I've spent a lot of my recent time in my own head. I always have a lot of thoughts and sometimes it can take me a while to sort through them and what they really mean to me. Sometimes I want to keep my thoughts to myself, sometimes I want to share them. This is one of the sharing times, as if that wasn't obvious enough by the fact that I'm writing my thoughts to share on my blog.
Weight has been an issue for me for a long time. For almost as long as I can remember, I've had some kind of issue with my body. I went to an elementary school that had a swimming pool to teach the kids how to swim. I clearly remember the little leopard print 2 piece, not-quite-bikini, that I got to wear for swimming class and I remember how much I loved it. I was so excited to wear it and play in the water. I remember strutting out to the pool area from the changing room, full of confidence and excitement. That is the first time I really became aware of my scars.
When I was born, my kidneys didn't function. The doctors worked hard and managed to get one up and running, but not the other. You can get by just fine with one though, so they patched me up and let mom take me home after I had recovered from the surgeries. They weren't sure I would live long. 6 months maybe. When I made it well past that, my parents were told not to let me play any contact spots for fear a flying ball may hit my working kidney and I could die.
I had 2 major surgeries in my first 2 weeks of life. In order to get to my kidneys working and save my life, they had to make large incisions along my sides, and affixed tubes into my back. This caused 4 very noticeable scars along my midsection. Long scars on my sides, and 2 smaller scars on my back, what my eventual friends would lovingly refer to as my "back buttons", because they kind of resemble a belly button. My eventual friends were kind. The kids at the pool were not.
I honestly don't remember anything that was said, but I know from that moment forward I was ashamed of my body. I felt like a freak. I thought something was wrong with me and had to be hidden. It was hard enough being a girl named Muscles, but add in feeling like I had a deformity... My childhood confidence was shot and I became a shy little girl trying to hide by becoming a tom-boy.
I did eventually start dating, and I even had a couple of boyfriends in my high school years, but I still felt incredibly self conscious. I didn't wear bikinis like my friends. I didn't wear dresses, save for a few dances here and there. I started to gain weight. I hated my body. I always thought my friends were prettier than I was.
As an adult, I've gone up and down in weight and sizes. I've been fit(ter), and fat(ter). I have worn dresses and skirts but don't like wearing pants because of the sound they make when my thighs rub together as I walk. I have owned exactly 2 bikinis in my life. One is a gift from my cousin that I have never worn, and one I bought myself, but only wore with tank tops over it, to cover my middle bit. I would love to wear a bikini without fear or shame. I want to feel like a normal girl.
But I don't. I'm not comfortable with my body. Right now I am working on changing that, but it's been an incredibly difficult journey. I've spent too many days crying in front of my closet because nothing fits right or looks right or makes me feel pretty.
There have been moments in my adult life that I have felt pretty good about myself. I have felt stylish, pretty and even sexy on occasion. I have worked out and lost weight numerous times, though I've never hit my "goal". The weight comes back with a vengeance and I spiral further into my self-hatred. I've never fully loved myself. I love the person I am but I still hold this hatred in my heart for my body.
Even though these scars are the reason I'm alive today...even though I don't want to care about what other people think...even though I have a man that loves me completely as I am...I'm still struggling with my own self acceptance.
When I'm getting dressed at the gym, behind a locked door, completely alone, I think about how to dress most efficiently. Underwear first obviously, then shirt since my middle is what I dislike most, then my pants. I do this in case of emergency. What if there was a fire in the building and someone came bursting through the door to save me? What would they think when they saw my misshapen body? I make sure to dress my most important parts first, to avoid any possible embarrassment. I even put the door stop in front of the door to try and stop anyone from accidentally opening the door and seeing me in my most vulnerable state.
What the hell?! Why am I thinking about that? If someone was really busting through a locked door to save someones life in the event of a fire, do I really think they would stop and be like "Whoa! What's wrong with you?!"
No. I don't really believe that. At least that's what I want to say. I still act as if it's true though. I do believe that I have a weird shaped body. The scars in my sides look like fat rolls. The scars on my back accentuate my extra weight. I think I have a pretty face, when I wear makeup. I have nice nails, when they're not all broken and chipped. I have nice hair, when it's freshly washed. It makes me sad that I feel this way about myself. I wouldn't talk to a friend the way I talk to myself. I wouldn't let a friend talk to themselves the way I talk to myself.
I avoid seeing people that haven't seen me since my latest weight gain. I'm afraid of what they will think of me. I forget that people care about me, and not about what I look like or how much I weigh or what size I wear. I don't believe that I can wear fashionable things because of my size and shape. I miss out on opportunities because I don't feel fit enough to participate. I shy away and try to hide because I don't want pictures taken of me. I don't take many pictures of myself other than the occasional selfie, and lately even those make me sad. I can see the weight in my cheeks and neck. I don't want anyone to see me the way I am right now. I want to fix myself first.
I am not writing this for sympathy. I am writing this to shed some light on a different experience. I'm writing this to get it out of my system. I have spent my entire life worrying about my body and what it looks like to others. And I am so fucking over it! I love the person I am. I love who I am becoming. I love my life!
Now it's time to love myself. Completely. I don't know what it will take to make that happen because I've tried before and didn't seem to get there ( I have a feeling this time is different). I'm doing everything I can right now. And it's hard. I work full time, I commute 3 hours a day, I lost my grampy and am still grieving that. I could go on and on.
We all have excuses. I'm not going to let mine stop me anymore. I will love myself unconditionally. I will treat myself with love and kindness. I will do the things that I know are good for me and stop doing the things I know aren't (....mostly....I mean, moderation is key right?). I will continue to seek out new information that will help me on my journey. I will surround myself with loving people. I will achieve my goals.
I am achieving my goals.
I will not give up.
Oh, and I'm totally going to wear a leopard print bikini for my birthday this year.
Thursday, March 10, 2016
Saturday, January 23, 2016
Growing and changing - Goodbye to my beloved Grampy
I've been dealing with change a lot lately. My grampy passed away a few months ago. That was a big change. A really hard change. That change came after me going from single to fully involved in a relationship. From me living in Portland to me living in Salem. From me being a child to me being an adult. This change rocked my entire world.
