Second post in about an hour, but apparently sitting watching friends is letting my brain go doolally, and I'm thinking too much, but I seem to be identifying what is getting me down so much.

I feel lost... Which is hard to explain, but I think if I can get it out and talk about it, it might make me feel a bit better, because at the moment it seems like something is eating me from the inside.

When I say lost, I think I mean aimless, or without any real goal. Everything in my life it seems is just stagnant and not really going anywhere...

Firstly with university, I don't seem to be moving anywhere, and as I'm not learning anything new and just revising it feels all about unattainable because it feels like I've got so much to do in such a short period of time and it's all a bit overwhelming. This one is reasonably easy to sort out because as soon as I've had a decent night's sleep I'll start hitting it and I'll begin to feel better.

Secondly with HFC, I have all of these great things going on at university, and all of these great things I want to do, but being able to talk to H seems to be impossible, and she always seems to go offline whenever I say hey, and I feel like I'm pushing an elephant up the stairs and don't know where I'm going, and why I even bother.

With Ian, it's not even stagnant, it feels like we're moving backwards, and I'm sure for the most part it is my insecurities rather than any faults on his behalf, but I am still a woman, and it depresses me at the thought that I'll never get married, or have children. I also just can't see any way out of it, because I have no proof that he's cheating on me, or anything untoward, but I also can't see how I can alleviate my fears and insecurities, and there's no way I can talk to him about it either, especially about how I'm feeling generally, so it just seems to be a vicious circle and I'm pretty sure I'm not even making any sense anymore, but I'm beginning to feel a bit better knowing that I can at least begin to rationalise it in my head.

Yesterday I felt so positive; the workshop seemed really positive and both S's seemed really supportive of me working with the university, I was looking forward to a great night out, the weather was beautiful and things were beginning to look up. I came back from uni feeling nothing but positive and ready for anything.

Now today I just feel horrible, I feel stressed out, crabby, unhappy, and just blah. I got a first in my coursework, and the girlies were fine with me leaving early last night, and I've chosen my modules, yet I still feel crap. Even my parents noticed I wasn't my normal self. I just feel mentally fucking drained with everything that's going on, and although they're all small things, and mostly revolving around 'I', they're still really getting me down. When it comes to uni work, I also just seem to be unable to focus for any period of time. I really wanted to knuckle down tonight and get loads of work done liked I used, but I just can't seem to be able to. It feels like my brain is hitting a brick wall. I don't know how I'm going to learn and revise everything in 8 weeks. I just want to sleep for a fucking long time and not have to worry about anything.

I hate, hate, hate how he is keeping secrets from me. I think what fucks me off most is the irony of it, as he's always said from the very beginning that honesty is the best policy, and you can't have a relationship if there's secrets. He may think I'm some form of psycho-bitch, which is fine, but I'm generally pretty happy with what he does as long as he's not cheating on me, and it's nothing horrendously illegal, and all of this vagueness with Den and now Adam, it just upsets me, as it feels like he tells me nothing anymore, and I have absolutely no idea what is going on in his life. I mean I find out from him telling Terry that he is going to consider the age waiver. I don't know anything that's going on in his life. I don't know what he's feeling, what he's planning on doing... We used to talk so much.

And this whole thing with B is upsetting me... my theory is, if you're doing nothing wrong, don't hide it. I've never had a problem with any of his other friends, so why hide this? I'd like to meet her. I'm sure she's nice. And he obviously likes her. Unless there is something to hide? It also comes back to the ironic, two-sided'ness of it... He doesn't like me having male friends, which I have accepted from the very beginning, and can see his logic, so I try not to have male friends as a courtesy to him. He was honest, and up-front about it, and I have tried to oblige. Heck, I think the only male friend I have is A, and we speak about once a month if that! But my insecurities just dog me, and make me think the worst. I don't know. It doesn't help that she's pretty.

Unless I'm horrendously mistaken, it's beginning to feel like the end of a relationship... Drifting apart, not talking as much, becoming more irritable with each other, lack of sex life (even before current inflictions)... I don't know. But, in the same breath, we had a lovely evening going for a walk and then going to the pub; I had so much fun, and it almost felt like things were semi normal, but I still had that nagging feeling in the back of my head that it was more like being friends than lovers.
I love him so much, and I think this is what is killing me the most, I don't feel like my love has diminished at all, despite everything that's gone on. I love him with all of my heart. I've given up on my dreams of being married and having kids because I love him. I remember when he said "I'd marry you if I meant I'd never lose you", and my heart filled with immeasurable joy. Now, I can't even imagine him contemplating that. I want to cry every time I think about it.

