This week is a bad week, and I knew it was going to be. I let three major things build up and rather than taking care of things early on, I tried to pretend nothing was happening, nothing was coming up and thus there was nothing wrong.

Nothing that is, except that the ex-boss-bitch-from-hell has decided to continue her campaign toward Hades by trying to persuade another State agency to pull my license to practice for having the audacity to leave her employ. One day two officials from the Department of Professional Regulation appeared unannounced on my door step for my "side of the story." Luckily, I was at work and MOTH intercepted them. Not that I have a thing to hide, but it would have been WAY unnerving to have to answer her documented list of lies without any preparation. So, the lawyer is taking care of it for me now. That meeting took place Tuesday of this week, and we won't know for a bit what they decide. Later this week is the deadline for arguments with the national agency that certifies me. She filed charges that I violated their Code of Ethics, another lie. But one that I must answer. In fact NOT answering such a charge is in itself a breach of the Code of Ethics. ~sigh~

The final straw is that the police want Eldest to take a polygraph test in the robbery/arson on 1's his dad's house this past summer. This makes me sick, because the police refuse to take into account one very important fact: HE WAS IN THE HOUSE WITH ME WHEN THE IRE WAS STARTED!!! Not only with me, but with MOTH and his own best friend. Nevertheless, they see a teenager, they have bungled the case, they are inept, and they see a kid who they can potentially rattle enough to plea to a lesser charge just to get things over with, and then they can stamp their little case "close." BULLSHIT! I almost caved. Last night I decided that I would leave it in the hands of God, that the truth would win, that He would not allow anything bad to happen to my son when all we were telling was the truth. I was convinced that was the thing to do since there was nothing to hide and I had always told my kids to tell and trust in the truth. The MOTH came home and raised a little bit of Holy Hell over it, saying that bad things can happen to good people and yadda yadda yadda we should get a lawyer. So I did what I do best. I cried, and then I called a lawyer from our church who said that bad things can happen to good people and we should get a lawyer.

This morning I tried to get dressed, but I couldn't. I was shaking and it was very hard to keep my attention long enough to take a shit. I forgot to have any coffee (a mistake which is now costing me a a grand migraine). I tried to call my mom but she wasn't home. DAMN her for having a life and not sitting at home waiting for my latest crisis! So I called in sick (actually, I stupidly paged MYSELF instead of Pit Bull, my boss) and got my boy a lawyer, and I called the cop and told him that we had legal representation, a fact that means that we have to pay a HEFTY amount to protect his innocence, I fed-ex'd my response to the National Agency, and then I argued for an hour on the phone with my boy's dad (#1) who feels that since he has nothing to hide he should just take the test, like I haven't thought it through or anything.

And then....(this is where the theme for the diary comes in, in case you've been wondering)...I realized that for the last days I have been bingeing. It began subtly. MOTH'S birthday brownies called to me, and I found myself whittling off piece by piece. Sneaking cookies. Someone selling FannieMae fundraising chocolate bars at work (I ONLY HAD ONE!!!), chips, smarties, candy cigarettes, hamburger buns (I love hamburger buns), bowls of cereal, Oreos, Little Debbie Banana cakes (Deb is a REAL good friend of mine!), ....It soon became the same old pattern. Shit, I even caught myself making strawberry milk, something which I haven't had in years despite it being in the pantry. Hell I might as well have just gone down to the Jewel and opened my mouth at the end of the cash register belt and let it all just pour in.

So, it's time to up the Z to 1 1/2 pills. I have permission to do it, in fact I can go up to 2 pills if I feel the need. I don't really like having that kind of control over it though, I mean, how the hell do I know if I need more or less? It's a crap shoot, I tell ya. But I'm going to take the shot and give it a go. If it stops the food from calling out to me, it will be a help.

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