As a child I didn't have the big "regular" family I assumed everyone else had. It was me and my mom and, sometimes my Grampy, mom's dad, joined us. He was a staple in my childhood. He came around ever year. He sent presents or money for presents every birthday and holiday. He took us out to eat when he came to town. He made sure we had good holidays to remember. He taught me so much before I ever realized I was learning. He was the only father I ever really knew. In the years that I went from child to adult, he really cultivated who I became as a person even though I didn't realize it at the time. He nurtured my gifts and pushed me towards greatness I had never considered before. He made my life so much better than it would have been without him.
He was my mothers farther. Things changed a lot between the time he raised her and the time she raised me. He changed with those things. It didn't seem like much at first but he became more and more understanding of people in general. He changed his views. He grew. I watched this man, that I had known to be small minded and cruel, grow into a loving, caring human being in a very short span of time.
I have been dealing with a lot of guilt since his passing. Guilt that I wasn't there enough for him before he passed. Guilt that I didn't come around often enough to keep him hanging on longer. Guilt that I didn't take the time to really get to know him as a person beyond my own day to day life. I've been trying really hard to let that guilt go. Especially as a New Year has begun. But I can't deny that it's been really excruciating.
I want to be kind to myself every day. I want to love myself every day, to the core. But this is a pain nothing but time can heal. I know I've done nothing wrong, really. That doesn't make it any easier to deal with these feelings daily. Thinking of him wanting to simply connect with the family he had built over a lifetime... Thinking of him really doing the best he could with what knowledge he had at that time...I know that he wanted to, not just inspire good from the world, but to receive it as well...
I will say, as much as I hate dealing with this, I am so thankful that I had the great opportunity to be a part of this man's life, and for him to be a part of mine. I know, no matter what I feel, that he was truly proud of me and where I am going in life. I know that I am a better person for having him in my life. Grampy, I love you so much and I can't thank you enough for the wonderful life that you've given me. I miss you Grampy, more than words and emojis can ever express. I hope that you continue to watch over me and my family in the years that come.
I love you my grumpy Grampy.
As a child I didn't have the big "regular" family I assumed everyone else had. It was me and my mom and, sometimes my Grampy, mom's dad, joined us. He was a staple in my childhood. He came around ever year. He sent presents or money for presents every birthday and holiday. He took us out to eat when he came to town. He made sure we had good holidays to remember. He taught me so much before I ever realized I was learning. He was the only father I ever really knew. In the years that I went from child to adult, he really cultivated who I became as a person even though I didn't realize it at the time. He nurtured my gifts and pushed me towards greatness I had never considered before. He made my life so much better than it would have been without him.
He was my mothers farther. Things changed a lot between the time he raised her and the time she raised me. He changed with those things. It didn't seem like much at first but he became more and more understanding of people in general. He changed his views. He grew. I watched this man, that I had known to be small minded and cruel, grow into a loving, caring human being in a very short span of time.
I have been dealing with a lot of guilt since his passing. Guilt that I wasn't there enough for him before he passed. Guilt that I didn't come around often enough to keep him hanging on longer. Guilt that I didn't take the time to really get to know him as a person beyond my own day to day life. I've been trying really hard to let that guilt go. Especially as a New Year has begun. But I can't deny that it's been really excruciating.
I want to be kind to myself every day. I want to love myself every day, to the core. But this is a pain nothing but time can heal. I know I've done nothing wrong, really. That doesn't make it any easier to deal with these feelings daily. Thinking of him wanting to simply connect with the family he had built over a lifetime... Thinking of him really doing the best he could with what knowledge he had at that time...I know that he wanted to, not just inspire good from the world, but to receive it as well...
I will say, as much as I hate dealing with this, I am so thankful that I had the great opportunity to be a part of this man's life, and for him to be a part of mine. I know, no matter what I feel, that he was truly proud of me and where I am going in life. I know that I am a better person for having him in my life. Grampy, I love you so much and I can't thank you enough for the wonderful life that you've given me. I miss you Grampy, more than words and emojis can ever express. I hope that you continue to watch over me and my family in the years that come.
I love you my grumpy Grampy.
Thursday, December 31, 2015
How I spent the last day of 2015
This morning I participated in something that put some things into perspective for me. My amazing boss and her amazing son set up a couple of tables under the bridge our office is next to. The tables and boxes next to them were covered with coffee, breakfast, fruit, water, socks, hand warmers, hats, scarves and ponchos. Then, we spent the morning treating people with love and compassion.
It was cold this morning. Low to mid 30's when we were out there. As I walked from my car to the office, to drop off my things before heading down to our tables, I couldn't help but think about the people sleeping outside in this cold. I am cold and shivering on my 2 block walk to the office. I'm wearing 3 sweaters, a tee and a tank with a big winter jacket and scarf on top of it all and I'm still shivering. I can't even imagine trying to sleep when I feel so cold. I can't imagine feeling this way for more than a few minutes, maybe an hour if I'm choosing to be outside.
Our office is across from the mission. A place where the homeless can go for shelter. The ones that don't make it in for the night sleep on the streets around our building. We see them every day when we walk into the office and when we leave at night. We can see them from our windows. We see them being moved by the police in the mornings to keep the sidewalks clear for the daily commuters.
It's so hard for me to walk by these people every day feeling like there's nothing I can do to help them. I try to smile and say hello when I can make eye contact, because they're people just like you and me. They are people that have fallen on hard times and are in need of help. Every single one of them needs and deserves help, love, compassion and kindness.
Even though it meant waking up before 5am, I was excited to be a part of this. It felt like a great way to end this year. It was a way I could finally give back to these people that I see nearly every day of my life. I honestly had no idea how much of an impact it was going to make on me.
We spent a little over an hour under that bridge. There were 7 of us out there. We poured coffee for the people that came to us. We helped them pick out hats and scarves. We encouraged them to take more than just one fruit and pastry. We tried to round up as many people as we could to serve. We talked with them and offered hugs. I gave my own gloves to a woman after we had run out. I didn't think twice about it. I have more, and can easily get more should I need them. Her hands were so cold that they were bright red and she could barely hold her cane. She said they hurt they were so cold. I poured her a cup of coffee to help warm her a bit. As she turned to leave, she ran into an old friend who had just gotten coffee from us. They walked away catching up on the things they had missed since they last saw each other. For a moment, they were the same as home-having people. They were just two old friends that had run into each other in line for a morning coffee.
Every person that came through our little line was so thankful and sweet. Even the ones that were clearly high on who knows what. And yea, we helped them too. Because they're still people and who knows when they last ate or drank water or experienced any kind of compassion and kindness. They wished us a happy new year, said God bless as they walked away, and one man, J, helped us load up the tables when we were done and carry our leftovers across the street and up the stairs to the mission. He was eager to help us after we had helped him and his friends. In fact, he insisted I let him carry the box I was determined to walk with. I relinquished. We were going to leave the extras at the mission to be given out throughout the rest of the day.