I wish I could confide in him about all of this, but I know I can't. Life would be so much easier if I could talk to him without fear of repercussions. Oh well. Deep breath, and carry on, and focus on the positives.

Okay, last post of the day...

I've just got so much going through my mind that I need to vent out, and in all honesty, I do think this is doing me good. Slyvia Plath summed it up pretty well;

"I write only because there is a voice within me that will not be still."

Granted I'm not a poet, or a writer, or anything artistic like that, but I completely get what she's saying... There are times when I feel like I could write for ages and ages, and the words are just flowing from my fingers.

I'm really strung out and confused as to what I'm feeling; half of the time we're happy campers, and he says he loves me, and he kisses me like he means it... and then when things go tits up again it's hatred, and barely able to say I love you. I understand it, I understand him being pissed off, and not liking me, but not loving me. Love shouldn't be dictated by this. I don't know. I sat here crying my eyes out literally wanting to kill myself; I looked at what painkillers we had, I imagined slicing my wrists. It's not the fact that this has happened that makes me want to kill myself, it's the not being able to see a way out of this fucked up life of mine I've created. And for him to say that I'm putting our relationship on a knife-edge because of my being emo... I've supported to the umpteenth degree through everything, and especially when he was acting all suicidal... I feel just 'down' for a couple of days because I'm over-tired, and I'm the one pushing our relationship.
The insecure part of me is just thinking that he's using it as an excuse to get out of this relationship. Which I do understand. I'm sure the mature and unselfish part of me should give him the option to get out of it. But the thought of life without him scares me. I do love him. I do. I do.

Two posts in one day. What is wrong with me?

It's just my insecurities are really getting the better of me... I'm questioning everything, and I'm so so worried that Ian is becoming fed up with me, is falling out of love with me, is contemplating cheating on me or at least forming emotional attachments to another woman, or just wants to screw another woman, is wanting to spend as little time as possible with me.

I know the things that wind him up, and I do try and stop them.

I need to do this.

Mission 1: Stop whinging as much. Just get over it. If something is upsetting me/annoying me... Don't whinge about it, just accept it. If it's big, then talk to somebody else, just not him. Know that shit happens.  This is life. I can get over it. It's not going to change anything by me whinging about it. Be happy. Be joyful. Be nice. Do NOT be a whingebag. I can do this. As soon as he gets up I will put on a smile, ignore my heart-ache that is overwhelming me. Be happy.

I will not be the cause of the breakdown of our relationship. I can do this.

Why is it that everything I touch turns to shit? Ian says I'm being 'emo'... I think I'm being realistic. I can't seem to do anything fucking well right, and I spent the whole car journey home last night shouting at myself that I want to die. I really fucking well do. I can't see any form of bright light. All I can see is this life, and it's not going anywhere, and it's just going to continue to be shit because I'm in it. I was tempted to run away last night; stop fucking up everything in everyone's life, including Ian's.

I keep going over and over it in my head. I did everything I should have done. I saw him behind me. I waited for him to move. I could no longer see his lights. I reversed and bang there he was. I don't know what else I could have done. I just fucking fucking fucking hate my life. Everytime I seem to be able to sort things in my head; convince myself that I'm being paranoid over Ian, sort out a game plan for school work, start to get work sorted... it all goes tits up.

At this moment in time, I genuinely do not want to live.

I've spent the past two nights crying, and I don't know what is wrong with me... I just don't feel like my normal self at all and instead I'm replaced with this purely miserable wretch of a creature, last night nothing excited me; the thought of grey's anatomy, reading, facebook, nothing... I just wanted to lie staring into space. Nothing bad has even really happened for me to feel like this.

I mean, it doesn't help that my self esteem is shot to pieces, especially with being ill so that the one thing that keeps our relationship going I can't even provide, and it's one of the age old things, of when your sex life starts to try up in a relationship, you know it's not going well... I don't know, I suppose I'm just worried that he's getting put off by me, doesn't find me attractive anymore etc. etc. Who knows...? I just really really don't want him to cheat on me, or become attracted to somebody else, or anything like that. I know we've had our problems, but I lied on bed a couple of notes crying because I do love him, and I don't want him to do anything, and I want things to work out for the best.

