How does one give a shit? I got out of a horrible relationship, which was actually a great relationship until the completely random end. The relationship included the guy telling me every day how wonderful and smart and cute and fun and blablablaaaaaaaaaaaa I was, but then one day, totally out of the blue, he turned around and dumped me for being “too fat and ugly" for him. Then he'd get drunk and call me and tell me he loved me sooooooo much and how smart and wonderful and blablablaaaaaaaaaaaaaa I was, but that I was still too fat and ugly for him. BTW, he was no Magic Mike. He was quite the pudgy little potato himself.
So, I decided that if I'm going to be too fat and ugly to be lovable, I might as well get my money's worth, so I gained a metric fuckton of weight and replaced most of my wardrobe with sweatpants and cat hair. Why not? Life is terrible, food is yummy. It's going on three years since this happened and I've basically completely isolated myself since. On an average week, I'd say I only make it out of the house twice. Obviously the boyfriend isn't the only factor here, but it's the freshest one. I realize this is all HORRIBLY unhealthy, but I can't seem to give a shit enough to change it. It's not like I don't know I should be exercising and eating better, but who the hell cares?
This is a little dark, but I finally realized that I'm basically committing passive suicide. I couldn't do it outright, but this way I can pretend it's an accident, like I'm a victim of some rare bonkers health malady (a few of which do run in the family) if I, say, have a heart attack and die, and thus wouldn't be "blamed" by my friends and family. The reason I'm committing passive suicide is because I feel like there is nothing to look forward to at all in life. I mean, if THIS is what life is going to be like, I don't want to live that long....and women on both sides of my family live for-fucking-EVER...well into their 90s.
I don't like this game. I don't want to play anymore...and I certainly don't want to play for another 60-70 years! Ergo, I have a hard time giving a shit about anything, least of all my health or forgetting that Doritos and cake is not a food group. So far, my experiences with therapy have NOT been good. It's been a pernicious potpourri of victim blaming, Oprah/Dr. Phil School of Bovine Scatology, and CBT (which stands for Cock Ball Turds as far as I'm concerned).
Oh, and I also have a problem with maladaptive daydreaming. So...that's fun.
(Sorry for the novel)