I got home from the gym a little while ago and since then I have taken a shower, got dressed and did my makeup, took out the trash, recycling, and compost, done the dishes, wiped down the kitchen counters, and taken my vitamins. Not to mention that when I first got home I smoked a little weed and ate some waffles. Back when I was the old me, living in that nasty house on the highway in Nice, CA, I used to be one of those stoners who couldn't do shit. I'd just sit there and eat and surf the internet. Or drink and surf the internet. I couldn't exercise, pay a bill, make dinner, clean the house, or clean myself. I was a waste product. Needless to say, I felt like a loser. Today, I figure, if I smoke weed, it's okay, as long as I am still a functioning human being who is able to take care of business. I've found that I've actually become more productive stoned than I do just normally. I used to tell myself I couldn't write stoned, and it was probably just an excuse I told myself so I didn't have to write. Or exercise. Although I wouldn't exercise stoned because that would just be counterintuitive, I also wouldn't let it come before a work out. Nothing comes between me and the gym. I'm there rain or shine, heartache or bursting at the seems with love, whether I'm angry, depressed, way too full from over eating, sick, or in pain. I always go. I can't imagine anything other than HAM being as important as the gym. I guess school. School takes even more time than the gym and balancing the two is difficult. I don't know how HAM does everything that he does. He'll make a good marketing executive someday, or whatever he decides to do. I remember back in my senior year of college, I was newly married, in school full time, working part time, applying to grad schools, and smoking crack on the weekends. I mean, not every single weekend, but if it wasn't crack, I was getting drunk, popping Xanax and Oxycontin, snorting cocaine, or even dropping ectasy. Who knows how I made it through all of that with my degree and a 3.9 GPA. Of course I didn't get into grad school, and I'm sure it was because I was delusional from the drugs. But I still accomplished a lot while I was handling a million other things. So I wonder, was it not being accepted to grad school that really pushed me over the edge as far as "partying", or was it just the natural progression of addiction? In AA, they say that's what happens - you can never maintain. One is too many and a thousand is never enough. I guess I don't know yet. I do know the year before I quit drinking and getting high was the worst year of my life. I definitely don't want to end up back there again. So maybe that's why I become so overly productive, trying to prove to myself that It's different this time. But is it worth it? Because if I am truly an addict, this won't stay manageable. It will become unmanageable and I'll have to stop. If it turns out I was just misguided and had some impermanent dependency issues, then I guess I could go on forever feeling satisfied with a little evening weed smoking and one glass of wine. That would be fine. Honestly, I don't know why I ever liked getting drunk. It's much better to just slowly sip one glass of fabulous wine than "get fucked up". I don't like being out of control, doing and saying things I normally wouldn't do and say, and waking up feeling like shit, dehydrated and ashamed. No thank you. One is just right, actually. I don't ever feel like I'm stopping myself from having more. All I care for is one, and then I feel done. Damn, AA really fucks a person't head up, doesn't it? It's so weird, because AA helps so many people, but it's also a brainwashing cult. It's just that the brainwashing helps a lot of people. But it hurts people, too. It hurt me and I've heard stories about others. I guess I just don't have the answers on this. I guess I'll just have to watch and see what happens, and hope it's nothing I'll regret.