Feel a lot better today having spoken to M; It seems that E is not as much at fault as everyone is making her out to be, and is in fact being quite grown up about it all, and hopefully it will revolve itself one way or another, and hopefully that horrid girl will be out of M's life forever. We'll see.
Feel so sorry for M about social services, and to be honest, I'm not bloody surprised... From what M said it seems that it should be a one off call with no follow-up etc. but as she rightly pointed out, and what I was thinking anyway, once you have a file, it's always going to be there. I'm also worried about what E has been saying about D at school; from what she's been saying on skype I'm not surprised that Mr O felt the need to phone social services, and I just hope and pray that E doesn't do anything like it ever again, and realises the consequences of exaggerating. I also hope that D doesn't think too hard and realise that this is probably down to him and the depression that social services were called in the first place. Fingers bloody well crossed that this is the end of the nasty matter and not another word will be uttered again, however, knowing E I somehow doubt it...

I know I do love him, but at the moment I hate him. I am inconsolable. No I don't want you to take me to my mums, I am fine, I'm worried about money which is under-fucking-standable, but I had it all planned out the moment my mum told me she wanted me there, it was all fine. I didn't want to ruin your day; I don't want your big plans with the door supervisors course to be disrupted because of me, I didn't want you to be bored shitless at my mum's, and I didn't want you to whinge about it afterwards... Because yes I do moan, but so do you.

I am upset. This is fucking big. I am worried about my family like no tomorrow, and I thought, I really thought that for fucking once you might give me the benefit of the fucking doubt, and allow me to be upset. Not to yell at me. Not to call me thick, an imbecile, tell me to shut up and fuck off. You find me infuriating, I'm sorry, I am infuriating at times, but I'm also allowed to be upset. You think I don't find you infuriating? At times you are so fucking annoying I want to walk out and never see your face again, but I deal with it, because surprisingly enough, it's what people do when they love each other. They put up with it. I don't know what love lessons you had, but as far as I'm aware, when your 'lover' is upset, you fucking comfort them... You don't berate them further. It's your choice to be up early tomorrow, for your organisation, and your kids that don't appreciate a single fucking thing. It's not fucking me.

You wander why I don't confide in you. Here's fucking why. It doesn't take a fucking statistics genius to work it out. When I get upset, when I start crying, it is 99.9% of the time because of you, because you have been unnecessary, or nasty, or yelled at me. Sometimes I deserve it. Yes, I'm not a fucking saint by any stretch of the imagination, but sometimes I don't, like fucking this evening. I'm not putting up barriers. I've been crystal clear from the start that I intended to make my own way there and not bother you. And to then bring up that "it's yet another day I won't see you"... I'm sorry, but I'm going to see my upset mother who is dealing with a depressed husband, a self harming sister and social services, I'm not off getting drunk. And for your information, it was your choice to see your friend yesterday evening, and it is your choice to go to Essex ACF tomorrow evening. And to add the fucking cherry on the fucking icing, you go, yet a-fucking-gain insulting my fucking family. Well you can fuck right off. It's alright for your fucking mother to be selfish enough to try and kill herself, but it's not alright for my father to be depressed. It's alright for you to want to kill yourself, but not for my father to have a breakdown. And my mother has more fucking backbone, and strength than you could ever imagine. Sure she chain smokes, but heck I'd prefer a chain smoker to an anger maniac like you where when you get upset, I am actually scared to be in the same room as you...

I don't think we're going to last the summer if I'm honest. I can't take much more. I don't trust him; I am 99% sure that he at least contemplated cheating on me, or actually did cheat on me with at least one person, and the audacity to be somebody I actually knew and was a friend. Talk about a kick in the teeth. I'm letting it rest at the moment, there's nothing I can do about it, and there's no point dragging up the past, but it all adds up to the point where I think I will just walk out. I don't want to. I want to love him like I used to, I want him to give me butterflies again, and for me to look forward to seeing him. I hoped that we could go back to that. I thought moving to the UEA would sort it. I thought moving in together would sort it. I thought being happier, and eating normally would sort it. I'm running out of options, which just leaves me with the final reason of that we don't love each other anymore, and perhaps this relationship has run it's course. I don't know. I suppose only time will tell.

Well I feel slightly better at least having got all of this out; I'm just dreading the thought of going back to bed and lying next to him feeling all of these emotions... If he could just utter a single word of 'sorry' or 'I love you' then perhaps a slight weight would be lifted off my chest, but I think I'm hoping for too much in this instance.

