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I don’t even know what this post will be about, I just really need to write something.  Anything.

My head feels like a complete mess at the moment and there are so many confusing thoughts flying around in there that I need to vent, rant, and think things through.

Ambitions?  I don’t think I have any.  Really.  I’m so envious of people who feel as if they have a real vocation, people who are so driven to achieve that they will work themselves into the ground in order to realise their dreams.   Travelling is something I’ve wanted to do, but don’t have the balls to get off my bum and do it.  I’m too ‘safe’, sticking with what I know and it’s not good for me.  I’m nearing 30 and I’ve literally done nothing with myself, no job, no boyfriend (in maybe a million years? Approx), back living with the ‘rents, it’s actually just pathetic.

I don’t know what I want to do with my life.  I thought I wanted to be a teacher, but the very idea of going back into the classroom terrifies me.  I know I’ll not be good enough, and although I got through the PGCE, I think I was on pure adrenaline.  The first few years of a teacher’s career are basically hell by all accounts, getting to grips with the curriculum, assessment, planning, children’s Special Educational Needs, meetings, targets, blah blah blah ARGH.  I don’t know if I’d cope.  Plus, I’ve applied for 60+ teaching jobs and still don’t have one, so it’s not looking good on that front.  I have done nothing since July when I finished the course other than sit at home on the internet.  Drive and ambition don’t seem to exist in my world.

Living at home isn’t doing me any good at all.  I need to break away and do something independenly, but I’m scared that too much change might bring back the habits I’ve fought so hard to banish.  I used to be fiercely independent, and have moved away a few times but then ended up back here.  Going mad with the boredom of my mundane life.

Things with my Mum aren’t completely rosy at the moment.  Her eating has become more erratic (/non-existent) and it’s driving me crazy.  She was never ever like this before I became ill, and now she’s heading down the same path I did and it kills me.  It kills me because I know how her habits are likely to get worse, and she goes from admitting there’s a problem to complete denial in the space of an hour.  It’s horrible.  I can’t cope with trying to feed her up as well as feeding myself up.  On the flip side, I know it’s none of my business what other people do or do not eat so maybe I should just leave her to it, let her get on with it.  Except I can’t.  I can’t sit here and watch her go through what I went through if there’s a chance I can snap her out of it.  I also can’t let my Dad go through that either, to see his daughter and his wife struggle with restrictive eating?  That’s shitty.  Really shitty.  Neither him nor Mum deserved to go through what they went through when I was at my worst, and I’ll feel eternally guilty for that.  Which is why, I suppose, my Mums crappy eating frustrates me so much.  She knows how horrible it is to watch, surely she can remember how helpless she felt?  That’s how I feel now.

Being completely honest, the other, really horrible side of it is jealousy.  Her habits are seriously, genuinely worrying, she eats minimal calories during the day and it’s bad.  She’s losing weight, and I’m gaining.  That’s the jealousy part.  It’s horrible of me, but I see her losing weight and getting smaller and smaller while I’m just ballooning.  We’re now the same size in clothes, she has gone down a size and will soon be down another.  Maybe I shouldn’t chuck out my old size 6 jeans which I can’t even get past my ankle in any more, they could be put to use after all.

I feel enormously guilty for eating as much as I do, particularly in the evenings.  I spend every night hauled up in my room on my laptop eating and eating and eating and eating.  It’s easier to stuff my face when I’m on my own, because I can’t get wound up that I’m eating and nobody else is.  I know that’s pathetic.  I know it’s antisocial, and yes I feel lonely, but it’s just easier this way.  I really need to move out asap.  A fresh start somewhere new will stop me getting stressed with Mum, and since I hibernate in my room anyway it’s not as if I’ll be any more lonely.  It might even bring me out of my shell, a house share might force me to be sociable like I once was.  I hope.  Maybe?

So basically, I’m still eating a lot.  But I could be eating more.  I’m eating 2500+ calories every day, but I know I’m still restrictive in this and I rely too much on familiar foods every day.  When I eat out, I’ll eat pretty much anything.  I love to try new desserts and don’t get scared or anxious, but for some reason eating one at home feels different.  I’ve been craving Carrot Cake for weeks but can’t bring myself to buy one because I can’t trust myself not to eat the entire thing and not feel rotten about it.  Saying that – I bought the most obsceneamount of chocolate today.  Because they were bought in different shops I didn’t realise how much I’d bought until I unpacked the bags…

  • 3 x Thorntons Alpini Bars
  • 2 x Thorntons Praline Eggs
  • 2 x M&S Honeycomb Bunnies
  • 1 x M&S Caramel Egg (special offers are my downfall)
  • 4 x Crunchie Multipack
  • 4 x Twirl Multipack
  • 1 x ‘Chokablock Extremist’
  • 1 x ‘Chokablock Rocky Road’
  • 2 x boxes of new Chocolate Go-Ahead Biscuits
  • Pack of 4 Tesco Finest Choc Chunk Cookies
  • 3 x Cream Eggs

I was only out for 20 mins!  Oh dear.  Dear oh dear.  I actually only went to buy some Crunchies because I’d run out, the others were just impulse buys.  I have a real shopping addiction.  Genuinely.  I realised the other week that I go to the supermarket every day.  Every. Single. Day.  I may not need anything, but I’ll come out having spent £30+ on crap (and since I realised, I’ve made a conscious effort to stop…except that kind of went out the window today, evidently).  It’s some sort of addiction.  The difference now is I’m actually eating the food I buy.  I used to buy a lot of food for the family.  Treats for everyone else, but nothing for me.  Now, I buy food for me.  My family won’t get a look at any of the chocolate I bought today, it’s MINE!  (Although I may offer my brother a cookie, they’ll go off before I eat all 4).

Ok so this post has been a complete mishmash as per usual.  I had no intention of rambling on about my shopping obsession, but hey, there you go.  Worries at the moment can be summarised as: Family/Job/House/Money/ED.  In that order.  For once, the ED is the least of my worries because I’m mechanically eating whether I want to or not.  OH!  And I bought myself an Easter Egg as well today.  Is that sad?  Probably.  It sounds amazing though and has two of my favourite things in it so I had to get it.  A Chocolate, Honeycomb & Marshmallow egg from Marks.  NOM NOM NOM.  Get in my belly!

Sorry this was so long as so boring to read.  It’s becoming a habit for apologising at the end of my posts recently, but I feel I should reiterate that I know my posts aren’t interesting.  I know they’re pointless and largely irrelevant to other people.  But I need to write, for me.  To stop me cracking up and to lay my thoughts out somewhere so they’re not continually spinning around in my head.  I’m done now 🙂