I am now officially, a pirate's wench. At least through Thanksgiving anyway.
Tim was offered a part in Playcrafters' production of Treasure Island. We talked in circles for quite a while when he got the email from the director. He hadn't auditioned, but there was an opening and his director from Guys & Dolls suggested him.
He called me...to find out if I wanted him to do it. I did...and I didn't. (Kind of still in that place, actually.) He loved doing Guys & Dolls and met some really neat people in the process... but I swear, I felt like I wasn't even married that last month or so. It was harder than I thought it would be and I missed him so damned much...but at the same time, I don't ever want to be the reason he doesn't pursue something he honestly enjoys doing. (Well, within reason- if he really enjoyed banging prostitutes, for instance, I would love being the reason he would no longer physically be able to pursue that particular activity).
Sometimes...it just seems like all of us are going in so many different directions at the same time and a part of me can't help but wonder if I'm holding him back from the directions he would really like to go. I don't ever want him to feel trapped, and I know these kind of outlets (for both of us) help to make our lives whole. One person can't be another's everything; it's too much, too intense, too cumbersome.
I think a part of me still doesn't really believe he chose me. I can't believe how incredibly lucky I am to have found such a person to share my life with. I feel like all I've brought him is stress, confusion, a psycho MIL, a bratty niece, a more-or-less absent BIL, and a wee little bald FIL. I still find it hard to understand how one earth he can love me as he does.
I guess... I'm just afraid as he takes on these ventures...he's going to find something else, someone else, something better. And I can't bear the thought.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Same Old Song
I saw a very old friend today, albeit briefly. It's an encounter I've been steadfastly avoiding for years. Not because of anything she's said or done, but because it's been so long...as in, the last time she saw me? I was twenty years old and close to 100 lbs lighter than I am today.
Why should this bother me? Why should I let the fact that I'm not the sickly, anorexic stick figure I was then affect my relationships (or lack thereof) with people now??? Is this something I've ever going to get past?
In all honesty, my current weight was a HUGE reason I didn't return to therapy for as long as I did. I wanted to see the same psychologist that I'd started this whole mess with and physically, I'd changed so much. It was hard for me to take that step, knowing what I look like now compared to then. The same thoughts came up when it came to seeing this woman again.
There's embarrassment, shame, and perhaps a little bit of guilt behind these thoughts. It upsets me that so much of how I define myself is still wrapped up in how I look- well, specifically, how much I weigh. I don't wear make-up, I will readily go outside the house wearing pajama pants and a grubby t-shirt (sometimes wearing a crown...), I don't give a flying fuck about the gray hairs I have, but the weight??? STILL BOTHERS ME.
Admittedly, it doesn't bother me as much as it did. It didn't stop me from meeting up with this old friend of mine (today at least, I kind of backed out of an earlier meet)- but it DID cause me more anxiety throughout the day than I care to admit. And honestly, I don't know if I'm bothered more by the actual anxiety or the fact that the anxiety even still exists. *sigh*
I just...honestly thought I was past these thoughts. Not so much, apparently.
The thing is, once I do gather the courage to do these things, meet up with these people who "knew me when", etc? It's never ONCE been a bad thing. I've always walked away happier that I'd seen them again. So why can't I stop this damned thought process???
Is it a residual ED thing? Is it something that is just so damned hard-wired into my brain it will never go away? Or (the more likely situation) do I just need to keep exposing myself to these people who "knew me when" regardless in order to kill the damned thought process?
Time to suck it up and move on. Sometimes, you just have to cover your ears, say "I can't hear you!" to the doubts in your head, and keep living instead of hiding.
Why should this bother me? Why should I let the fact that I'm not the sickly, anorexic stick figure I was then affect my relationships (or lack thereof) with people now??? Is this something I've ever going to get past?
In all honesty, my current weight was a HUGE reason I didn't return to therapy for as long as I did. I wanted to see the same psychologist that I'd started this whole mess with and physically, I'd changed so much. It was hard for me to take that step, knowing what I look like now compared to then. The same thoughts came up when it came to seeing this woman again.