I'm at work right now and I have to write from work because HAM and I will hopefully be spending time together once I'm off. Today I went to counseling in the morning and the gym on my lunch break. I love productive days like this where I get shit done in the morning so by the time I'm done with work I don't have anything else to do. I bought a protein bar and a salad at Whole Foods and ate the protein bar, then got an Americano after the gym. Still haven't eaten the salad yet. Today in counseling (as you know, since you were there) we talked about fat/ looks and why it is so important to me. That possibly I believe the only way people will like me is if I am beautiful and thin. I know there is more to people than looks. Obviously! I have dated various guys (and even married a guy) who lack a complete set of teeth. My ex-fiance had something he called "dick-do". That's when your belly sticks out further than your dick do. My husband was bald on top - he only had hair around the sides of his head (just like my grandpa). But the issue, of course, isn't the people I have had relationships with - it's me and my ridiculously high standards for myself. But it's not just looks that matter to me. I also want to be smart and funny and accomplished. I want to do something worthwhile with my life. And be beautiful. But why is so overwhelmingly important and obsessive to be beautiful? Am I just a product of my culture? Apparently not. Apparently, it has more to do with feeling like I can't control anything in my life, that I am ineffectual (is that how you spell it?) and so I use my weight/ food/ looks because it's all I am able to control. Damn, that's some deep shit. Why would I have such a strong desire to control anything? Maybe because people have always been controlling me and making decisions for my life. Like ALL, he controlled every move I made. And my ex-husband, RC. After college I was hoping to go to grad school or at least get a good job, but he moved me out to the mountains where I couldn't get a job and was totally isolated. There were plenty other boyfriends - paranoid, delusional, controlling boyfriends who kept tabs on every fucking thing I did, every male friend, every time I went out without them. I had one boyfriend who was so delusional that when I came home wearing one of my Dad's shirts, he accused me of having an incestuous relationship with him. I had one boyfriend kidnap me and keep me against my will until I finally escaped. I actually had to run for my life, jump over fences, and hide in a fucking bush to escape this maniac. Even my Dad - he has so much power over me that all he has to do is dislike something I want to do, and before I know it, I have given up. He's the reason I had an abortion (the most recent one anyway). There's always some dude pulling my strings from behind a curtain. I'm this pretty little puppet, just moving about the way I'm told. So yeah, that gets old. When I was with ALL, I was at my most perfect weight. My body was rock solid and I weighed about 110. I looked amazing. But my exercise routine was unreal. I spent 2 1/2 hours at the gym every time I went. And I even had to fight him for that time at the gym. It became a major source of tension in our relationship because when we were doing the long-distance thing, he didn't like not being able to contact me for those 2 1/2 hours, and when I was living with him, he didn't want to spend that long at the gym. He controlled everything in my life, so I controlled my body. But now I'm with HAM and he doesn't control anything. I am free to do whatever the fuck I want and he doesn't ever tell me what to do or try to influence me to do what he wants or thinks is right. The only thing he wants for me is for me to do what I want and to be happy. And to love him. And it's easy to love him. I wonder if he reads this? If he does he probably hates how much I talk about my exes, but it's therapeutic. I need to write about them to get them out of my system. I remember when ALL started telling me not to get too muscular because he wouldn't be attracted to me. I didn't understand this, since he always said he would still love me and think I was hot if I got fat...but not extremely fit? So of course I started lifting heavier weights and doing less reps. I started working on my upper body a lot, doing pull-ups and dips, flys and bicep curls. Then after we broke up I got even more intense about it because I was pissed. I wanted to run fast, workout hard, be big and strong and look like you better not fuck with me. But the thing about it is, it's really addictive. Once you start getting big, even though it looks a little scary on a girl, it feels good. Looking in the mirror and seeing all that definition, those giant biceps, cut up traps and lats. It feels good to be strong. And maybe I wouldn't be able to take on a 220 pound ex-con with a DV problem, but at least I look like you better not fuck with me. So yeah, control. I control my body. But no one is controlling me anymore. I can do what I want now. So does that mean that my obsession with weight and looks means something other than needing to control something in my life, or is it residual shit left over from a past of violent and controlling men? I guess I've been doing the whole weight-crazy thing since around the time my parents were in the process of divorce. I was eight then, so of course I had no control over my parents relationship. Maybe it all goes back to that. But seriously, I'm really over it! That was so long ago! I love my parents, they're still friends, everyone has moved on. I don't hold grudges and I don't hold on to the past. I'm way more of a future-tripper than I past-obsesser. I guess the reality is that I don't know why I'm such a freak about my physical appearance. I know it doesn't feel good to put this much pressure on myself, but I'm afraid to/ don't know how to stop. Oh well, I guess this is a to-be-continued situation.