I'm a more than just a little ashamed to admit that as I watched him walk ahead of me with the boxes of leftovers (He walked very fast and was much braver crossing the busy street than I was) I wondered if he might be walking so fast in order to make an escape with the leftovers for himself. Maybe that's why he had insisted on carrying my box. I reminded myself that I want to have faith in people and that I do believe most people are good people, and tried to let go of my worry. Of course, I needn't worry. He walked straight into the mission, proud to help others and deliver those boxes. I thanked him. He thanked me.
On our way to the bridge stairs we heard a literal cry for help.
"Help! Help, coffee please. I need coffee."
There was a man, laying in a sleeping bag nearby. He was reaching out to us with one arm, but didn't appear to be able to get up. He looked so sad. We had the coffee with us, but J had the coffee cups in his box and he was so quick, he was already up the stairs. I ran and caught J just before he got into the mission and snagged a fresh cup. The last of the coffee had made it up the stairs behind me and we poured the cup full with a splash of creamer. I ran down the stairs towards the man who desperately needed coffee. The rest of the crew, still upstairs delivering the things we had left.
I smiled and said "Good morning! I have a hot cup of coffee here for you!" reverting right back to my waitress self. He thanked me for the coffee as I kneeled down to hand it to him and before I could say anything he began to ask me if I could help him get on the list for a prosthetic leg. He pointed to his left knee as it raised up and it was clear there was nothing below it. I dropped down onto my legs, sitting next to him now instead of just kneeling and pulled out my phone. I told him I had never done anything like this but I would see if there was anything I could to to help him. I made notes as he gave me his name and birthdate and told me he has Oregon Health Plan. He thanked me again and when I looked in his eyes I saw real relief. I don't know if it's because he thinks I can help, or if it's because someone listened to him when he yelled for help, or if it's just because he got a warm cup of coffee.
I don't know if I can help him or not. But maybe I can find someone that can. Maybe I can find some information for him that he can't find when he's sleeping on the streets. Maybe, until I find anything, I can take him a hot cup of coffee once in a while and get to know him a little better, as a person.
These people spend their lives outside. In the cold, in the rain, in the heat. And instead of love and compassion, they get rejection and insensitivity. Now, I know that I'm an overly sensitive person by most people's standards, but this...this tugs at my heartstrings like no other. It should, and it should tug at yours too. These are human beings. They are someones daughter, someones son, someones aunt, someones friend, someones sister or brother, someones father or mother. There are entire families living on the streets. How easily could it be someone we know? How can we continue to pretend they don't exist or that it's not our problem? What if it were you? Would you want someone to care? There is absolutely no need for so many people to go without housing, or at the bare minimum some kind of shelter.
I don't know what I can do to change things. What I do know is I can offer the people I encounter in my life love, kindness, and compassion.
So, on the last day of 2015, I am taking time to reflect on my life and the things I have perceived as problems or hardships. That's not to imply I haven't had real problems or hardships, rather, that I can change my life. Things are not as bad as they could be. In fact, I'm downright blessed with an amazingly abundant life. I have so many amazing friends, a loving mother, my grampys truck, a great job, and I live in a warm home that I love spending time in, with my little family.
In 2016 I plan to show the people I encounter in my life, including myself, love, kindness and compassion. I encourage you to do the same.
Oh, and if anyone knows where I can find my new friend a prosthetic leg, let me know!
It was cold this morning. Low to mid 30's when we were out there. As I walked from my car to the office, to drop off my things before heading down to our tables, I couldn't help but think about the people sleeping outside in this cold. I am cold and shivering on my 2 block walk to the office. I'm wearing 3 sweaters, a tee and a tank with a big winter jacket and scarf on top of it all and I'm still shivering. I can't even imagine trying to sleep when I feel so cold. I can't imagine feeling this way for more than a few minutes, maybe an hour if I'm choosing to be outside.
Our office is across from the mission. A place where the homeless can go for shelter. The ones that don't make it in for the night sleep on the streets around our building. We see them every day when we walk into the office and when we leave at night. We can see them from our windows. We see them being moved by the police in the mornings to keep the sidewalks clear for the daily commuters.
It's so hard for me to walk by these people every day feeling like there's nothing I can do to help them. I try to smile and say hello when I can make eye contact, because they're people just like you and me. They are people that have fallen on hard times and are in need of help. Every single one of them needs and deserves help, love, compassion and kindness.
Even though it meant waking up before 5am, I was excited to be a part of this. It felt like a great way to end this year. It was a way I could finally give back to these people that I see nearly every day of my life. I honestly had no idea how much of an impact it was going to make on me.
We spent a little over an hour under that bridge. There were 7 of us out there. We poured coffee for the people that came to us. We helped them pick out hats and scarves. We encouraged them to take more than just one fruit and pastry. We tried to round up as many people as we could to serve. We talked with them and offered hugs. I gave my own gloves to a woman after we had run out. I didn't think twice about it. I have more, and can easily get more should I need them. Her hands were so cold that they were bright red and she could barely hold her cane. She said they hurt they were so cold. I poured her a cup of coffee to help warm her a bit. As she turned to leave, she ran into an old friend who had just gotten coffee from us. They walked away catching up on the things they had missed since they last saw each other. For a moment, they were the same as home-having people. They were just two old friends that had run into each other in line for a morning coffee.
Every person that came through our little line was so thankful and sweet. Even the ones that were clearly high on who knows what. And yea, we helped them too. Because they're still people and who knows when they last ate or drank water or experienced any kind of compassion and kindness. They wished us a happy new year, said God bless as they walked away, and one man, J, helped us load up the tables when we were done and carry our leftovers across the street and up the stairs to the mission. He was eager to help us after we had helped him and his friends. In fact, he insisted I let him carry the box I was determined to walk with. I relinquished. We were going to leave the extras at the mission to be given out throughout the rest of the day.
I'm a more than just a little ashamed to admit that as I watched him walk ahead of me with the boxes of leftovers (He walked very fast and was much braver crossing the busy street than I was) I wondered if he might be walking so fast in order to make an escape with the leftovers for himself. Maybe that's why he had insisted on carrying my box. I reminded myself that I want to have faith in people and that I do believe most people are good people, and tried to let go of my worry. Of course, I needn't worry. He walked straight into the mission, proud to help others and deliver those boxes. I thanked him. He thanked me.
