The Hustle Diaries: Laurels

I didn't do anything else yesterday. I had a single productive hour, and that was it. Well, I did laundry and made a Crazy Addict video, but I didn't do anything else towards the end of earning money.

This morning I went to the gym for an hour and a half to do the treadmill, the bike, and weights, and I listened to one of my running podcasts. They almost always interview elite runners and it gets me wishing I had more dedication, so I could actually do speedwork instead of avoiding it because it's not fun. Then I could get fast and actually start placing in my age group and before I knew it my marathon time would be literally cut in half and I'd be an elite runner too. And then I'd have sponsors so I wouldn't have to run in the same pair of shoes for two years, I'd be able to replace them every 400-500 miles like you're supposed to. It would be really, really weird for my feet, always running in new-feeling shoes. But on the downside, even though all my races would be paid for, I would only be able to enter a maximum of four per year because I'd have to do so much recovery, I'd be running so fast.

My real love is running far, not fast, but it's harder to find sponsors when you're not "winning" anything, you're just going out one day and running 100 miles in one shot because you're nuts. And in this running daydream I need sponsors. It's silly how much I love the idea of running marathons and ultras. Lots of them. Back to back to back to back.

I think, actually, that I need to stop talking about it and start doing it. Every running coach in the world advises never to run the marathon distance in the course of your training, because strain overexertion injury blah blah blah. But your body can totally handle the marathon distance at an actual race, so what's the difference, really, between 26.2 miles that you paid to run and 26.2 miles that you didn't? Besides, a fair number of people (about a thousand, most in the United States) have had race seasons of running a marathon (or two!) every single weekend; that's how there exist people who have run over 500 marathons - even over 1,000 - in their lifetimes. So I am going to start a tradition this Sunday: the tradition of running 26.2 miles once a week for the rest of my life. That'll be pretty darn awesome. Excuse me, I've got some routes to plan.

(Sorry, this was supposed to be about hustling. I haven't done any more hustling. I have nothing to report.)

The Hustle Diaries: Photos and coffee

I applied for two jobs today - another modeling job, and Dunkin' Donuts. Confession: even though it pays most of my bills these days, modeling is perhaps the only job in the world that I don't enjoy. I never thought I could dislike working and feeling like I'm doing something, but I guess with modeling I don't feel like I'm doing anything. I'm not being a "productive member of society," even though I am earning money. It is really hard work, let's just make that clear - it is not easy to hold an uncomfortable pose or to dissociate from my body, step outside and use it like an inanimate hunk of clay without feelings of comfort or safety or lack thereof associated with any particular body part or position - and for what? A few pictures. Did I mention modeling's hard?

I also need to contact an ADD study sometime today, and I need to answer a five-day-old email from a prospective dance client. He's probably assumed I'm not interested and hired someone else by now. I don't know why the emails that should be the most exciting to open are the hardest and scariest to open. I need to make at least $113 by tomorrow night, a collection agency called me yesterday, and this email's just sitting there in my inbox, and what if the event he needed me for has already passed, I wouldn't even know it. The best explanation is that my depression is a jealous lover who wants me to spend all my time with him, so he does everything he can to keep me away from opportunities for happiness or success. The things I least feel like doing at any given moment are precisely the things that I know would make me happy if I did them.

Anyways, hopefully "The Hustle Diaries" won't go the way of the "Commitment" series. I've been dealing with wicked hypersomnia lately and have fallen off the hustle wagon, so I need some accountability to get back on, and be productive with my days once more. Yesterday all I did was lie in bed, drink, and play flash games. That is literally ALL I did. I was supposed to lead a write-in and I didn't go. I missed my own write-in, an event that would have made me feel great because I would have written and socialized and gone outside, in favor of staying in bed and being a blob. Hopefully just opening my Blogger dashboard and wanting to have something to report will lead me to get things done.

I'm on the train to work now - more modeling - but I hope to update tonight on how many more job applications I fill out on the train ride home, and how I come up with that $113.

Re-Commitment: Two

It's day two, and I'm nineteen and a half hours into liquitarianism. I've been watching a lot of videos on breatharianism and looking at conference transcripts, and although I think the insanely concentrated quantity of New-Ageiness is very silly indeed, I do hope to transition to a point where I do not need food at all. Period. For the rest of my life. The way I see it, through my addict eyes, food is just another psychoactive substance I've become physiologically dependent on. It's a drug habit.

Coffee and tea, on the other hand -- those are habits I will never give up.

More commitment

I need to renew my commitment to blog at least once every eight hours. It helped. If I can get into the habit, then I can renew my motivation to follow through with my plan of self-improvement through abstinence from food and alcohol.

