Save Myself

Why are holidays so dang stressful? There’s really no need for it. And so many times, it is all undue stress that is caused by other people who are stressing over nothing.

I understand how people become more depressed during the holidays. The reasons vary from person to person.

For me, it’s basically because I miss my mom. My side of the family is super small. Basically just my brother and I. His wife comes from a large family as does my husband. So when it comes to planning parties and holidays, my sister-in-law’s family takes priority for them. While my husband’s family seems to take priority for us.

For Christmas, though, the only day my family is really occupied is Christmas Eve. That’s when my husband’s family does our get together with the grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and now the next round of cousins.

My brother’s family does their large get together on Christmas day. But every year it is always so hard to find a date for us to all get together. It doesn’t matter how early I try to pin down a date with them, they always say they have to wait to see when they will get together with her dad’s family or their friends or whatnot.

My theory is that this has a lot to do with why I miss my mom so much more at this time of year. Sometimes I want to feel like someone puts me first. I want to feel like I’m important to someone. I haven’t felt like that since my mom died. For the past 14 years I’ve pretty much just been existing in other people’s lives.

I know, poor me. It could be a lot worse, I know. But right now, this is my worst.

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Safety Dance

What is it about men that they think women want a knight in shining armor?

Maybe it isn’t that they actually want to be the knight, but they want credit for doing a good deed.

Let me fill you fellas in on a little secret: we don’t care.

We especially don’t care if it was something from more than a decade ago when you thought you were coming to our rescue.

When you say, “I had to really beg my friend to give you a ride to go out with us…” that doesn’t make me think more of you. That makes me feel bad about myself. I am not going to thank you profusely for begging someone to pick me up – especially when I could have just driven myself.

And when you say, “So-and-so always said you looked like you were wearing your grandma’s clothes when you wore that brown sweater…” Again, I am not thankful to you for defending my honor, I’m feeling more insecure about myself and wondering what else was said about me.

And fellas, that stuff sticks with us. I haven’t worn that sweater in about 17 years but I still think about that outfit I wore it with and question myself about it. Now. 17 years later. As a woman almost in her 40s and not a meek 23-year-old.

And it was probably 14 years later when you even told me the story about your friend not wanting to drive me. I know your friend didn’t like me, he ignored me when we saw each other at the gas station not long after that.

Even you online friends now, you don’t need to tell me that one of your friends didn’t like something I said in a post or a tweet. We aren’t married or engaged or even dating. Your friends do not need to like me and I do not need to like them. Chances are, if they don’t like me, I already know it. You don’t need to tell me how you feel like you defended my honor somehow. I am not going to be dancing a jig to show you how appreciative I am.

Unless it is something that I actually truly need to know about for some reason. Do not tell me. It will most definitely have the opposite effect on me that you are intending. It brings me down and I will not only be less confident in myself, but I will also think less of you.

Hall Of Fame

This boot camp is tough. It is definitely the hardest and longest hour of my day. I’m in the middle of my fourth week and I’m proud to say I’ve gone to every class (except two when I was out-of-town). After almost 4 weeks I should be seeing some type of results, right?

Wrong.

I lost a couple of pounds after the first two weeks. The third week I gained a pound. According to my scale at home I’m staying pretty steady this week.

I am super frustrated because I’ve gone from being basically almost sedentary to up and moving around every day. After my hour-long class I’ll go for a 2-3 mile walk with my husband (if we don’t have to go grocery shopping that is). I’ve gone from eating a bowl of ice cream before bed every night to eating a bowl of plain popcorn. I’ve dramatically cut down on the amount of carbs I eat. I’m being choosy and reading labels and trying to increase my protein intake. I am drinking water all day. I’ve even swapped out my chocolate milk at dinner for a glass of water (although perhaps I should keep the chocolate milk for the calcium?).

I know it’s still early in my journey. I knew it wouldn’t be easy and nothing would happen overnight, but I feel like I should have had some type of progress by this point. I am starting to feel defeated already.

Before you say anything about the numbers on the scale, I want you to know that I’m not foggy about this type of thing. I know that muscle weighs more than fat, so it is perfectly logical that I could just be gaining muscle and losing fat. BUT, my clothes are not fitting any better. I guess the upside is that they aren’t fitting any worse, either.

Running is still hard. Leg days just about kill me. And I can’t catch my breath to save my life. I was hoping it would be a bit easier by this point. It really doesn’t feel like it is at all. I’m still sore all the time. I wake up at 2 am because my legs are killing me from my knees down. I’d love to not have to take Tylenol or ibuprofen on a daily basis.