***
On our way to the bridge stairs we heard a literal cry for help.
"Help! Help, coffee please. I need coffee."
There was a man, laying in a sleeping bag nearby. He was reaching out to us with one arm, but didn't appear to be able to get up. He looked so sad. We had the coffee with us, but J had the coffee cups in his box and he was so quick, he was already up the stairs. I ran and caught J just before he got into the mission and snagged a fresh cup. The last of the coffee had made it up the stairs behind me and we poured the cup full with a splash of creamer. I ran down the stairs towards the man who desperately needed coffee. The rest of the crew, still upstairs delivering the things we had left.
I smiled and said "Good morning! I have a hot cup of coffee here for you!" reverting right back to my waitress self. He thanked me for the coffee as I kneeled down to hand it to him and before I could say anything he began to ask me if I could help him get on the list for a prosthetic leg. He pointed to his left knee as it raised up and it was clear there was nothing below it. I dropped down onto my legs, sitting next to him now instead of just kneeling and pulled out my phone. I told him I had never done anything like this but I would see if there was anything I could to to help him. I made notes as he gave me his name and birthdate and told me he has Oregon Health Plan. He thanked me again and when I looked in his eyes I saw real relief. I don't know if it's because he thinks I can help, or if it's because someone listened to him when he yelled for help, or if it's just because he got a warm cup of coffee.
I don't know if I can help him or not. But maybe I can find someone that can. Maybe I can find some information for him that he can't find when he's sleeping on the streets. Maybe, until I find anything, I can take him a hot cup of coffee once in a while and get to know him a little better, as a person.
***
These people spend their lives outside. In the cold, in the rain, in the heat. And instead of love and compassion, they get rejection and insensitivity. Now, I know that I'm an overly sensitive person by most people's standards, but this...this tugs at my heartstrings like no other. It should, and it should tug at yours too. These are human beings. They are someones daughter, someones son, someones aunt, someones friend, someones sister or brother, someones father or mother. There are entire families living on the streets. How easily could it be someone we know? How can we continue to pretend they don't exist or that it's not our problem? What if it were you? Would you want someone to care? There is absolutely no need for so many people to go without housing, or at the bare minimum some kind of shelter.
I don't know what I can do to change things. What I do know is I can offer the people I encounter in my life love, kindness, and compassion.
So, on the last day of 2015, I am taking time to reflect on my life and the things I have perceived as problems or hardships. That's not to imply I haven't had real problems or hardships, rather, that I can change my life. Things are not as bad as they could be. In fact, I'm downright blessed with an amazingly abundant life. I have so many amazing friends, a loving mother, my grampys truck, a great job, and I live in a warm home that I love spending time in, with my little family.
In 2016 I plan to show the people I encounter in my life, including myself, love, kindness and compassion. I encourage you to do the same.
Oh, and if anyone knows where I can find my new friend a prosthetic leg, let me know!
Tuesday, June 16, 2015
Back From the Dead
It has been two and a half years since the last post I made here. Obviously everything has changed. I was going to just put up a new post and not mention my absence, but then I read my last post and felt like I needed to address some of the changes that have happened since then. I'll keep it short.
I made the choice to try alcohol for the first time in my life late in the year 2012. I was 26. After my moms brother passed away...and then her dog, my childhood dog. It was a loss I didn't take well. Thanks K and A for your presence and support in my time of need.
I moved to Florida early in January of 2013. I have so many stories I can share but for now just a brief synopsis. J flew up and we drove to Florida together. It was a whirlwind of a road trip. We ate a lot of great food, saw gorgeous sunsets and slept minimally. We drove for 18 hours straight (minus the stops for gas and dog walking) more than one day and slept in the car a time or two. We bonded and explored and talked non stop the whole time.
I burned through what little savings I had quickly once I was in Florida. I held the worst job I've ever had for a day and a half before quitting and finally ended up doing exactly what I had hoped to do in Florida - I was a waitress. This job was perfect for a number of reasons. My shifts started around 4pm so I was able to sleep in and when I woke up I could go to the gym for a couple of hours. I ended up getting into TRX and back into yoga at the gym and was starting to get into great shape. I lost 30 pounds and I felt strong. My shifts at work were short so I could still go out afterward. I made enough money to cover my bills, groceries and gas. My goal was never to go there and make a lot of money. My goal was to go and enjoy life. My work schedule allowed for exactly that. I made friends and went out most weekends. Now that I was a drinker, going out was totally different and I admit, I got a little wild. You would too if they gave you a solo cup with your $5 cover to get free refills with all night.
In general, I had a blast. Over time however, the living arrangement J and I had started to wear on us, both individually and our friendship. We were cramped into a house with my dog and her son. Being away from home started to be really difficult from me. I had a weekly ritual of writing letters to friends back home and that helped, but Florida is very different from my home town of Portland. It's much more conservative for one thing. I had trouble feeling like I could really be myself. I let the negatives take over my mind and started to feel that familiar wave of depressive thoughts come over me. Ultimately I needed to be back home. My mom offered to pay my way back with the caveat that she would take the train down to Florida and we would drive back to Oregon together.
My road trip home was very different from the one down to Florida with J. Before we started the journey home, we went up to North Carolina to visit my brother and his family. We don't get to see them often, and it was nice to spend time with my actual family instead of a family I've adopted as my own. It wasn't a straight shot home from there either. I had to make sure we went to The Shed in Mississippi. My mom loves bbq and this is some of the best I've ever had. I wasn't going to miss a chance to go there again before going back home. I drove the entire way. My mom was ready to pitch in but she has arthritis and hasn't driven in many years. Also she's a very skittish passenger and the thought of her driving honestly scared me a little (sorry mom). She looked like an excited kid when she stood outside the car after one of our gas/dog walking stops and told me she was ready for her turn with a big smile on her face. I felt a little bad saying no but I wanted to keep going. I drove long hours but not as long as with J. My mom needed more rest time than us youngins. She put us up in hotels along the way and helped me buy souvenirs and gifts all over the place. We ate good food and survived crazy thunderstorms. We went to NOLA and the Grand Canyon. It was fun to experience a trip like that with my mom. As fun as it was, I was on a mission to get home so I pushed it. My poor mom wanted to extend the trip. She wanted to stay more places and take our time moseying on home. I couldn't do it. I had to get home. (Thank you for bringing me home mom. I really appreciate it.)