FAT

I'm such a fat fucking cow I want to literally rip the fat from my body... I hate myself. I physically fucking hate myself. I've somehow managed to put on weight. I hate myself. Why do I have no fucking self control? Why do I even care what I eat? So much for fucking recovery... I hate myself.

For Better, or For Worse

Okay, so I love him, I love him as if we were married, therefore the term 'for better or for worse' applies... I will love him no matter what, I may not like him at times, in fact I may intensely dislike him at times, but I still love him, therefore I WILL support him through this.

But I'm at a complete and utter loss as to what to do, he's gone from being not necessarily positive, but at least not depressed about it to an empty shell, he says he just wants to die, and was talking about best ways to do it, and then he talks about driving us both into the house in front. That's scary. Especially when he starts to accelerate as if he means to do it. Now he just wants to be left alone, which I can understand... I just need to remind myself of 'Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus'... Men like to retreat to their cave and process things, but it's all getting a bit too much.

I feel a bit calmer today, and he does as well... Maybe it was just a bad night last night in general, and with the added stresses he's got and I've got, well maybe? I don't know.

He's off for four days. There's no point in trying to deny it, I'm looking forward to the chance to sort out my eating, not eat fatty things, have salads, and generally feel a bit more free... I know it's stupid of me, but at least I'm being bloody honest... I just want to restrict, restrict, restrict.

Oh and apparently my coil has gone walkabouts. FUCK. Off to quacks anyway, will try and get it sorted. I'm fucked if i'm pregnant. Better hope I'm not. Perhaps my boobs growth spurt was just a coincedence? Fuck, fuckity fuck. Fuck. I cannot be pregnant. Physically cannot. Like hell would 'I' support me. He'd just be there ready and waiting with the coat-hanger. Oh well, no point counting my chickens and they've hatched or whatever that saying is. Why do I always fuck everything up?

I'm fed up of always been fucking criticised by him, it's not fucking fair, I'm allowed to have fucking things on my mind from time to time; and I'm sorry if it's not fucking convenient, but such is life... I'm worried about my father, and my family in general, I'm not feeling particularly great within myself, and the last thing I fucking need is to be fucking criticised and to have sarky remarks thrown my way. Fuck off. I know he's under a lot of stress as well, but this a relationship, and you're supposed to be there to support each other. I don't fucking know. Everytime I think things are beginning to pick up, he does this and reminds me that things aren't fucking great, and just makes me question our whole relationship. It may be a little thing as telling me to fuck off, but in the grand fucking picture it just gets to me, because I just see it as I can't even ask him "do you want to go to bed" anymore...

And now we've got fucking mites, and it literally makes my skin crawl and the thought of it, and I'm sorry, but maybe if he got off his ass and swept the bedroom once in a while and didn't leave the rest of the house up to me, we might not have this problem. I feel sick at the thought of it.

I just want to burst into tears and curl up in a ball.

Twat face.

Left, right, up, down, centre, backwards, forwards? My mind is all over the place.

Thankfully me and 'I' are alright at the moment and no major trauma's, just got to hope next week goes okay... if it doesn't, well heck, none of our lives are worth living, but we'll see. Trying to stay positive at the moment.

Eating appears to be going slowly tits up. I hate lent. Physically hate it. However many years ago I decided to give up chips and chocolate for lent, in retrospect this was probably my passage towards disordered eating... I realised I was good at dieting, I realised that I liked losing weight, I felt better etc etc. We all know the sob story. This year, I decide to 'eat healthily'... It started really well, and I felt good about myself... Still eating normally, but just healthier, under the premise that all I eat is sweets. But I appear to have fallen back into the same old trap rather quickly of counting calories for the sake of reducing them, rather than to keep an 'eye' on what I'm eating. I've also lost weight, and that insatiable feeling of elation came rushing back, making me want more. Now I'm grown up enough, and mature enough to know the signs and symptoms, I know what I'm doing and where I'm heading, but that doesn't seem to stop me. It's almost as if, if I stop, then I'm failing, there was no point in doing it all, and I quite like doing it. It's that weird sado-masochistic longing for the hunger pangs, and the seal of approval that you've burnt x amount of calories. Why am I doing this to myself? Why am I such a raging twat? It's not going to last. I won't be allowed to. He'll pick up on it, and I know deep deep deep down that'll be a good thing, but I've missed it. I've genuinely missed it. Everytime he's being a twat, I have that little voice in my head that is knowing well at least I have control over one thing in my life.

I don't know. I don't fucking well know.