Old Soul

As I get back on here, I will be sharing more about the move to Charleston and then a bit about my next move which will be happening in a few months.  It is indeed a lot of transition!  I am old-fashioned and I am proud of it.

As I reread my last posts and enjoyed the wonderful and thoughtful comments, I giggled to myself.  I was really describing a life from the past.  The truth is that I would have been fine living before modern technology and sometimes when I daydream, I think about life in a different time.  I know this seems CRAZY and I love my hair straighter and Bravo, but I liked life before all of this computer jazz (even though I love sharing my blog) and I know I could have been satisfied in a time when people enjoyed a bit more solitude and privacy.  I think the idea of real people (reality stars) becoming celebrities has sprung this whole subculture of over-sharing.  I get annoyed about it.  My reactions are not the norm.

Have you seen the movie Midnight in Paris?  It is one of my favorites because I like the idea that everyone has their own "perfect" time to live in this world.  I don't know what time mine would be, but I was very obsessed with the entire Little House on the Prairie book series. What always got me was how quiet their life was.  I wanted that.

I was the last one to get a cell phone, the last one to activate a personal email account, the last one to join Facebook (and the first one to quit!).  Don't think I am high-tech because I have a blog.  Blogging involves about as much computer knowledge as sending an email and I can do that.  Over the past few years, I was hiding from life because it was what I needed for me to heal from the Awful epidemic.  I missed out on the Facebook, Twitter and Instagram crazes and I don't see myself wanting in on any of it now.

As a highly sensitive person, I struggle with approval.  I want everyone to like me and it kills me when I am not included (even if I didn't want to attend whatever it was that I didn't get an invitation for).  All of this online stuff is a bit much for me to handle and it gives me horrible anxiety and gets me depressed.  I think, "why wasn't I invited to that wedding, why didn't that person tell me they are pregnant, when did THEY become friends, why are they still friends with my ex" and it just isn't healthy for me.  I take it ALL personally, even when NONE if it involves me.  The news has always been there, but it just wasn't so in my face.  I am fine hearing about something way after it has happened, its just the real time stuff that I have a hard time learning how to react to.

I don't want to live my life having to calculate my next move online to be this person that I probably never will be offline.  A very common comment I get now is that, "I should rejoin Facebook because I currently have so much to brag about" and that makes me want to stay away more.  Because then I will be playing this game that I don't believe in.  I don't think I won because I have all of these things now.  I am still struggling with my personal happiness and until I don't care about what anyone thinks about me, I will never be truly victorious.  Let me say this though, I may be forced to rejoin Facebook because I don't seem to be able to connect with anyone in a new place without it.  I hate the idea of this, but it seems like there are more people who use it than don't (I am the exception here).  If I do get back on, I will be posting a very limited profile and I will just use it for messaging as it seems like sharing an email address is even too much work for some these days.  The hypocrisy of my life.

Online, I see people posting these perfect realities (including couples that could hardly pay for their weddings and then jet off to 5 star honeymoons when I KNOW that their credit cards were fizzled out the day before) and then I hear that they are getting divorced and it hurts my heart.  Why can't people just be the people they really are?  It is one of the reasons why I decided to stay hidden after I played around with the idea of posting photos of myself on here.  If I told you who I really am, I wouldn't be able to tell you how I really feel and I want to tell you how I really feel.  I understand the importance of an online presence in this world and the struggle to look good or be real.  I just can't seem to get myself to be a part of it.

As I just started to share recently, one of the real breakthroughs for me this year has been realizing that I am highly sensitive (this article I linked to was a huge eye opener for me).  Because with this knowledge, it makes sense why I just can't handle some things that other people can and why I take loyalty so seriously (I plan to share thoughts on that soon).  Sometimes I wish I could be a person who could be comfortable online as me, who was fine being acquaintances with many, who didn't care about an invitation to a party…..I make things WAY too exhausting than they need to be.

Off to make coffee now in my coffeemaker….maybe if I got my dream to go back in time, I could bring it with me!

Beauty Is In the Eye of the Beholder

I have a beautiful friend.  She is stunning actually.  Inside and out.  She has gorgeous hair and porcelain skin.  A beautiful smile.  Sparkling eyes and a rocking bod.  Last week while we were catching up, she mentioned that she has an insecurity about her beauty.  I get this more than anyone, I have complexes about my body for days.  Years, really.  

My dear friend was told by a man that he wasn't feeling attracted to her.  Now, this is on him, not her.  My friend puts the "s" is sexy.  But, I get the damage that one comment can do.  Something that hits below the belt and cuts the very soul of your insecurities.  Deeply.  I have been there.  I can be complimented a million times and I won't remember a single nice thing.  But, tell me something negative and I will never forget it.  It will haunt me for years sometimes.  I will roll around my bed sleepless repeating the bad.  I will wake up exhausted and resentful that a single comment has the ability to make me feel so empty that it affects the quality of my life.

Up until Crush, every one of my boyfriends has said horrible things to me about my body.  Asked me directly about my scars and stretch marks.  Made me feel bad about having a soft belly and long vagina lips.  And I let these comments swallow me up whole.  I thought, "Omg, R&F, your body is bad.  It is too ugly to satisfy men.  You are lucky that anyone can look at you naked.  You are a disaster."

And in my heart and soul.  I kinda really knew that my body was not a problem.  In moments of clarity, I reasoned it was that I was broken inside and I was attracting broken men.  I am healthy for the most part.  Yes, I have some psoriasis and I can be depressed from time to time, but my body can do so many things.  I knew that I had to love myself more to bring love to my body.  I am still struggling with this, but I am trying.  I make an effort each and every day to treat my body kindly.

I met Crush.  A man that cannot get enough of me.  A man that will get aroused by simply smelling the shampoo on my hair.  He told me that he is scared that he may get a boner when I walk down the aisle on our wedding day.  I have never had a man attracted to me the way he is.  I am also super attracted to him.  I lacked carnal attraction in every relationship that I have had up to this point.  I am glad I am finally getting to experience it.

I remember going to therapy a few years ago and sharing that I was really angry that I allowed Awful to tell me that he wanted me, "skinny and hot!", that my stomach looked ripply and roly like "the stormy sea" and that he "wasn't as attracted to me anymore" because I had put on weight.  What made me irate was that I found him to be super unattractive and I felt like I was being so open minded and kind by dating him and he couldn't even appreciate my beauty.  My therapist asked me who I would want to look like if I could look like anyone.  "Giselle."  She looked me dead in the eye and said, "there are people in this world who tell Gisele that she is too ugly and too fat.  You cannot be adored by everyone."  Or shall I say, haters gonna hate.

Since I have moved to Charleston, I have been trying to get back in touch with my soul.  I want to love myself freely.  Not because I fit into my old jeans or dresses, but because I am a wonderful, kind and good person.  I try to look in the mirror at least once a day and tell myself that I am beautiful.  The more you tell yourself, the more you will believe.  Beauty comes from the inside.  The people I find most stunning are content with themselves and are at peace in their lives.  I aspire to be this gorgeous one day. 

I know that soon, my friend will find what she is looking for.  She is doing the work to bring whole love to her.  She will never have to worry about feeling beautiful because someone will make her feel like the most gorgeous gal in the world just the way she is.  

It isn't you, darling. It's them.  

The Old Me

Lately, I haven't been doing that much, yet I am exhausted.

It's not from the Spinning classes I am taking nearly every day, or from all of the reading I am doing poolside while I sun my almost psoriasis free skin, or from sending my resume out, or from checking my email obsessively to see about my final website changes.

Finding your old self is hard work.

Since I have moved to Charleston, every day I feel more and more like the person I used to be.  Like the girl I left behind so many years ago.  Funny, I still can't pin point when I let myself go.  When I decided that who I truly am, wasn't good enough.  

Was it in junior high when I was taunted by the boys for being fat?  

Was it in high school when I was left out by the girls I admired?  

Was it in college when I drank too much to overcompensate for feeling lost?

Was in in my mid-twenties when I was too scared to ask for a raise when I deserved one?  

Was it when I dated Awful and lied to myself about what love should be for nearly 3 years?

Was it recently when I paid out of my own pocket for a few of my clients' weddings to avoid confrontation when I knew that they were having major financial issues?

I sometimes wonder when I decided that laying down and playing dead was how I should live my life because I HATE it.  But, confrontation is one of the things in the world that I fear most, so I know that I avoided many situations when I was right to avoid having to stick up for myself.

My mom says it best when she says, "it is the innocent that are made to feel guilty." I have lived this time and time again.

Yet, the decisions I have made: the ugly, the bad, the weak, the brilliantly thought out, well, they have lead me to Crush.  To Charleston.  To my own rebirth.  

So, I don't regret any of them.