It felt great to be home. J and I were still distant in our friendship (we're fine now by the way and I think better for it) and I was living with A so I was in another cramped position. I felt like a bit of a burden. I ended up getting a job at Nordstrom. I made enough money to take care of things but still not enough to get ahead. It was exciting to be in an environment that centered around fashion but I felt a little out of place. The sales floor was cut-throat and as it turns out, I'm not much of a salesperson, despite my decent numbers. I won't get into details but some of the things that I saw within the company made me want to leave. I quit in May of 2014.
That same month I started seeing my ex again. We've known each other for 8 years now. We've casually dated over the years and tried a serious relationship a couple of times. I was always so sure he wasn't the one for me. I didn't treat him well because of that, but he never stopped pursuing me. I pushed him away but found myself constantly coming back to him. One night I had been stood up by a friend of a friend of a friend, and I thought to myself "you know who you always have fun with?" so I got in touch with him. We met up at a bar downtown and...well I moved in within a couple of months and we've been serious for over a year now. I was a fool but I know we both needed the time apart to grow up, to learn about ourselves and to live life. He knew from the beginning and I hate that it took me so long to see it but that's the way it had to go. I've never been happier. He makes me a better person, he makes me laugh, he makes me feel good about myself (despite the fact that I've gained all the weight I lost in Florida back, plus some....ok plus a lot...) and he makes me excited about the future. He is my soul mate, my best friend and the love of my life.
Six months ago I landed a job as an office manager at a machine shop. It feels good to be in an office again, but the environment is very different from the office I grew up in, and left behind for good when I moved to Florida. The previous management left behind a HUGE mess, but it made me feel like a rock star cleaning it all up. I've gotten 2 raises in the little time I've been here and have learned a lot.
I'm happy with life. I am still dealing with weight issues. I still struggle with my depression, though it's thankfully not as bad as it has been in the past. I'm still trying to decide what I want to be when I grow up. Most of all, I'm still having fun. Now that I've got you all caught up on the basics, I can get back to writing about the fun I'm having!
But first...I want to say thank you to everyone in my life. Thank you for being a part of my journey. Thank you for making me who I am. Thank you for making my life what it is. Thank you for pushing me, for hurting me, for comforting me, neglecting me, uplifting and encouraging me. I wouldn't be where I am without all the good and all the bad. As I begin my 29th year of living, I can honestly say that I have never been happier and I am so excited to see where my life takes me.
So much for keeping this short....
I made the choice to try alcohol for the first time in my life late in the year 2012. I was 26. After my moms brother passed away...and then her dog, my childhood dog. It was a loss I didn't take well. Thanks K and A for your presence and support in my time of need.
I moved to Florida early in January of 2013. I have so many stories I can share but for now just a brief synopsis. J flew up and we drove to Florida together. It was a whirlwind of a road trip. We ate a lot of great food, saw gorgeous sunsets and slept minimally. We drove for 18 hours straight (minus the stops for gas and dog walking) more than one day and slept in the car a time or two. We bonded and explored and talked non stop the whole time.
I burned through what little savings I had quickly once I was in Florida. I held the worst job I've ever had for a day and a half before quitting and finally ended up doing exactly what I had hoped to do in Florida - I was a waitress. This job was perfect for a number of reasons. My shifts started around 4pm so I was able to sleep in and when I woke up I could go to the gym for a couple of hours. I ended up getting into TRX and back into yoga at the gym and was starting to get into great shape. I lost 30 pounds and I felt strong. My shifts at work were short so I could still go out afterward. I made enough money to cover my bills, groceries and gas. My goal was never to go there and make a lot of money. My goal was to go and enjoy life. My work schedule allowed for exactly that. I made friends and went out most weekends. Now that I was a drinker, going out was totally different and I admit, I got a little wild. You would too if they gave you a solo cup with your $5 cover to get free refills with all night.
In general, I had a blast. Over time however, the living arrangement J and I had started to wear on us, both individually and our friendship. We were cramped into a house with my dog and her son. Being away from home started to be really difficult from me. I had a weekly ritual of writing letters to friends back home and that helped, but Florida is very different from my home town of Portland. It's much more conservative for one thing. I had trouble feeling like I could really be myself. I let the negatives take over my mind and started to feel that familiar wave of depressive thoughts come over me. Ultimately I needed to be back home. My mom offered to pay my way back with the caveat that she would take the train down to Florida and we would drive back to Oregon together.
My road trip home was very different from the one down to Florida with J. Before we started the journey home, we went up to North Carolina to visit my brother and his family. We don't get to see them often, and it was nice to spend time with my actual family instead of a family I've adopted as my own. It wasn't a straight shot home from there either. I had to make sure we went to The Shed in Mississippi. My mom loves bbq and this is some of the best I've ever had. I wasn't going to miss a chance to go there again before going back home. I drove the entire way. My mom was ready to pitch in but she has arthritis and hasn't driven in many years. Also she's a very skittish passenger and the thought of her driving honestly scared me a little (sorry mom). She looked like an excited kid when she stood outside the car after one of our gas/dog walking stops and told me she was ready for her turn with a big smile on her face. I felt a little bad saying no but I wanted to keep going. I drove long hours but not as long as with J. My mom needed more rest time than us youngins. She put us up in hotels along the way and helped me buy souvenirs and gifts all over the place. We ate good food and survived crazy thunderstorms. We went to NOLA and the Grand Canyon. It was fun to experience a trip like that with my mom. As fun as it was, I was on a mission to get home so I pushed it. My poor mom wanted to extend the trip. She wanted to stay more places and take our time moseying on home. I couldn't do it. I had to get home. (Thank you for bringing me home mom. I really appreciate it.)
It felt great to be home. J and I were still distant in our friendship (we're fine now by the way and I think better for it) and I was living with A so I was in another cramped position. I felt like a bit of a burden. I ended up getting a job at Nordstrom. I made enough money to take care of things but still not enough to get ahead. It was exciting to be in an environment that centered around fashion but I felt a little out of place. The sales floor was cut-throat and as it turns out, I'm not much of a salesperson, despite my decent numbers. I won't get into details but some of the things that I saw within the company made me want to leave. I quit in May of 2014.
