December 11, 2012
My weight: 295.4
Husband’s weight: 298.4
Number of Rejections in last 5 days: 17
Number of Interviews on horizon: 0
I had every expectation to write about my in-laws again, but life evolves and something that seemed so important Thursday is so insignificant today.
Friday night was my husband’s Christmas party; we all had a really good time. There is this woman he works with, S-----e, who is able to organize an event and simply sprinkles magic on it.
But, see, even now, I’m avoiding the whole thing. When I started working with my husband, at his company in October, I met a man, D, who had the perfect job. I said, out loud, “I want D’s job” to my husband one night. He’s a trainer, instructional designer, researcher, and sits right by my husband. Everyone hates him but me. 2 reasons I don’t. One, I was wearing my Boston College sweatshirt one day, and he said, “You’re an Eagle. Cool.” And, two, his wife had a reaction to medication she was taking, and he had to rush to her side at a nearby hospital. That would / is my worst fear. I can place myself in his shoes.
Anyway, my niceness to him is obvious, especially to him, because so few are. I simply asked him at the Christmas party, “How are you?” His response, “I’m leaving the company. My last day is the 28th.” I was the first he told, and I played it off as a joke. Who wouldn’t? Under the table, my husband punched my leg. Fortunately, I had only had a few sips of my hard cider, and I wasn’t going to say anything stupid.
My husband and I tried hard to get a moment, even a second, to talk about D leaving, but just couldn’t. I was truly excited and believed that I had nothing to worry about. In the middle of the night, my body decided to voice its opinion with hyper intensity fear and worry. I exploded with shit and vomit, everywhere. My husband came and cleaned it and me up.
The next morning until today, I haven’t been able to digest food. I’m worried and stressed that I won’t present myself well, that I will embarrass my husband at work, that I will be found out, somehow, for the fraud I am, that I will allow this to sour myself for the company and won’t be able to continue my contract there, that I will have to force these people, who I have grown to like and to respect, to reject me, that I will somehow make my husband look badly, that I will reflect poorly on him, that he will find out I’m a fake too. This rejection, from the safe haven that is the company and that is my best friend and husband, in combination with all the other rejections on top of not knowing what is going to happen, is more than my digestive system can take. Plus, the sheer terror of wanting something, hoping for something, wishing for something and have it not come true. Sometimes it’s just easier not to wish.
I can’t help but wonder if this is one of those times.