So the plan is liquitarian. If I am hungry, I will respond to the hunger with:
-water
-coffee
-diet soda
-sf lemonade
-miso soup
-tea
-beer or vodka if it's available, but I'm flat broke and will run out of vodka today and beer tomorrow.

The important part is NO SOLID FOOD. I need to learn to respond to hunger with liquids rather than solids. I know people do it. I know it works if you're committed enough.

It's down to the wire.

Marathon

I ran my marathon. Got my finisher's medal.

Unfortunately, I don't feel any different. I'm not having any sudden, "Wow, if I can run 26.2 miles, I must be able to change my life!" moments.

Now I've just started a different marathon. A penance marathon. No solid food allowed, ever again.

Commitment: 4

I woke up early and went for an incredible long run this morning along the Charles in the cold New England fall weather, leaves turning colors and covering the ground in a rich carpet of gold. It was right at that temperature where I had the sleeves of my Patriots hoodie rolled three-quarters of the way up my arms but still had my hood on and tied tightly. I looked a bit ridiculous, but what could I do? If I'd taken the hoodie off, my run would've been over in seconds!

I subscribed to a great new podcast and listened to one and a half episodes over the course of my run (they're 40-49 minute long episodes). It's called "Marathon Training Academy." I may or may not have mentioned it here, but I'm training for a marathon myself. It's the Bay State Marathon, and it's in ten days. I'm underprepared physically and even less prepared mentally.

Since it was a long run (for non-running readers, a "long run" is typically defined as over six miles), I had to have a recovery snack, so I had a string cheese stick and a low-cal granola bar. Then an hour later I heated up a hunk of Ukrainian bread and ate it dipped in tomato sauce. So far today that's 70 + 90 + 240 + 65 = 465 solid calories, plus... y'know... vodka. Oh, and I had almond milk in my pre-run coffee, so that's another 30, for a total of 495. The next time I eat will hopefully be 5:00 p.m., when I will have an early dinner of a can of tuna and some steamed spinach before I go see Machete Kills with my boyfriend. (I'm reluctant. He's insistent. I hate movies, especially in theaters. Sitting still for that long is not my cup of tea!)

(Lack of) Commitment: 3.

I am so bad at this. At least it's got me updating more frequently, like every day for the past three days.

It is 5:45 p.m.; I've had 1264 calories and done my usual walking-about. Yes, I've been drinking, but actually not that much today. Only four ounces of vodka and one 12 oz. beer so far.

I've been in bed since noon, but hopefully I can rally to go clubbing tonight. I need to get some music pumping through my adipose. Get those jiggly lipids dancing!

Commitment: 2

I missed the 7:30 mark. Oh well. In the spirit of not vanquishing all-or-nothing thinking, I haven't failed yet!

So far today I ran three miles and consumed a protein shake (almond milk, vanilla protein powder, coffee), three bites of Ukrainian bread, and three ounces of vodka mixed with Diet Coke. It is 12:50 p.m., so my next update will be at or before 8:50 p.m. It will definitely be before, more like 5:00 p.m., because I am busy from 6 to 11 tonight.

My goals for until then are to write Chapter Five of Care and to check my KickStarter and my email. Let's see if I accomplish them.

Commitment: 1

Well, it's 11:30. That means that my next post must occur by 7:30 a.m. tomorrow morning. I have had two more ounces of vodka, half a cup more of egg fried rice, and am now making a serving of whole wheat pasta to have with cheese and tomato sauce because I'm morbidly obese. Awareness might not work its magic right away, but I know it will eventually if I stick with it long enough.

A Simple Commitment.

I am going to commit to nothing more than to post here every eight hours. No exceptions, no excuses. Hopefully everything else follows from that. It's long past time I learned some discipline.

Next time I post here will be 5:15 a.m, if not sooner. Probably sooner, because I might not wake up that early. The rule is that eight hours is the maximum amount of time allowed to pass between blog posts. There is no minimum.

Intake

Today
1 c pasta (210) with 1/4 c cheesy tomato sauce (160) and six zucchini slices (12)
1 tbsp peanut butter (95)
1/4 c walnuts (200)
two homemade sf lemonades (16)
the obligatory vodka (400)
carrot (35)
fat free mocha (45)
Total: 1173

I'm happy about this 'cause it's under 1200. It's a pretty high-fat, low-vegetable day though... I definitely didn't need both the peanut butter and the walnuts; I could've replaced either with a tin of tuna and it would have been lower cal, higher protein and more satisfying.

I weighed 163.0 this morning. I am going to weigh 153 by the end of October, you just watch.

Moderation

I haven't posted about the alcoholism in a while. There's a reason for this.

I've managed to fill my life with enough positive activities in the last few months that my alcohol consumption has been cut in half. Like, in actual half. I measured and recorded.

