I cannot seem to do anything on my 3fc sight. When I log in, it doesn’t even show me as logged in. The only way I can get to my sight is because didi and little blue think I’m cool and have me on their ticker, which by the way, if you guys are reading this, you are awesome in so many many ways I’ve tried and failed to comment on. Looks like didi is having the same issues…wish I could help. Hell, I’ll be amazed if this even posts since sometimes my cursor disappears into never never land while I’m typing….oh magical typey thingy….where did you go???
In the coffee shop today, many songs I loved from my tender years were playing on the radio. I felt connected to something I seem to have lost sight along the way in my life’s journey. Something simple. Unquestioning faith in myself even when I was the only one. I won’t lie to you guys. While I’ve never had to struggle with such horrible things as homelessness, starvation (except self induced), or parental cruelty, I’ve always existed somewhere on the edges of shadows. Not completely lost in darkness, but not really part of normal society either. I’ve been short circuited, fearful and skittish for as long as I can remember.
Though clearly intelligent from a young age, no one really expected me to amount to much of anything. At least no one ever said so. Not once I got into my teen years and started packing on pounds and showing no real interest in accomplishing the standard set of goals set before teenagers. But through it all, through the rejection, the exclusion, the teasing, the lack of support, I held fiercely onto a little spark of something I believed…honestly truly believed with all my heart and soul…made me something extra special that no one else could see about me. I took great solace in my love of beautiful and moving music, the natural and powerful wonders of the earth, interesting and thought provoking books, and my own patient kindness; knowing one day it would be my turn to shine. I KNEW IT and NO ONE needed to share my vision of myself for me to know it was true.
Then it happened. I was the first in my family to graduate college. After that I burned the candle at both ends for eight years military. I was the go-to girl. I went to all the parties. I was the sexy thang. I learned what it meant to put courage wherever fear resided. I ruled the world. Anyone who-knew-me-then said OH MY GOD.
And then my house of cards collapsed. Single parenthood and insurmountable health problems…now I’m so disoriented. Aged beyond my years with the crow’s feet and grey hairs to prove it and more withdrawn than I ever was. It’s like I’m without direction or purpose, just filling my time with the next something-to-do. My identity got so tied up with that woman burning her life up so fast. I landed here, back in my home state, fat all over again, thinking…Was that it? All done? I did what I set out to do and now I’m just a fat nobody again who’ll never again do anything worthwhile? So then I hear these songs I haven’t heard forever and remember a badgered fat teenager with the unbreakable spirit who just KNEW she was destined for something better. I think, what happened to THAT girl? When did I become so hopeless in my life’s purpose?
I should be stronger and more sure of myself now, not less. I can acknowlege and accept parts of my life that were so painful I simply ignored them. It’s okay to FINALLY truly know myself and realize that I was never innocent, and that I am fearful of intimacy and dysfunctional in relationships that trancends acceptable “challenges” normal people have in relationships. Deep seeded terror of being physically and emotionally trapped is a pillar of my psyche. Pretending I’m some sort of superwoman that overcame this accounts for a slew of deviant and failed relationships and encounters with men. But seeing all this now in the new light of maturity instead of pushing it down doesn’t have to make an ugly person out of me. In fact, exorcising these ugly facts may hold the secrets in stripping off my protective “fat shell.” I’m no less the wonderful person than the young hopeful fresh faced teen looking toward her future.
Likewise, I shouldn’t view my “bright shining star” accomplishments as my only defining moment in history. Some of those years were frought with peril, death, and doubt. Knowing your leadership and decisions mean life and death to the people who trust you is an incredible responsibility, and burden. There’s definitely things I see differently with wiser eyes as I look back over my career. It’s not finished. I’m still learning, I’m still moving on. What I have now is knowledge that there’s nothing I can’t do if I want it badly enough. I shouldn’t forget that, and while those days are gone forever and no one outside the military has any concept of my crazy ass life, it ALSO doesn’t define me. The crazy days, and the lessons that came with them, were necessary to teach me the courage, strength, and wisdom to move forward with some balance and serenity. The best is yet to come, and a little faith in myself is still in order, no?
