I've been feeling down lately, centered around two specific things: my work and my weight.
I love my employer. I love that they treat me well, care that I have the resources to do my job, provide me excellent medical, dental and vision benefits, and generally make me feel like I'm a valued person, not just a peon.
But it's not the first time I've felt burned out with my particular role. What I do isn't hard, not anymore. It used to be, when I first learned it. Isn't that what we like? We do something for a while, get into the groove, and then it's cake. Sometimes I run into a challenge, something that stimulates my brain to think a little outside the box, and when I successfully solve the problem, I feel like I've accomplished something.
I haven't felt that for a while, and now I find that I have a hard time focusing on my work. I want to do things that fully occupy my attention, like reading or cleaning or writing or even some other part of what my company does.
Sometimes I think it would be nice to work for the same company, but in a different capacity.
I could be bored. I could be lazy. I could be un-actualized (going with a psychological concept). I could even have some weird imbalance in my body chemistry that hinders me being able to focus - my mother's side of the family has a history of thyroid disease.
In any case, I've often felt like calling in "sick" rather than trying to finish my assignments. Of course, that's not honest, and they'd catch me and probably fire me.
I guess my main motivation right now is keeping my house, cus without my job, we wouldn't be able to afford the mortgage payments.
My weight and I are at odds once again. A few years ago, I was happily sitting at 160 pounds (I'm 6'), I could fit into practically every clothing item in my size, and I felt GOOD. I felt I was right where I should be, a nice average, and I liked it.
Then I started eating more and more food I had denied myself for a long while, and I discovered I REALLY liked beer and thus drank much of it, and I felt the pounds add on one by one, until I hit 175, and then I jumped to 180 within a couple of months, and I suddenly realized that I, once again, had to give up the stuff I liked so I could fit into my clothes.
I did really well with the whole working out and eating lite thing for about two weeks. Then I got sick, didn't work out for four days, and I stopped altogether. I'm lucky if I work out once a week. And I still eat junk food and drink beer, albeit one beer every couple of days as opposed to every day.
This afternoon, while I cooked seasoned french fries for lunch, my husband said to me, "Hon? I thought you were going to try and eat healthy again." He said it very nicely.
I replied, "What's the point?"
He just kinda looked at me. "What do you mean?"
All I could do was shrug. I'm not even sure what I meant. I feel like giving up and just accepting the inevitable that around 35 my thyroid will go on the fritz and I won't be able to lose any weight no matter how hard I try. Why not just accept it now? Why fight it? I'm the same weight I was in high school, which isn't that bad - I'm still technically average, just on the high end.
Still... I don't like how I FEEL. I feel heavier than I should be. I have extra padding in a few places I now know doesn't belong there. Even losing ten or fifteen pounds would let me fit comfortably into my work slacks again.
And yet the effort required to lose the weight seems overwhelming, so I shut down and try not to care.
Guess I'm just having a crappy day.