Well, had my expected little freakout at the Denver airport today. Made a beeline for Taco Bell, though I wasn’t hungry, and ran into an obsessive desire to then eat a chocolate croissant and ice cream. About the time I got the ice cream, I was sick, and threw most of it away, but it was good little mini-binge the likes of which I haven’t run into in a long time.

I’ve been reasonably good the last couple weeks; not eating great, but definately not binging. My workouts are sporadic, but they’re getting done, and now.. and now…

I’m incredibly stressed out, I have too much going on, and I’m really fucking exhausted. I have no idea how the hell or if the hell I’m supposed to be doing whatever the hell I do at work, and I’m flying to New York again tomorrow morning, and all I want to do is be home and write books.

The reason I don’t like the idea (for myself) of using drugs like, say, appetite suppressants or anti-depressants is that I think that when my body freaks out like this, it’s trying to tell me something, and that something is usually, “You’re unhappy. You’re doing too much. You’re losing sight of what you want. Slow down. Back off. Rethink.”

A bunch of stuff has been going on all at once, and I haven’t had the downtime to mull it all over and figure out what to do with it. I have such a huge, long list of shit (need to study for the LSATs, make my June test date appointment, gotta gotta gotta drop those two sizes [meaning continuing to eat right and exercising way more than all this traveling allows] if for no other reason than that there are far better clothes available in a 12 and I need to clean up my look, need to ask for a raise and/or dump this shit job [they’ll squeeze until you say STOP], need to finish my fucking latest novel, need to get three more short stories in the mail [which will require, you know, *finishing* them first,] and etc. and more bullshit, and other bullshit and more…).

And it’s a lot. I’m going to try and see if I can get away with only spending half of next week in NY, or a day in NY or whatever, as I’ve got a computer training class in downtown NY for Mar 7-9, and shit, I need some time at home. I need a life. This is getting fucking ridiculous.

And I know it. My body knows it. It’s getting really pissed off at me.

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