Because I know that I learned the lessons for a good life.  

I apologized when I wasn't wrong.  

I coddled crazy.  

I ate lots of humble pie.  

I got my heart broken.  

I broke some one's heart.

I gained and lost and then gained the same 40 pounds a few times over before I realized that I have a food addiction.

I let go of some toxic people in my life.

I rekindled some old friendships that I missed.

And at the end of my journey, I found my soul mate.

Now, I am finding myself.  

Everyday, I am trying to do something I used to like to do.  Cooking, baking, riding my bike, reading a book, taking a swim, strolling quaint streets while I eat an ice cream cone and forget about the time.

Simple pleasures.  Free of anxiety and hatred and drama.  It feels SO good.

I over-think everything.  It is one of my biggest strengths and weaknesses all rolled into one gob of insecurity.

In the near future, I will be Crush's fiance.  I will be getting ready to be some one's wife.  I will be planning a wedding. I don't want to lose myself in the process.  I want to make sure that I stay me. 

Because of my career, I have seen the most sane ladies go CRAZY because of money, greed, weight, indecision, and family drama.  I will not allow myself to fall down this rabbit hole.  I have worked too hard to be happy.  I am preparing myself to enjoy every moment of this bridge between dating and marriage.

Here goes. 

(I am still waiting for my sparkles!  I will keep you posted!)

Packing

There is only one thing I hate more than packing...moving.

I find the process of moving to be exhausting, even though it is quite satisfying when you finally get where you are going and unpack and put everything away and find the perfect spots for all of your knickknacks.

 I moved multiple times in college, every year I was there.  I remember not making such a big issue about it, I would just throw everything in a car (or my best friends SUVS) and make some trips, back and forth. Always hungover.  The moving process would begin around lunch time and span deep into the night. Little by little the move would be done, with many cigarette and Diet Dr Pepper breaks in between.

When I got to my 20's, I moved 5 times, one of those times back home right around my 30th birthday.  These times, I hired movers because spending a bit of money was worth protecting my back from all of the trips up and down the stairs.

This time, I am lucky.  I am moving into a furnished condo that is independently owned and quite adorable.  The condo is furnished and has all major appliances, but I still need to bring my clothes, books, photos, dishes, pots and pans, bedding, towels, kitchen appliances, and TV.  I was thinking this would be easy breezy, but I did spend the entire day yesterday packing and there is still TONS of stuff to go through from my past.  I have been avoiding dealing with my possessions because I sometimes find looking back to be sad and painful, but I put on my big girl panties and dealt with it and it wasn't so bad.  I plan to finish today and cross packing off of my list of things to do this week. 

I called U-Haul yesterday and changed my reservation to a slightly bigger trailer (I put a hitch on my car, so I can drag the trailer and then put a bike rack on my car, lots of trails to discover in South Carolina!) to fit all of my stuff.  I underestimated just how many clothes and books I actually have when I placed my order. My folks are very firm about me getting "all of my shit!" out of their basement as it is time to move on with life and life isn't in Chicago anymore. 

Yesterday, as I was sifting through my old work files, I got a little emotional.  I cannot believe I am here.  I am finally doing something for me (and Crush of course).  I am moving for a better life.  Nicer weather.  Soul mate love.  A slower pace.  Steps from the beach.  I remember begging Awful for a quieter simpler life and he just didn't get it.  I had to go out and find it for myself.  This is the first time in my life that I feel I am actually living my life 100 percent for me.  I am giving up a lot (like my business) to leave Chicago, but it is the best decision I have ever made.  I have no regrets.  Being with Crush and moving is something I am so confident about, it even surprises me that I am at such peace with this major life event as transitions often break and derail me.

As I make my moving piles, I have faced my past, present, and promise of my future.  And I am happy.  I am VERY VERY happy.  

2 years ago, I was contemplating how to survive and now I am contemplating the best parks in Charleston for a Sunday picnic under a magnolia tree.

Hope.  That is the secret.  I had hope.  And now I am here, in this moment, exactly where I hoped I would be. 

Falling Into Place

My puzzle pieces are beginning to make a total picture.

I just realized they the day I move from the Midwest FORVER (regardless of what happens with Crush, I will never come back), will be my one year anniversary of this blog.

I sound like a broken record always and forever here, but you just never know what will happen in a year!!!!

I officially signed a lease for a new apartment in my new state.  I am excited about it.  850 square feet that are ALL mine.  I am looking forward to cooking, cleaning, and doing laundry.  These last few years I have regressed, my mom believes her way is the ONLY way.  I haven't truly been able to live as I would live without living with mother.  But, I can't really complain.  I received free accommodations for 22 months.

Beggars can't be choosers.

I will never forget the generosity and hospitality that my parents bestowed upon me.  Yes, some days and even weeks were incredibly challenging, but I do think we are even closer now than we ever were (and I have always been close to my family).  My wounds are now just fading scars.  I feel like I am mostly through with my journey of self improvement and reflection.  I am a bit stronger, a bit wiser, and in tune with the areas of my life that I need to seriously work on (binge eating and improving my self esteem).  I am going to continue to therapy down South.

I am ready to fly again from the nest....14 years after I first left.

The future that was once blurry and scary is now becoming something I can partially see.

I have also been hunting for jobs.  The market I am moving to is perfect for my industry.  Even though it is considerably smaller, there are plenty of jobs in my field and they pay well.  I have sent out my resume 4 times and I have received calls promptly for everything that I applied for, some within hours.  My only issue is that the jobs posted begin immediately and because of job commitments here, I can't start there until after I move, which is in just under 2 months.

Many people from my new city have advised me to just wait and move and then interview as things are far less competitive there than they are here.  That is not my style!  I want to move with a place to live AND a job.  Still working on the last half, but I am feeling like I may actually be able to pick the best position for me rather than just take a job for a paycheck.  I also have a little cushion of savings that I can tap into if I really need to, but I am hoping to actually save, so let's hope that employment comes knocking.

This morning, I had a bubble of anxiety sitting on my chest, heavy and tight.

Then, I let my mind tell me the truth.

I am leaving.

I have the chance to set up new practices and routines that will allow me to be calmer.  I will be able to be alone sometimes.  I will be living 5 minutes away from the love of my life.  My favorite spinning studio in the world is in my new city and I will have the opportunity to ride there as often as I like.  Extra bonus that I can cruise on my bicycle 4 seasons a year.  I will continue with my WeightWatchers meetings.  I will be close to the beach and saltwater is wonderful for my skin.  I will be independent again.  I will be FAR away from people that make me nervous including Awful (just moving away from him helps as we do have some mutual friends and I always feel bad that it was such an ugly ending...no one likes to be a part of senseless drama and I did lose some people I really liked and valued because of the breakup).  I will get the opportunity to explore new coffee shops, restaurants, and boutiques.  I will become a regular at a new supermarket and gym.  I will learn my way around and I will then be able to find shortcuts to get me to and from my new regular destinations.

I will be able to be the me I am now.

Not the me I was 20 years ago that some people expect from me.

Life will be better.

I know it.

Older

Lately, I feel older.  Not old, just older.

I am not upset about my age, 32.  Sometimes, I get a bit miffed and depressed that I am not married, that I am childless, and that I am not a homeowner.  But, I know that I am a late bloomer and I always have been.  Often I get my good a bit later that most, but it is always worth the wait.

I feel old because my body and what I can tolerate are changing.

No longer can I be on my feet for 2 days straight without my back hurting a bit.  I can't have 3 dirty martinis (my favorite) without a SEVERE hangover.  I feel it when I don't workout.  Fast food makes me bloated, tired, and miserable.  Less than 7 hours of sleep creates HUGE under eye bags and a piss poor attitude.

I was once so resilient and I didn't even know it.

Back in the day, I could slam a fifth of Jim Beam and wake up and work a double shift at 2 different jobs the very next day.  I could eat an entire pizza and drink 8 cans of diet soda in 1 afternoon without even a belch.  I could sleep 2 hours a night for 3 weeks straight and look adorable and not have a mental breakdown.

And yet, I am not at all upset about my older status.

I like how my body is checking me.  Telling me that I must make smart decisions or I will feel it.  I know that if I skip the gym, eat dirty, or miss my sleep...well, I won't be the best me and I like the me I am becoming now, so I am making better decisions.

Long gone are the days of cigarettes, Big Macs (I am still craving 1 from time to time), bottles (glasses are okay) of wine, and 3 1/2 hours of sleep.  I am not sad about this.  I am actually very happy that I am figuring out what my body needs now and I am quickly learning how to listen to her.

Prior to this year, I never had a mind body connection.  I couldn't stop eating when I was full, I couldn't go to sleep when I was tired, and I couldn't workout to relieve my stress.....I just didn't get what I needed to make me feel good.