There's embarrassment, shame, and perhaps a little bit of guilt behind these thoughts. It upsets me that so much of how I define myself is still wrapped up in how I look- well, specifically, how much I weigh. I don't wear make-up, I will readily go outside the house wearing pajama pants and a grubby t-shirt (sometimes wearing a crown...), I don't give a flying fuck about the gray hairs I have, but the weight??? STILL BOTHERS ME.
Admittedly, it doesn't bother me as much as it did. It didn't stop me from meeting up with this old friend of mine (today at least, I kind of backed out of an earlier meet)- but it DID cause me more anxiety throughout the day than I care to admit. And honestly, I don't know if I'm bothered more by the actual anxiety or the fact that the anxiety even still exists. *sigh*
I just...honestly thought I was past these thoughts. Not so much, apparently.
The thing is, once I do gather the courage to do these things, meet up with these people who "knew me when", etc? It's never ONCE been a bad thing. I've always walked away happier that I'd seen them again. So why can't I stop this damned thought process???
Is it a residual ED thing? Is it something that is just so damned hard-wired into my brain it will never go away? Or (the more likely situation) do I just need to keep exposing myself to these people who "knew me when" regardless in order to kill the damned thought process?
Time to suck it up and move on. Sometimes, you just have to cover your ears, say "I can't hear you!" to the doubts in your head, and keep living instead of hiding.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Contentment
Looking at my life, I realize it's cluttered, it's messy- at times downright chaotic. There are days I feel like I'm going at warp speed on a pogo stick with my eyes closed and one hand tied behind my back. It can be frightening, frustrating, and exhausting. But at the end of the day? It's 100% worth it. I love my life; I love the people in it, the challenges it presents, the knowledge I gain daily, the ups, the downs, the upside downs- all of it.
Are there things I would change if I could? Or course- doesn't everyone have things they'd change if they could? But...if I spend all my time focusing on what "needs" changing... I miss the absolute blessing that creation can be, or as I once put it: If you spend your entire life waiting for the other shoe to drop, you'll remain blind to the everyday miracles surrounding you. Absolutely true, and even at my darkest moments, I do the best I can to remind myself of my words.
Sometimes...it's not easy. There have been countless days I wanted to simply give up, get out, run away- whatever it took, really. But those days are so few and far between now and even when I do let myself sink back into the darkest corners of my mind- I don't let myself stay there.
Life is temporary. Why on earth should we remain miserable, when the alternative is so much better?
Are there things I would change if I could? Or course- doesn't everyone have things they'd change if they could? But...if I spend all my time focusing on what "needs" changing... I miss the absolute blessing that creation can be, or as I once put it: If you spend your entire life waiting for the other shoe to drop, you'll remain blind to the everyday miracles surrounding you. Absolutely true, and even at my darkest moments, I do the best I can to remind myself of my words.
Sometimes...it's not easy. There have been countless days I wanted to simply give up, get out, run away- whatever it took, really. But those days are so few and far between now and even when I do let myself sink back into the darkest corners of my mind- I don't let myself stay there.
Life is temporary. Why on earth should we remain miserable, when the alternative is so much better?
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Something Different
So, I had a doctor's appointment today. I swear, I can't even count the number of times I've been to the damned doctor in the past twelve months. Sinus infections, allergies, migraines, possible broken foot...and a bunch of other crap I'm sure I'm not remembering. I don't like that his receptionist knows me by sight.
And every damned time I go there, what's the first fucking thing they do? Put me on a scale. I understand this to a point, but you know, if I was just here a week or so ago, chances aren't good it's changed that damned drastically. And if it has, don't you think it would be pretty obvious without reading the stupid numbers on the scale?
I have avoided going to the doctor at times when I should have because of the damned scale. Those numbers are bound to ruin my day. Granted, I'm fully clothed and wearing chunky 3-inch heels most of the time, but I can't logically say my clothes and shoes take enough pounds off to magically make me not overweight.
I leave the doctor's office after each visit just flat out depressed. I want to cry from the moment I step on that damned scale. Generally, I race home, weigh myself wearing exactly what I was at the doctor's office on my scale and try to convince myself his scale was wrong. Then I strip and get naked and try again. Guess what? Clothes off doesn't make you thin. Whodda thunk?
