It's Raining Expletives...But at Least I'm Not Bingeing

I guess I'm feeling a little better. I made myself scarce from my apartment starting around 6:30 in an attempt to avoid the ex, who had said he was thinking of coming here to get some more stuff. I guess he's going to stay with his parents. I would put in a little dig about his mom being grateful about that as now she'll be able to nurse (and by nurse I mean breast feed) her baby some more, but that's total bullshit and unfair to a woman who was always exceedingly kind to me. Just because her son wasn't is no reason to throw nasties at her, even if she'll never read them.

 

So I went to this meeting tonight and said the words fuck, fucker, fucking, shit, ass, and a bunch of other ones (I think) during a rage-fueled share about how even though I'd like to murder at least 3 people because of how pissed I am, at least I don't want to binge over it.

 

So even though I'm homicidal, I'm grateful that I'm not writing bad checks in order to acquire binge foods and eat myself into a food coma. I'm just eating a little too much salmon for dinner -- 2 filets instead of one. And I did eat an entire zucchini and a yellow squash. At this time in my life, I'd rather kill someone or at the very least scream expletives at them than eat ice cream and screw my abstinence that I worked so hard for.

 

My sponsor says the reason I can't scream expletives at my ex and my sister et al is because then I'd have to go and make amends to them later. Well, fuck that. Frankly, if I did it, there's no way I'd fucking apologize to either of those fucks. I wouldn't tell my sponsor and then I'd just do whatever the fuck I want.

 

But.....

I can't do that. FUCK. I have to be honest. I just want one fucking thing in my life not to be fucked up, know what I mean? I just want one clean, honest thing in my life...one thing I don't have to fucking feel guilty over.

 

Funny thing happened today -- I told a friend of mine at work about what happened and she said to me,

 

"You know, girl, take good care of yourself hon. And if you need a booty call sometimes, don't feel bad baby." That's actually valid; my ex was a master of the bedroom arts.

 

But you know what? I'd rather have my vagina shrivel up, grow teeth, hair, and a tongue, and bite any dicks off that attempt to enter, than get in another relationship like the one I was just in, and that includes booty calls. Fuck that. That's why God gave us hands and batteries.