So, this is progress.  Listening to my inner voice to make the best choices for me.

And as my age goes up, hopefully the scale will go down.

Forbidden Foods

I am getting real with myself and my food addiction.

It sucks.

It has made me SUPER emotional and that is a good thing.  I need to get to the root of my issues.

Food has always been a coping mechanism for me.  I use it as a drug.  To escape reality.  To soothe myself.  It is my sanctuary.

One of my recent discoveries has been shocking.  In therapy, I have had to identify my trigger foods and as I have shared before...they aren't even things I necessarily like.  They are:

Wheat Thins
Triscuits
Pepperidge Farm Cookies (Butter and Milano)
Cereal
Granola Bars
Nuts
White Bread

Other things I really LOVE like pizza, Cheetos, and candy are an indulgence and I actually do not think of them in a negative light.  These items are rarely in the house and are not unhealthy things for me passing for heathy (like some of the items above), so I can clearly identify their potential damage for me if I eat them in excess.

I know I can handle a splurge from time to time if I plan for it and let myself let go and enjoy it within moderation.

One of the things I have recently learned is that everyone is so different with what triggers them.  A binge food for me may be a safe and nutritious food for someone else.  Binging is super personal and foods that make people spiral range from fruit to double bacon cheeseburgers.  The addiction is my own, so the solution has to be my own as well.

The items I listed above are foods that have always been in my parents' home.  From my earliest memories these are the foods we had to grab in the pantry.  My parents didn't believe in real junk (potato chips, soda, Hostess cakes), so when I started to binge actively in third grade, these are the snacks I stuffed myself with.  Over the last 18 months, these are the same items that have been tripping me up time and time again.

I made a major breakthrough in my eating therapy last week.  I just have to avoid these foods.  Since I do not even like these items that much, giving them up isn't that hard.  I just have to stay present and know that the snack shelf in the pantry isn't my shelf.  It belongs to my parents.  When I go back to my independent life, these items will never be in the house and now that I know how damaging they are for me, I will never buy them.

Since I rebooted my WeightWatchers, I have been eating real whole foods with little treats thrown in here and there.  Here is an example of a typical eating day for me:

Breakfast #1 (Pre-Workout):
- 2 light string cheeses
- 1 Nonfat Greek yogurt
- Iced coffee with 2 tablespoons half and half and 1 tablespoon vanilla syrup

Breakfast #2 (Post-Workout):
- 1 slice American cheese
- 3 egg whites cooked in 1 tablespoon real butter

Lunch:
- 5 ounces of breaded chicken cutlet (skinless, boneless breast) cooked in 1 tablespoon of olive oil
- Sliced tomatoes, cucumber, carrots
- Steamed corn on the cob and zucchini

Snack:
- Fruit smoothie made with fresh frozen fruit (nectarine, peach, berries, banana), 1 cup skim milk, 1 tablespoon vanilla syrup

Dinner:
- 4 ounces of grilled hanger steak
- Sliced tomatoes, cucumber, carrots
- 1 medium baked potato with 1 tablespoon real butter and 1 tablespoon real sour cream

Dessert:
- 1 vanilla ice cream dixie cup
- 1 cup cherries

Happy Tuesday!!!!

Broken Record

Repeat.  Repeat.  Repeat.  Record scratch.  I know that actions speak louder than words and I have had a lot of words on this blog about weight loss and VERY LITTLE ACTION.

I am the first to admit it.....and it sucks.

You know what I have been avoiding lately.....oh yes, that little  big number on the scale.....my weight.

My friends, it isn't pretty.

My weight and weight loss in general comes in waves for me.  The reality is that often I am simply not ready to do it.  I have so many other emotional struggles I am dealing with, like sometimes, just getting out of bed, that I let myself use and abuse food for comfort and then the scale goes to places that it has never been before.  Like this morning. Terrifying.  Must break the cycle.

When before I mused about losing 30 pounds, I am now staring down 40-45 pounds and I am okay with this.  I have been working out, going to therapy, staying active, and not stressing about clothes not fitting all that much.

I have allowed myself to eat ANYTHING and EVERYTHING I have wanted these past 2 years....it shouldn't be a surprise to me and it isn't.  I have not deprived myself of anything or everything.

This past month, in the midst of a binge or a really big meal that lasts ALL day, the little voice in my head is actually telling me to stop.  Progress.  I may be reaching for the midnight granola bars, but I don't want them.  It is just my pattern, my routine.  My security blanket.  But, my mind is actually wanting to stop the cycle.  I feel some power over my decisions which is empowering.

Yesterday, for Father's Day, my Daddy and I went on a 40 mile bike ride.  We rode on one of my favorite trails which is dirt and (thus harder to ride on than pavement) weaved in and by deeply shaded forests, open prairies, nature conservatories, little river bridges, and lily pad ponds.  It is my absolute dream place to ride and my Dad is awesome company.  Halfway through we stopped for lunch and I thought to myself, make a healthy choice because your body deserves it and I did and I didn't want the 20 miles on the way back to come to an end.  I was enjoying the feeling of trusting my body and knowing what it could do.  Even if I am 40 pounds overweight, I can still rock a 14 mile per hour pace on a heavy bike on a dirt trail and even bigger props to my almost 65 year old Daddy who is in incredible shape and often sets the pace for me!

Typically, in the midst of a grueling working....I repeat (this is embarrassing, but no secrets here), "bikini, bikini, bikini" and I imagine myself on the beach with Crush feeling so sexy and secure in my newest classic J.Crew black bikini that I cannot even wear in public now....but yesterday I chanted, "mind, body, and soul" over and over again on the steep hill climbs and it made me ride faster than ever before.

So....last night, I laid in bed with my eyes wide open and thought about my body, my weight.  Not the beautiful size 10 dresses, not the bikinis with tags still on them, not the future wedding dress I may be purchasing in the next year or so.....I thought about my body.  I thought about the abuse I have been doing to this vessel that I am lucky enough to live in.  I thought about how kind my body has been to me this year.  How I can still ride 40 miles,  I can still rock a spinning class, that Bar Method is a work in progress, but I can keep up.  I thought about the feeling of freedom I have cruising on my bike through shoulder high sunflowers and I realized....the time is now.

Not for vanity, not for Crush, not to show Awful that I did it and look AMAZING.....but my body, myself, I deserve better.  I haven't been nice to her for a long time.....the Cheetos, pizza, and ice cream will always be there and will still be enjoyed, I am not about deprivation....but the mindless, emotional eating that gets me nowhere.....well, I am dealing with it in therapy and I see a change to my mindset......yes, yes, yes!!!!!!!

So, this morning, I am off to a WeightWatchers meeting.  One where I will weigh in, attend the entire meeting, and take it seriously.  Like I should.  I plan to do so for the next 12 weeks until I move to the South and than continue down there and also continue with a new therapist that my current one recommended for me. A goal of mine has always been to be a WeightWatchers leader and I would love to accomplish it....especially because down South it seems like a more attainable goal.  There are less meetings, which means that new leaders equal more times for people to come meet. Since I am not traveling at all this summer for pleasure, it is a good time to establish some routine.

I will let you know how it goes as it rolls and just like how one morning, I was ready to date again....this morning, I am ready to help my body be the healthiest she can be.

A new mindset may just bring new results.

Happy Monday!!!!

It Is The People That Make The Party! An Answer To A Really Good Question.

I believe that people make or break a party.

You can spend $100 or a $1,000,000, but without good people who are there for the right reasons....it does not matter how much you spend.  A get together of any kind depends on the people there.  Great people make for great times.

After I posted last night, I received a heartfelt comment asking me this....:

What is stopping you from being the lady you always wanted to be in your heart now as opposed to when you move?

The answer is simply the people.

I know it seems too easy.  I know it seems like I am passing blame....I know I seem weak that I cannot overcome my past.  Some may think I am escaping.  Fleeing a place that I can't survive in.  I get all this.  I really do.  Some people are less influenced by public opinion.  This is something I am working on.

I am going to tell you a little story that I touched on briefly months ago when I posted about Bitch and Snake.  I consider it now a pivotal situation that shaped my life and my honesty.  The story connects very much to how people where I live handle the truth and how I came to choose lies to avoid backlash until rather recently.

Here we go!

My Mom has 2 brothers.  Both Ivy League, both geniuses in their own way.  1 a doctor and 1 a lawyer.  These brothers are close in age (2.5 years apart whereas my mom is 6 years younger than the middle brother) and were always in competition.  My Mom was exempt from this.  As the baby, as the only daughter, and since she has a slight physical disability...well, she was coddled and favored and not put into the severe pressure cooker that her brothers had to endure.

