Today was my second day without carbs. It was the first day I fantasized about submerging myself completely in chocolate frosting and eating my way out. I'm an admitted sugar junkie (which is part of why I'm doing this in the first place) but never have I had cravings for sweets as badly as I do right now.
I know a lot of people who are living a low carb lifestyle. Not one of them warned me about the cravings and the headaches. Oh. God. The. Headaches. Today, as I was sitting with my aching head in my hands begging for glucose to be given to me intravenously....my coworker (who has been doing this for several months) assured me that this will pass.
Of course, I don't know how much I trust him. Our next topic of conversation was a dangerous experiment involving dry ice, water, and a Crystal Geyser bottle.
Cat and I are sick. Not deathly ill or anything. It isn't SARS or meningitis or West Nile Virus. It's really no big deal. Except that we are both sick. At the same time.
It isn't good when both of us are sick at the same time. We're both pathetic sick people. It is really best if one is well so they can deal with the whining of the sick one. It is best for the sick one to have a healthy one to...you know...fetch things and say "poor baby".
But now we are both sick. And he is too tired to rub my back. And my nose is too stuffed up for me to say "poor baby". And he is impervious to my whining because he also feels like crap.
So I'm just going to snuggle in bed with my box of tissues and watch American Idol and 24.
I felt like a teenager again, being lectured by my father. Only the voice on the phone belonged to our VP and I was sitting in a conference room with my boss and a small group of my peers.
Our project isn't going well. We've been running pell mell (I've always wanted to use that term) toward an impossible goal. We're sick. We're frustrated. We're overworked. We're burnt out.
He asks us to work more. More hours at night. More weekends. My eyes meet those of my coworker and I notice his have bags under them. My boss avoids my glance while her hands clutch and release in frustration. Another coworker shakes her head and blinks her eyes rapidly.
This is something I get to look forward to every day. Our daily "status call" with the big VP. While he opines about everything from business politics to the state of the world to random judgements on what anyone might get brave enough to say, I keep one ear open for my name. Just in case. You never know when you will be selected to attempt to answer an unanswerable question. Like, "Why don't you understand this business process?" and "Are you that naive?" and "What can we do that we aren't already doing?" and "If a jackass bellows while a phone is muted and the whole room is hissing cursewords at him under their breath does he make a sound?" Oh, wait. That last one was mine.
But mostly....I daydream. I wonder how long I would need to go to school to become a hair stylest. I imagine winning the lottery. I think of resigning and having babies and being a housewife. I think about trying to find voiceover work. I plan the next chapter in my novel. The one that I'm certain will be a best seller and will afford me the opportunity to quit....this.....job.
Then I think about the fact that I am lucky to even have a job right now. I think about my paycheck. I think about other people with much worse work situations than mine. And, even though I am far from happy at work.....I am grateful.
About six years ago I sat on a couch with a friend, drunk and crying, and confessed my deepest fear. I was embarassed about it. It seemed shallow and stupid.
My fear was that I would never be loved. Not really. Not by anyone.
I had no comprehension at that time that I was already loved by many people....including the friend I was talking to at the time. I had no comprehension that there was anything remotely loveable about myself.
To be honest, I still struggle with this concept. I even sometimes find myself wondering if my husband really loves me. How could he? Why would he?
But only sometimes.
Other times, I sort of see it. I catch a glimpse of my eyes in the mirror and I think they are sort of pretty or I like the sound of my laugh. I might even see in someone else's face that I am interesting, funny, intelligent.....even likeable. I see it when my husband says he loves me and when he rolls over in his sleep and pulls me closer to him.
My favorite aunt used to try to explain to me that true self-esteem came from inside. She said it wasn't healthy to seek validation from others. I always wanted to be the girl who loved herself and didn't care what anyone else thought. I wanted to be the girl who was self-sufficient and brave.
I turned out to be the girl who sometimes likes herself a little bit, who worries too much about what certain people think, who laughs nervously and fills silences with meaningless babble, and who often wishes she was someone else. I also turned out to be the girl with the wonderful husband. The girl who knows better. The girl who takes chances. The girl who hopes.
Last week someone stole our neighbors' truck. It was parked on the street right in front of their house.
The police found the truck a couple days after it went missing. It was completely trashed. The thieves took it for a joyride and smashed it into a parked semi-truck. They abandoned it and left behind in the cab some of their belongings and a knife.
During our walk tonight, Siobhan was talking about how she felt about this whole experience. Her emotions ran the gamut between anger to fear to sadness. She wondered why they were chosen. She said she felt violated.
It freaks me out that someone like that was even in our neighborhood. Someone with a knife came into our neighborhood and stole something from some nice people.
My mom's mom is a pain in the ass. She's judgemental and critical and she doesn't think before she speaks. She is Saint Doris of the Perpetual Sorrow and Neglect. She also drinks too much.
That being said, I love my Gram. For every time she's made me feel absolutely horrible about myself, she's also done something nice. The woman drives me mad.
Last week she was really sick. She told my mom that, at one point, she thought she was going to die. She said that she wondered how many days it would take for someone to find her body. Truth? It could easily be a few days. And that makes me sad.
Here's the thing about my Gram. Someone could call to check on her and she would say she was fine even if she was in mid-stroke. See, she doesn't want to "bother" anybody. The woman could feasibly hack up her left lung while you watched and she would try to tell you that it was nothing. Allergies, maybe. Don't you worry about her. And then she'd tell you that she liked your hair much better before you cut it. And maybe you should get some new pants because the ones you are wearing are "snug" and the color does nothing for you. Hey! It's Happy Hour!
There's a lot about my Gram that I find endearing. She's independent. She's young at heart. She's active. She's got a lot of friends. She's got a pretty good sense of humor. She sends me inappropriate e-mail. And I know she loves me.
If only I would get my hair out of my face. And lose some weight. And call more often.
My brain has a split personality. There's a fairly intelligent and rational side and there's a hyperactive seven-year-old who has had far too much sugar side.
I wish that the obnoxious part of my brain came with an "off" switch. Especially lately....when it has been particularly fond of kicking into high gear in the middle of the night when my body and my grown-up brain are attempting to sleep.
My obnoxious brain thinks that it comes up with fabulous and ground breaking ideas in the wee hours of the morning. I don't know how to break it to my brain that those "brilliant" thoughts it conjures up at 2AM pale considerably by daybreak. This is the same part of my brain that thinks a 48 oz Diet Pepsi is a wise breakfast choice and that bedtimes are for babies. This is the same part of my brain that loves pop rocks and Hello Kitty. This is my brain on drugs.
Because this part of my brain has been so loud lately, I have not been sleeping well. Unfortunately, the more tired I am, the more the obnoxious brain takes over.
I do not expect a productive weekend.