Fit + Flabuless!

I think I am suffering from this. And I may be the first documented case, I'm not sure.

I am particularly dismayed and disappointed in the state of my life and my body. Ironic, yes, but very, very real. This is probably why I need to go see Pam.

The weird thing is I didn't think I did this marathon for the destination, to cross the finish line. I thought it was about the process. But I guess I thought I'd get more out of it than a fucking bum foot. I am experiencing the opposite of a feeling of accomplishment. Not failure, exactly, but sumpin' yuck. I can't quite place it, and that's why I haven't written on Divine Marathon since last week.

Talking to Ramon last night didn't help, although he was actually very sweet and supportive. I guess it doesn't matter how sweet and supportive he or anyone else is when I ultimately I feel alone. And useless. I think I've lost the plot. Again.

Dammit.

All I want to do is lie around in my flannel pajamas and nap and eat bagels and mac and cheese. Unfortunately, I've taken on teaching for two different universities, taking classes full time in a PhD program, running an academic resource center and freelance writing. What on earth is wrong with me? Why can't I be satisfied, ever? Will I run myself into the ground, snuff out the life in this beaten up body before I come to appreciate who I am, nevermind what I can do/have done?

I guess a part of me thought that if I ran the marathon, if I beat the odds of a rotten injury and plowed through, everything else would be fine. Kind of like the illusion that if you could just lose weight, become thin, all of life would magically be wonderful, you could finally be the person you imagine yourself to be. It's all bullshit. 'Course, that doesn't stop me from hating myself for still having a belly even though I ran a marathon.

And so it all comes back to the self hatred. Why is it so friggin' hard to love myself? And why do I seem to draw people to me who can't manage to show their love for me, except in the most oblique ways?

From afar, my ex wants to help pay my heating costs this winter. That is love, man, but it ain't the kind of love i'm looking for. You see where I'm going with this? Is the kind of love I'm looking for out there for me? I'm afraid not. At least not until I can learn to generate it myself--love myself the way I want to be loved.

But I just can't seem to do that. So why should anyone else?