Random Thoughts

The Camden aquarium- my bad, Adventure Aquarium- has been running this fest called Sharkfest all summer and I really want to go to it. I think it ends this weekend, so I better get my ass there soon. There is supposed to be a giant walk through shark. I love sharks, have I ever mentioned that? And I love the shark petting pool there. I'm like a kid on Christmas morning when I get to the petting pool. I want to push everyone out of my way and jump into the pool with the baby sharks. They're just so fucking cute! I don't care that they would probably rip me apart, although most of them are 2 feet at the most. How much damage could they do? Do baby sharks even have teeth? Or would they just gum at me? You would think someone who is as big as shark lover as I am that I would know this! And I guess they could tear me apart with no problem. After all, piranhas aren't that big and look at what they can do.

I just received a weekly email from the state with job suggestions and I always laugh at them. Philly? Villanova? Conshohocken? Essington? I don't even know where in the hell Essington is! For someone Pennsy bred, I know shit about the state. I didn't even know where Bethlehem was until I decided I wanted to go to Musikfest this year. In fact, I didn't even know where Musikfest was held. For some reason, I always thought it was in Philly. But nevermind that. This is a NJ job site. Why in the hell are they sending me suggestions for jobs in Pennsy?

And for people who want your ass back in work, they sure make it difficult to get any type of training. I attempted to try to get some training so I can finally get some kind of damn job so I can finally get the help I need so I can finally get the rest of my goddamn life back together, and the requirements to get funding for training are nearly impossible to fullfill.

I swear to God, I feel like I am never going to get my life back together. I am so disgusted. And what doesn't help is I am convinced no one else gives a shit about me, so in turn I care even less about my own life, which in turn makes me less inclined to get help. Not a good combination. 

Last night my mother got pissed at me and stormed off to bed. The first thing that popped in my head was I wish I had a gun so I could go into my bedroom and blow my fucking brains out. And then I started to cry because I was so disturbed by that thought.

And once upon a time I was finally starting to feel happy with my body. It's pretty bad for someone to lose 60 pounds and still be extremely unhappy with their body. It's not even that I think I am fat. No, I finally have seemed to stop thinking that, but I am still not happy with what I see in the mirror. For God's sake, I am 121 pounds (although thanks to my digestive system going on strike, the scale has been about 125 pounds). My BMI is at a healthy number. Why can't I just be happy with that? But then I think about my jean size and I get disgusted. Why in the hell do I still have to wear a size 8? And earlier I pulled out my paperwork from when I had my bridesmaid dress altered and when I saw my measurements, I wanted to scream. My measurements were 35-28-39. How in the hell does someone who weighs 121 pounds (and I was even less at the time!) still have such large measurements? I know I am short, but I am not that short!

I get very fearful that one day this is all going to turn into a full-blown eating disorder. And that is the absolute LAST thing I need to develop. Aren't the sixty other mental disorders I have enough? Sometimes I wonder if part of the reason I hesitate to go a therapist or psychiatrist for fear of what other disorders they may diagnose me with. I am almost positive they could find something else to slap me with in addition to depression/bipolar 2, anxiety, social anxiety, and OCD. Probably a couple personality disorders. ADD. Body dysmorphic disorder.