It’s silly to think some bizarre mix of songs that don’t really belong together can shake you up out of a funk when you feel like you’ve been wandering aimlessly for almost a year. Blind Melon, Duran Duran, Cranberries, Damn Yankees, Blessid Union of Souls (I Believe?? Really? How appropriate.) I’ve decided the rain isn’t any less beautiful, music isn’t any less moving, and I’m no less the person now than I was then. I’m more. So very much more. I just forgot. Special. Wonderful. Even if no one else can see it. And just for emphasis, as I close out this blog, Alanis Morisette just came on. One of her originals, on old school favorite of mine. Rock on!!
In Little Blue Ticket Fashion, I’ve labled this blog after a song by Perfect Circle, because it truly captures the internal struggle I’m having right now. I really am my own perfect enemy.
People tell me I’m a Type A personality, but I know that’s not quite right. I know Type A’s, they always have something they want to get done, they have this innate charisma and outgoing personality. Extroverts. Sometimes pushy even, not always, but sometimes. Sometimes too pushy-as in “get your Type A must do it my way right now too much energy” out of my face because I don’t have the energy to deal with your Type A-ness right now.
So how do I end up with this label? I’m painfully introverted. I have all the personality and charisma of wormwood. That’s right, drink upon my bitter waters and suffer the consequences. But I have a million and ten things that I always NEED to get done. It doesn’t seem to matter where I am in my life, I always have far more to do than I have of myself to give. And where I’ve needed to I’ve taken on leadership and mentoring roles to accomplish incredible tasks most people couldn’t imagine. Like commanding in combat. Hence, Type A. I don’t think anyone, not even myself up until just recently understands that I have minimal desire to be successful as a motivator nor am I remotely a Type A person. I’m simply terrified of failing. I don’t know at what point in life I decided I was a failure, but I know it completely revolves around weight and self esteem and image and childhood molestation. I’ve spent my adult life trying to prove otherwise and somewhere along the lines I’ve trained my mind to believe that unless I’m suffering and maximally stretched, I’m not doing enough. If I’m not doing enough, I’m failing. Being an Army Officer was perfect for that kind of sickness because no matter how much I did, I couldn’t possibly do enough. I left the Army because after I had my son, single parenthood wasn’t compatible with that lifestyle. I was stealing his time to be successful in the military.
Fast forward to pre-med school. I haven’t been to college for a decade. These students are not my peers. I have to get all straight A’s to be accepted into the program I want, but I can barely understand anyone. I’m in my damn 30’s. No one at a university gets me, hell, I talked to a young woman who’d never even heard of the country of Kuwait, and I’ve signed up for six to seven years of this shit? It was a couple weeks ago, my son was sick and he wanted a bath. I couldn’t give him one because I had too much homework. Next day same thing. Next day my dad took him to the train show over the weekend so he could have some fun and I could do some more homework. He loved it and I missed out. I had a fucking epiphany. Two actually.
One-I spend less quality time with my son now than I did in the Army. He never missed a bath before, and I always took him to church. We haven’t been to church once since school started.
Two-what is driving me to do this? I’m not in debt, I don’t need a doctor’s salary. I live well within my means. It’s not my job to pay everyone’s bills in my family. I hate what I’m doing. But I’m afraid of saying I can’t do it.
I don’t exercise, I don’t go out, I don’t see my friends, I don’t tend to any of my basic needs unless I’m dying. I’ve lost weight, but it’s because I’m stressed out and just eat a sandwich and coffee for the first part of the day while I study. I’ve heard of stressing off weight, I just never knew it was possible for me. I do nothing except homework, chores, and care for the basic needs of my son…you know unless he needs a fucking bath and I have too much homework…GAWD!!
So here I am with this realization that I have no interest in continuing this path. That I have a choice. I found a program that seems like it’s what I want to do, and it’ll take two years, not the better part of a fucking decade. The salary is a little lower than what I made in the Army, but I don’t need that much money. It seems so easy compared to what I’ve been doing that my internal (possibly sick) voice is saying, that’s a step down. You’re a quitter. You’re a failure if you give up. You need to be getting a master’s or a doctorate, not some lousy respiratory certification. People out there are really struggling for the opportunity you’re just gonna throw away like trash because it’s just tooooooo hard. Waaaaa. Whiner. Baby. You’re so stupid. Fat. Lazy. Slutty. Sleezy. Asshole. Whatever, pick your favorite hate word. Don’t you want something better?
