stay hydrated and get enough sleep, and surround myself with supportive and loving people.

Baby steps.

And before I know it, maybe Player will be a distant memory.

I’m actually counting on it.

Coming Clean Friday, Apr 20 2012 

My entire life has been a weight roller coaster.

The past 3 years are certainly no exception.

I have participated mindlessly, yet fully, in allowing myself to be controlled by how I am viewed by the male species.

Plain and simple.

Spare me the lectures.  We all have issues.

This one is mine.

Nothing sends me into a pattern of self-loathing like being rejected by a man.


Insult me and call me names, I will recover in a few days.  Accuse me and publicly humiliate me, I will bounce back in a week, a month…tops.  But reject me when I’m truly in love with you, and that cycle of self-destruction could last years.

And has.

After months and months of hard work in 2009, I reached a weight where I truly felt good about myself.  I was strong, flexible and focused.  I had recovered from an extremely painful divorce, and was mostly in tune with myself.  I felt amazing.  So much so that it turned heads.  Confidence is attractive, and for the first time, I was truly starting to find myself.  Buried under years and layers of fat and emotional constipation.

But at the end of that year, I met a man. (Cue: evil creepy music)

For decency and privacy, I will not use his name.

Let’s just call him Player.

He was gorgeous.


Smelled like Versace.

And he was pursuing me.

I was breathless.  And very stupid.

But I didn’t know any better.  No one that mesmerizing has ever given me a second glance.

For months he called me every day.  I felt I had finally found my match, and to watch him with me, you would have thought so too.  My closest friends were even smitten with how dreamy he acted toward me.

But over time, there were several events that warned me what I was getting into.  I started suspecting he was just a player.  But I didn’t end the relationship.

I just started paying closer attention.  Almost like solving a mystery.  Dating isn’t supposed to be a game, but that’s what this was turning out to be.

So I investigated.  You can call it stalking.  I call it Player Research.

(Tomato, to-mah-to.  Whatevs.)

The evidence was irrefutable.  I was falling for a player.

But then the craziest thing happened.  He told me he was in love with me.  And I just lost my mind.  I was so happy, no one had ever said that to me before.  Not like that.

I can sit here and try to explain my reasoning for allowing it to go on, but the bottom line is that I have allowed a very slick, skilled player to emotionally control and manipulate me.  And in the process, I have gained 40 pounds.

I ended the physical part of our relationship last summer.  But I have allowed the emotional connection to continue.

On New Years Day he married another woman.  He still calls me.  He would come over if I would let him.  He has at least 4 other girlfriends that I know of, and has zero conscience about it.  I believe he is a true sociopath.

Yet breaking free of the hold he has on my heart is impossible because I simply do not love myself.  I punish myself for not being enough to win his devotion.  I cry and binge eat and throw things until I’m exhausted.  Yet I have been in denial for so long that I haven’t done a thing about it.

So today, I am confessing.  I am weakened, sad, beat down and hopeless.  I binge eat several times a week.  I sleep too much and exercise too little.  I spend too much time alone.  I reject the people who truly love me, and openly welcome the ones who use and betray me.  And the only way I am ever going to truly change is admit to myself there is a problem, and make a conscious effort to change it.

Three days ago he called me when he was on his way to work. I told him that I don’t want to talk to him anymore.  At all.

I deleted his texts.  And voice mails.

And now with every ounce of strength I have, I am climbing up out of this pit.  I am worth every ounce of this fight.  And I am sick and tired of feeling sick and tired.

This isn’t about achieving some stick figure weight and landing a man anymore.

It is about loving myself enough to treat myself well, and demand that others do the same.

Bye bye, Player.  Mama’s got some work to do.


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