It's Hard to Care When...

...everything in your life is rapidly going down the crapper.

For at least six months, we've been dealing with increasing drama on the part of The Kid. Although the past week has been really good, over the past few months we've had more bad days than good, more lousy weeks than bad. Things came to a head late Spring when The Kid decided that the way to cope with frustration was to physically assault her parents to the point of leaving bruises.

It's not a pretty situation. Two weeks ago, The Kid had an especially ugly outburst, where The Wife and I ended up locking ourselves in a back room while The Kid had her tantrum. The next morning, The Kid was at it again, and after two and a half hours of raging, threats, and a verbal assault that wouldn't quit, I finally walked across the room and slapped my kid right on the face.

Yeah, I slapped my own kid.

I don't generally agree that hitting children has any lasting benefit, so The Wife and I have made it a point not to use physical discipline. This was the first time I've ever hit The Kid. Though it didn't feel good to do it, I will admit that it put an abrupt end to the morning-long temper tantrum.

Now before my critics go off on me for not being strict enough, it's probably worth mentioning that The Wife and I haven't had the benefit of raising The Kid since infancy. She came to us, a few years ago, as an angry pre-teen. She was abused and neglected by her first family, so she didn't come with a clean slate. The Kid carries around a lot of baggage, and though she's been seeing a therapist off and on since she first came to our home, I don't think it's done a great deal of good.

In addition to things being in the toilet with The Kid, things with The Job aren't much better. I'm frustrated with the terms and conditions set by my current employer. I rarely get time off, when it do it's on short notice, and I'm often been called back from my days off to work. I get calls evenings, weekends, and holidays, and it's frustrating. Last year, The Wife and I finally got married, and my boss called me on my honeymoon and asked me to work. I was gone for two days and he called insisting I work on a project while I was out. Fortunately, I refused, because the "little task" he wanted done took an entire day to complete.

I want a life that exists outside of my job, but it seems that what I do to make a living doesn't lend itself to having a life.

So I'm tired, I'm frustrated, and even The Wife and I are squabbling. As a result, I have had a really hard time caring about my diet.

A lot of dieters will say that "nothing tastes as good as being skinny feels," but I'm having a hard time believing it. Although I've put on about 20 lbs since I quit dieting in April, I don't feel any different. When I lost the 20 lbs, I pleased my doctor, but I didn't really notice any difference myself. I didn't feel better, I didn't sleep better, my clothes weren't noticeably looser, and I didn't have any more energy.

Just like everyone, I read all the gloom and doom stuff about the dangers of obesity, so I know I should lose the weight. Even though I know this intellectually, I'm just having a hard time caring right now.

Frankly, a big fat steak or an ice cream bar tastes a lot better than how I felt 20 lbs lighter. And, if nothing else, that steak is a delicious distraction from the otherwise unbearable horror known as my life.

That being said, I've quit eating breakfast and lunch and I'm back to drinking the Cambridge shakes twice a day. If I can get a little more motivated, perhaps I'll go back to sole sourcing it for a while.

But it's been really hard to care about my diet when everything else is going so profoundly wrong.