My Mom's oldest brother (and my favorite uncle) is a real success story.  He is just beyond words.  Hugely successful and admired in his field.  He is simply awe inducing.  I cannot believe that he is my Mom's brother sometimes...that they actually came from the same parents, he is just so intelligent and a phenomenal person.

My mom's middle brother....well, he is a genius, too.  But, different.  He struggled with mental illness, specifically depression and bipolar disorder most of his life.  But, he still accomplished so much.  He went to Harvard Law School.  He graduated top of his class.  He was a law partner at 1 of the most prestigious firms in Manhattan by age 35.  He was nothing to scoff at.  But, during his success, he tried to commit suicide several times.  He married and divorced the love of his life.  He got into cocaine.  He moved to a smaller place and started his own very successful private practice.  He married again.  He had 2 children.  He fell into another bout of depression and tried to kill himself.........he filed for bankruptcy....he hit absolute rock bottom.

And when he had no where to go and no one to turn to, he came to my Mom.  His baby sister.  He ended up living in my parents' basement when I was 14.  He lived with us for 2 full years.

I was born in New York.  My parents are New Yorkers.  Born and bred.  They didn't move to the Midwest until they were in their 40's.  New Yorkers own their shit.  They talk shit, too.  Yes, there are exceptions to my theory, but mostly the truth is the truth out there.  I was raised, like my parents were, to tell the truth.

When we moved out here, I remember people were always in disbelief of what I was saying.  Not that I was crude, just that I was open.  Open about my thoughts, my feelings, and my body.  I remember getting the message that this wasn't right.  That is wasn't socially acceptable to share what I did and I was always super confused as to why....why was the truth now bad if it was always okay and accepted before?

So, my uncle was living in my basement and my Mom was a bit confused about how to proceed.  She, like me, had made new friends who showed her that being honest wasn't always the best way to be if you lived here.  She was always very conflicted and would regularly share that people were "talking bad about her and she had no idea why", but unlike me, she really didn't care much and went about her life confidently.  My Mom is extremely confidant.  I remember her asking me "if we should tell people that my uncle had a nervous breakdown?" and I agreed that it was nothing to me ashamed of.  People do have nervous breakdowns sometimes, great people.  Geniuses.  But, my mom did tell me "that some people here (Midwest) don't like the truth and I don't want you to be brought into this."  It was like she knew that this situation may not be acceptable.  She felt it.

1 day, Bitch's mom called up my Mom to ask about my uncle.  I had been at Bitch's after school and I had asked to use the computer at her house to print something and mentioned that "I hadn't been in my basement for a while because my uncle was down there" and it piqued Momma Bitch's interest.

Blood in the water.

My Mom didn't spin the story when asked.  She shared everything.  The suicide attempts, the cocaine, the failed marriages, the bankruptcy.  Now, I know that I would have done the same thing as her.  But, even a few months ago, I wouldn't have.  My mom owns her shit.  She is awesome this way.

The next day, I went to school and I felt new stares in the hallways.  People were treating me differently.  At lunch, when I asked what the hell was going on to my "friends", Bitch replied...."My mom told me that your uncle is poor and crazy and sponging off your parents.  How pathetic.  She also said that your mom said that mental illness runs in your family, so now it all makes sense.  You are crazy."

Ahhhh.....I was now known as a crazy person at high school because my mom told the truth.

You see how this little tale got spun?  Because of the people.

That year, I got dumped by my friends, I didn't get asked to any dances, and I worked really hard to remove the crazy stigma (ironic now that I suffer from depression).  I made new friends from other schools and came back better for it, only to fall for the same tricks again.  I was dumped again my senior year for being crazy......and I think some of my depression does come from the idea that other people think I am crazy.  I cannot believe I just admitted that, but it is true...I endured bullying.  Lots of it.  But, this was before Facebook and all that.  Sometimes I think that if I lived now as a teenage in my old high school with all of the social media...well, I would have killed myself from the nonstop bullying.  At least when I was younger, the bullying existed mostly at school and from being left out, but my emotions were manageable. I could escape the tourture in the hours I didn't have to be at school.

Down South, ...people own their lives. Again a general statement and I am sure exceptions apply here, too.

SIDENOTE: Please know that I share my personal experiences and I try to tow the line with over-generalizing, but I will say things are simply passive-aggressive where I am for me, in my town.  I don't want to debate it that much as I know that everyone has their own life experience and the story I am telling is my own.

In the South, some things may be said sweetly, but real life is real.  1 of the reasons my parents got on famously with Crush's was because neither set has secrets.  My Mom openly shared her brother's issues, my Dad openly shared his struggles with my Grandmother and his sister, Crush's parents shared personal things that no one in my area would ever openly claim.  And they did so without spinning it.  Just the truth.  A few moments on each subject.  No whispers. No judgement.  Accept reality and move on.

My parents couldn't believe that during the trip when we ran into Crush's parents friends and something came up, everyone answered candidly, even in front of my folks....this would NEVER happen in my neighborhood....you see here, private information leaks from a trusted source.  A person tells someone they trust, like my Mom to Bitch's mom and then stories get passed along and shared, but because people are embarrassed to share their truth in public here, there is no control over what gets out.

Here is an example of a real exchange down South that I heard over the weekend:

Crush's mom when seeing an old friend: "How is Dean?  Is he enjoying life as a newlywed?"

Old Friend: "Darling...didn't you hear?  He is already getting divorced!  Love is a complicated thing.  But, there were no babies yet, so he will be okay.  He learned a lot.  Does Ready and Fading have a single sister?"

If this was in my neighborhood, this is how it would have likely gone:

My Mom when seeing an old friend: "How is Dean?  Is he enjoying life as a newlywed?"

Old Friend: "Of course (even if the divorce proceeding were already occurring)!  He is so happy and we are so happy and we are just praying for grand babies.  How are you?  How are things?  How are the girls? (SUBJECT CHANGE)."

Then my Mom would find out a few weeks later than Dean was getting divorced and her feelings would be hurt that her old friend didn't tell her, but she would be forced to understand that the lie was to "save face" and done in "protection."

Aren't you all confused?

I am!!!

So, to sum this all up.....when I moved home less than 2 years ago, I didn't realize how much pain and emotional distress coming home to a place with the people I avoided for over 12 years would bother me.  I thought that I would be safe.  I thought people would understand the distress I was enduring.  No one did.  No one cared.  I didn't want sympathy, I wanted understanding.  I hide out because it is easier for me than it is to face the reality that my life is not what other people here think it should be.  I am okay with this.  I am weak here and I know it.  It is an issue that I am trying to work through in therapy and something I have been dealing with for 2/3s of my life.  It ain't pretty, but it is mine.

I am excited to start over and to be given the opportunity to wipe my slate clean.  To be the honest, open, free person I have always wanted to be in a place that accepts this type of behavior.

You see, down South, "crazy people" are simply "characters" and everyone loves a character!

The people here, are not privy to my party.

Do-Over

Remember when you were little and there were do-overs in life?  If you knocked the ball out of bounds in 4 square, or messed up the steps to your dance routine, or sang the wrong words to your made up song...you could just do it over?

Well, my life is getting a do-over.  I am getting to reset it in 4 months and it feels so good.

Plans have changed.  Crush and I will be moving to his hometown and not the city he lives in next fall and I am super excited.  This makes next year a bit easier because transitions are generally hard for me.  Instead of moving to the city for a year, to only move to the country (for me country, it's a town of about 45,000) once we are married; we decided to move to the country after we get engaged and still live in separate residences (I will not technically live with him before marriage after the Awful mess) while we work on fixing up a family home there that we plan to live in (thank you Crush's family and Crush!!!!!) post marriage.  I will get a job there (there are a few options I am entertaining) and then I won't have to quit something after just a year.

I can't complain.  I am blessed.  I am lucky.  I am getting my man and a home to call my own all in the same year.  Words will never be able to express my gratitude.  This is better than I ever dreamed my life could be and it is just the beginning.

I have never felt at home where I live.  My anxiety is sky high.  Lately, I wake up and count the days until my new life begins.  I have been telling my mom that I will be reborn the day I leave this city and I will never look back.  She agrees.  As soon as my father's mother passes (she is 95 and lives in assisted living), my folks are planning to move out to be closer to Sissy and me.  My parents are New Yorkers, they have never felt right living in the Midwest either.  They hate the values and most people (they do have some great friends) and it made growing up here hard because my parents generally felt like everyone was a sheep following the herd of stupidity.

Sissy told me the other day that she loves being able to just go to the grocery store, the bank, the gym, and out to dinner without worrying about her weight, her clothes, or defending her life story.  Like me, she HATED high school and most people here and aside from her wedding day (which was here and mine will be, too, because it is easiest for my family and I have connections), she never had her best days living here.  I can say the same.

