My brand new scale is broken.
Well, maybe not broken, but the batteries are definitely ALREADY dead...why include the batteries if you just want me to buy them again in a week to 10 days? I would have gladly done it up front and be in a WAY better mood today.
I guess this might be a blessing in disguise because it is impossible to update you on my weight loss. AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA (that is my evil laugh, btw)
I have taken strides this week to lose weight. To be clear, I have made strides this week to assist me in losing weight that have make noticable differences.
Since I am lucky enough to have a pool, I have been spending lots of time in the pool walking laps, swimming, and working out with the kettlebells. At this weight it is very different to work out. Even low impact excercise is very hard on the joints. Jim thinks that working out in the pool is effortless, but it's not...I may not sweat, but I feel the burn, I get the same shortness of breath that I get from working out inside.
Thursday night we were in the pool together and I was using the kettlebells and he started to notice that my arms are getting definition to them. You can see my muscles working under the surface of my skin and my upper arms are getting smaller.
I also invested (and I use that word tongue in cheek) in The new Skecher's Shape Ups, you know the tennis shoes that help tone your legs, glutes, improves your posture, and are easier on your joints.
It may be a gimmick, but lots of people say they work. I guess I will report on my journey.
My dad, stepmom, and neice are coming in for the weekend. I am excited to see them. My sisters will be spending a lot of time here, so I am trying to make some good grocery decisions and eat healthy. My dad is a diabetic, same as me. It's important for me to eat healthy, but it's also important to me that if I am going to feed him then he is going to eat healthy here. I know my step mom tries to get him to do the right things, but he's hard headed. Hmmm...is that where I get that from?
My dad has diabetes, yes, but he is not fat. He doesn't take care of himself, his bloodsugars are through the roof! I have had conversations with him in regards to taking his medications and such and he says they make him fat and he would rather be dead than fat.
Yeah...I think that I would rather hear some freak of nature stranger call me a cow in a public arena on mic during a concert than have my own father tell me that he would rather be dead than fat.
I do not want to be fat, but I am glad to be alive. If I was unable to lose weight, I would still be happy to be alive.
The goal is to be happy and keep heading in the right direction.
What are your goals? Share them with me, I would love to discuss them!
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Saturday, July 24, 2010
I Had the Strangest Dream
Last night as I went to bed, I thought, "Wow, this is the eve of my official 1st year as a non-smoker." I should have never acknowledged it. Dreams are powerful things.
Before I get into the dream, I need to provide you with other background information on this week. I have slept very little. I bought a new crazy scale that doesn't just provide your weight, but it is full of all kinds of little confidence killers, like BMI, water weight percentage, and worst of all your percentage of body fat. The first time I stood on it, well...it provided me with SHOCKING information across the board. This began a week long debate with people...how honest do I really want to be with my reader?
By that, I mean to do I want to tell you how much I weigh.
I try to be as honest as I possibly can and there in lies the struggle. I could tell you what I weigh, but I see some of you everyday. I know me. I know that when I look in your eyes, I will think you are thinking about it. I will see the numbers looming over your head right back at me, like in that old credit score commercial. I want to do this thing. I want support, but in the honesty comes judgement from people I love and thinking about it makes me want a cheeseburger hug followed by a cheesecake pat on the back. Which brings me to the other thing...I do not want people telling me what to eat or saying maybe I shouldn't have eaten something.
Then I realized that I am asking people to hold me accountable and stand with me, but I am cutting their legs off at the same time. hmmmm..what to do?
So back to the dream...A parade is being held in my honor, down some picturesque little old timey street. The floats are amazing, my family has one, my friends, then Phillip Morris...what? Their float says, "We Miss You, Please come back." Everything froze. There was some old guy in a suit standing with a boom box over his head `a la John Cusack in "Say Anything". He tells me about all the good times we have had. He reminds me about all the parties, all the times they have held my hand while I cried. Then he says, "you know a good cigarette can suppress your appetite, you'll never lose weight without us." Then it took a strange turn into this reoccurring dream that I have been having for a while where I am working with a chimpanzee who can write anything and everything that I sing to him, but that is probably not related.
I woke up this morning with a new determination to succeed at this, maybe what I need is for someone to say get that out of your mouth. or let's walk.
The goals are to be more active and more accountable. I need to get further away from 301 lbs.....see what I did there....Nice. I know. ;p
Before I get into the dream, I need to provide you with other background information on this week. I have slept very little. I bought a new crazy scale that doesn't just provide your weight, but it is full of all kinds of little confidence killers, like BMI, water weight percentage, and worst of all your percentage of body fat. The first time I stood on it, well...it provided me with SHOCKING information across the board. This began a week long debate with people...how honest do I really want to be with my reader?
By that, I mean to do I want to tell you how much I weigh.
I try to be as honest as I possibly can and there in lies the struggle. I could tell you what I weigh, but I see some of you everyday. I know me. I know that when I look in your eyes, I will think you are thinking about it. I will see the numbers looming over your head right back at me, like in that old credit score commercial. I want to do this thing. I want support, but in the honesty comes judgement from people I love and thinking about it makes me want a cheeseburger hug followed by a cheesecake pat on the back. Which brings me to the other thing...I do not want people telling me what to eat or saying maybe I shouldn't have eaten something.