Then I come back to, what’s really better? Lots of single parents have to spend all their time working muliple jobs just to provide for their children, which is incredibly admirable. My mother was one of those people when I was a baby. That’s not what I’m doing. I’m ignoring my son in pursuit of something I can’t even definitively tell you I really need for sure?? Gobs of money and a title?? I fed ducks along the river with my son last week. He loved it. Then I sat him on the swing with me and the pure joy in his face brough tears to my eyes and I think it’s my happiest memory since he was born.
God I suck at life. Let me count the ways. First of all, I don’t know where I’m at on my ticker, I haven’t had the nerve to weigh in since I last wrote in my column. Hell, I’m not even sure I remember my log-in for my ticker. My son got pretty sick and I had to get him screened for an immune disorder, which he was cleared for, but all his missed time from school and appointments means mommy missed school too. And crucial study time. I have all this back logged shit on me and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve said…if only I could work on my homework in the evenings or on the weekend, I’d never get behind….
Let me just tell you how bad this is right now. I get FREE health care and FREE prescriptions through the VA, all I have to do is schedule an appointment….but NO….I’m paying 50 bucks to refill my stupid anti-seizure drugs because I can’t make an appointment for myself. I’m having H&R block do my taxes because I can’t possibly do them on time since I had a nanny last year and she’s depending on me to get her W2 out to her pronto. GAWD!!! FUCK!!!
I’m too fucking old for this shit. I’m half tempted to re-direct my academic plans to something shorter and break it up with a job or something. Something. Anything. School is geared to people who can direct their energies all day every day to their academic pursuits. 4:30 pm rolls around, I’m done. Weekends I’m off. He’s sick, I’m off. This blog is the one damn positive thing I do for myself and it’s been so long since I wrote, I had to LOG BACK IN TO MY OWN SITE! And even while I’m typing, I’m looking at the clock, rubbing away at my budding migraine, thinking about my two tests this week and wondering how much more time I should spend typing here before I get back to studying my physics. Right now. In bed.
So what does all this boo-hoo-woe-be-felesi herself sick whining have to do with dieting? Nothing. Literally nothing. As in, I’m sure if I stepped on the scale, it would read good ‘ol 176 or there abouts. Because I haven’t made not one bit of effort in the direction of exercise and when I’ve been exceptionally neurotic, the little piggy has squealed OINK-MUTHA-FUCKA-OINK-OINK!!! Yep, and that’s why I love this blog. The little piggy comment up there is the first time in weeks I’ve laughed at myself.
I’m an OCD “A” student. It wasn’t funny when I realized that I didn’t have the access code to do my homework for physics because I threw the receipt away…and didn’t know you needed the stupid receipt to download an eBook. It’s not funny that I’ve missed two assignment deadlines for trig because he assigns SIX HOURS of homework a week and I’m just not that caught up yet. Also not funny that I bombed the trig quiz…probably because I didn’t do the homework. And again not funny that I missed the second week of physics homework because I LEFT MY COMPUTER CHARGER IN THE LIBRARY!!! WHO IS THAT STUPID???? THIS GUY!! Oh, yeah, that bad boy is gone, a 60 dollar lesson in not being a dumb ass right there. But…OINK-MUTHA-FUCKA-OINK-OINK has just put me right over the edge. MWAHAHAHHAAAAA…..!!!!
I’m sure that’s not near as funny as I think it is. It’s the neurosis speaking. Let me have my moment. Hope you guys are doing alright…thanks for keeping tabs on me.
Today is the first day I’ve been back to my parent’s house since New Years. I’ve already identified that I have this need to shovel food in my face by the bucket load whenever I come up here so I brought some things to distract myself, like my computer and homework, and I brought some of my own food…. The bottom line was that I didn’t want to undo my weight loss since I lost 2 pounds this last week.
Good grief! While I can in fact report that I did better than I have in the past that I didn’t just graze absent mindedly, I highly doubt a diet of pizza, corn dogs, doritos, and chocolates ALONG with the healthy stuff I managed to eat could HARDLY be classified as normal eating. I am not kidding guys. It’s like my alter ego lives here. I don’t eat like this anywhere else but here!! I’m as bad as the damn dog, toss anything to her, she’ll eat it, she’s begging for it!! Mwahaha!
