and a dog bone and a rawhide chew thing and lots of dog food and lots of people food, please?" I refuse to believe this dog is starving to death, but she believes it. We have much in common.
Help. I can't stop eating. Why? I am trying to work the food plan, and I do okay for a few hours, and then blammo, binge time. Ate a jar of salsa and a loaf of nut bread yesterday... together. I hate myself. My boobs and butt are growing as I type. Why can't I stop? I am scared.
I am depressed. Not just low after the holidays, but damn depressed. I am back to the pointless person phase. I know this is crap. I cannot seem to drag myself out of the pit. I ask for God's help and then either don't recognize the help or outright refuse it. Farts.
The cats are still peeing all over the house. It stinks in here. My renovated clean house is now filthy with cat piss. Socks attacked Mollie again this morning. Thank God the cats are declawed. Sent Mollie into fits and she knocked over a cup of tea. Stained the carpet. I don't think I can live like this. I think the dog will have to go.
Mark did not want her from the beginning. He plays with her a little but won't let her upstairs anymore since she broke some of his Japanese tea pot collection. We are not super neat people, but it is like trying to live with a horse in the house. A nervous horse. I thought this could work. I did not bargain on getting so depressed at the filth and disorder I could barely function. I am not willing to live in a torn up pigstye. Reminds me too much of living with my mother.
Everyone keeps telling me it will get better. And I think it might. And we now have to replace the new carpet in the bedroom and living room. And we are broke. Because we just put down new carpet in the bedroom and living room.
Mollie is not going to get smaller. She is never going to want to hang around with me in the house like the cats do. After an a couple of hours in the house she explodes out the door and runs around hell bent for election for fifteen or twenty minutes. Then she is ready to go for a walk or play fetch. Whomper Dinky now lives under our bed. She only comes out at night when the dog is crated. Comes out to eat and drink, and pee on the carpet. I miss her. Socks is fighting a rear gard action. But at least she is visible.
I am so conflicted I could...eat. I give the dog back and feel like a traitor to myself, or I keep the dog and resent the heck out of her every day. If I give her back I will worry about her all the time. I will also feel like the shittiest person on earth. I have boxed myself in. Help.
Take care. Love Bea