A few weeks ago I got an e-mail from someone who's been courting me for a job. The e-mail wasn't good, there was a re-org and the postition was elimitated. To put it mildly, I was devistated.

Devistated not only for not getting the job, but it ws a much deeper emotion than was warrented over not getting a job.

I'd been putting a lot of energy into this job hunt. And i realized that what I was doing was trying to run away from the Cushing's. I was trying to do what I do so often, distract...

If I could distract myself with this job, and all the responsibilities that would come with it, then maybe I could convince myself that this wasn't really going on. That I'm fat because... because I eat too much.

Yeah, that's it, I eat way too much, so of course I am fat. I mean, I fill my plate when I eat, and sometimes I even go back for seconds. Never mind that my dinner plates are saucers instead of plates. A bread and butter plate is filled to the brim with dinner is a large meal. Yup, I eat way too much off those plates. I use regular dinner plates for Charger plates, and well, a real Charger is a wonder in it's hugeness.

I have road rage because ... the drivers here are so stupid. It's all their fault. there is no room for error, you didn't plan to merge a mile ago, so it's all your fault I'm screaming at you. Honking my horn at you because you are too stupid to be on the roads. Don't even thing you are going to merge in front of me, and there is no way in hell I'm going to let you pull out of the parking lot. Wait your turn. Oh sure, if I got more than 4 hours of sleep at night, maybe I wouldn't be so furious over everything.

Sure, that's it. It's because I can't sleep. except for when I can't wake up. Or I'm too tired to do anything. And then, of couse, ti doesn't matter how badly you drive, because I don't care. Sure, cut me off, I know you didn't mean to, sometimes you can't help it. Here, I know that spot is tough to get out of, let me wave you ahead of me. That's okay, you go first, you are probably having a tough day.

I thought if I got that job, I could tell myself that it was manageable. That the tumor wasn't that big of a deal. Oh, wait. Tumor. I forgot. Okay, okay, I didn't really forget. I just wanted to forget. And isn't that the same thing? Isn't it just as good? No? Damn.

So, not getting that job really made me step back and take a hard look at my life. No more trying to dstract myself. No more, if I ignore it, it has to go away. I mean, I've always gotten better, I always feel better, I always get in a better mood. Right? Don't I? Well yes, sort of. Except now the cycles are getting shorter and shorter. It used to be that I would go a long time until I finally snapped. Until I started screaming at random people, or worse yet, the people I love. What used to take months to cycle is now taking weeks. I am afraid that it will get to the point where I cycle hard within a week. Wheee! Won't that be fun?

You know I read this journal and would love to say something profound and thought provoking...but I can't. I'm not adequate and my words would just sound...dunno something between stupid and self righteous!

You are thought of well, you are wished the best and more and if you ever do want a little sympathy for a totally unfair deal from the deck, you got it.