So in other news, my classes are making me nervous. My math teacher is nice to look at, but he sucks. I’m glad I’m good at math, because I’m going to be doing a lot of self teaching out of the book. Writing and Pathology are both just time intensive. Physics is the only easy-ish one cause it’s just a 1010 class. Oh, and I also have a chemistry class that is due by Jan 24 cause it’s just a one credit class. If I had known that I wouldn’t have signed up. I got this crazy email right before Christmas that said…start your Chemistry now cause it’s due in Jan!!! What??? Dude, I got a kid!! I do Christmas on Christmas, not Chemistry!
The point, the point, yes I have a point, my point is, I haven’t found a routine yet. Last semester I was skating two or three times a week, and now I’m not because I’m still kinda up in the air. I’m desperately finishing my Chemistry class that apparently I should have done over the holidays and teaching myself math. I’m too terrified to close the books long enough to take personal time at the gym. All the while my alter ego can’t find it in her fatty little heart of hearts to put down the left over holiday maple nut french creams at my parent’s house.
I’m also slacking on my spiritual quest assignments. My latest one required me to print out pictures of myself when I was thinner and place them around my house or to cut out pictures of what I want to be and paste my face to those bodies and then put THOSE pictures around the house. I thought a combination of those two things would be cool, but so far, all my cut out girls are just in a stack on the table. I selected a variety of women whose bodies I really do like for myself, various celebrities and women out of shape magazine…I steered clear super models and victoria secret magazines….basically any woman whose legs are the same size from their knees to their crotch could NEVER represent me.
The assignment after than one I’m not even sure I can bring myself to do. It’s all about having a love affair with food…which I get. It means slow down and appreciate and love your food, but the chic wants me to get a new plate, bowl, napkin, fork, spoon, knife, candle, candle holder…etc one each new shit just for the occassion. I just can’t overcome the inertia of 1) jobless student spending money on crap I don’t need when I can teach myself that lesson without all that, 2) a bunch of mismatched crap that doesn’t go with any of the dishes I have and 3) having a candle lit love affair with my turkey sandwich because that’s about how complicated my food gets. I’ve had challenges with some of my lessons, but this one I really don’t think I can fully do.
Alright, I think I’m done rambling. I hope I didn’t bore anyone to tears…except myself. Gawd. In closing, I found this link below on didi’s blog, and the story was great. I remember being in junior high and having these second-hand Levi size 5 jeans that I always hated. They bulged and pinched in all the wrong places. They were horrible. One day I told my mom to just throw them out. She put them on and they fit. So she proceeded to tell everyone we ever knew that a pair of jeans her daughter couldn’t wear fit her great. I was a little more destroyed inside each time I heard those words come out of her mouth. I didn’t know then that I was destined to be taller than my mom and muscular. I also didn’t know that she was trying to compensate for a lifelong lack of her own esteem, not trying to knock mine down. This article, if I ever have a daughter, is more of what I hope I can be when it comes to body image.
I hate spam. The email kind. Stop spamming me your stupid ambiguous comments stupid spammer people. I hate printers too. Eeech. You know I think I hate my computer. And microsoft. I wish I had a computer brain, I’d switch to apple. But I’ve been trained like a monkey and I suck bad enough that I don’t dare switch. GAWD. Another loud exhale, maybe stomp my feet and shake my arms like a petulant child ”i just don’t wanna….”
Okay, so yesterday could have gone better. I ate shit twice in one morning. Getting ready to walk out the door and stepped on a cardboard book my son left in the kitchen. Twisted my ankle, and me, the boy’s lunch, and the coffee flew across the kitchen floor. Nice way to start the first day back to school. Now I’m late, walking……limping…..quickly the MILE to my first class and don’t see the lovely patch of ice hiding under the snow by the curb. Go flying for the second time that morning. Pissed off, covered in snow, and in a lot of pain is how I tackled my first day back. What I don’t understand is why the university was so hazardous. It snowed Saturday, it was almost 10AM when I fell, and everything was still pretty icy. It’s not like it was a SURPRISE the students were coming back Monday, and the university is ON A MOUNTAIN. Drive UP in any direction and you’ll find a ski resort. Snow is kinda what we do here.