Then I realized that I am asking people to hold me accountable and stand with me, but I am cutting their legs off at the same time. hmmmm..what to do?
So back to the dream...A parade is being held in my honor, down some picturesque little old timey street. The floats are amazing, my family has one, my friends, then Phillip Morris...what? Their float says, "We Miss You, Please come back." Everything froze. There was some old guy in a suit standing with a boom box over his head `a la John Cusack in "Say Anything". He tells me about all the good times we have had. He reminds me about all the parties, all the times they have held my hand while I cried. Then he says, "you know a good cigarette can suppress your appetite, you'll never lose weight without us." Then it took a strange turn into this reoccurring dream that I have been having for a while where I am working with a chimpanzee who can write anything and everything that I sing to him, but that is probably not related.
I woke up this morning with a new determination to succeed at this, maybe what I need is for someone to say get that out of your mouth. or let's walk.
The goals are to be more active and more accountable. I need to get further away from 301 lbs.....see what I did there....Nice. I know. ;p
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Am I actually setting a goal?
I think I might be. On Saturday, July 24th, I will have been a non smoker for 1 full year. Can you believe it? I know I CAN'T. Making it this long without lady cigarette, the temptress is unbelievable. If I can do this, I should be able to achieve anything, right?
So here it is people.
I am going to lose weight. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA Shocker, right? I am making a serious commitment. I, however, am not going to put a figure on it. No number of pounds, no desired size, just one fantastic goal...take my kids to Six Flags next year and ACTUALLY be able to fit on the rides.
Believers in Karma will love this story.
When I was younger, a preteen even, I went to Six Flags with my bestie...a fantastic day of Thunder River and feeling the thrilling potential that my neck may snap on the Ninja. I was fresh off the Stepfather diet and thinner than I had been since I was 6 or 7. I saw a woman who was struggling to walk with this incredible belly. At 11 or 12 I had never seen anything like it. I looked at my friend and I said..."If I ever get that big, shoot me."
Wrong...I know. This could however, could explain my paranoia, looking over my shoulder, fear of being alone. While she doesn't strike me as the conceal and carry type, a promise between friends is a promise between friends, right?
So apologies to random woman...I now know how it feels and I owe you a huge apology. Somewhere, someone is asking their friend to shoot them if they ever get as big as me and I am praying for them. They should never have to endure this life, this struggle and neither should I. So I am trading in the "church skirt" for the "mini" and striving to share a day or season of fun with my children.
The goal is to be more honest with myself.
So here it is people.
I am going to lose weight. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA Shocker, right? I am making a serious commitment. I, however, am not going to put a figure on it. No number of pounds, no desired size, just one fantastic goal...take my kids to Six Flags next year and ACTUALLY be able to fit on the rides.
Believers in Karma will love this story.
When I was younger, a preteen even, I went to Six Flags with my bestie...a fantastic day of Thunder River and feeling the thrilling potential that my neck may snap on the Ninja. I was fresh off the Stepfather diet and thinner than I had been since I was 6 or 7. I saw a woman who was struggling to walk with this incredible belly. At 11 or 12 I had never seen anything like it. I looked at my friend and I said..."If I ever get that big, shoot me."
Wrong...I know. This could however, could explain my paranoia, looking over my shoulder, fear of being alone. While she doesn't strike me as the conceal and carry type, a promise between friends is a promise between friends, right?
So apologies to random woman...I now know how it feels and I owe you a huge apology. Somewhere, someone is asking their friend to shoot them if they ever get as big as me and I am praying for them. They should never have to endure this life, this struggle and neither should I. So I am trading in the "church skirt" for the "mini" and striving to share a day or season of fun with my children.
The goal is to be more honest with myself.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
In a Funk and Starting Over
It's been almost a year since I started this. I am embarrassed to say that I am still as big as I ever was. I am embarrassed to admit that I have failed at this point to keep this up. What is up with me?
Life gets in the way of living. I am not living. I am going through the motions everyday..still doing more for others than I am myself. Not that my life isn't at all good. There is some good. There are good people. People who love me. People who genuinely care about me. People who want me to succeed. People who need me to succeed.
I find myself becoming increasingly more negative which is good for nothing. My negativity is a source of humor for some, but the more negative I become the more acerbic my forked tongue becomes. The thinner my confidence becomes, the thicker my walls become.
The truth is I am tired of certain people walking all over me. I am tired of holding it in. The more I hold in, the angrier I get. The angrier I get, the more withdrawn I become. The more withdrawn I become, the less drive I have. It's continuous and it's vicious.
I guess I am going back to square one. My goal is to locate my scale and do this for real and do this right.
Life gets in the way of living. I am not living. I am going through the motions everyday..still doing more for others than I am myself. Not that my life isn't at all good. There is some good. There are good people. People who love me. People who genuinely care about me. People who want me to succeed. People who need me to succeed.
I find myself becoming increasingly more negative which is good for nothing. My negativity is a source of humor for some, but the more negative I become the more acerbic my forked tongue becomes. The thinner my confidence becomes, the thicker my walls become.
