Urf

It's not one of my favorite things in the world some days to write on this here blog how I'm really feeling. For example, today, when I feel tired, fat, old, and down in the dumps. I got up early today, went to the gym, and then into the transcription office and I really hated being there. I'm pissed at myself for still working there, nearly two years later. It pays 11 fucking dollars an hour. Given inflation I'm actually making less than I was (and with less responsibility) than when I was a newly-sober gal in her early twenties.

But, for whatever reason, my life has been one of extremes. I've worked at some pretty impressive places and also at some very unimpressive ones, often one right after the other. I've been anorexically skinny and morbidly obese. I suppose the fact that now I seem to have evened out to a mostly healthy size bodes well for this job see-saw settling at some point.

But still. Some days it's hard to be grateful for where I am and how far I've come. Some days I get the visit from the black dog, the same one that used to visit Winston Churchill. I don't admit this for sympathy but more for therapy and so that maybe someone else who feels this way will read this and know that even though I feel that way at times, I also feel good, and it isn't the end of the world to be in these shitty moods. It just is. Much though I wish I didn't feel like this, ever, but the only way out of it is through it.