My professional writing teacher is in love with himself, my physics teacher snort-laughs A LOT, and I have to leave an hour early just to make it to my pathology class on time since it’s on the medical side of campus. It wasn’t a total loss though. My Trig teacher is young and hot. I think he’s younger than me actually. I want to ask him if it’s frustrating being mistaken for a student instructor and then ask him if he wants to hook up with a student who’s always being mistaken for faculty!! Mwahahahahahaha!!!!
I picked up my son early because my body and my head hurt pretty bad from my day. I get those nasty must-be-medicated migraines and I had one coming on for sure. Only to find out he had diarrhea. Looks like mommy isn’t the only one whose day sucked. Yup, diaper leaked in the car. I love cleaning car seats. They are just SO EASY to get in and out of the car. Yeah. Right.
This day would have been the perfect recipe for overeating. But one, I didn’t really feel like it. And two, even if I wanted to, my migraine medicine makes my face and hands crazy sensitive, so chewing hurts. I stuck with some light chicken soup and flicked out the chicken. Oh, I could have handled chewing the chicken, but ever since they went to “now even bigger heartier pieces of chicken” it’s actually the same amount of chicken with a bunch of gelatinous fatty cubed ass-meat holding it together. No thanks.
Kiddo had an upset tummy, but after a some snuggles and a 20 minute nap we both managed a late pudding snack and some popcorn. So I did manage to get little swamp-butt in the tub and we closed out the evening on a decent note despite our mutually miserable day.
Today….has just annoyed me, in case that’s not obvious. THE PRINTER IS NOT OUT OF PAPER!!! I can SEE the paper from HERE!! Haaaaaaaaaaa…. I think I’m still just tired from yesterday. But tomorrow can only be better. At least that’s what I’m telling myself.
As I enjoy my very normal healthy lunch any normal healthy woman who doesn’t obsess over food and weight might eat, I wonder about what my Jenny Craig consultant would have said about this lunch. It’s just a whole wheat sandwich with a thin layer of regular miracle whip, a single serving of deli lean meat, one thin slice of pepper jack, and mustard. Also, I’m having a side of brussel sprouts with with a teaspoon of butter on them. Not tablespoon, teaspoon.
She’d lose her mind over the miracle whip, cheese, and butter. Her pantyhose would probably start running on the spot. Possibly the bread and meat too, hard to tell. She’d probably advise me to just suck the mustard out of the bottle if I was hungry.
On the Jenny Craig plan there was this freebie section where you could have three of the things on the list per day. One of the things was coffee creamer. I discovered these little cupcake thingies that I’d rather have with my coffee than creamer that were about equal in calories and fat. I made the mistake of confessing my little joyful discovery to my “consultant.” She assured me that the Jenny Craig diet was perfectly balanced to ensure my success and any deviation on my own was practically going to send legions of fat fairies in my sleep to keep my body bigger no matter what I did. FUCKING WOW!!! Who knew ALL THIS TIME the mysterious forces behind weigh loss rested the balance of good and evil between 100 calories of creamer and 100 calories of mini cupcakes??? Thank GOD she saved me from myself!!!!!
I would also love to tell her I drink whole milk. As a result of allowing my food to have both taste and sustenance, I now enjoy a 2/3 full bowl of cereal, instead of two or three bowls of cereal. A bit of whole milk in my coffee is a hell of a lot better than the creamer OR the mini cupcakes. I have smaller portions and feel satisfied for hours and I also don’t feel the need to stab pens through my eyeballs when people (previously including myself) apply words like “bad, cheating, and naughty” to my diet. I hate that shit. I’m enjoying the quality of my food over the quantity.
This is the next chapter of my spiritual book. Invoking sounds a little like the Craft. “Hail to the Guardians of the Watchtower of the North…” It might be worth admitting that while I’ve always considered myself to be spiritual, I’ve never been a dogmatic religious person. I believe that all religions are simply trying to access that spiritual part of humanity, and it’s people that fuck it up. Na na na na my God is better than your God!!!…overgrown children with nuclear warheads. I grew up in a state where one religion dominates everything, including law making. Car dealerships have to be closed on Sundays here, in a country that promises separation of church and state. I was raised being told I wasn’t worthy of the higher levels of heaven because I wouldn’t convert. Then as I got older and saw what was being done across the world in the name of religion, it all just makes me sick.