The truth is I am tired of certain people walking all over me. I am tired of holding it in. The more I hold in, the angrier I get. The angrier I get, the more withdrawn I become. The more withdrawn I become, the less drive I have. It's continuous and it's vicious.
I guess I am going back to square one. My goal is to locate my scale and do this for real and do this right.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
What about it?
This entry is really not about my weight. While I am happy to report that
I have not gained any weight...I haven't lost any either. I really haven't tried.
I haven't blogged about my weight in a while.
Let's face it...I haven't blogged in a while.
There was too much going on. We were in the process of building our new home and well, to put it bluntly...I have been doing everything! Everything that is except taking care of me.
I am worn pretty thin these days.
I have come to a point in my life that I thought I would never get to...REGRET.
I have always said that I don't regret anything. Even the idiotic stuff. My theory was that it got me here and well, here is better than there, or so I once believed. I was building myself up for the fall.
Sure it was stupid to live in my car for 3 weeks, I could have just sucked it up and apologized to my mom, but my spin was that I would have never really appreciated my mom. I like to say that these things make me stronger, but I am calling it out as bullshit right now.
All it did was give me the bricks to build walls and compartmentalize my feelings. These are thick walls too! You're not hearing you neighbor's bedroom conversation through them for sure. So I say I am strong, but I'm not...I'm just not scared anymore. Fear is a healthy thing and I am not afraid, I'm just apathetic.
So, about that regret..I think it's about time to go back and kick 16 year old Christie's ass for thinking that she could get engaged without anyone knowing and then getting bored of the whole thing and hurting someone who REALLY cared about her Jackslap 18 year old Christie for turning down a full scholarship (34 year old Christie would like to go back and time and introduce 18 year old to the brain trust that she works for now and maybe that would scare her enough to go to college). Mostly, I would like to go back and make alcoholism real to 18-23 year old Christie, because 34 year old is tired of all the responsibility.
When we are young, we are idealistic. As we age, we become cynical. The question is whether it is the world that makes us cynics or our own failures that mar our future...in any regard...I must become a priority, if only to myself.
I have not gained any weight...I haven't lost any either. I really haven't tried.
I haven't blogged about my weight in a while.
Let's face it...I haven't blogged in a while.
There was too much going on. We were in the process of building our new home and well, to put it bluntly...I have been doing everything! Everything that is except taking care of me.
I am worn pretty thin these days.
I have come to a point in my life that I thought I would never get to...REGRET.
I have always said that I don't regret anything. Even the idiotic stuff. My theory was that it got me here and well, here is better than there, or so I once believed. I was building myself up for the fall.
Sure it was stupid to live in my car for 3 weeks, I could have just sucked it up and apologized to my mom, but my spin was that I would have never really appreciated my mom. I like to say that these things make me stronger, but I am calling it out as bullshit right now.
All it did was give me the bricks to build walls and compartmentalize my feelings. These are thick walls too! You're not hearing you neighbor's bedroom conversation through them for sure. So I say I am strong, but I'm not...I'm just not scared anymore. Fear is a healthy thing and I am not afraid, I'm just apathetic.
So, about that regret..I think it's about time to go back and kick 16 year old Christie's ass for thinking that she could get engaged without anyone knowing and then getting bored of the whole thing and hurting someone who REALLY cared about her Jackslap 18 year old Christie for turning down a full scholarship (34 year old Christie would like to go back and time and introduce 18 year old to the brain trust that she works for now and maybe that would scare her enough to go to college). Mostly, I would like to go back and make alcoholism real to 18-23 year old Christie, because 34 year old is tired of all the responsibility.
When we are young, we are idealistic. As we age, we become cynical. The question is whether it is the world that makes us cynics or our own failures that mar our future...in any regard...I must become a priority, if only to myself.
Friday, September 11, 2009
19 lbs and 3 months later
It is a journey that has taken me a quarter of a year, which seems a bit pathetic, but here we are just the same. As I write this morning, I am 19 lbs. lighter at 275, Still a disturbing number, but one that is headed in the right direction.
Today is also, officially 12 weeks without cigarettes...who would have ever thought? Not me...if I knew me...I'd have talked about me to my friends...isn't that horrible? I am guilty of my biggest complaint.
I have also let the public part of my journey falter a little bit this month. That whole co-worker issue turned out to be bigger than I would have thought and to be honest kind of left me annoyingly drained, but I was able to say most of what I felt was necessary and what I didn't get to say was my decision. It is obvious that she is not going to get it, so I am fine to move on and well...she will do what she does I suppose and our worlds will go on simulanteously mostly unaware of each other.
I have recognized in all this that there are more things in my life that I am unhappy with then I care to admit, but I feel powerless to change them...have I exchanged one set of excuses for another? We'll see...I may just have to overcome them ;).
I have another excuse...the building of our new home has commenced and there are sooo many decisions, I sometimes decide not to decide anything.
A quick update I know, butI will do my best to improve.
The goal is to be better than I am today.
Today is also, officially 12 weeks without cigarettes...who would have ever thought? Not me...if I knew me...I'd have talked about me to my friends...isn't that horrible? I am guilty of my biggest complaint.
