Well….a-hole, you are out of my life

Last night I got into this horrible argument with my brother Ned.  And then I did this profoundly liberating thing that has jump-started me like you would not believe: I cut him out of my life.

Now I didn’t expect that I’d do that.  No way.  I didn’t have it planned out that way.  I didn’t do it in a fit of anger or anything like that.  It was the logical thing to do, that’s all, following this horrible argument.

It was a matter of a click of the mouse, you see.  I have Google Voice, so it was easy.  Or not so easy due to a glitch in GV.   But I went over to the forums figured out how to get it done.  Now, when Ned calls, he is automatically sent to voicemail.  No, not spammed, just sent to voicemail.

I suppose if he keeps calling and continues to get voicemail, he’ll conclude that I’m hospitalized.  I guess at that point I’ll e-mail him and tell him I’m not.  And a few other things.

I am tired of being told I am not real writer because I do not submit my writings to The New Yorker.  I am tired of being told I am wrong no matter what I say.  I am tired of being told that no matter what I do, it’s not good enough.  He’s an asshole.  I’m glad I’m not his kid and I’m glad I’m not his student and I’m glad I’m not his wife and I’m glad I’m not his friend.

I liked it that he called now and then.  That was nice of him.  But only to put me down again and again.  He never once read This Hunger Is Secret.  He only looked at the cover and commented on it.  He never bought a copy or the e-book or paperback and when he came here and looked at a copy of the paperback he did not open it and read anything inside.  Isn’t that weird?  Like he only cared about the cosmetics of the book.  Then he shoved it back at me, uninterested.

Well, asshole, you are out of my life.

I didn’t feel really terrific until this morning.  I woke up and then suddenly it felt like my body was breathing a gigantic sigh of relief.  Like suddenly, there was this letting go, a release of something that had been pent-up.  It felt incredible.

(As we speak, there is huge shouting and arguing in my hallway.  Typical day here.)

I have not binged since Saturday.  I don’t know why or how I have managed to stop but I am grateful for it.  Well, I do have ideas.  There are things I have done.  I will talk about some of the things in another entry.  But one of the things is letting him go.

Getting rid of people, activities, and substances that are no good for you is essential.

I started writing a blog entry about this but I had a huge technical problem in my apartment and got interrupted with my entry, lost track of what I was saying, and so I aborted the entry.  What happened was that my toilet got a leak in the back of it and I had to call the maintenance guy over here.  My bathroom floor is all soggy.

What I was saying was this:

If a person, activity, or substance causes you to binge, cut it out of your life if possible.

I don’t really have an overeating problem.  I go on full binges. There is a marked difference, and I have a hard time relating to people who overeat and do not have a binge eating problem.

Do you want to know what this means?  Binge eating, for me, is not anything like casual eating or “nibbling.”  It is never done with a partner (I saw a You-Tube where someone who was bulimic talked about binge eating with a friend).  Sometimes, depending on how soft or crunchy the food is, I shove it into me and and barely chew it.  Huge chunks get swallowed whole.  It’s extremely disgusting.  I’ve seen my own dog do this.

Anyway, I have not done any of that since Saturday.  I am grateful.  Today I feel wicked decent.

Guess what?  I am even wearing jeans, not those pajama bottoms I wore for days on end.  It’s a good thing I didn’t feel too self-conscious about my weight and dared to have that maintenance guy in here, because if the toilet had leaked last week, I would have been scared to have anyone in here.  The tank was leaking, not the toilet bowl itself, so no, not that gross, but the floor would have been like a wicked bad swamp.

My cell phone broke Monday night, my good one, but it’s one I was using less often than the free “Welfare” one.  I decided that compared to all the other shit in my life, it’s not that big a deal.   The warranty expired ages ago.  It’s not one of those contract phones.  I’m a cheap-o.  I got another off of ebay for $30 last night.  I did this fun Internet shopping to distract myself from my pissed-off thoughts about my brother.

It was a really healthy way to cope with the issue.  Now I’m going to have a new phone.  I mean, I could have thrown the broken phone across the room.  That would have been just plain dumb, and would have accomplished nothing.   Ripping up a phone book would have done nothing but make a mess and destroy a phone book, and holding onto a frozen orange would have done nothing but waste an orange and make my hands extremely uncomfortable, and oranges are expensive.  I did some intelligent comparison shopping, read the reviews carefully, and made a decision.

Well, asshole, you are out of my life.