I'm okay with my drinking now. I'm less desperate to quit cold turkey now that I'm drinking in a less self-destructive way. I'd like to continue cutting back though -- I'd like my average pace (as far as how many days it takes to finish a handle of vodka) to return to what it was two years ago, which was fourteen days. I think that's the milestone at which I'll consider myself recovered.

CCCE/Other Man

I am pathetic. It's not an opinion, it's a fact. Apart from any subjective connotations the word has picked up, lexicographically it just means "full of pathos." I don't have a stupidridiculous amount of pathos, but I definitely have more than I'd like.

Especially when it comes to men. My sexuality is weird; I don't bother with any labels more specific than "queer" because no label more specific than that applies to me. I am physically attracted to women, but romantically attracted to men. That's why I can sleep with all the ladies I want and never have the problem of getting emotionally attached. (Makes me sound like a womanizer... I guess I am one <_<) But I am constantly falling for guys, thinking about them too much, obsessing, worrying I've done or said something wrong. Trying to prevent doing or saying something wrong. Trying to avoid racking up resentment, so a lovely gentleman who'd make a wonderful friend suddenly wonders why I'm giving him the silent treatment, avoiding his eyes, trying to prove that I'm not needy or clingy but am strong and independent and not really hanging on his every breath.

Dear God I hope he dances with me tomorrow night. It's far more likely than starving for long enough to forget about him until one of us dies.

Antidepressants

Wow, I keep having these long hiatuses, cheating on this blog with other blogs, vlogs, forums, and projects. That's the Internet for you!

I'm mostly active on The Crazy Addict, which is in Season Two now, and my Wordpress, 17seventeen17eight.

...now for the updates on my life!

I am still basically over Other Man.

I discovered www.superbetter.com, and am now playing it every day. (There's a Crazy Addict video about this.)

I am back in Boston.

And I have gone off my antidepressants. I forgot to go to a psychiatrist appointment, and whenever I either do that or arrive so late that the psychiatrist doesn't see me, I don't get more refills and my prescription runs out. This has been my general pattern with my antidepressants ever since I started taking them -- I will get forced to start with a new psychiatrist by someone with the authority to do that, I will go through the several-month ordeal of finding a psychiatrist who has an opening any time this year, and is willing to actually work with me (very few mental health professionals feel comfortable taking me as a patient - actually, none of them do, even the ones who eventually do take me - because my case is severe enough that I'm a liability and "beyond their expertise" and "outside their specialty" et cetera et cetera)... I will FINALLY get an appointment, I may or may not go to it but I make new ones until I finally go to one, I will get a few refills' worth of antidepressants so I'll be able to take them for 2-4 months in a row, then I'll miss the appointment to get more refills written for me, and I won't make another appointment because my track record with going to appointments is so bad that I figure, what's the point in making another appointment, I won't go to it either, so I fall off the face of the earth until I get another treatment team and they force me to go find another psychiatrist. My latest psychiatrist actually switched me to an antidepressant with a much shorter withdrawal phase in order to help me have a much easier withdrawal the next time I missed an appointment, because he knew it was going to happen and that's the best he could do for me.

When I was new to the cycle, I tried to argue that surely psychiatrists see patients all the time who chronically miss appointments because they're mentally ill, so they must have some sort of strategy for dealing with these patients. The response: "All of my other patients are mentally ill, but they still care enough to make the effort to keep their appointments. If you can't do that, you should be in a residential treatment setting." All my treatment team members say this, actually, it's the Medical Consensus about me. And I completely agree! But there is no "getting better" from dysthymia - you're born with it; you die with it - so I'd be in that residential treatment setting for life. I'm all for this because it is what I need and I have no business trying to live on the outside, but any non-medical-professional people in my life will hold out hope forever that I'll get better someday because that's how silly sentimental humans work, and fight tooth and nail against "giving up" and putting me in an asylum or a hospice. Plus there's insurance to think of.

My boyfriend tries to act as a live-in caregiver, but my own shame gets in the way a lot. He only helps me when I ask him for help. And asking for help is really not a thing I'm good at. I was way too ashamed tell him about the missed appointment. When he asked recently if I'd been taking my antidepressants, I lied and said yes. I pretend I have no idea why I became an anhedonic vegetable practically overnight.

On the bright-ish side, going off my antidepressants has been helping me lose weight. All the memories of my vast catalog of failures gained valence and clarity and now I need to kill them, in the most passive way I can -- by wasting away. Can't have memories if my body is eating its own myelin.

Oh, Wow.

It appears I've been silent for a bit. I blame camp. I also blame me.

I have mostly succeeded in starving away my feelings for Other Man, and haven't talked to him in three weeks. I weigh 158.