I have also let the public part of my journey falter a little bit this month. That whole co-worker issue turned out to be bigger than I would have thought and to be honest kind of left me annoyingly drained, but I was able to say most of what I felt was necessary and what I didn't get to say was my decision. It is obvious that she is not going to get it, so I am fine to move on and well...she will do what she does I suppose and our worlds will go on simulanteously mostly unaware of each other.
I have recognized in all this that there are more things in my life that I am unhappy with then I care to admit, but I feel powerless to change them...have I exchanged one set of excuses for another? We'll see...I may just have to overcome them ;).
I have another excuse...the building of our new home has commenced and there are sooo many decisions, I sometimes decide not to decide anything.
A quick update I know, butI will do my best to improve.
The goal is to be better than I am today.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Christie...Please Go To The Diary Room
2 more lbs..people,... 2 more lbs!
I could congratulate myself, but I know that it is mostly the medication, so kudos to whoever invented Phenteramine...your goal is to start the process and mine is to finish....hmm, can we switch roles?
Well...another day another dollar.
Short work week, no real energy, but tons of medically fabricated energy. At work that can sometimes be a problem, because it makes me antsy and tends to set me off on mini anger tirades. I get so involved in being aggravated that after I have gotten all worked up about something and I am just about to go "Spider Monkey" I realize that I am stupid to be that angry and usually end up laughing at myself.
This week has been especially hard for me at work. A female co-worker, who used to be a good friend returned back from maternity leave. Before she had her baby she showed me her true bitchy ass, self centered, overrated colors and while I am fine and have been able to progress past a point of caring about any of it. She seems truly surprised that I am angry with her and has continued a campaign of annoying people to death about why I am so angry with her.
Melodrama.
If you want to ride the horse...ask the horse! Don't quack at the duck...QUACK!
The real problem between us is that she has excellent self-esteem. Fantasy self-esteem, if you will! You probably know her, she does everything better than everyone. She is better than everyone.
Hey you!! reading my blog right now! Melodrama can read my blog better and should be paid twice as much for it!
I just want to scream about it sometimes, but you know what, I agreed to pretend that nothing was going on. Trying to protect her pregnant hormonal feelings. She just kept hurting mine. Better than me...should have chosen better friends...doesn't understand the struggles. If she isn't experiencing it, it doesn't exist or you are exaggerating it. I got a free pass to heaven just for sitting next to her...the only woman who ever had a baby.
It wasn't so much that she thought she was better than me, it was that she quantified it. She put a dollar figure on it, a percentage, a ranking. Like this job is soo important that you have to actually waste your time to level me?
To hear her tell it, she was having a rough pregnancy. Pregnancy is tough, I know. I was concerned as it seemed that she was having pre-partum depression if possible, but general consensus was not to broach the subject because NO ONE and I mean NO ONE wanted to feel that wrath. I suppose this is why I was sent OVER the edge when I found out that she had been making comments about physical ability vs. laziness during my pregnancy with my youngest.
She questioned my physical ability to walk vs. just being a lazy fat ass.
I was a 7 months pregnant, sciatic nerve suffering, Insulin shot taking, every bone aching heifer, and at 317lbs, just in case you are reading....NO I could not walk to the cafeteria, nor could I walk a flight of steps without issues. I feel like justice was kind of served if she truly felt her pregnancy difficult.
Here's where it gets hairy. I do not wish to speak with her other than in the course of my job. I do not want to exchange pleasantries, I do not want to know how she is doing and I do not want to respond when she asks me. I have written a trial letter to her and I have shown it to others. Some say send it...some say it's too harsh. I am posting it on my notes on Facebook, so if you get a chance to read it...drop a line give me your opinion...maybe I'll write a nasty note for you one day. : )
I have suffered pain at her hands for long enough and she is aware.
She made a decision not to try to make it better. It's better to play the martyr than be the hero.
There is no hero for me to be and I refuse to be the martyr.
I said I was calling my counselor...can somebody remind me what I did with her number?
I could congratulate myself, but I know that it is mostly the medication, so kudos to whoever invented Phenteramine...your goal is to start the process and mine is to finish....hmm, can we switch roles?
Well...another day another dollar.
Short work week, no real energy, but tons of medically fabricated energy. At work that can sometimes be a problem, because it makes me antsy and tends to set me off on mini anger tirades. I get so involved in being aggravated that after I have gotten all worked up about something and I am just about to go "Spider Monkey" I realize that I am stupid to be that angry and usually end up laughing at myself.
This week has been especially hard for me at work. A female co-worker, who used to be a good friend returned back from maternity leave. Before she had her baby she showed me her true bitchy ass, self centered, overrated colors and while I am fine and have been able to progress past a point of caring about any of it. She seems truly surprised that I am angry with her and has continued a campaign of annoying people to death about why I am so angry with her.
Melodrama.
If you want to ride the horse...ask the horse! Don't quack at the duck...QUACK!
The real problem between us is that she has excellent self-esteem. Fantasy self-esteem, if you will! You probably know her, she does everything better than everyone. She is better than everyone.
Hey you!! reading my blog right now! Melodrama can read my blog better and should be paid twice as much for it!