That same month I started seeing my ex again. We've known each other for 8 years now. We've casually dated over the years and tried a serious relationship a couple of times. I was always so sure he wasn't the one for me. I didn't treat him well because of that, but he never stopped pursuing me. I pushed him away but found myself constantly coming back to him. One night I had been stood up by a friend of a friend of a friend, and I thought to myself "you know who you always have fun with?" so I got in touch with him. We met up at a bar downtown and...well I moved in within a couple of months and we've been serious for over a year now. I was a fool but I know we both needed the time apart to grow up, to learn about ourselves and to live life. He knew from the beginning and I hate that it took me so long to see it but that's the way it had to go. I've never been happier. He makes me a better person, he makes me laugh, he makes me feel good about myself (despite the fact that I've gained all the weight I lost in Florida back, plus some....ok plus a lot...) and he makes me excited about the future. He is my soul mate, my best friend and the love of my life.
Six months ago I landed a job as an office manager at a machine shop. It feels good to be in an office again, but the environment is very different from the office I grew up in, and left behind for good when I moved to Florida. The previous management left behind a HUGE mess, but it made me feel like a rock star cleaning it all up. I've gotten 2 raises in the little time I've been here and have learned a lot.
I'm happy with life. I am still dealing with weight issues. I still struggle with my depression, though it's thankfully not as bad as it has been in the past. I'm still trying to decide what I want to be when I grow up. Most of all, I'm still having fun. Now that I've got you all caught up on the basics, I can get back to writing about the fun I'm having!
But first...I want to say thank you to everyone in my life. Thank you for being a part of my journey. Thank you for making me who I am. Thank you for making my life what it is. Thank you for pushing me, for hurting me, for comforting me, neglecting me, uplifting and encouraging me. I wouldn't be where I am without all the good and all the bad. As I begin my 29th year of living, I can honestly say that I have never been happier and I am so excited to see where my life takes me.
So much for keeping this short....
Thursday, December 27, 2012
I'm moving again
Yep, I'm moving, again. This time though, it's the biggest move of my life.
I'm moving to Florida.
Next month.
The end of next month, but next month still.
Why?
Why not?
This last year has been a year of major growth for me. Mentally more than anything. I've dealt with some loss. I've gotten over some of my own mental hurdles. I've learned more about who I am and what I want out of life. I know there is still much more for me to experience and learn. I know I have a good life and I'm blessed in so many ways. One of the things I'm blessed with is the ability to go out and explore.
Since the first time I visited J in Florida, I've had this need within myself to not just go back there, but to go everywhere and (almost) anywhere. I've been back to visit her and since I have a friend there, it's an easy place for me to head out on my own, without feeling completely alone. It's such a drastically different place than Portland, the place I've called home for most of my life. It feels so tropical to my northwestern roots. I'm so used to the rain and being cold a majority of the time. The beaches there are so warm and inviting. Even in December. Not like the beaches here. Which I do love... but different can be just as good, if not better.
I only made this decision a few months ago, and I've kept it pretty quiet while I've started to make little changes in my life. Since I've made the decision to move across the country, basically as far away from the only home I've really known as I can get, I've really felt myself living in the present. It always seemed like such a cliche before. Living in the present. How can you do anything but? You're only aware of the present right? Wrong.
I no longer find myself worrying about things that don't really matter in the long run. I'm able to set aside worries in order to really enjoy the moments I'm in. I can let go of frustrations easier (most of the time). I don't look to my past with regret and shoulda-woulda-couldas. I enjoy what is right in front of me while I still plan and prepare for my future. The future I want. The future I'm choosing. I could easily stay in the life I have right now. It's an awesome one. I don't have a lot of drama or stress on a day to day basis. I have good people in my life and I have a lot of fun. That doesn't mean I can't want for more. That doesn't mean I can't have more. I want more. So I'm gonna go get me some more.
I can always come back home if I don't like it. Or I can go somewhere completely different. That's the beauty of it all.
It's totally my choice.
While I'm super excited for this change, and the journey of getting there, it's still a hard decision to make. It's hard because I have such a good life. It's hard because the more comfortable I get being myself, the more I enjoy the life I have now, which makes it harder to leave behind. It's hard because I'm comfortable in my life right now, and it's hard to leave your comfort zone, even for something that excites you. It's hard knowing I won't be able to just hang out with the people I'm close with whenever I want. It's hard to leave my family behind. It's hard to leave behind my second family and home, otherwise known as work. And it's hard knowing how hard it will be to find a work environment like the one I have here.
None of this is enough to scare me into not going. I'm not going to let fear hold me back (as long as that fear isn't in the form of something with eight legs and fangs. THEY ALL HAVE FANGS SO SHUT UP).
Look, here's the deal. I'm moving across country. It's scary and so exhilarating. I don't have a set plan. I don't have a job lined up. I don't have an end date for this adventure. I have a place to say (love you boo) and an end date to my life here in Portland. I have a plan to road trip down there with my dog in tow, J by my side, and of course as many shoes as I can fit into whatever vehicle I end up taking.
I know to some, this would seem like a silly, maybe stupid thing to do. To some, it's an exciting adventure everyone should try. Some people support my move wholeheartedly, and some support me with with a side of guilt. Some try to talk me out of it sarcastically, some don't want to acknowledge it at all. No matter how you choose to support me, I'm so very appreciative of all the support I get. I'm so grateful for the life I have now, and I'm so excited to see what changes this move brings to my life in the future.
Don't worry, I'll be back for visits. And no matter what, this is my home. This is the place that I love and I will miss so very much. I have no doubt at some point I'll move back here. Just don't ask me when, cuz I don't have a clue.
Wish me luck!
I'm moving to Florida.
Next month.
The end of next month, but next month still.
Why?
Why not?
This last year has been a year of major growth for me. Mentally more than anything. I've dealt with some loss. I've gotten over some of my own mental hurdles. I've learned more about who I am and what I want out of life. I know there is still much more for me to experience and learn. I know I have a good life and I'm blessed in so many ways. One of the things I'm blessed with is the ability to go out and explore.
Since the first time I visited J in Florida, I've had this need within myself to not just go back there, but to go everywhere and (almost) anywhere. I've been back to visit her and since I have a friend there, it's an easy place for me to head out on my own, without feeling completely alone. It's such a drastically different place than Portland, the place I've called home for most of my life. It feels so tropical to my northwestern roots. I'm so used to the rain and being cold a majority of the time. The beaches there are so warm and inviting. Even in December. Not like the beaches here. Which I do love... but different can be just as good, if not better.
