Spent most of the day working on my class material. It took three hours of meticulous hunting, but I finally found two really good documents to have my little kiddies analyze. Phew. Tomorrow is off to the bookstore.
I just still feel so insecure about everything. Will I fail out of the program? Will I make a complete moron out of myself when I'm teaching? And I feel I suck in comparison to everyone else. They have these pedigreed resumes. I have strange gaps in my record where I had to leave because of the anorexia. It makes me feel strangely inadequate. How am I going to handle this?
I sobbed myself to sleep Tuesday night because I was lonely, I was terrified of being so far from home, not knowing anyone, the horrific anxiety that always seems to strike, the fears of relapse, the fears of weight gain, all of these fears. And, shit- roaches. I've never lived in a place where pest control was a major issue. That freaked me out, when I was beginning to look for housing. "Regular roach control." Or "Roach motel in every unit." Gee, that makes me feel better.
At least my cat will have a playmate.
All this change is hard. Really really hard. The familiar is comfortable. The new? Not so much. I don't know what to expect, and then my mind starts whirring at a gazillion miles and hour.
I worry, mostly, about the food aspect. Will the food I likely have time to cook be "healthy" enough? What if I don't have the perfect diet? Exercising? Will I have time? Should I? Should the gym be completely off limits? How will people judge me if I start eating mac and cheese and sitting on the couch? I don't want to fit that image. I want to be perfect. I want to keep a perfectly clean apartment, have my homework and teaching done perfectly, eat according to the food pyramid (which the Junkfood Science blog has pointed out is complete crap), and so on.
I am terrified of being judged.
I don't know. I can't explain it. To be labeled "unhealthy" or "fat" is like committing one of the Seven Deadly Sins. All of the health information and dieting propaganda is kind of like the Pope telling you that you're going to burn in hell if you don't eat leafy greens several times per day. Though if you did eat too much fiber and still end up condemned to hell, I hope they'd give you Beano first lest hell explode due to your flatulence.
I try so hard, and I still come up short. Normal, rational people would say, "Well since I can't be perfect, I shouldn't blame myself when I'm not." Nope. Not me. Not Carrie the Perfectionist (are you sure I spelled that right?). I have to try anyway, shove that square peg in the round hole.
I wish I didn't care so much about everything. I drive myself nuts about it.
Grey's Anatomy is starting in a minute or two, so I must run.