I just want to scream about it sometimes, but you know what, I agreed to pretend that nothing was going on. Trying to protect her pregnant hormonal feelings. She just kept hurting mine. Better than me...should have chosen better friends...doesn't understand the struggles. If she isn't experiencing it, it doesn't exist or you are exaggerating it. I got a free pass to heaven just for sitting next to her...the only woman who ever had a baby.
It wasn't so much that she thought she was better than me, it was that she quantified it. She put a dollar figure on it, a percentage, a ranking. Like this job is soo important that you have to actually waste your time to level me?
To hear her tell it, she was having a rough pregnancy. Pregnancy is tough, I know. I was concerned as it seemed that she was having pre-partum depression if possible, but general consensus was not to broach the subject because NO ONE and I mean NO ONE wanted to feel that wrath. I suppose this is why I was sent OVER the edge when I found out that she had been making comments about physical ability vs. laziness during my pregnancy with my youngest.
She questioned my physical ability to walk vs. just being a lazy fat ass.
I was a 7 months pregnant, sciatic nerve suffering, Insulin shot taking, every bone aching heifer, and at 317lbs, just in case you are reading....NO I could not walk to the cafeteria, nor could I walk a flight of steps without issues. I feel like justice was kind of served if she truly felt her pregnancy difficult.
Here's where it gets hairy. I do not wish to speak with her other than in the course of my job. I do not want to exchange pleasantries, I do not want to know how she is doing and I do not want to respond when she asks me. I have written a trial letter to her and I have shown it to others. Some say send it...some say it's too harsh. I am posting it on my notes on Facebook, so if you get a chance to read it...drop a line give me your opinion...maybe I'll write a nasty note for you one day. : )
I have suffered pain at her hands for long enough and she is aware.
She made a decision not to try to make it better. It's better to play the martyr than be the hero.
There is no hero for me to be and I refuse to be the martyr.
I said I was calling my counselor...can somebody remind me what I did with her number?
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Breakdown!!!
I'll begin with the good news...12 lbs and 1 pant size!! I got to wear jeans today that I have not worn since I had Erica....which also means that they are completely outdated, but nice to wear something different.
I went on vacation with my family and some friends this week in Branson. Our highly anticipated get away...my friend and I spent tons of time plotting and planning what would happen and what we would do. Every meal, every day, we were guaranteed to have a blast!
So what happened? Starting with the week leading up to the trip, things already started going sour. The tenants in our rental did not pay the rent on time for the 4th month in a row, requiring us to pay the mortgage on that property out of our pocket. My husband did not listen to warnings about saving money so that we have money to spend on this trip, instead he bought some junk from his gypsy friend and a motor off of Craig's list. All the while making disparaging comments about me to his friends. He said that I keep telling him that we are broke . We are not broke and I never told him that. He asked me for $600.00 to buy a boat and I told him that he could do what he wants, but he needed to keep in mind that we have a family vacation, he has an expensive weekend with the boys, fall clothes for the kids, Autumn's birthday party, and payments on the construction all here within the next 60 days. I suppose it's easier for him to talk crap and say that I am keeping him from his money, but why does he have to take my trying to be responsible as an affront to his masculinity?
So...he spent too much money, the renters didn't pay, and despite the fact that I broke into my "free upgrade" jar, ( I keep change in one of those huge office size water bottles, saving money to upgrade appliances in my new house) we had very limited money to spend on our 5 day trip. Which meant no Dixie Stampede, no shows, limited shopping, and a lot of disappointment.
I was feeling so let down by the whole thing to begin with and on Friday, the ladies attempted a trip to the Outlet Mall with the kids...My kids were horrible. The oldest wouldn't listen and her sister did not want to stay in the stroller. I became frustrated and had one of those, "Why did I have kids?" moments. We left after one store.
We went to eat lunch, which was enjoyable. "Mel's Hard Luck Diner". The servers take turns singing while they take care of you. My kids were angels, it was fun, we were all laughing and having a good time.
My dad was passing through town and he stopped, joined us for lunch, and then came back to the rental house for a while. Whenever I am around my dad, I become 8 years old again. I want to know why? Why were we not good enough for him to come home? Why he had to lie about us? Why a story that he makes up is always better than who we are and how much we would love him if he let us? Sometimes, I think this is the reason that I never feel good enough for anyone. I am always afraid of the thing that I did or will do that will make someone walk away forever. I overcompensate as a result. I do too much, I act too needy. People and things let me down because I need for them to make me feel like I want to feel and they don't. They can't.
Back to vacation...right in the middle of drowning in my abandonment issues, I find out that the vacation is taking a turn in a completely different direction and in my mind, it has no way of redeeming itself. I am trying to talk to my dad and that's when I feel the hot tears building up behind my eyes. I feel the burning sensation from my stomach to my throat. I am nearing utter meltdown and I truly don't know why.
I excuse myself and walk into the house. I see my friend, not wanting to be rude, I stop to ask her a question, but I could feel it as it was leaving my mouth...it sounded like the Spanish Inquisition and behind it was Noah...in his ark, animals two by two, riding the great flood of emotion that I was too embarrassed to let out. I hid in the bathroom, completely panicked. They are going to be able to tell that I was crying. I want to hide in here forever....but my dad is outside and he will think I am being rude. I dutifully pull it together and walk outside, careful not to talk to anyone. I sit out with my dad until he admits that it's time for him to leave and I drive him back to town.
