My neighbor brought over a plate of Christmas food, more calories from carbs and fat than I consume in a week, normally. I ate it all without barely stopping to breathe. I was kinda in an anti-Christmas mood for the usual reasons: depression, loneliness, envy. No need to go into all that now.
I'd been looking forward to this food from the moment they told me they'd be bringing me something. So I didn't eat my afternoon snack; I starved myself instead. Then, when the food finally got here, I was hangry and frustrated with myself for failing to be adequately Christmas humble. I was just in a self-pitying mood.
I opened a bottle of wine to go with my plate of food. I drank half of it and didn't flinch. Near the end I got a little bit ready to acknowledge that perhaps it wasn't the best way to deal with emotional problems. But those calories did their job on my neurotransmitter thingies. I'm in full-on addiction mode.
Next, I capped it off with some weed. I was in semi-ok suspended animation for a minute before my calorie cravings kicked in again. So I heated up two microwave mini-pizzas. Now they are gone and I have already brought down the tin of cookies my other neighbor left for me.
I tested my sugar once after 25 min and it was 184. Then again 40 min later, and it was 174. At least it was headed in the right direction before I went and ate the two pizzas.
I ought to be taking a shower and hitting the sheets, since I should be done for. But I'm thinking about how to slip in those cookies. I have to use them as a reward for something. Maybe I will eat them and pass out in the bedroom.
It will be the first time I've slept in the bedroom in three years. I need to be fucked up before I do that kind of thing. Maybe I won't shower, since I will be sleeping with the cats. First time for that in 3 years as well. I've avoided it because of my eye problems, some of which seem to be here in one form or another to this day.
I've avoided talking to people today, with the exception of Martin and J. I got a message from Lesa, but I was in a bad frame of mind when I got the message. Now I'm too intoxicated and carbureted to communicate with her, and I don't know how to be, or how I want to be, with her. With J, I can be real, admit my condition and not be some fake version of myself.
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I've changed my comments settings to allow for anyone to comment. All comments are welcome, even spineless potshots from anonymous posters. Please, by all means, give me the tongue lashing I so richly deserve. I promise not to hunt you down and melt your keyboard with my plasma cannon. I won't, however, promise not to pout and make that face you can't stand.