My website, www.crazyaddictcoaching.com, went online on June 1! Please check it out if you haven't already! :)

I am now having an affair with Other Man, because I am a pig and couldn't starve away my feelings.

If at first you don't succeed...

I got to 41 hours. And I reached a new LW for 2013: 161.2 lbs. And I've maintained that weight through walking, lifting, and eating moderately (~1200 cals/day).

10 a.m. started a new fast; this one will last until I get to 159 lbs.

I still haven't succeeded in starving out my feelings for Other Man. I need to. I need things like romance and desire to fall by the wayside, which will happen when starving becomes my only focus.

I made it through Day One. I'm 27 hours in.

Humans are no match for cats in human skin

This is serious.

I have feelings I need to starve out.

Feelings as in feelings for someone who is not my boyfriend, which, if acted upon, will leave me homeless and penniless and, well, without my best friend in the world.

The No-Matter-What-Happens-I-Will-Not-Sleep-With-This-Other-Person Fast began at midnight. Technically at 9:30, but I'll round to midnight to make it more decisive.

New career direction.

I'm still a mathematics educator. I'm taking my Massachusetts teaching certification tests and doing my tutoring and working at my computer camp.

HOWEVER. I also decided today/yesterday to Just Go For It and start a side career out of mental health and addiction education/life coaching and motivational speaking for addiction and mood disorders. Hopefully by the time I've made a little more money teaching, my new YouTube series The Crazy Addict, my Twitter @addictednomore, and my general Internet presence will have sufficiently grown so that I can invest in a domain, a podcast, and a professional life coaching office in Boston to grow my business.

This should keep me busy and feeling a little better about myself :)

голодной смерти, Day One

The process of голодной смерти starts today. And doesn't end 'til the end.

Victory!!!

After 62 hours of unintentionally liquid fasting, I am now 161.8 lbs, the lowest weight I have been yet this year!!!

Nose to the Grindstone

My boyfriend just texted me to say he lost his high-powered tech job because his successful, revenue-producing company suddenly, without warning or explanation, went under.

Now my appetite is GONE. I am in tunnel-vision fix-it mode. I am in the zone. All my attention, out of necessity, is going towards doing everything I can do to try and keep the rent paid.

I unironically love it when giant catastrophes happen. They're the only times I can ever buckle down and focus.

Sobriety is Not Possible

I'm doing sobriety just like I do everything else.

(How do I do everything else? I don't.)

From another blog, written two days ago:

I give up trying to quit drinking. I've failed about 20 times in the last 21 days, and I know if I keep trying that's going to be the rest of my life. I already fail at enough things on a daily basis. Not caring about my alcoholism will reduce the number of failures per day and just make my life as a whole unit a failure. One failure per lifetime vs. 365 failures a year... yep, it makes mathematical sense for me to give up on pursuing sobriety.

I go to meetings. I have a sponsor. I read the Big Book. I even do service. But I am an alcoholic, and definitionally, alcoholics can't quit drinking. According to AA, God will quit drinking for me when he sees fit. Any attempts of my own will fail.

On Saturday, April 6, I had my last drink.

On Sunday, April 7, I started 90 in 90 (90 AA meetings in 90 days).

Today is Day 4 of sobriety!!!

I weigh 164.3.

Paralyzed By Fear

I hate being an alcoholic.

The morning after a night of drinking, I never get hangovers, but I do feel intensely toxic. Spiritually, emotionally, physically toxic. I am aware that I have poisoned myself, and that I may soon be guilty of self-manslaughter. In which case I will die with no dignity. Currently, carrying this toxicity around, I live with no dignity.

After a powerfully deterring night in the hospital, I can never drink on an empty stomach. So here I sit in my apartment, paralyzed by fear. Every time I think, "I can/could/should/would like to eat something," I remember that eating will open the door to drinking. If I've eaten, it will be safe to drink so I will drink. The most surefire, effective way to ensure I don't drink is to not eat either.

I have consumed 157 calories today, in spinach and breath mints, because I am so scared to eat any more. I am terrified of having a meal too close to normal size, because what usually comes after that is so undesirable.

I discharged from the CEDC (I'd stepped down from partial to IOP, but I was still having supervised dinners on weeknights) a few days ago, so I can do this now.

This is Day One of sobriety.

Out of Partial, Into Hungerland

I got out of partial. FINALLY. I was in partial for nine weeks, the longest time out of anyone there by far. I didn't think I was that sick, or that my insurance was that generous.

I'm trying to quit drinking, and I find that a whole lot easier if I let Dr. Anorexia do my case management. 1) If I get into a frenzy about calories, then I won't be allowed to drink because alcohol's full of them, and 2) I'm afraid to drink on an empty stomach.

So to that end, I'm fasting and going to AA twice a week. My weight is 165.