These lovely little scale adventures were historically almost always followed by either a) binge b) purge or c) cutting- on many occasions, some combination of the three. Oh, and a lot of tears and beating myself up for what a fat cow I was. In the past year, those behaviors have stopped...but the thinking hasn't completely gone away. Maybe it won't ever completely go away- but it sure as hell won't if I just keep adding fuel to the fire.
So...today, I told the nurse "I don't want to know the number. Is it okay if I don't face the scale?" She was okay with that. I don't know those three numbers that would drive me insane, there was no rushing home to weigh myself and then punish myself for what the stupid numbers read. There was a bit of anxiety at not knowing...then there was calm and a feeling of accomplishment. And...a realization that... those numbers don't matter to me anymore. Not really, not in the grand scheme of things.
Yes, I'm overweight- obese, actually- but let's say I only had the choice between 221 lbs and 83 lbs. I'd choose to stay where I'm at, hands down.
And every damned time I go there, what's the first fucking thing they do? Put me on a scale. I understand this to a point, but you know, if I was just here a week or so ago, chances aren't good it's changed that damned drastically. And if it has, don't you think it would be pretty obvious without reading the stupid numbers on the scale?
I have avoided going to the doctor at times when I should have because of the damned scale. Those numbers are bound to ruin my day. Granted, I'm fully clothed and wearing chunky 3-inch heels most of the time, but I can't logically say my clothes and shoes take enough pounds off to magically make me not overweight.
I leave the doctor's office after each visit just flat out depressed. I want to cry from the moment I step on that damned scale. Generally, I race home, weigh myself wearing exactly what I was at the doctor's office on my scale and try to convince myself his scale was wrong. Then I strip and get naked and try again. Guess what? Clothes off doesn't make you thin. Whodda thunk?
These lovely little scale adventures were historically almost always followed by either a) binge b) purge or c) cutting- on many occasions, some combination of the three. Oh, and a lot of tears and beating myself up for what a fat cow I was. In the past year, those behaviors have stopped...but the thinking hasn't completely gone away. Maybe it won't ever completely go away- but it sure as hell won't if I just keep adding fuel to the fire.
So...today, I told the nurse "I don't want to know the number. Is it okay if I don't face the scale?" She was okay with that. I don't know those three numbers that would drive me insane, there was no rushing home to weigh myself and then punish myself for what the stupid numbers read. There was a bit of anxiety at not knowing...then there was calm and a feeling of accomplishment. And...a realization that... those numbers don't matter to me anymore. Not really, not in the grand scheme of things.
Yes, I'm overweight- obese, actually- but let's say I only had the choice between 221 lbs and 83 lbs. I'd choose to stay where I'm at, hands down.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Attitude
So...I have been told I might have a problem with my "attitude" regarding this weight loss/healthy lifestyle adventure I intend to embark on. Apparently, "fat girl jeans" doesn't covey a positive attitude/outlook.
To make something a bit more clear- I am unhappy with my weight right now- 221 lbs on a 5'2" frame is in no way healthy or attractive. But...I'm not disgusted with myself, I'm not running to the nearest "quickie" diet plan, heading to the store to buy laxatives by the caseload, or spending time worshiping the porcelain god. I'm trying to change what I'm doing in a healthy manner, pay attention to what I'm putting in my body, and becoming more active, rather than less.
I let myself get to this size in the past couple of years. I was fairly aware of what was going on, but did nothing to stop it. Why? I had more important things to deal with. I was busy trying to stop killing myself by inches and honestly? The weight gain just wasn't all that important to me at the time. For perhaps the first time in my life, saving myself was more important than saving face. It was much more important during these past two years to keep myself alive than to keep myself "thin".
Has that mindset changed? Not really; I haven't suddenly switched gears and decided my life must once again revolve around how much weight I can lose. The time has simply come to address the issue. For the first time in twenty years, I'm not actively damaging my body; that part is under control. Now, when it comes to the healthier lifestyle I'm attempting to embark on? I know I'm overweight, but I don't sit in front of the mirror everyday telling myself how disgusting I am. I don't weight myself three or four times a day. I don't burst into tears when a pair of pants no longer fit.
