Maria my darling, I am going to point at what everyone else said and nod. You are loved, you are worthy, and you can come here and vent/whine/ask for support as often and as much as you need.

Maria, I'm sorry you're having such a hard time. Grief is hard. Change is hard. Hell, life is hard. You do what you can - if it's not up to some standard you're setting, you're still doing something. Be kind to yourself; let us be kind to you.

And, as someone once said, only mediocre people are always at their best. And you've never been mediocre.

It's been a safe place for me for almost 10 years, and part of my angst right now is the fact that I'm using this as my safe place without contributing to the joy.

Don't angst about that. Our affection for you is not a limited resource; it's infinitely renewable.

Working out at the gym isn't a schtick. You're doing something that's healthy on so many levels. You're controlling something you can control. Your work is rewarded exactly in proportion to what you put into it. It grounds you in the world, and in your body. And it has the added benefit of making you look great.

You know in contact sports when you have to take a hit it's better if you're moving yourself, instead of flat footed. And in your life you are moving forward. And I see that you are impatient, but you are gathering speed and strength and you will be in a new place physically and emotionally. Just not yet.

{{{Maria}}} Reading along and nodding in agreement to all the wise people here. I am always happy to see you posting here and on facebook.

You know what helps when roasting beets for dinner? Actually putting them in the oven. Apparently preheating the oven and taking the beets out of the fridge is not sufficient.

I've tried that one before, sj. You're so right, it doesn't work.

It's bad that I really thought that they were in the oven. I went to go check on them and toss them around in the olive oil, and there they were on top of the stove. It all worked out in the end. I ended up putting them in the freezer for a bit after they cooked so that they were cool enough to put on the spinach salad with blue cheese. The rest of dinner was turkey meatloaf and Israeli couscous.

I went back to the library today to volunteer. We were culling books off the shelf that hadn't sold, instead of shelving today. As a result, I saw a lot more of the books and ended up taking 3 of them home. At least I only spent $1.50.

{{{Maria}}}

Sorry I don't have more than that. I'm a little Vicodin-loopy now. Everything hurts. And the medicine seems to be doing more to make me loopy than to make the pain go away. I just found Paper Moon on On Demand, so I'm watching that.

Sometimes drugs just make you not care that you hurt.

Maria, my love, you would never judge any of us as harshly as you are judging yourself. You certainly didn't judge me so harshly when I stayed in a job I hated for EIGHT years, depressed and hating myself and dating someone who treated me terribly.

You can keep pushing yourself harder and harder, it's true. I don't know that it will silence the negative voices in your head more than temporarily.

Vulnerability isn't weakness. Self-compassion isn't self-pity. Beating yourself up isn't discipline. Grief isn't failure. Doubt isn't betrayal.

If none of this is what you need to hear, than feel free to tell me to shove it and please forgive me for sticking my foot in it. I love you very much and I want you to be happy, and it pains me to see you beating up on yourself like this.

Vicodin has such a happy effect on me. It doesn't make me loopy or sleepy. Just makes the world pleasant. So weird. Too bad it's not something I can take just because.

Vulnerability isn't weakness. Self-compassion isn't self-pity. Beating yourself up isn't discipline. Grief isn't failure. Doubt isn't betrayal.

That's some widely applicable good thinking, that is.