In September, I get to be the me I dreamed.  I get to live in a town that my boyfriend's ancestors were an integral part of developing.  I get to work on updating a home that my boyfriend's family designed and built many years ago.  I get to be a part of small southern history.  I will join the synagogue that my boyfriend's great-grandfather helped commission.  I will leave the past behind.

I will never have to worry about seeing Awful.  I will never have to worry about seeing clients that fired me or were unkind to me.  I will never have to worry about not being pretty, skinny, rich, or smart enough.  I will just get to be me.

I am not running away, but I am walking briskly with my head held high.  I never wanted to be here after college anyway.  I just love my family too much to be far from them.  I needed to be close to my folks and my beloved grandfather (who is now deceased and his widow is 95 grandmother) and Sissy (even though were weren't close at the time) after school.  I knew if I didn't come home, I would miss them too much and now life is allowing us to all be different places that we like better and not too far away from one another.

Crush and I are even designing a bedroom for my folks in our new home, so they can come and visit whenever they want....If my parents want to someday live with us full-time, they are more than welcome to!  It would be the least I could do to thank them for getting me back on my feet after I was so broken 18 months ago and giving me the strength and courage I needed to be my best self.  They have been my best friends and confidants while I dealt with the end of my old life (Awful), the transition (ending soon), and the beginning of my dreams (life with Crush down South).

I never believed in the happiness or love I am experiencing.  I didn't think I would be capable of finding what I needed.

I just didn't think it was in the cards for me.

I don't know how to express that enough.

I am not the person that brags that life is easy, that I can eat what I want, that I have infinite money.

I have dealt with verbal and physical abuse, a food addiction, crippling depression and anxiety, hiding from my problems with excessive alcohol, and being a giver giver giver without ever being a taker. I have been stomped on, mocked, and belittled for just trying to be kind, sincere, and good.  I have psoriasis, I have stretch marks, and I have cellulite.  I hate drinking water (I gag it down), not eating pizza is a daily battle for me, and I get insecure about my body on an hourly basis.

I am a person.

MY SHIT STINKS, TOO.

 MY LIFE SUCKED for a long time.  I had to move back in with my parents (people never seem to let me forget this, so I own it).

I know LOSER has been associated with my name all too often in the last few years.  Awful told me specifically..."people think you are such a loser for moving back home, it embarrasses me that I ever dated someone who can't stand on her own 2 feet."

But the joke is on him and ALL of the people who laughed because I didn't go into debt to save face and now I met my soul mate.

Do-overs are even better at almost 32 than they were at 7.

Now I appreciate that a do-over is something that cannot just be given, it is something that you actually have to work hard for.

Southern Comfort

This morning, I was at the grocery store shopping for a few last minute items for the weekend.  A store clerk with special needs was stocking the shelves and saying hello and trying to give high fives to all of the patrons coming down aisle 9.  I gave him a big hello and handshake. He then followed me down the aisle and starting commenting about all the things in my cart, telling me if he liked them or not.

I realized that out of all of the busy customers rushing around the store, I was the only person thus far who acknowledged him.  Everyone else just pretended he wasn't there when he said hello.  Some even went out of their way to avoid him.  Just as I was putting my Nature's Valley granola bars in the cart, a beautiful blond lady came down the aisle in her workout clothes with a cart full of snack foods.....I immediately thought...mom of teenage boys.  The young store clerk gave her a high five and she stopped and asked him how he was and told him he was doing a great job and that he should enjoy the sunshine.  He told her that he wanted to go get ice cream later and she said it was the perfect day.  They both agreed that mint chocolate chip was their favorite flavor.

As she spoke, I noticed her thick southern drawl and I had to chat with her.  I asked her where she was from thinking Texas.  "Born in Kentucky, darlin'.  Lived there until 6 years ago and then Atlanta and now here....I hate it.  I know you all have this city pride, but I am itching to get out of here.  2 more to get off to college and thankfully all the boys (I was right!) are choosing southern schools and then my husband and I are heading back down.  This place is breaking me.  No one is kind, nice, or real. No one can slow down and say hello to a man who needs a little encouragement. I need me some sweet tea and some sweet hearts."

I told her I was moving south in September for love and a better life and she gave me a hug.  Told me the little city I will call home is her favorite city in the south.  Asked me for my number, just in case she ever came down.

As we exchanged niceties about our weekends, she looked me in the eye and told me, "Honey, you have a southern heart. I feel it.  Do you realize that you and me, we are the only people who spoke to the young man stocking the shelves?  Just us.  What is wrong with this world?  We should be building up and we are only breaking down.  You just made my day, don't you forget it.  Someone raised you right.  I see good in you.  Best of luck and tell your man, he got a good one with you, honey."  She then gave me a big hug and went on with her day.

So, she noticed me, just as I noticed her.

As she walked away, I smiled and my eyes welled up with tears (I am such a softie these days!).  The world keeps giving me signs, now that I am ready to receive them.

And she is right, there is nothing better than sweet tea and sweet hearts.

The store clerk saw my tears and told me "DON'T CRY!" and I let him know that they were just happy tears and he giggled.  "HAPPY TEARS!" and continued doing his job with his sweet heart.

Question Me

Last night, Crush and I asked each other the 276 questions you are "supposed" to ask your significant other before you get married.

It was SUPER fun because I love talking, so answering 276 questions about myself....SCORE!

The truth is this....I already knew ALL of his answers.  He knew most of mine.  We really don't have any secrets.  In our case, we have been forced to be super open because of the long distance.  We talk at least 1 hour a day and in the beginning....5 hours or more the first couple of months...neither of us ever slept.

We both know that we need all the facts because a move for me is not a small compromise (even though I CANNOT wait to get out of the shity city).

As I have mentioned, Crush was engaged before.  His ex-fiance and he had trouble communicating and went to premarital counseling in a effort to save their relationship.  They were given this list of questions to discuss and couldn't get through it without multiple fights, tears, and insults.  If Awful and I were given the list.....OY!  I would have had to throw something at him, I am sure of this.  And since Awful was always very lawyerly and abstract with his answers....which frustrated me to the core....I would have had to throw something heavy at him......encyclopedias maybe.....

As my Crush's parents and mine and are preparing to meet in a few short weeks, we both thought this exercise was very appropriate to make sure we know all of our answers if we are put on the spot.  Both of our sets of parents like to sometimes ask "innocent" questions that are really very direct...."what are your plans for work?" is really code for "how long do you plan to live in the city before you move to the small town and give me grandchildren?"  We know this.

As for the questions, I advise you all....single, dating, engaged, or married, to do it.  Answer your own questions.  It really helped me get to know myself even better and offered an opportunity for self analysis.  In my case, Crush and I are very different when it comes to past life experiences and personality (I am an extrovert for the most part and he is an introvert for the most part), but shockingly similar in most other areas: politics, religion, family, money, health, sex, etc.

HAPPY FRIDAY!

R & F

You Gotta Have Faith and Other Self Declarations of Pretty Okayness

Have faith in yourself.  Religious preferences aside.

Like Kim Zolciak (I am sure other people said it first) crooned in the Real Housewives of Atlanta opening credits, "I asked, I believed, and now I received." So true.

I know this self righteous BS may sometimes get old.  I know.  I am sorry.  I think at times in the past, I would have even annoyed myself.  I get it.  I can only say this: if there is even one person I am giving hope to, for whatever reason, then that is why I share and over-share and expose all of my secrets and flaws. I found my way out of darkness, it sucked, but I did, so if I did, anyone can.  Trust me.  And I am still totally messed up in many ways and have good and bad days.  Now, I just own my reality.

Things that would have broken me last year or even a few months ago....I am letting it roll off my back.  I am amazing myself, actually.  I don't get stuck on things like I used to.  I don't hold grudges.  I allow myself to treat every situation separately.  To process it and move on.  This blog is helping a lot.

While chatting with Smartie Best Friend yesterday, I vented about another work situation trending in my life and she offered the best advice, "Just get through it.  Just do the best you can.  Wrap things up and move on.  This is like the last semester of high school.  You just have to get through it and then you never have to look back." Amen.

Clients are unhappy with me.  Why?  Because I want to make money, I want to establish some control over my hours, and mostly, because I don't live in fear of being fired.  Once it happens, you know that it isn't so bad.  Life goes on, so it has helped me reestablish my brand, my strengths, and my weaknesses.  I have a backbone now.  When some of the currently disgruntled clients hired me last year, I didn't....I was the biggest scaredy cat wimp (I wanted to say pussy, but I am practicing how to be a proper southern lady).  I was a broken mess looking for approval, acceptance, and something to do.  Seriously, my anxiety would often keep me up for DAYS so I worked and binge ate to occupy my time (sexy times!).  All the clients I parted with....I felt doubt about initially, even before a contract was signed.  I thought of working with difficult people with unrealistic expectations and bad manners as a challenge....WHAT WAS WRONG WITH ME?  THERE WAS NOTHING IN IT FOR ME!  Well,  I wanted to be giving and kind.  I wanted to spread my goodness and share my gifts.  I needed to be heard.  I wanted to fix these people.

