Showing posts with label fuck my life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fuck my life. Show all posts

14 February 2020

How could I fuck up so badly?

I, once again, am not going to make it to equity partner this year. Nor ever.

My boss very kindly (sarcasm dripping) explained that next year it'll be me for sure, but this year they're already making a female equity partner in Spain (we are grouped with Spain and Portugal), so they're keeping me to fill the female quota next year. Also, they're making equity partner a kid whose father is in Government, so that is very important.
Finally, I shall not despair because if the firm at global level forces us to make a female partner it will be me.

I kid you not, this is what he told me.
Incidentally, he told me something on the same lines last year. I am NOT waiting for another year working like this. What's left of my humanity would be destroyed. And between you and I, I don't think I'll grow a penis in one year and thus be allowed to join the fucking boys club.

And I'm so silly, I, at least, expected my husband to understand the kind of grief I'm going through.
Instead, being a man, he simply said it doesn't matter, that I can do something else, become a mom and so on.

He made it, but somehow he can't understand how much more I have had to endure (and how longer - I've been doing this for 15 years).

He doesn't understand how it feels to remember all the pride I've had to swallow. All the times I've been judged - too aggressive, not enough aggressive. Too sexy, not sexy enough. Gained weight - means she can't manage the pressure. The time a partner told a client and of my team in front of me that I was perfect when I was sitting, since my head was at the same height as his dick.

So long, so much, for what? Nothing.

The urge to stop eating and indulge in self harming had not been this strong since I was 23. But then again, I was already doing this job back then.

21 September 2019

when they drop the C word, it's always shitty

It's been 9 months since we first went to see a doctor about husband breathing problem.
He got nose surgery in May, but they could not remove a small tumor he has on his skull, since they're afraid of touching the brain. Just keep it monired they told us.

The breathing finally seemed to improve in June when we went to Greece - at least for a while.

Then it got worse, with more polips forming in his nose.

In late July he got a mild case of pneumonia - mild also because I got him on antibiotics on day 1.

In august he started complaining about chest pains, and his breathing is worse than ever - his troubles seem to be lung-related now, not just nose-related. My dad happens to be a pneumologist, so he checked him last week and told him to just have a TAC.

As soon as husbad left the room dad told me to have the TAC and other exams done ASAP because, he said, "if he has cancer you'll need to know asap".

Fuck.

Waiting for the TAC results now. Meanwhile, frankly, I understand why he doesn't  quit smoking. Let's face it, who more than people like us can understand that? If I can't manage to get below 60kg, how on earth can I expect that he can stop smoking?

we've barely slept in the past 2 months, since he has so much trouble when we lay dow, and I'm having more and more trouble keeping my shit together at work.

07 April 2019

Retarded or civilized?

I don't know which one I am.
landed in Dubai at 4AM - couldn't sleep in the plane despite all the complementary Moet et Chandon. Too much going on, anxiety is spiking and it was too warm anyways.

It's 40 fucking degrees here.

Why is everyone excited about Dubai? I'm probably retarded from the lack of sleep (I snoozed one hour in the hotel and then headed into work, and it's night now). But I do not understand this place. Staying next to the Burji Khalifa or whatever the huge skyscraper is called.
When I ask where can I go for a walk, the answer I get is: there is a free shuttle to Dubai Mall Madam.

There seems to be literally no place around here to go and stroll outdoors.

I want to die already

On another note, they do have a scale in this huge bedroom, which I fucking love.
Food is so fucking expensive one should really consider it they are really hungry before ordering. Sadly, it's the client who pays in my case, so that does not apply.

08 February 2018

How do I do it?

How do I do it?
Woke at 5.50 AM, washed up, squeezed my belly into white trousers an an oversize marine blue silk blouse, high heeled booties and ponytail.
I left home at 6.30, heading to the train station. At 7AM I was on the bullet train, laptop on, working. Started conference calls in French at 8.30, reached my destination in the North East at 10 and got into a meeting until 4.30PM. Back to the train station, hopped on the train again, got a conference call with the US (in English), one with another client (in French), one with my boss (in Italian) and another one with a French guy working in a PE in London (in French). In between I tried to brainstorm with the team. At 7.30 the calls were over and I started working.
Arrived at 8.30 in Milan, took a cab, called Mum, got home and started working again.
It's 10 PM, we have no smoke at home, I'm debating whether to wake up at 5 or 6 to get to work tomorrow (luckily from the office). I already know that my last call for tomorrow is scheduled at 7PM (thank-you, US guys for not understanding it's Friday night).
I've been eating sandwiches on the go and milk and cookies all week.
No wonder I'm such a mess.

07 December 2017

Can I?

extreme ways that helped me, they helped me out late at night...

bank holiday, and of course I'm working. I'm working 14h+ a day, and I lost a few hours yeasterday as I drove Husband to ER (he woke up in the middle of the night with a huge swollen eye that hurt - luckily no big issue, but it was a big scare.

After this dad told me to get some contramal (basically, morphine in drops) just in case he needed it.

After indulging all afternoon in how convenient it  would be keeping some at home (and dear dad promptly supplied me with a prescription), you know, for emergencies... or for when I'm so stressed I cannot fall asleep... or for when I have a neckache... or for when I'm stressed out.... 
      I decided it's better not to buy any (Hubby was much better anyways), got a bottle of wine for dinner and treated myself into leaving work at 8PM and having dinner at home with husband and wine.