I only made this decision a few months ago, and I've kept it pretty quiet while I've started to make little changes in my life. Since I've made the decision to move across the country, basically as far away from the only home I've really known as I can get, I've really felt myself living in the present. It always seemed like such a cliche before. Living in the present. How can you do anything but? You're only aware of the present right? Wrong.
I no longer find myself worrying about things that don't really matter in the long run. I'm able to set aside worries in order to really enjoy the moments I'm in. I can let go of frustrations easier (most of the time). I don't look to my past with regret and shoulda-woulda-couldas. I enjoy what is right in front of me while I still plan and prepare for my future. The future I want. The future I'm choosing. I could easily stay in the life I have right now. It's an awesome one. I don't have a lot of drama or stress on a day to day basis. I have good people in my life and I have a lot of fun. That doesn't mean I can't want for more. That doesn't mean I can't have more. I want more. So I'm gonna go get me some more.
I can always come back home if I don't like it. Or I can go somewhere completely different. That's the beauty of it all.
It's totally my choice.
While I'm super excited for this change, and the journey of getting there, it's still a hard decision to make. It's hard because I have such a good life. It's hard because the more comfortable I get being myself, the more I enjoy the life I have now, which makes it harder to leave behind. It's hard because I'm comfortable in my life right now, and it's hard to leave your comfort zone, even for something that excites you. It's hard knowing I won't be able to just hang out with the people I'm close with whenever I want. It's hard to leave my family behind. It's hard to leave behind my second family and home, otherwise known as work. And it's hard knowing how hard it will be to find a work environment like the one I have here.
None of this is enough to scare me into not going. I'm not going to let fear hold me back (as long as that fear isn't in the form of something with eight legs and fangs. THEY ALL HAVE FANGS SO SHUT UP).
Look, here's the deal. I'm moving across country. It's scary and so exhilarating. I don't have a set plan. I don't have a job lined up. I don't have an end date for this adventure. I have a place to say (love you boo) and an end date to my life here in Portland. I have a plan to road trip down there with my dog in tow, J by my side, and of course as many shoes as I can fit into whatever vehicle I end up taking.
I know to some, this would seem like a silly, maybe stupid thing to do. To some, it's an exciting adventure everyone should try. Some people support my move wholeheartedly, and some support me with with a side of guilt. Some try to talk me out of it sarcastically, some don't want to acknowledge it at all. No matter how you choose to support me, I'm so very appreciative of all the support I get. I'm so grateful for the life I have now, and I'm so excited to see what changes this move brings to my life in the future.
Don't worry, I'll be back for visits. And no matter what, this is my home. This is the place that I love and I will miss so very much. I have no doubt at some point I'll move back here. Just don't ask me when, cuz I don't have a clue.
Wish me luck!
Friday, March 16, 2012
Another week has passed
And I achieved...nothing. At least in the ways of fitness. Last weekend I had a little sore throat. I felt fine other than that. Until I woke up on Monday morning. It felt like my face had been stuffed taxidermy style while I slept. I couldn't breath. I was sweating like a pig but I was freezing even under my two comforters. I felt light headed when I stood up. I felt groggy like I hadn't slept at all and couldn't walk very well. Aside from the cold sweats, I imagine it felt much like a hangover but being a non drinker, I can't know for sure. I tried to make it through a shower and my usual before work routine but I quickly realized I shouldn't be trying to go out into the world feeling the way I felt. I sent a text to my boss and she let me know I would be covered. I gratefully crawled back under the covers and slept through the morning.
I woke up sometime in the afternoon still feeling like a taxidermied drunk. Somehow I managed to crawl to the couch where I watched mind numbing tv for an unknown amount of time while drinking Dayquil Cold & Flu straight from the bottle. I drank water too. I think I ate some food. I caught up on a lot of shows that mean nothing to me (who's the daddy Maury?!). I crawled back into bed around nine and hoped for the best.
Tuesday morning I woke up and still felt crappy. I had a cough that made my head throb and my nose was so stuffed I could feel it backing up into my brain. Not a good feeling. Somehow, I managed to get through a shower. My thought process told me something about how taking a shower when you're sick can really make you feel better. I basically stood in the shower just to feel the warm water. I do really love the rainfall shower head my new house came with... I had to sit down for a minute after my shower in my cozy robe with my hair wrapped up in a towel, just to catch my breath. From standing. That can't be a good sign... I did basic makeup, pausing to catch my breath and hack out some brains. I put on comfy clothes, grabbed a breakfast bar and my bottle of Dayquil and headed to work.
My coworkers all asked if I was feeling better. They told me my cough sounded bad. They told me to go home. My boss called and heard my exhaustion and suggested I take a lunch lounge on the office couch. That idea sounded delightful. After covering my face with pillow to shield out the light, my coworkers had finally had enough and they forced me to go home. They promised me they would be fine and even offered to email the boss for me so I could just leave. I gave in and went home that afternoon. I took advantage of no rush hour traffic and hit the store to replenish my Nyquil supply and get some real food on the way home. Once home I wasted no time in putting on my coziest clothes and crawling into bed.
I was bummed because I had a blind date set up for that night after work and I had to cancel. I think that's why I tried so hard to be ok enough to go to work. If I was ok enough for work I was ok enough for a date right? Who wants to make the first impression of Snot Queen, the Great Sneezer? Not this chick. Instead I slept. I laid in bed coughing, tossing and turning and feeling miserable until I was finally able to get to sleep for the night. My alarm went off and before even trying to get out of bed I knew I couldn't go in to the office again. I sent my boss another text and was again reassured things would be fine and to worry about getting better. I fell immediately back asleep. Around 2 that afternoon I woke up and had to shed a layer of cozy to get comfortable. I got a text from L, responded and fell back asleep without really meaning to. I woke up around 5 to the sound of a text from A. How was I still sleeping? Even on my laziest of days that's too much sleep. I thought of all the things I could have done with this lost day. The things I wanted to accomplish at the office. The projects I have around the house. Will there ever be time?
Why do we do this to ourselves? I know that going to work sick risks the other people at work getting sick (though none of the people I hung out with over the weekend were sick and I assumed I wasn't contagious). I know that I can't work my best when I feel like I've been novocained all in the face. I didn't sound good at all, and I'm the one that answers the phone so that's no good. So why, why would I go to work despite being obviously sick? Because I feel like I have no other option. Now, I'm in a really good position when it comes to this stuff because I'm a salaried employee. If I miss a day of work for being sick (or going on a long weekend beach trip) that doesn't mean I miss out on a days pay. With that, I have even less excuse to go to work when feeling like crap.