I just want to feel like I am going through all this and will have a positive outcome at the end. I want to feel like 12 weeks of sweat and tears will be worth it in the end and not a waste of my time and money. I want to know that I won’t fail.

I’m Fat

This is getting very tiresome. I am getting very tiresome. That’s because I’m always tired.

I keep telling myself that I’m going to get up an hour earlier in the morning and do a longer yoga practice, or lift some weights, or go out for a run. But I don’t. I can’t. I absolutely cannot get out of bed in the mornings. I’m sleeping right through my alarm. All. The. Time.

And I am too tired after a full day at work and running the kids to and from dance or track or whatever sport they have that day.

I was hoping this feeling would be temporary and a couple good night’s sleep and I’d be back on track. Unfortunately this seems to be lingering. I’m sure I just need to force my ass to move and do something and I’ll start having more energy again. But it seems almost impossible.

I have days that I really hate this state that I’m in; I have days where I say that I’m OK with where I’m at. But I always hate picking out my clothes for the day. Every pair of pants I have are just a tad too snug now. Sitting at work is just a bit uncomfortable. And it isn’t warm enough outside for me to start wearing dresses to work. I need temperatures in the 70s for that.

I mentioned once before that I read a lot of blogs on different subjects. Today I have seen so many “Transformation Tuesday” photos on various social media sites. One day I will get to post my own photo, but to get there I need to move. And as I’m sitting at my desk almost falling asleep sitting up, I am making a promise to myself to start tonight – even if I just take a walk around the block.

 

 

Bad Blood

Am I hurt? Yes.

Am I devastated? No. Not any longer.

Am I completely over everything? Almost.

Do I love you? No.

Do I hate you? No.

Am I bitter? You bet your white American ass I am.

When we talk (which is hardly ever anymore) you go on like nothing has changed and nothing is different. But our conversations now only last a few minutes at a time. We used to go on for hours and hours.

We’ve discussed our difference of opinions, at least I tried to discuss them with you. Foolishly, I believed that we could remain friends, obviously you don’t believe this to be true.

Time and distance has never been an issue for us, either. I still see you every day, and I know you see me, too.

I don’t know how you feel. You haven’t been that upfront with me. Maybe you just don’t feel anything. That’s fine if that is the case. But you should know, you left a hole in me, and it is closing.

Time is almost up.

Desire

I’ve been debating on what to write about here. I don’t think I’m going to go in the direction I planned on originally. I’m tired of writing about my emotions and crap.

I’m going to talk about the love/hate relationship with food and exercise instead. That’s a fun topic, right?

I love to eat. I hate to exercise.

Scratch that. I hate exercising alone. I’m the type of person who gets bored easily. So I can run, or use an elliptical or lift weights but if I’m by myself, forget it. My mind starts wandering. Big time. I need someone else with me to keep me on track. Or distract my mind from being bored so that I want to go do something else.

My friends all have an allergic reaction to exercise, or so I’m told. My husband and son have their bonding time when they run. They run faster than I do so they get annoyed if I want to go with them. Or they just run ahead of me and I end up running half the distance because I need to turn around sooner to get back to the car at the same time they do.

Now, I don’t need anyone else around when I eat, though. That’s quite a problem I have. I love food too much and exercise not enough. Eating is my go-to. Food is there for me when I’m feeling down or excited. Food never lets me down.

Until I start feeling a little too uncomfortable in my clothes. Then food has let me down big time. That’s when I start getting a little more physical and ramp up the activities again.

Maybe if I just sucked it up and focused on my runs I wouldn’t lose my form. If I didn’t lose my form then maybe my knees wouldn’t give me problems. If my knees didn’t give me problems I could run farther and longer. If I ran more, then maybe I could eat whatever my heart desired.

Low

Seriously WordPress, you give Doubt as a prompt today? That’s a loaded gun right there. My whole life is fucking doubt.

It seems I finally get one piece situated and then the sky falls somewhere else. Nothing is the end of the world really, just extremely frustrating. I am pretty angry right now, and the places that I used to go for comfort and to calm myself are no longer viable options. And I have a desk job with pretty much zero interruptions to distract me most of the time so I have about 7 more hours to sit and stew here.

I am trying not to be angry. I’m trying to just be indifferent and sometimes I am. But you know how things go, someone will say something or I’ll see something on TV and I’ll get pissed all over again. It happens. I’ve been through shit before and have gone through all the ranges of emotions and have lived.

What gets me most are all the unanswered questions and the uncertainty. I know I’m doing the right thing and have made the right decisions, it’s just the transition that I have to get through. Just like any life change it’s going to be hard, so of course I’m going to doubt myself. It’s only natural. So please bear with me while I go through this.

 

PS, I have always absolutely loved this song