And up until Crush, this is how I treated every facet of my life: work, friends, love........

SIDENOTE: All of a sudden I realized (best friends who met him have shed light on this, too)....that I am dating my dad.  My dad is awesome, but he annoys me because he says stupid jokes, is clumsy, and isn't great at a party......  There is no better husband, father, grandfather, or friend out there, though.  My dad is ONE OF A KIND. Generous, loyal, dependable, and honest.  JUST LIKE CRUSH.  Yes, Crush is slob, who once almost killed me while I was driving (the seat debacle) trying to help me.  But, he has a heart of gold, just like my daddy! If Crush treats me half as well as my dad treated my mom, Sissy, and me.....well, shucks, I AM LUCKY!  I have decided to be less critical of him and just enjoy his goodness which is pure and sweet like tupelo honey (so many song references in today's post....George Michael...Van Morrison).

Back to the life rant:

I didn't listen to my inner voice.  My instincts...I went against myself and I lost out and in some ways, compromised my reputation in this city, perhaps......

From failure comes success.  I know this.

I am learning.

For more than a decade of my life, I think I was insane.  I was living an insane life.  I was making the SAME mistakes OVER and OVER and not learning.  I was using alcohol, drugs, and my own fear of reality to cloud my actions, to validate all of the shitty things I kept doing CONSTANTLY.

BROKEN.

I spun my wheels.  I over-promised and under-delivered and I made myself fat, miserable, and sad with my own self loathing.

I feel like I need to declare that Crush is awesome, but even if I was single I would be okay.  I know when I started this blog I wanted to be saved by a man (and much of this post is coming true....which kind of FREAKS ME OUT!).  I was so conflicted.  But, in a crazy way, I saved myself without even realizing it.  I found my faith in myself and I let it guide me, perhaps right to Crush because I was ready.  Life would suck without Crush. SUCK.  It would break me, he is my other half...but......not forever.  I am my own biggest fan.  I may be fat, but I just want to love myself up right now because I know that I have a heart.  My insides are good.  I would give someone my last cent and the coat off my back.  Can everyone say that?

My dad told me he couldn't wait for me to get to Phase 2.  He determines relationships like this because he is such a geeky scientist (for real)..

Phase 1: Dating

Phase 2: Engagement

Phase 3: Marriage

Phase 4: Kids

I had to tell him.....let's just wait.  I am enjoying where I am right now at this very moment.  This is my swan song with myself and don't rush me into the next phase to cross it off your list.  He is just excited because as he says, "I am back to the real me and he missed her."

Made me cry.

Teenage Turmoil

Today, I had many things planned.  I am currently checking my list off.  All of the months of tomorrow are here.  There are no more tomorrows.....it is time to get things done once and for all!

I was on my way to the library to work (in order to make the weight loss stick, I have to change my spaces and working at cafes is no longer an option for me as I was using cookies as bribes to myself to finish tasks....) when I received a call from my favorite teenager, Emma, asking me to join her for lunch.  Emma and I have a special bond.  I babysat her from the time she was born.  I spent some vacations and summers with her family.  We are 15 years apart in age, but we are super similar.  We like the same music, the same food, the same clothes, the same movie stars, and we are both tall and statuesque women.  We have both been teased many times for being big (tall ) and fat (over a size 8 in my community), she has been called a Sasquatch, where I was called an ogre.

SIDENOTE: If I looked like her in a bikini, I would never wear clothes.  Teenagers are fools.  Skinny is great, but the reality is that it is not the only acceptable body type out there.

Today, Emma had a half day from school.  Today, she was ditched by a group of her "friends" that she was supposed to go to lunch with.

When she called me, I could hear the hurt in her voice.  I know this very feeling.  The way your heart can ache.  The burn you get in your throat trying to hold back the tears and smile through it.  The emptiness and anxiety that clouds your brain.  I didn't hesitate for a moment.  "Let's meet for lunch, anywhere you want, my treat."

As she sobbed into her burrito, I held her hand and told her all the things I WISH someone would have said to me.  I shared, "It is only high school, none of this matters, seriously.  Study and focus on you and college is all about starting over.  Girls are mean.  This town is tough.  Mean girls grow into mean ladies and you are better than this.  Be yourself and be true to your heart.  If someone hurts you, then cross them off your list.  Be kind to them, but don't trust them.  There is more to life than this silly suburb.  Grades first and then off to college being the girl you want to be."

When I moved back home with my folks a year and a half ago, my anxiety spiraled out of control.  All of my best laid plans didn't exist anymore and I was lonely, embarrassed, and really uncomfortable.  I hated high school.  I had left this suburb at 18 years old and besides 6 weeks that I lived at home in between finishing college and starting my first real job, I never lived in the town I spent the later part of my childhood.  Because I HATED it.  Because I HATED the people.  Because being home meant being reminded of the hurt and despair I felt in high school.

I have been hiding out for 18 months.  That was hard to admit, but it is the truth. I don't go places I think I may see anyone from my past because I don't want to face it.  I am almost ready to share one of my lowest moments to date regarding an absolute explosion of work and life that happened in September, but I am still processing it.  I am still aching from it.  It will be coming soon......I promise.

BUT, the rainbow in this (shit) storm of breaking up with Awful AND moving home was reconnecting with Emma.  She was starting her sophomore year of high school when I moved back and she was going through lots of the same angst I had lived through at the very same high school.  We started bonding over shared experiences and the advice I could give at age 30 was more relevant to her than anything her parents were sharing, even if it was mostly the same.  Emma started helping me with my work, excelling at school, and last night was even inducted into The National Honors Society.  Her parents tell me I gave her this confidence and I believe it.  Her life turned around when I came home.  I can't think of a better compliment and I do think our reconnection was meant to be.

Being close to Emma allows me to press the reset button a bit.  To live vicariously through a young gal who may have ended up in a pit of self doubt, self hate, and low self esteem like me, but didn't.  She picked right when I chose left at that fork in the road and she is making better decisions at 17 than I ever did.  She has helped me put closure on high school.  On the 4 years of my life I wish I could do over.  On the time that I picked popularity over everything else.....and it only got me right back home at age 30 with only 1 real friend from high school.

Over the weekend, Crush was looking through old photos and stumbled upon a few of my high school friends. Even though I explained previously, that high school wasn't my favorite time,  he was curious about them, wanted to know what they were up to, and wasn't taking the hint that I didn't want to talk about it.  After continuing to ask me several questions about them, I finally snapped, "I have no idea, they are all crazy bitches...."  Indeed, by my reaction, I was the only crazy bitch.

But,  there is a part of me that is still a bit angry.  I was such a cool person then.  I was also innocent.  I had no idea of my potential and I closed a few doors in the process because I didn't believe in myself.  Because I listened and took very seriously the critiques thrown my way: fat, stupid, annoying, and ugly.  I even believed I was a slut and a possible lesbian because the girls in my grade told me I was even though I didn't have any real sexual experiences until after high school and never thought of girls as anything, but friends.

The things I was accused of, they weren't true and the way I felt I had to act, that wasn't me.  

As I munched on my salad today, I told Emma a piece of advice that I hope stays with her:

"Nothing now really matters unless you let it.  I let people hurt me, I allowed myself to be broken by girls I never really respected.  I wasted so many years of my life being angry.  Please do what you can to not end up like me, to not end up hateful of things that happened half a lifetime ago.  If you don't like the game, don't play it.  In 1 year (she is graduating early), none of this matters, so in the meantime, become yourself.  Crack your shell open and be the person your truly are inside."

I have a feeling that she will listen.

Now, I have to follow my own advice.

I have to close these doors and lock them and not take any past issues with me down South.

I deserve better, just like Emma.

Anger Management, Karma Is A Bitch & Lessons Learned

Hi out there in Blogland!  Crush was here for a quick weekend and it was bittersweet as always. Easy to say hello and hard to say goodbye.

 I love my man, but I enjoy him a million times more not in my current city as I find it hard to cool my jets (I think I just may have quoted Bart Simpson....?!?) when I am here.

Crush's next big real trip will be Memorial Day, but this was a little one that was half work/half play.  He got to attend a first bday party, meet my cousins, see my Grandmartyr (grandmother), and attend a community center symphonic band concert geared for seniors at a local high school that my dad REALLY wanted to go to because some of his buddies (he just retired and joined a men's group where he is the youngest member by 10+ years) were performing.  