Do I get angry? A bit. Are there parts of my insane little mind that still whisper to me about how disgusting I am, how fat I've become? Yes- there are. The difference between my past self and my current self? What has "changed" that has made this possible? Now? I just tell those whispering little demons in the corners of mind to shut the fuck up.
To make something a bit more clear- I am unhappy with my weight right now- 221 lbs on a 5'2" frame is in no way healthy or attractive. But...I'm not disgusted with myself, I'm not running to the nearest "quickie" diet plan, heading to the store to buy laxatives by the caseload, or spending time worshiping the porcelain god. I'm trying to change what I'm doing in a healthy manner, pay attention to what I'm putting in my body, and becoming more active, rather than less.
I let myself get to this size in the past couple of years. I was fairly aware of what was going on, but did nothing to stop it. Why? I had more important things to deal with. I was busy trying to stop killing myself by inches and honestly? The weight gain just wasn't all that important to me at the time. For perhaps the first time in my life, saving myself was more important than saving face. It was much more important during these past two years to keep myself alive than to keep myself "thin".
Has that mindset changed? Not really; I haven't suddenly switched gears and decided my life must once again revolve around how much weight I can lose. The time has simply come to address the issue. For the first time in twenty years, I'm not actively damaging my body; that part is under control. Now, when it comes to the healthier lifestyle I'm attempting to embark on? I know I'm overweight, but I don't sit in front of the mirror everyday telling myself how disgusting I am. I don't weight myself three or four times a day. I don't burst into tears when a pair of pants no longer fit.
Do I get angry? A bit. Are there parts of my insane little mind that still whisper to me about how disgusting I am, how fat I've become? Yes- there are. The difference between my past self and my current self? What has "changed" that has made this possible? Now? I just tell those whispering little demons in the corners of mind to shut the fuck up.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Urges to Sell My Children
So...yesterday afternoon, my daughters spent the entire afternoon and early evening "cleaning" their rooms. I then let them free and told them I would help them finish their rooms (vacuuming, organizing a bit, etc) this morning.
My youngest daughter's room actually looked halfway decent at first glance. Then...I opened her closet. Apparently, "closet" and "depository for dirty laundry" are synonymous in the redhead's mind. And she complains that she never has any clothes? Seriously??? Does she think she has a magic laundry transporter in her closet that automatically transfers her dirty clothes to the basement? When I ask them to get the laundry out of their rooms, does she think her dirty clothes transfer themselves to baskets in the laundry room of their own accord after freeing themselves from the confines of their closet???
Then there's the blond... for some ungodly reason, there was a need to have three blankets spread out on her floor as some type of what? Rug? Accent colors? Oh wait...they were covering up all the CRAP that was underneath them!!! Gotcha, blondie!!! *sigh*
One of those days I would gladly sell them to the highest bidder- or at least rent them, as I imagine I would want them back; I'm kind of attached to them at this point.
After about two hours of attempting to dispel the madness, I called (well, texted) for help. And my MIL came over. And helped me, yet again. I honestly don't know what I would do without this woman and I feel unbelievably blessed to have her in my life. My hubby definitely got the raw end of the deal when it comes to mother-in-laws, poor boy. His mom...is amazing and has become one of my closest confidantes in the past few years. My only regret is that I spent soooo many years pushing her (and everyone else in the free world) away. I try not to dwell on things like that anymore- past mistakes, missed opportunities, etc- but everyone once in awhile, the feelings of regret and sorrow at what I may have missed in my life due to my own stupidity and blindness- it hits me like a freight train, and I find myself sobbing in disbelief of all that could have been.
I've spent years- the vast majority of my life, actually- dwelling on thoughts as such. Belittling and punishing myself not only for "mistakes" I was currently making, but for everything I perceived I'd done wrong throughout my life. And then? I'd punish myself, belittle myself, hate myself for perpetuating the cycle that even I could so plainly see. I'd listen to no one; I deserved to be miserable and I was damned sure I was going to remain that way.
