And I really really REALLY don't want punctuation of any sort, because while I appreciate the thought behind it, I'm really hating myself and can't even handle anyone being nice to me right now.

How about distractions? World's dumbest fairy penguin! Hey, when I mentioned I was planning to visit America later this year, I called for city pimpage! How come there was no Cincinnati pimpage? Hey, remind me, that jealousy-inducing wine-tasting zoo thing you're doing, there were other times in the year, weren't there? t threadsucks Ah, yes, it's doing Australia on August 10. How about that?

Ok, this has to be taken in the right spirit, but the thing that really did the most for my own feelings of self-loathing was getting divorced. As so many people here know, Bec is one of my favouritest people ever, but she had a lot of trauma to cope with, and living with her really did a number on my personal image.

But I wholeheartedly endorse JZ's take on all this. I spent a couple of years learning how to talk myself up when Captain Negativity grabbed the wheel, and jeez it's hard. I remember sitting in our therapists's office and having her suggest to me that I try telling Bec "If you want to leave, it's your loss, toots", and being barely able to get through it, let alone sound like I remotely believed it.

Sometimes I look at Hec and his robust ego and placid neurochemistry, and I want to throttle him, or the universe.

And I bet it'd help you feel better! Um. Not that I would encourage you to visit throttly death on your nearest and dearest. Maybe just a Hec-doll or something.

I got into a bad self-punishment loop when I tried to silence the voices altogether; every time they yipped at me, I felt worse for not being strong enough to muffle them, which just proved how right they were after all about me, which just made them crow with triumph, which made me feel even worse and more self-defeated, which made them louder, etc. ad infinitem.

Oh, one thing I do particularly recommend, and I'm sure many people here have come across it (I know vw has), is cognitive behavioural therapy. It's very much about managing the internal monologues.

I'm on this quest for meaning in my life.

Check behind the sofa. Then, listen to Air Supply lyrics, that should help. "I'm found my purpose. It's to hunt down and beat the living crap out of two easy listening Australians."

This may be ENTIRELY because I read somewhere I was too old to be one.

An admin bod here is leaving today to go study medicine. It's all very impressive. (And my brain keeps saying "but she's young! And tiny! Are doctors allowed to be young and tiny?")

Go away, bug bites!

At some point during this day, something happened that made me go, "Wow, I'd can't wait to post that in Bitches!" But of course, memory like a sieve, and I've forgotten it now.

I believe I will face the refridgerator of stinky doom tomorrow.

I appreciate each of you for putting up with my fussing and whining. I know it has been a tough year and I've come here to complain about all the drama. Having people here to talk to has helped keep me sane and I love each and every one of you.

I'm hungry and my cupboards are rather bare.

Now I'm picturing JZ dragging Hec down the stairs like that old Homicide couple, pelting him with CDs and saying "Die, you bastard, die!" Cracks me up. It wouldn't if you did it, though, JZ.

t pimps NP idea again.

PitA to look for funding programs, though

NP idea?

On the self-loathing thing: I don't encounter self-hatred very often, and it's never about my body. My general fear is that everyone secretly hates me, or at least dislikes me, and therefore goes out of their way to ignore me because I'm thoughtless or a bitch or loud or forceful (ad nauseum). Any self-loathing comes from that same fear that I suck as a person and no one really wants to spend time with me; that paranoia is so obviously related to daddy issues and high school that I have no idea how to divest myself of it.

My own self-loathing with regards to that is pretty much side-by-side with Steph's right now; and no matter how many people tell me I'm awesome or that they want to spend time with me or that I am a nice person, every time someone ignores me or forgets about me or neglects to call/email/write me back, my thoughts first jump to, "god, they must be mad at me about something" or "shit, I fucked something up." That is something four years of therapy has been unable to repair in my psyche.

Now I want a cookie.

Peanut butter? Oatmeal? Chocolate chip? Whatever you want sweety.

As others said...you're gonna be 41 anyway, some day. (OTOH, if you don't go to med school, you might be a better-rested 41)

And I third/fourth/eleventh all the self-loathing comments. It continues to amaze me how sometimes I can look in the mirror and be all "yeah, I'm hot! I look gooooood! Who wouldn't want me?" and like, an hour later look in the same mirror, and really know in my head I look the same, but instead be all "I'm fat and funny shaped and my hair is frizzy and my skin is bad and no one would want to see me naked and even if anyone saw me naked they would be disgusted!" I mean...same me! Same mirror! CRAZY brain.

Course, I also wonder how crazy you need to be to have therapy. Cause sometimes I think I'm pretty well balanced (especially when I think about SOME of the whackjobs I've known in my life, most of whom feel no need for therapy!) and therapy would be a waste of money and time, and sometimes I think I'm surely seriously fucked up and will never be normal.

Nurse Practitioner, Trudy