illogical
I usually set my alarm for 8 AM and I sleep in until 10. Apparently I enjoy torturing myself with the cacophonous splendor of that analog TING-A-LING from the bells…sigh. Anyway. But this time I only slept in for a half hour then decide holy crap, I have THINGS to do! So, much to the dogs’ surprise I got up and let them outside, fed them (what!) and got on the Gazelle in a timely fashion. Then I picked up the hand weights I got from my parent’s house and did some much needed upperbody training—and I was sweating and my heart was racing and I felt good. I chugged the Medifast Cranberry Mango drink I know I hate but not as much as the vanilla shake (GOD they are awful!!!) and realized that was a mistake….I brewed some cranberry pomegranate green tea with a sprinkle of sugar (I want to get some agave nectar to sweeten it next time) and drank that as well as some water. I took a shower to get ready for work and ended up throwing up a little. It’s no surprise considering the garbage I ate the day before. And now my stomach hurts even though I’ve been good today. Doesn’t matter. I hate that I feel fatter after I exercise and eat well. It’s so counterproductive. Yesterday it was nice out so I got up, ate some breakfast and packed up the dogs. We walked over almost an hour on the trail before picking up my sister from school. From there I did some shopping, picking up the ingredients I would need to cook up some seitan for faux-meat burgers. I’m trying new things so it’s not that I’m turning vegan or vegetarian. My dad called it crap without even knowing what it was. He just has to be ignorant. I hope to trick him into eating some one day. I got a light caramel frappuccino at Starbucks when my dad wanted me to pick up some VIA for my grandmother. But they’re selling it for an IL store so they only take cash—of which I have none. I didn’t notice until I was on the road agani that Steve tried calling me but didn’t leave a voicemail. I refused to call him back. No need, since he wound up calling me when I was on my second walk of the day. That only served to needlessly depress me. He was bragging about going out to dinner with his girlfriend and both of them getting drunk, then driving too fast to make it back for the center to check in on him. He also told me about how he joked to his meth-head girlfriend they should get some coke. She agreed. (Their sober dates were within days of each other, now they get high together!!! woo!) They called the dealer and wanted a $40 bag of coke. Then forgot about it until they were home, but they still wanted it, the dealer said no, he wasn’t going to stay up for $40, it was too late. I was fuming listening to him tell me this and I wanted to scream. More than anything I want to beat the shit out of him. I sniped, “Oh, for $40 he wouldn’t stay up, what if you offered him $100?” “Actually,” he chuckled, “that’s exactly what I did.” UGH!! So they did coke. Or so he says. But I don’t get how he isn’t getting tested when he goes back or how they don’t know… I tartly asked if anyone knew to contact me whe he winds up dead or in prison again. His response was the classically overused, “Oh stop.” I would be lying if I said that typing up his book and reading about every single time he relapsed made me realize that me saying no to a cookie was no better and actually worse. It’s food—he has an addiction to narcotics. He claims cocaine never got him in trouble (false) only heroin did and as long as he only snorts coke and doesn’t smoke crack he won’t want heroin again. Um, so what part of he did cocaine, got bored snorting it, started smoking rock, got bored WITH THAT and then started doing heroin (snorting) and eventually started shooting up with it (collapsing veins in his arms as he did so) does he not get? Pretty much all of it. His flip response to my dismay was, “I’m a drug addict. It’s what I do.” Yes, Steve. Please take my heart and rip it out and stomp all over it. It’s one of those cases when loving someone doesn’t matter, it can’t change them, and loving them only hurts you. He’s usually a total jackass to me but amazingly that night when he emailed me it was with kind words to say—a first in a long time. He said he missed having me cook for him, I said that was better than what he normally wants from me, and he said I’m missed for a lot more, I’m a great friend, etc. my heart + the vampire = instant heartache. I would be so much better off having never met him to begin with. I need him to get out of my life for good but at the same time it would feel like a part of me is missing. It’s a fucked up mess.