So...what changed? I was asked that recently by someone dear to me regarding my most recent attempt at quitting smoking. (I say attempt because it's been an ongoing struggle for almost three years now, not because I believe I will fail.) I was at a loss for words; I couldn't really express what exactly had changed. What circumstances were now different that were enabling me to succeed in quitting not only the smoking, but the other blatantly self-destructive behavior as well. What was different???
Simply put? I'm different. In so very many ways. I've learned to pull myself back from situations instead of immediately reacting to them. There are times this doesn't necessarily hold true- I am, after all, merely human- but for the most part? I look before I leap now.
I talk to people now, honestly talk to them. There are people I've opened up to in the past two years that are now closer to me than those I've known all my life. There are friends I've rediscovered by simply answering the damned phone instead of ignoring them for fear of what they may think of me. Relationships that have grown soooo much stronger now that I actively participate in them instead of constantly standing on the sidelines waiting for someone to find out that I don't really belong here, I don't deserve this, I shouldn't be allowed to be happy.
Perhaps most importantly though... I've learned to constantly evaluate my actions- as in- "Is this helping me or hurting me?" Another cool trick that's been drilled into my head *huge eye roll* is viewing my behaviors in the eyes of my daughters- is this something I would want either of them to do? Is this how I want them to view themselves? What kind of example am I setting for them?
Regarding the smoking,etc- I've learned to ask myself- BEFORE ACTING- "How is this going to help this situation?" Time and time again, I can't come up with any damned way that smoking, purging, cutting, starving, etc will help ANY situation... so I stop. It's becoming a little easier every day.
My youngest daughter's room actually looked halfway decent at first glance. Then...I opened her closet. Apparently, "closet" and "depository for dirty laundry" are synonymous in the redhead's mind. And she complains that she never has any clothes? Seriously??? Does she think she has a magic laundry transporter in her closet that automatically transfers her dirty clothes to the basement? When I ask them to get the laundry out of their rooms, does she think her dirty clothes transfer themselves to baskets in the laundry room of their own accord after freeing themselves from the confines of their closet???
Then there's the blond... for some ungodly reason, there was a need to have three blankets spread out on her floor as some type of what? Rug? Accent colors? Oh wait...they were covering up all the CRAP that was underneath them!!! Gotcha, blondie!!! *sigh*
One of those days I would gladly sell them to the highest bidder- or at least rent them, as I imagine I would want them back; I'm kind of attached to them at this point.
After about two hours of attempting to dispel the madness, I called (well, texted) for help. And my MIL came over. And helped me, yet again. I honestly don't know what I would do without this woman and I feel unbelievably blessed to have her in my life. My hubby definitely got the raw end of the deal when it comes to mother-in-laws, poor boy. His mom...is amazing and has become one of my closest confidantes in the past few years. My only regret is that I spent soooo many years pushing her (and everyone else in the free world) away. I try not to dwell on things like that anymore- past mistakes, missed opportunities, etc- but everyone once in awhile, the feelings of regret and sorrow at what I may have missed in my life due to my own stupidity and blindness- it hits me like a freight train, and I find myself sobbing in disbelief of all that could have been.
I've spent years- the vast majority of my life, actually- dwelling on thoughts as such. Belittling and punishing myself not only for "mistakes" I was currently making, but for everything I perceived I'd done wrong throughout my life. And then? I'd punish myself, belittle myself, hate myself for perpetuating the cycle that even I could so plainly see. I'd listen to no one; I deserved to be miserable and I was damned sure I was going to remain that way.
So...what changed? I was asked that recently by someone dear to me regarding my most recent attempt at quitting smoking. (I say attempt because it's been an ongoing struggle for almost three years now, not because I believe I will fail.) I was at a loss for words; I couldn't really express what exactly had changed. What circumstances were now different that were enabling me to succeed in quitting not only the smoking, but the other blatantly self-destructive behavior as well. What was different???
Simply put? I'm different. In so very many ways. I've learned to pull myself back from situations instead of immediately reacting to them. There are times this doesn't necessarily hold true- I am, after all, merely human- but for the most part? I look before I leap now.