As always Crush was a super good sport.  The baseball game I bought us tickets for?  Canceled because of the weather.  The baseball tour I bought us tickets for?  Canceled because of the weather.  The community center concert?  NOT canceled because of the weather.  My gent didn't complain.  Because as he says, "let's not fret over what we cannot control..."  As a control FREAK, I need to remember this sometimes (ALL of the time, actually) and this weekend taught me many lessons which I will get to down below. 

Where I live in the Midwest experienced MAJOR flooding last week/this weekend.  MAJOR.  So bad, that many main highways were closed and traffic was nightmarish.  I mean a 3 Xanax situation.  But, I couldn't take that many because I was driving.  On Friday night, a VERY scary situation happened while I was driving with Crush (country boys don't drive well in the big city) to dinner......we were victims of road rage in the middle of gridlock traffic.  Long story short, a woman behind was experiencing a fit of roadrage directed at the back of my car.  She was screaming, flailing, cursing, and motioning for me to speed up, but there was NO WHERE TO GO.  I knew to just ignore her from all the Reader's Digest articles I have read regarding the subject while I wait in the doctor's office.  

Crush was TERRIFIED as I would have been too, if I wasn't immune to people acting all crazy and whatnot in the VERY corrupt city I live in and told him that I feared that something bad may happen, so let's try to get her plates just in case.....that very second, she taps the back of my car with her car in an effort to push me out of her way.  My car was in park, so I didn't hit the car in front of me and luckily, she had no where to go to get momentum to rail into me.  No damage was done to my car and I would take a few scratches over being hurt.  Seconds later, she aggressively swerved onto the shoulder (it was a real tight spot of the road) opened up her window and continued raging about.  She made the universal symbol for a gun with her hands.  Crush hid under his seat practically and I am terrible at remembering numbers, so I didn't get her license plate, but luckily she drove away on the shoulder of the road and we didn't see her again.  I understood her frustration.  The roads were clogged up the worst I had ever seen them....but the rage, no excuse.  Control yourself.

Then, on Saturday, at the concert, we were all enjoying some music and in the middle, my mother whispered to me for a tissue.  I got her one and thought nothing of it.  But, the woman in front of us sure did.  Between songs, she turned around and said, "You two gossipers need to shut the f*uk up!  My daughter is playing the clarinet tonight and I can't think straight because of your chatting and rustling.  You are animals and should be ashamed of yourself.  Go to hell you goddamn bitches!"  Here is the best part....she was doing a crossword puzzle during the ENTIRE concert.  She literally brought in a newspaper and a pen and a dictionary and was sitting there rustling her own papers.  For a moment, I thought we may have been on Candid Camera the entire thing seemed so silly.  And no, she wasn't a senior, she was perhaps 50ish and EVERYONE around us was talking including several little ones that were accompanied by their grandparents.  This wasn't the New York Symphony either, tickets were $5.00........OY.  It took ALL of my self control not to whomp her.  I had visions of tearing up her puzzle and beating her over the head with her pocket dictionary....but, I didn't.  Instead I cried silently to myself (FOR REAL) about WTF is wrong with people these days and made Crush switch seats with me for the second act, so I didn't have to be behind her.  My mom did the classy thing and apologized for blowing her nose and wished the lady a successful crossword puzzle as only my mom can and then said, "the answer for 11 Down is CONTROL YOURSELF." Mom - 1.  Cross Word Lady - 0. 

All of last night, I was up tossing and turning.  Besides the anger,  which I have been guilty of in the past, too,  I was taught MANY lessons this weekend:

1.  I once made fun of Crush for pooping in a public restroom because his stomach was upset.  I have this weird thing with pooping in public places....well, at lunch with my folks on Friday....I got massive not fun tummy issues and was in the bathroom for 1 hour at a restaurant.  

2.  I give Crush a hard time for spilling on himself when he eats.  At dinner on Saturday, half a bowl of soup ended up in my lap.

3.  I couldn't believe that Crush lost his car last week...I lost mine on Friday in a parking garage and thought it was in a much different spot than it was.  It took me 45 minutes to find. 

4.  Crush loses everything.  It makes me want to explode.  I lost my favorite lipstick and cried on Saturday morning.  I found it in my jacket pocket a few hours later. 

5.  I sometimes call Crush antisocial and make fun of his social skills...In public, I often find him to be awkward, but I think this may come from dating me, a real chatterbox...it is hard to get a word in when I feel like yapping.  I wished for someone not obsessed with his friends because Awful LIVED only for his friends' approval, so I wanted this kind of man and still do, but I can be a mean bitch.  Crush attended 3 hard social situations with me this weekends: parents dinner, bday party for my friend's baby, and an extended family dinner and he did AWESOME.  Held his own, told stories, laughed, and was perfectly appropriate.  I felt like a real blockhead ever doubting him. 

I AM AN ASSHOLE.  Yes, sometimes I am.  But, as Smartie Best Friend once told me, "Yes, you are an asshole once in a while, but you do realize your mistakes and learn from them and that is a good trait."

In the wake of the SO MUCH tragedy around the world.....it is time for everyone, including ME, to slow their roll, take a deep breath, and realize how truly blessed life can be. Learn lessons, control yourself, and realize that few things are really worth fighting over.

And if all else fails, do like me and in the midst of a big personal meltdown, listen or hum the words to "What a Wonderful World".......it will bring you a moment of personal peace, I promise.

And of course, if all all all all and other else fails....take a chill pill.  

Where There Is A Will, There Is A Weigh

Guess what?

WW is going well.

I have been on point and feeling satisfied since Saturday.  It is only 4 days on program, but it is progress.  I am seeing a bit of the light at the end of the tunnel.  One day at a time of course.

Weird, but I have been following WeightWatchers according to their guidelines and it is easier than I thought it would be.  I know, I know....the stupidity in the above sentence even shocks me and I wrote it!  I am getting in the recommended amounts of water, dairy, fruits and veggies, healthy oils, and even my multivitamin.  I have been feeling satisfied.

As I was chopping melon this morning, it got me thinking that I am happy, empowered, and in control when I eat "on point" and yet I fight it.  The last 4 days, I have been super productive and I know my diet and mindset (I will do this!) is spilling over positively into all aspects of my life.

For years, I padded myself with extra weight to protect myself.  From men and mostly, from my own emotions.  And then I met the man who completes me when I was heavy for me.  When my skin had bad psoriasis flares from stress, weight gain, and self doubt.  Yet, I never feel self conscious with Crush.  I feel good all the time about my body when I am around him...I get proudly naked, I let him keep on the lights, I wear lingerie.  He makes me feel gorgeous.

So....this weight loss journey is really for me.  Not for Crush.  Not for the boys that called me Ogre when I was in 7th grade.  Not for guy in college who I thought was my friend who called me a hippo.  Not for the people on the bus or at my work who asked me when I was due (one of the reasons why I got a tummy tuck).  Not for Awful who told me I was becoming a fat girl and dressing like one. This is for me.  ALL ME.

I want to lose the weight.  To feel free, open, vulnerable....to experience my life to the fullest.  I don't want to gain again because I am content, bored, sad, or depressed.  No more self-sabotaging.  I want to see, taste, and feel it all...without the layer of protection.  Without the excuse that my life isn't what it could be simply because I am overweight.  Being fat has always been the excuse I use when someone doesn't like me, when I am not invited somewhere, when I don't get what I think I deserve....it's flawed reasoning and it needs to go.

One new improvement I am starting is that I not going to get on the scale everyday.  Why?  Because Monday is my weigh-in day at WeightWatchers and very often it takes an entire week to see a change on the scale.  When I get on the scale 3 times a day and I don't see a difference, I give up.  It is silly, but it makes me feel bad and since I need to help myself succeed, scale gets stepped on only on Mondays.

Happy Hump Day and XXX,

Ready & Fading

Blasting Through The Past

This past Sunday, I did something I have been avoiding for 18 months......I went through my junk in my parents' basement.

It sounds minor, but it wasn't.

On October 31, 2011, when I moved out of Awful's, I could barely function.  I knew moving out would save my life and give me a second chance at my best self, but I didn't know how to get here, to where I am right now (minus the weight, which needs to come off)......because I had no plan other than to survive.

Bless my parents, both of them.  They saved me.  They helped me move, they brought me my favorite foods right to my bed (aka my habitat for 4 weeks), and they supported me.  When I needed them.  When I couldn't burden my friends who were dealing with major life changes themselves: being a newlywed, becoming mommies, moving, etc....

It was perfect timing for such a life catastrophe for me....because my parents were there to catch me.  How lucky I am.