What's scaring me is how often I find myself thinking that drugs would help me get through all this. Mind me, I'm really not doing any drugs - I've even cut on the ibuprofen, but that must be a sign on how our current life is not sustainable. We are working EVERY fucking weekend, in addition to long weeks, and needless today, we are working today and tomorrow (bank holidays here).
I know it's 12 to 18 more months like this, but I'm starting to wonder if I CAN make through it.

17 November 2017

These words

All I ever wanted was you: I’ll never get to heaven, ‘cause I don’t know how.

Let’s raise a glass or two, to all the things I’ve lost on you, tell me are they lost on you? Just that you could cut me loose, after everything I’ve lost on you, is that lost on you?

My god, these words. Oh, skinny Lucy, the things I lost on you and in the end I don't have you.

03 December 2014

Crush

I would die for you
I would die for you
I've been dying just to feel you by my side
to know that you're mine

I will pray for you
I will pray for you
I will sell my soul for something pure and true:
a body like you

Not good. Obsessed with weight. My two best friends from work moved on the other side of the atlantic ocean. I just.. I don't even know. I feel so lonely. This winter is unbearable, it seems to always rain. I need to spend sometime outside in the sun. I need a friend to share a salad with at lunch time. I need attention. I am so fucking needy I'm disgusted by myself

I hadn't even considered hurting myself for years. This is so fucked up.


I will burn for you, feel the pain for you, I will twist a knife and bleed my aching heart, and tear it apart..
I will crawl on hands and knees until you see, you're just like me.

28 June 2014

overwhelmed

I just..

I don't know

I can't keep up with this anymore



Been working over the last three weekends in addition to full week.

70 hours this week and it's only Saturday (Italian week goes from Monday to Sunday)



I never have time to eat - I end up fasting without even wanting it. This is very triggering. I'm not even hungry anymore. I just have a constant headache. Been having it for 10days now.



I drink fresh grapefruit juice at aperitivo and avoid eating.



I blurted out to a close friend (who is skinny and not pro-ana, Lord bless her): "I don't want to eat anymore. I just want to stop eating entirely."



Over the past week I usually had milk and cereals at breakfast, and sometimes a boiled egg for dinner. I also once ate 15gr of parmesan cheese, and one 0%fat, no sweeteners greek yoghurt.



(Sie kommen zu euch in der Nacht, Demonen (...) Schwartze Feen)



at least BMI is finally below 20.

I hate my German client. I hate him on so many levels I have a hard time restraining myself from insulting him in German all the time.

(insulting in German is so liberating)

I am despicable.

Mein Herz bMein Hertx brennt rennt!!!!







Now dear kids

listen carefully

I'm the voice from under the pillow

I brought something along

(...)

with this very heart I did it (...)

I'll sing 'till day breaks

A burning star from the sparkling firmament





I am so in love with Stefano, and yet I can't help my fear that thing may not work.He was away last week, now he's back. If he figures out I'm not eating, things may get out of control.



I don't wanna go back to eating

I just don't

03 April 2014

Not good

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I am so fucking gross and fat I disgust myself also I had sworn to be down to 57 (which is super gross) for the Marathon instead I'm still over 60
FAIL FAIL FAIL FAIL FAIL
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Am I going to die fat? Will I ever stop to work 60+ hours a week?


(Also, my boss just got a Liposuction done to her legs. I fucking hate her)

05 August 2013

The doctor said..

I can train. At least, that's what he thinks. I'm allowed to do:
-10min on the elliptical, OR
-10min swimming (crawl or back)
AND
limited squats
AND unlimited pull ups (a if I could do unlimited pull uos...)
AND certain kind of abs crunches

facepalm

basically, this is NOTHING compared to my July training schedule.

ABSOLUTE BAN of: running, stairs, rowing machine, lounges and most of plank exercise.

I shit you not loveys.

In addition, I'm undergoing a therapy that is extremely painful and leaves blues all over my hips and legs - someone at the gym even asked me if I'd been in a car accident yesterday.
Anyway, I'll try to work on the arms and shoulders...sigh...

31 July 2013

MRI outcome

The not so bad news is I did not gain weight over the weekend. I trained, ate about one thousand deep fried pumpkin flowers, one shit ton of salad, and somehow, maintained.

The bad news is, I got my MRI scheduled on Monday, and the outcome is, while the bones are fine (which is good I admit), the tendons of both my hips are not fine.
And this means, I'm supposed to stop training.

Now, this is not going to happen.
I'm getting married in 35 days and I'm supposed to fit into that fucking tight dress I bought.

The upside is they gave me different painkillers which are also supposed to smooth the problem, and those DO work, so finally I'm walking almost like a normal girl.
Also, I'm seeing a physiotherapist on weekends.

I did drop the 30 days shred at day 24 (many of the moves hurt too much), and I cannot run.
I have picked up the 6pack6weeks by Jillian Michaels, and I'll try to do the elliptical machine at the gym.
Honestly, this whole thing pisses me off so much I can't even tell you.

Stop training for one month means throwing away months of fatigue and sweat. I hate it!