Upset the entire night and still not knowing completely why. The next day, my friend and I spend the day together and talk, and talk, and talk ...OH and cry! Now it's everything, everything is upsetting me. Not angering me...I can handle anger. It's hurting me. Deeply.
But, why?
The discussion was good though. I am glad to have such a good friend. It's so easy to be friends when everything is great and you are laughing your ass off, but it is another thing entirely to be a good friend when things are down...Thank you for being a friend! We both agreed that we felt a little let down by the vacation. I guess it didn't live up to our expectations, this should be okay, right? I don't know what happened.
I cried about a lot of things that day. I cried about my crushed expectations. I cried about my kids and the struggles that you go through as a parent. I cried about how miserable I am at this weight. I cried about how I am letting my family down. They need me to be so much more for them and I physically can't.
We had this discussion while walking through an outdoor mall. Funny...I remember not even being embarrassed as I talked about hating how I feel, crying, and totally loving these pictures that would be great in my new bathroom all in the same sentence.
The truth...people, I am horribly flawed. I am human. I want so much to be different, but I am afraid of change...you've read all of this before...Is the breakdown the beginning or the end?
You decide.
I am too tired to think about it anymore today. My goal is to wake up in the morning.
I went on vacation with my family and some friends this week in Branson. Our highly anticipated get away...my friend and I spent tons of time plotting and planning what would happen and what we would do. Every meal, every day, we were guaranteed to have a blast!
So what happened? Starting with the week leading up to the trip, things already started going sour. The tenants in our rental did not pay the rent on time for the 4th month in a row, requiring us to pay the mortgage on that property out of our pocket. My husband did not listen to warnings about saving money so that we have money to spend on this trip, instead he bought some junk from his gypsy friend and a motor off of Craig's list. All the while making disparaging comments about me to his friends. He said that I keep telling him that we are broke . We are not broke and I never told him that. He asked me for $600.00 to buy a boat and I told him that he could do what he wants, but he needed to keep in mind that we have a family vacation, he has an expensive weekend with the boys, fall clothes for the kids, Autumn's birthday party, and payments on the construction all here within the next 60 days. I suppose it's easier for him to talk crap and say that I am keeping him from his money, but why does he have to take my trying to be responsible as an affront to his masculinity?
So...he spent too much money, the renters didn't pay, and despite the fact that I broke into my "free upgrade" jar, ( I keep change in one of those huge office size water bottles, saving money to upgrade appliances in my new house) we had very limited money to spend on our 5 day trip. Which meant no Dixie Stampede, no shows, limited shopping, and a lot of disappointment.
I was feeling so let down by the whole thing to begin with and on Friday, the ladies attempted a trip to the Outlet Mall with the kids...My kids were horrible. The oldest wouldn't listen and her sister did not want to stay in the stroller. I became frustrated and had one of those, "Why did I have kids?" moments. We left after one store.
We went to eat lunch, which was enjoyable. "Mel's Hard Luck Diner". The servers take turns singing while they take care of you. My kids were angels, it was fun, we were all laughing and having a good time.
My dad was passing through town and he stopped, joined us for lunch, and then came back to the rental house for a while. Whenever I am around my dad, I become 8 years old again. I want to know why? Why were we not good enough for him to come home? Why he had to lie about us? Why a story that he makes up is always better than who we are and how much we would love him if he let us? Sometimes, I think this is the reason that I never feel good enough for anyone. I am always afraid of the thing that I did or will do that will make someone walk away forever. I overcompensate as a result. I do too much, I act too needy. People and things let me down because I need for them to make me feel like I want to feel and they don't. They can't.
Back to vacation...right in the middle of drowning in my abandonment issues, I find out that the vacation is taking a turn in a completely different direction and in my mind, it has no way of redeeming itself. I am trying to talk to my dad and that's when I feel the hot tears building up behind my eyes. I feel the burning sensation from my stomach to my throat. I am nearing utter meltdown and I truly don't know why.
I excuse myself and walk into the house. I see my friend, not wanting to be rude, I stop to ask her a question, but I could feel it as it was leaving my mouth...it sounded like the Spanish Inquisition and behind it was Noah...in his ark, animals two by two, riding the great flood of emotion that I was too embarrassed to let out. I hid in the bathroom, completely panicked. They are going to be able to tell that I was crying. I want to hide in here forever....but my dad is outside and he will think I am being rude. I dutifully pull it together and walk outside, careful not to talk to anyone. I sit out with my dad until he admits that it's time for him to leave and I drive him back to town.
Upset the entire night and still not knowing completely why. The next day, my friend and I spend the day together and talk, and talk, and talk ...OH and cry! Now it's everything, everything is upsetting me. Not angering me...I can handle anger. It's hurting me. Deeply.
But, why?
The discussion was good though. I am glad to have such a good friend. It's so easy to be friends when everything is great and you are laughing your ass off, but it is another thing entirely to be a good friend when things are down...Thank you for being a friend! We both agreed that we felt a little let down by the vacation. I guess it didn't live up to our expectations, this should be okay, right? I don't know what happened.