I talk to people now, honestly talk to them. There are people I've opened up to in the past two years that are now closer to me than those I've known all my life. There are friends I've rediscovered by simply answering the damned phone instead of ignoring them for fear of what they may think of me. Relationships that have grown soooo much stronger now that I actively participate in them instead of constantly standing on the sidelines waiting for someone to find out that I don't really belong here, I don't deserve this, I shouldn't be allowed to be happy.
Perhaps most importantly though... I've learned to constantly evaluate my actions- as in- "Is this helping me or hurting me?" Another cool trick that's been drilled into my head *huge eye roll* is viewing my behaviors in the eyes of my daughters- is this something I would want either of them to do? Is this how I want them to view themselves? What kind of example am I setting for them?
Regarding the smoking,etc- I've learned to ask myself- BEFORE ACTING- "How is this going to help this situation?" Time and time again, I can't come up with any damned way that smoking, purging, cutting, starving, etc will help ANY situation... so I stop. It's becoming a little easier every day.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Turning a Page
So...blogging, huh? Eric started one, so I had to follow! Kidding actually; I used to have a blog when I had a MySpace page- was actually the main reason I kept it as long as I did. Kind of wish FB had a blog...but it doesn't. Notes just ain't the same.
Today...I bought my last pair of fat girl jeans. I can't stay this way, I can't keep living this way. It's not healthy. I shouldn't be out of breath from climbing the stairs at work. I shouldn't eat so much crap and avoid so many fruits and veggies. I should drink more water. I should- dare I say it?- EXERCISE and get in shape. Not bodybuilding-marathon-running in shape, but perhaps able to FIND the muscles under the fat???
But...let me be honest here- the weight itself bothers me more than I can possibly explain. As in, yes, I need to be healthier...but that translates in my mind into thinner. A portion of my self-image- possibly even my self-worth- is always going to be tied up in my weight, I think. Which is sad and unhealthy; I know. But I don't know that that link will ever completely disappear. It's much MUCH weaker than once it was, but it's like a little corner of my brain has been permanently altered and the link itself will ALWAYS be there.
So, for my both my health and my sanity...it's time to change to a healthier lifestyle. Those who know me well know that "healthy" and I aren't exactly synonymous. Historically, I've gone out of my way to be every type of "un" healthy there is. However, a LOT of that has changed within the past couple years. I've let go of so much I never thought I could and accomplished more than I thought myself capable of. This, however? Perhaps more difficult; it's not giving something up, it's not stopping something...it's trying to rewire my very mindset. I firmly believe that there is no "magic diet" in this world, in order to be healthy and fit, you have to change your actual lifestyle, the way you think about what you're putting into your body and they way you think about moving your body. Not exactly an easy task for the stubborn llama.
Today...I bought my last pair of fat girl jeans. I can't stay this way, I can't keep living this way. It's not healthy. I shouldn't be out of breath from climbing the stairs at work. I shouldn't eat so much crap and avoid so many fruits and veggies. I should drink more water. I should- dare I say it?- EXERCISE and get in shape. Not bodybuilding-marathon-running in shape, but perhaps able to FIND the muscles under the fat???
But...let me be honest here- the weight itself bothers me more than I can possibly explain. As in, yes, I need to be healthier...but that translates in my mind into thinner. A portion of my self-image- possibly even my self-worth- is always going to be tied up in my weight, I think. Which is sad and unhealthy; I know. But I don't know that that link will ever completely disappear. It's much MUCH weaker than once it was, but it's like a little corner of my brain has been permanently altered and the link itself will ALWAYS be there.
So, for my both my health and my sanity...it's time to change to a healthier lifestyle. Those who know me well know that "healthy" and I aren't exactly synonymous. Historically, I've gone out of my way to be every type of "un" healthy there is. However, a LOT of that has changed within the past couple years. I've let go of so much I never thought I could and accomplished more than I thought myself capable of. This, however? Perhaps more difficult; it's not giving something up, it's not stopping something...it's trying to rewire my very mindset. I firmly believe that there is no "magic diet" in this world, in order to be healthy and fit, you have to change your actual lifestyle, the way you think about what you're putting into your body and they way you think about moving your body. Not exactly an easy task for the stubborn llama.