When I moved home, ALL of my stuff went right into the basement.  Out of sight, out of mind.  Work stuff from my former job that I quit after 7 years to pursue my own business, photos of Awful, dating self help books.....relics from my past.  Things.....many things....possessions that I couldn't face until now.

I went down to the basement with a single objective in mind, to go through 1 box.  I went through all of them.  I threw out 3 GIANT garbage bags and 2 HUGE boxes of junk.  I sorted through what I wanted to keep at the P's house and what I wanted to bring with me down South.  I won't be bringing a ton, but I need to being some things to make it feel like home, my photos and books, specifically.  I do plan to move into a furnished apartment this fall as I gave away or sold all of my furniture already and Crush and I will be moving after next year to his home town.....no point buying all new furniture to throw it out again...we plan to buy our real life stuff together as a married couple when we move to our permanent home.

After my stuff purge, I felt a wave of relief.  I was letting go of the past with each item I tossed in the trash.

It is funny that Sunday was the day that I could face it.  Everyday since I have been home, I have thought about the dreaded PILE of stuff and deemed tomorrow would be the day to tackle it.  Day after day after day.  Sunday, for whatever reason, I was ready.  I could handle it and I did.  Without a tear, or a panic attack, or even a Xanax come to think of it.  It was Me versus Stuff and I won.  WHOOT!

I feel like this is symbolic of many things.  Da da dah......yes, my stalled weight loss.  You see, I have also been avoiding the basement because I didn't want to see my skinny photos and then the photos of me getting progressively fatter while I dated Awful.  You can see it in my eyes, how disconnected I am in the photos I share with him.  Instead of feeling upset when I viewed the photos (I literally gagged that I ever shared a bed with him as mean as that sounds), I felt relieved.  I escaped by the skin of my teeth.  Suddenly, I felt guilty that I was with him at all.  Looking at those photos...oy, I don't think we ever really loved each other at all.  Seriously.  I look the worst I ever looked with him.  Strained.  Uncomfortable.  A mile away from my body and soul.

Love makes you beautiful and hate makes you look sad, terrible, and in my case.....very very very bloated.

I feel so much lighter now even if the scale disagrees at this moment.

September here I come!

Sleeping Beauty

Another post on the iPad....please excuse the typos......

So, I have made a huge personal improvement in the last few weeks, sleep!

I am feeling a lot better, less hungry, and more positive. Who knew sleep could cure so many of my evils?.....well, I kinda did, but I have been the worst sleeper since high school. If I wasn't depressed or wasted, I wasn't sleeping.

Last year I went back on my antidepressants and anti-anxiety meds. I needed to.....it was too much to even get out of bed or shower.  In addition, I was prescribed some meds for my ADHD.....something I was formally diagnosed with in college and I had never taken anything for it.....

I love stimulants. I love feeling up, I love feeling like I can accomplish everything, I love the chatty surreal rave like sensation I get and mostly.....oy........truth here.....I love that I dont feel like i have to eat or that i am hungry at all when I am on them.

My ADHD medicine was a stimulant and I fear I was becoming dependent on them....aka totally addicted.  The moment of truth hit me when I couldn't get my prescription refilled and I freaked out. Like had a mini panic attack and temper tantrum at the neighborhood pharmacy. It wasnt a good look.

The stimulants make you feel like no task is too boing, like no to do list is of long, like the email I deal with on a daily basis can be completed in seconds. I was Superwoman, until I wasn't.

Coming down is hard. Brutal. Headache, dry mouth, binge eating carbs....insomnia and then sleeping for 30 hours straight. My magic pills were becoming less amazing. The easy fill I always crave and seek, wasn't going to happen with ADHD medicine either.....and back to square one.

Since, I retuned from down south, I decided to retrain my sleep pattern. Much like how Sissy had to train Big Baby to sleep.  I gave myself a bedtime, I have established a nightly routine, and I have been sleeping the dark.....confronting one of my fears.

I look and feel much better.

I am beginning to think, like coconut oil, sleep is multi purpose, too! I am nicer, more patient, and generally excited about life with my zzzzzzz's.

I miss my stimulants, but I missed sleep more.

Weight Updates and Other Food Blunders

Please don't judge the even more typos than normal on this post, I'm typing it from my iPad between appointments.

So, the eating these days has been out of control. Emotional. Yearning. Obsessing. Not fun.

This results in utter self loathing. Not wanting to get out of bed. Not wanting to be accountable for plans. Not wanting to take a photo. Hiding from life. Food is a real addiction. It makes me do things I wish I didn't do.

I am getting back to basics with my diet.  The first step is no more dieting and no more scale.

Both turn into obsessive competitions for me. Little pictures, when I need to be focusing on my big one.....the food abuse that comes with emotional eating.

First step for me is simply retraining my hunger cues.  Am I eating because I am hungry? 90 percent of the time I am not.  I am reaching for food for distraction, for comfort, for companionship....in the past I used sex, cigarettes, drugs, and alcohol to ease the same feelings and now food is my last addiction to confront head on.

I haven't actually gained weight. A few pounds of vacation last week, but nothing major.  The thing is that I feel the tidal wave of a binge brewing. I feel the self hatred, depression, and lack of excitement that often accompanies a binge and I don't want to do it this time. I want to face it. I want to feel the pain that needs to escape from me. I need to stop using food as my ban-aid and let my wounds heal naturally. It is time.

This all being said, I will let you all know about the food issues, but I'm putting the scale away for a bit and quitting the calorie counting for weight loss (just journaling and counting for a reference point for my hunger cues) and I am going to work this out. Inside out, top to bottom, tears and self hatred to come. I am ready. For many reasons. But, mostly because who I am to judge Crush for his shortcomings and stupid what he may dos when I am addicted to food.

Always Right Bestie read yesterday's post and offered me great insight with my recent struggles. The message was that we all have something to work on. Crush with his social skills a bit and thinking before he acts and me......well, food is just the tip of the iceberg. I never said I wasn't a hypocrite......

Happy Hump Day!

Working Towards to New Habits

It takes me a long time to get into routines and a short time to get out of them.....

Lately I am working towards fulfilling a few simple routines and I am doing pretty okay at them.  I am quite pleased.  When I am focused, I can be really on point, but I can't do anything unless my heart is in it and my heart is really into self improvement these days.

A fews routines I am currently sticking to:

1.  I am still gluten-free for the most part.  I would say 85 percent of the time.  I hope to continue to do this for as long as I can.  It would be awesome to go a week without a wheat treat, but sometimes the force is too strong and I accept defeat.  I am working on being less all or nothing, so if a cookie meets my lips and I really want it....I become Cookie Monster.

2.  I have been going to the gym 5 times a week.  This is good for me.  Again, not the old me, who either went to the gym EVERY SINGLE DAY or NEVER.  I have mixed it up a bit and I am doing all types of classes: spinning, bar method, muscle, and yoga.  Boy, it feels good and I am getting fantastic results for me because I am working out muscle groups that have been neglected for far to long.  This is because I like the easy way out, so I just did spin class all the time because I like it.

3.  Sleeping with the lights off.  Oy.  Embarrassing time.  I am SUPER afraid of the dark.  I know I have mentioned this briefly before....but, I LIVE WITH MY PARENTS and I still cannot turn the light off.  I am 31.  Laugh at me.  I can take it.  I have a fear of being attacked in my sleep.  Some of this has to do with the fact that I lived in a haunted (NO JOKE and I will post about it soon) room in college and some of this has to do with the fact that I was once home alone in an apartment I once lived in while a homeless man was trying to break in and I saw him and he saw me (he was trying to break in through a sliding glass door) and it didn't deter him, he appeared to me on drugs...what did deter him was my neighbor thankfully coming up the back stairs with laundry from the laundry room out back and yelling at him and calling 911.  I will always be grateful of that neighbor.  In crisis situations I freeze like a statue.  It makes me not trust myself.  Good news, I have slept 5 full nights in the dark.  When I am with Crush, I have no problem with the dark.  It is just when I am sleeping alone.

4.  Washing my face, brushing my teeth, taking out my contacts.  I know.  I am gross.  Until recently, I could sleep in full makeup and go to the gym and workout in it and not get a single zit.  Those days are sadly over.  My skin has become super sensitive and I NEED to do my nightly rituals if I want clear skin, white teeth, and vision.  I am often okay about this, but when I get depressed (and I was for a while there with the firings), my hygiene sadly goes out the window...sorry Crush!

5.  Last but not least, I am tracking my calories again.  Birds are singing.  I seriously think I have had nothing to eat on days when I am pulling in a cool 3,000 calories.  It is clear to me that I need to track to stay in reality with the food and the days I do are always better than the days I don't.  A milkshake is not 10 calories just because I tell myself it is in my mind.....

XXXXX,

R&F