I cried about a lot of things that day. I cried about my crushed expectations. I cried about my kids and the struggles that you go through as a parent. I cried about how miserable I am at this weight. I cried about how I am letting my family down. They need me to be so much more for them and I physically can't.
We had this discussion while walking through an outdoor mall. Funny...I remember not even being embarrassed as I talked about hating how I feel, crying, and totally loving these pictures that would be great in my new bathroom all in the same sentence.
The truth...people, I am horribly flawed. I am human. I want so much to be different, but I am afraid of change...you've read all of this before...Is the breakdown the beginning or the end?
You decide.
I am too tired to think about it anymore today. My goal is to wake up in the morning.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Refocusing
After two days of thinking it over, I have decided that fear is healthy! I have decided that I am saddened watching things like the Biggest Loser and Ruby because I am afraid. I am afraid that it will never be me. I will never be the one, who is successful at this. I am wrong and I am looking at this whole thing the wrong way...it's ok to be afraid and it is ok to be sad, it's my response to it that is most important.
I am the one who gives up.
Not anymore.
It came to me after talking to some friends this weekend and after watching I am Sam.
When I first had my daughter, Autumn, I felt totally alone. I felt like it was me...all me. Sure, I was married and my husband tried to be hands on, but when you are new parents...there is a HUGE learning curve. I quickly discovered that no matter how much people think they are doing to help you...it is never enough. People, including those you are married to, are not in your skin and their experiences while shared with you..are completely different from yours. My husband will tell you that he was always more than willing to give me a break. I am sure that this is true, but to me it felt like the equivalent to a smoke break at work.
"I let you go to the store by yourself," He would say. That would drive me crazy. I would think, "yeah, because going to the store is not for you at all...because that's not work." I realized that his idea of being a hands on father was not only different from mine, it was also very different from what I was required to do. Funny how if a guy is involved in the day to day of his children's lives he is called a "hands on dad", but no matter how tirelessly a woman works, she is still only called a mother. Like mother means...despite the fact that two people were involved...it's your job...because no one else will do it.
I was scared. I had started so many things in my life that I never finished...violin lessons, singing lessons, creative writing classes, and the list goes on...how was I going to do this...all of this...and everything it required? I can't even bother to put on make-up anymore!
While watching I am Sam, I kept thinking..."Sam was scared". He had to be. At the mental capacity of a 7 year old, he raised a child. I would argue, anyway, that I am in charge of my full faculties and I have that same fear. Sam did not let that fear stop him from loving his daughter and doing everything he could to get her back. He couldn't do it on his own though, he needed help! Maybe I need help? Perhaps I should start seeing my counselor again?
Autumn will be five in one month, she is smart, beautiful, and well loved. We added Erica to the mix two years ago. While I would never agree that the duties involved with raising my children are split equally, my husband did become more involved with them as they became able to communicate with smiles, laughter, and words. Men and women both need to feel validated, but from my experiences and observations a woman is willing to take A LOT more before cracking.
The point is...I was scared. I had no choice but to devote my time to take care of my kids. I am still scared as there are NEVER enough hours in the day (and believe me, I take FULL advantage of as many as possible). I do it, though. Everyday. Despite the fear that still creeps up from time to time.
I am afraid now of failing. I am afraid of not knowing who I will become. I am afraid of becoming someone who is selfish and not loving. I do not want to go through this journey and find out that losing the thing I hate about myself now, reveals something else to hate. How do I let go of the anger?
Reflecting...anger is my thing. Anger is bred from fear. Where is that counselor's number?
The goal is to be more active and call my counselor!
I am the one who gives up.
Not anymore.
It came to me after talking to some friends this weekend and after watching I am Sam.
When I first had my daughter, Autumn, I felt totally alone. I felt like it was me...all me. Sure, I was married and my husband tried to be hands on, but when you are new parents...there is a HUGE learning curve. I quickly discovered that no matter how much people think they are doing to help you...it is never enough. People, including those you are married to, are not in your skin and their experiences while shared with you..are completely different from yours. My husband will tell you that he was always more than willing to give me a break. I am sure that this is true, but to me it felt like the equivalent to a smoke break at work.
"I let you go to the store by yourself," He would say. That would drive me crazy. I would think, "yeah, because going to the store is not for you at all...because that's not work." I realized that his idea of being a hands on father was not only different from mine, it was also very different from what I was required to do. Funny how if a guy is involved in the day to day of his children's lives he is called a "hands on dad", but no matter how tirelessly a woman works, she is still only called a mother. Like mother means...despite the fact that two people were involved...it's your job...because no one else will do it.
I was scared. I had started so many things in my life that I never finished...violin lessons, singing lessons, creative writing classes, and the list goes on...how was I going to do this...all of this...and everything it required? I can't even bother to put on make-up anymore!
While watching I am Sam, I kept thinking..."Sam was scared". He had to be. At the mental capacity of a 7 year old, he raised a child. I would argue, anyway, that I am in charge of my full faculties and I have that same fear. Sam did not let that fear stop him from loving his daughter and doing everything he could to get her back. He couldn't do it on his own though, he needed help! Maybe I need help? Perhaps I should start seeing my counselor again?
