Stress Is My Trigger: A Healthy Jaded Post

Confession time, folks: Healthy Jaded has fallen off the wagon, sadly. About a month ago I was dealing with a stressful financial situation, mixed in with a stressful career situation and topped off with a stressful health situation, and that trifecta of stress triggered all of my bad habits. They all resurfaced. Even the bad habit of not giving a fuck and wanting to stay home and wallow in my not-giving-a-fuckedness.

The results are, well, I feel AWFUL. My allergies have kicked into high gear, my skin looks blah, I'm sluggish, fatigued and sad most of the time. I look like a sickly person and I haven't even gotten the final diagnosis yet! And to make matters worse, my last doctor visit proved what I've been trying to deny-I've gained some weight back. It may or may not have pushed me over the edge and caused me to buy food from the Halal cart on Church Ave everyday this week. Allegedly.

The weight gain did slap some reality into me, though, that being: "Raquel, if you don't snap out of it now, everything you've worked toward and all the money you invested into these improvements will be for naught. And no one will ever want to fuck you ever again." (That last part might not be true; I've seen some truly FUGLY pregnant women so clearly somebody is fucking them. Still, don't tell my brain that.)

I realize now, finally, for real, for real, that I do not know how to manage stress and I never have. As soon as I come across an obstacle I freak the fuck out and reach for a bag of potato chips. Or order 2 pizzas. Or bury myself in some Haagen Dazs. And we all know that this DOES. NOT. WORK. But try and convince my brain of this...

Where am I now? Theoretically, I'm enthusiastically motivated to continue eating right and participating in frequent physical activities. I've even purchased some more workout-related Groupon vouchers in the name of getting back to Healthy Jaded status. The reality is that I'm struggling with thinking positively, and until I hear the final word from my doctor, straighten out my money or see some more progress on my writing career I don't know if I'll survive it all.

Feel free to show up at my door with Paleo-friendly casserole dishes and cash gifts. And the number to a literary agent who is going to make shit happen!

*smooches...hoping I haven't let you down*
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I'm thinking up ways to handle the stress, don't worry.