But I never really got away from my Lutheran Christian roots. As open as I am, as as much as I believe that there is no superior faith over another, when I pray, I pray to God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit, because that’s what I know from day 1. When my son was born I decided to have him baptized and bring him of age in Christian faith, then he can decide for himself what he wants. He’s going to want for something, I might as well provide him something wholesome, but teach him to always have an open mind.
Anyways, I write all this to confess that at times, I struggle with my book and my assignments. Just by growing up here, and coming back to live in this place, there has been a lot of injustice in the name of religion done upon me. After school activities, girl scouts, hell, even fucking trick-or-treating in the neighborhood on Halloween all revolve around the church. You’re in the club or you’re not. Even now, I’d probably be actively dating if I was part of the officially recognized ”singles” community around here. How can you not abandon God when you feel like he’s abandoned you? I know better than that now, but as an angsty teen, that was my solution. I have as much healing to do with my relationship with God as I understand him as I do healing from my past wounds, my past mistakes, and my regrets.
This chapter is really powerful stuff, and it requires a leap of faith. It requires me to see me as God would see me. NOT my body form. (”God doesn’t want you to be fat” is about the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.)My spirit form. Perfect. Without hate, without abuse, without pain. Forgiven, chaste, innocent and divine. Exactly the way He created me, because nothing I have done, or anyone else has ever done to me changes that spirit. As a kid I probably would have started making gagging noises about now. But as an adult, with many miles under my boots for my age, a childhood history of sexual abuse, and first hand experience in the blood of combat, you will NEVER physically manifest yourself as anything but ugly as long as you see yourself as ugly. For the first time ever, I’m starting to picture myself on the divine side.
P.S. I weighed in at 177.5 I thought I would weigh more given that I was 179 after Thanksgiving. This is good news. :)
How can it be that I’m obese when most of my time is spent eating like any average person? This is the question I had to resolve from my last blog entry and it took some thought.
1-There’s a reason my kitchen clean-out was so easy. Without realizing it, I have stopped bringing trigger foods into my home. There are certain things that I will not stop eating until it’s gone. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but it’s like I can’t stop thinking about the whatever (usually, but not always, something decadently chocolate) until I’ve eaten it all. I can eat a whole pound bag of peanut M&M’s. There’s a scene from Sex in the City where Miranda has to squirt dish soap on the cake in the garbage to leave it alone. Oh yeah, that is SO me!!! But not purchasing and bringing in my addictive foods is a miracle in and of itself.
2-I love me some lattes. I have also recently made an effort to resolve this problem by asking for a receiving a mini coffee pot for Christmas and buying myself some travel mugs. I did this because I wanted to save money, but I’m probably also going to save myself hundreds of calories.
3-The parents’ house. My folks and all my extended family live 40 miles north of me. They gave me a lot of grief for choosing a place so far away, but I wanted to be close to my school, and the apartments were cheaper. So every weekend I pack a bag for my son and myself and make the drive up. I spent so much time away from my family in the military, now when I go up there, my son gets to play with his cousins and I’m back with my parents and siblings. I realized though that my dad spends the weekend in the basement on his computer. My mom spends the weekend upstairs on her computer. When my siblings come over, they sit…you guessed…on the computers. When they all come together, and stop ignoring the world, it’s to watch football or smoke, neither of which I do. So, upon reflection, I’m expected to be there, so I feel completely trapped, but I’m completely ignored except at dinner time. Trapped and alone, except when it’s time to throw food at me. Yes. That’s exactly how a grown accomplished woman wants to feel. I realize that I’m being dramatic here about a family I love dearly, but I’m letting out some feelings that I’ve been stuffing down. Stuffing down with food. Especially trigger foods that are in abundance at my parents’ house.
I was a fat teenager too. My parents are really boring people and they don’t really like going places or doing things. They didn’t go to my concerts or swim meets, in fact, I didn’t go to most of my own swim practices. I was always getting mysteriously “grounded” by my dad for some minor infraction or another so no one would have to bother with my swim schedule. My mom didn’t even take me to get a license until I was 18. Guess it was too inconvenient. I was never allowed to go anywhere or do anything, I never had any money. And when I did, that’s when the fights started, because even though I was making straight As in college and holding down a good job, I wasn’t doing enough chores at home. I wasn’t around anymore to run errands. I couldn’t wait to leave that house. I wonder how much of my fatness was just from being a prisoner with a broken self esteem and nothing else to do but eat. And I wonder how much of that is coming back to erroneously haunt me now.