Autumn will be five in one month, she is smart, beautiful, and well loved. We added Erica to the mix two years ago. While I would never agree that the duties involved with raising my children are split equally, my husband did become more involved with them as they became able to communicate with smiles, laughter, and words. Men and women both need to feel validated, but from my experiences and observations a woman is willing to take A LOT more before cracking.
The point is...I was scared. I had no choice but to devote my time to take care of my kids. I am still scared as there are NEVER enough hours in the day (and believe me, I take FULL advantage of as many as possible). I do it, though. Everyday. Despite the fear that still creeps up from time to time.
I am afraid now of failing. I am afraid of not knowing who I will become. I am afraid of becoming someone who is selfish and not loving. I do not want to go through this journey and find out that losing the thing I hate about myself now, reveals something else to hate. How do I let go of the anger?
Reflecting...anger is my thing. Anger is bred from fear. Where is that counselor's number?
The goal is to be more active and call my counselor!
Friday, August 28, 2009
Fear and Self Loathing in House Springs
I have been trying really hard to keep a positive attitude. This week has been hard. The ups and downs of the medication have really put me through the ringer. It's really easy to revert back to past behavior, but I have been able to keep myself in check. IT HAS BEEN A STRUGGLE THIS WEEK!
I received a call earlier in the week from the surgeons office telling me that despite all my many phone calls to my husband's insurance company and their assurances to me that they will cover the remaining 10% after my insurance pays, they will not pay them a dime. This of course forces me to make another call to the union hall and demand that they explain why they are telling me one thing and the office another. Call escalations abound and I finally got someone to call the doctors office and advise them that they will cover it, but sheesh, do I really have to do everything myself? This is a pain in the butt, especially since I am not even sure if I want to go through with the surgery. Maybe I can just lose enough weight on my own, ya know?
My friend Sari told me to watch Ruby. I told her in no uncertain terms that despite the fact that I do, I hate watching stuff like that. I watch the biggest loser every season and get inspired. I watch it and get inspired until they start looking good and changing and I start feeling really bad about myself. Then I am inspired to sit my fat butt on the couch and watch them lose weight. She told me it was different and kind of gave me Ruby's back story.
See Ruby was 700lbs, and after her friends had an intervention of sorts she began a journey of weight loss. Ruby is now under 350lbs. Yes, Sari...I caved. (It is reality television after all!)
I was right though, it's the same for me. Watching her lose weight and talk about her struggles makes me sad. Listening to her friends say that she hears things that people say about her and it makes them sad makes me sad. I totally project my emotions onto others and take on their emotions. Why? I strive so hard to be an individual, but I worry sometimes that I would be completely inert if it were not for others. I don't just mean physically, I mean mentally and emotionally.
I hate to think that I am being down on myself, but I long for the day when I don't have to feel bad about myself. I am not sure that I know how to exist without feeling bad about myself. Have I kept myself miserable because it's familiar? I am scared to death to find out that is exactly what I have done. I am scared to think that will hold me back.
I don't want to be sad, I don't want to spend another second of my life this way. There is no magic pill and the "easy button" does not work at my house. I know it's a struggle. I know it will take time...I need a positive. I am praying for a positive.
The goal is to get over this rough patch while being more active.
I received a call earlier in the week from the surgeons office telling me that despite all my many phone calls to my husband's insurance company and their assurances to me that they will cover the remaining 10% after my insurance pays, they will not pay them a dime. This of course forces me to make another call to the union hall and demand that they explain why they are telling me one thing and the office another. Call escalations abound and I finally got someone to call the doctors office and advise them that they will cover it, but sheesh, do I really have to do everything myself? This is a pain in the butt, especially since I am not even sure if I want to go through with the surgery. Maybe I can just lose enough weight on my own, ya know?
My friend Sari told me to watch Ruby. I told her in no uncertain terms that despite the fact that I do, I hate watching stuff like that. I watch the biggest loser every season and get inspired. I watch it and get inspired until they start looking good and changing and I start feeling really bad about myself. Then I am inspired to sit my fat butt on the couch and watch them lose weight. She told me it was different and kind of gave me Ruby's back story.
See Ruby was 700lbs, and after her friends had an intervention of sorts she began a journey of weight loss. Ruby is now under 350lbs. Yes, Sari...I caved. (It is reality television after all!)
I was right though, it's the same for me. Watching her lose weight and talk about her struggles makes me sad. Listening to her friends say that she hears things that people say about her and it makes them sad makes me sad. I totally project my emotions onto others and take on their emotions. Why? I strive so hard to be an individual, but I worry sometimes that I would be completely inert if it were not for others. I don't just mean physically, I mean mentally and emotionally.
I hate to think that I am being down on myself, but I long for the day when I don't have to feel bad about myself. I am not sure that I know how to exist without feeling bad about myself. Have I kept myself miserable because it's familiar? I am scared to death to find out that is exactly what I have done. I am scared to think that will hold me back.
I don't want to be sad, I don't want to spend another second of my life this way. There is no magic pill and the "easy button" does not work at my house. I know it's a struggle. I know it will take time...I need a positive. I am praying for a positive.
The goal is to get over this rough patch while being more active.
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