Strange how things that you don’t think matter anymore to your conscious mind are feelings that your subconcious are still trying to process. My current situation and past situations are short circuiting and sending wrong unrelated messages. No parent is perfect, I’m sure my son is going to have many problems with me by the time he’s grown. I obviously need some weekend variety to get out of this rut. I think I’m going to start going every other weekend. I’m tired from living out of a bag every weekend, I want to join a church in my area, I want a chance to meet new people where I live, and I want to stop hurting myself with food under the guise of self love.
I had a small challenge with my next assignment. I’m supposed to create a peaceful area in my home for prayer and meditation where I can read and relax and take time to reflect on things that are joyful and loving. I’m supposed to fill this space with happy things that have spiritual significance to me. “Fresh flowers” was an example…which I immediately chuckled sinisterly at visions of dead flowers that would sit there for months because I wouldn’t replace them. I’m blessed to know God loves smart asses. But despite my sarcasm, I do understand the assignment…build an alter, a sacred place for myself.
So you must know, I moved from a three bedroom, two car garage house I was renting in Texas when I was plush with money as an active duty officer into a small two bedroom apartment for strapped-for-cash students and single moms. I had to convert my extra toilet room (yes, it just has a toilet in it…strange huh?) into a closet so I’d have storage. I wasn’t really sure where this alter was supposed to go. Last night while I was laying in bed with my son…he never stays in his own bed…I looked over at my nightstand and thought WOW!! Perfect!! There’s nothing but a lamp on my nightstand! I like to read in bed! I pray in bed!! Then I REEEEEALLY thought about it. You know…there’s other things I do in bed too. And I happen to have lingerie along with other unmentionables IN THAT NIGHTSTAND. Maybe, just maybe, it’s NOT the most appropriate alter. Jesus, I love you, but you cannot go on my nightstand.
The printer table!! Where the wireless printer used to sit before the movers broke it?? Can’t afford a new one anyway and the plug-in printer doesn’t reach that far. God, would that be okay? I promise not to make it look stupid. I’ll rescue the plant I started growing when I was a teenager that mom has been slowly killing ever since I moved out. That’s actually rather appropriate since I’m asking to be rescued.
Okay, now that we’re not creating an alter in the room of ill repute, the other half of this assignment was to tear down my former alter. The kitchen. Well, not really the kitchen, but the badness lurking in the kitchen, and replace all the badness with goodness. This process was enlightening. I said before that I only liked frozen brussel sprouts and canned green beans. I found that wasn’t accurate. I love red beats, peas, hominy, olives, sweet pickles, and I picked up some edamame and veggie chili too. These higher calorie veggies and veggie imposters aren’t “allowed” by the veggie diet czars of pop culture. For me, if it comes down to 100 calories of sweet pickles or 400 calories of cookies, I might actually be able to make that choice, whereas, 400 calories of cookies are gonna win if if some steamed brocolli is the alternative. Take a flying leap Jenny Craig, and take your nasty food with you.
Throwing stuff out of my kitchen was the most shocking discovery of all. I have fish sticks, frozen pizza, fudgesicles, and fries in the freezer. They’ve been there since I moved in last summer. The fudgesicles and fishstickes are about half gone and freezer burned. I have some chicken nuggets too, but they’ve been in there since October and they’re not even opened yet. I have oreos and poptarts in the cupboards but I almost never eat those, just my son does. I have 10 mini packs of movie theater popcorn that have been in there for months that are only half gone. Pudding in the fridge I haven’t touched. I threw out some leftovers that had gone bad. I threw out chips I didn’t want that had expired anyway. I threw out frootloops that had gone stale. And I threw out every piece of diet food that I’ll never eat (okra canned in tomato sauce anyone…yak). I was so confused. This kitchen does not reflect the eating habits of an obese woman with a food addiction. Where is the disconnect? Where am I falling apart if it’s not at home, and it’s not at school? I visit my parents’ house every weekend. Strange to think of my life as going from reasonably healthy to nuerotic just in one weekend. I knew I was bored, but I never considered I might be miserable. I have to think about this some more.