I've always been this way. In school I was almost fanatical about going to school no matter what (perfect attendance in elementary school ya'll!) until high school when I had a minor mishap with a disease known as "Skipsies" freshman year. After mom sorted that out I was back to my usual self. I didn't strive for perfection or anything like that. I was happy getting mostly A's and B's and once I got into the working world I was all about timeliness and attendance. I'm one of those people that's almost always early to everything, or at least right on time. To me, on time means being about 5 minutes early though. I've become a little more lax with my timeliness in the last few years but mostly just with personal type stuff like parties, where it doesn't really matter if you're right on time and sometimes stuff happens and I can't always be on time. But I do try.
So there's this crazy random work ethic thing that's ingrained deep in my brain that keeps me getting up for work every day, whether I feel up to it physically or mentally, or not at all. But there's something else that makes me go to work all the time. Something that made me miss out on all of my vacation time for the first few years of my working life. I make excuses all the time to make myself go to work. Doesn't it usually go the other way around? People come up with excuses to get out of work right? Not me. I have to go to work because I'm the only one at the office that does my specific job (though my job isn't very specific). I have to go to work because I'm expecting a toner shipment and the office will freak out if the toner doesn't come and the machine runs out of it's current toner and then they can't print. I'm the only one that will clean the kitchen on Friday. I'm the only person that can do this and that and the other thing. I've been doing my job for so long I can basically do it with my eyes closed. I transfer calls like a ninja. I am the machine whisperer. The Office Guru! No really, that's my title according to the website. I know everything about everything and if I don't know, I can figure it out. That's who I am at the office. When I'm away from the office things break and filing piles up and things get dirty because it's my job to take care of those things. I don't want things to pile up. I don't want my coworkers to be frantic because of broken machines, lost passwords and misplaced transferred calls.
It's not the end of the world. I know they can survive without me.
But that right there is the other part of the problem. They can survive without me. If they can survive without me they don't need me. If I'm gone they might realize they don't really need me....if I'm gone, the things I don't do so well might become apparent. They might see the things I've put off...They might realize there is someone better for the job...They might see the spot I haven't cleaned in a while because I'm the only one that sees it and I put it off. They might suddenly realize that the things they need me to do for them are actually not that hard or time consuming to do on their own. Maybe they'll realize I don't really know as much as they think I do. They might....They could....what if?
What the..... Why am I thinking like that?! I don't know, but it's what makes me go to work when I'm sick. Even though every single time I come back from any length of absence, even a lunch break, they tell me how glad they are that I'm back. How they just don't know how I can do this job every day. They ask me to please never leave again, jokingly but not really so jokingly. Even though I work for one of the best companies to work for in Oregon. Even though I have an awesome job and work with awesome people that I truly care about and who care about me back just as much...I still have these paranoid random mental ramblings and make myself go to work when I should be resting.
It seems I'm suddenly talking about things that make me think more than the silly things I do, here on this blog. I guess that's just where my head is at lately. I'm still having fun of course. I'll write about it. Promise.
I woke up sometime in the afternoon still feeling like a taxidermied drunk. Somehow I managed to crawl to the couch where I watched mind numbing tv for an unknown amount of time while drinking Dayquil Cold & Flu straight from the bottle. I drank water too. I think I ate some food. I caught up on a lot of shows that mean nothing to me (who's the daddy Maury?!). I crawled back into bed around nine and hoped for the best.
Tuesday morning I woke up and still felt crappy. I had a cough that made my head throb and my nose was so stuffed I could feel it backing up into my brain. Not a good feeling. Somehow, I managed to get through a shower. My thought process told me something about how taking a shower when you're sick can really make you feel better. I basically stood in the shower just to feel the warm water. I do really love the rainfall shower head my new house came with... I had to sit down for a minute after my shower in my cozy robe with my hair wrapped up in a towel, just to catch my breath. From standing. That can't be a good sign... I did basic makeup, pausing to catch my breath and hack out some brains. I put on comfy clothes, grabbed a breakfast bar and my bottle of Dayquil and headed to work.
My coworkers all asked if I was feeling better. They told me my cough sounded bad. They told me to go home. My boss called and heard my exhaustion and suggested I take a lunch lounge on the office couch. That idea sounded delightful. After covering my face with pillow to shield out the light, my coworkers had finally had enough and they forced me to go home. They promised me they would be fine and even offered to email the boss for me so I could just leave. I gave in and went home that afternoon. I took advantage of no rush hour traffic and hit the store to replenish my Nyquil supply and get some real food on the way home. Once home I wasted no time in putting on my coziest clothes and crawling into bed.
I was bummed because I had a blind date set up for that night after work and I had to cancel. I think that's why I tried so hard to be ok enough to go to work. If I was ok enough for work I was ok enough for a date right? Who wants to make the first impression of Snot Queen, the Great Sneezer? Not this chick. Instead I slept. I laid in bed coughing, tossing and turning and feeling miserable until I was finally able to get to sleep for the night. My alarm went off and before even trying to get out of bed I knew I couldn't go in to the office again. I sent my boss another text and was again reassured things would be fine and to worry about getting better. I fell immediately back asleep. Around 2 that afternoon I woke up and had to shed a layer of cozy to get comfortable. I got a text from L, responded and fell back asleep without really meaning to. I woke up around 5 to the sound of a text from A. How was I still sleeping? Even on my laziest of days that's too much sleep. I thought of all the things I could have done with this lost day. The things I wanted to accomplish at the office. The projects I have around the house. Will there ever be time?
Why do we do this to ourselves? I know that going to work sick risks the other people at work getting sick (though none of the people I hung out with over the weekend were sick and I assumed I wasn't contagious). I know that I can't work my best when I feel like I've been novocained all in the face. I didn't sound good at all, and I'm the one that answers the phone so that's no good. So why, why would I go to work despite being obviously sick? Because I feel like I have no other option. Now, I'm in a really good position when it comes to this stuff because I'm a salaried employee. If I miss a day of work for being sick (or going on a long weekend beach trip) that doesn't mean I miss out on a days pay. With that, I have even less excuse to go to work when feeling like crap.
I've always been this way. In school I was almost fanatical about going to school no matter what (perfect attendance in elementary school ya'll!) until high school when I had a minor mishap with a disease known as "Skipsies" freshman year. After mom sorted that out I was back to my usual self. I didn't strive for perfection or anything like that. I was happy getting mostly A's and B's and once I got into the working world I was all about timeliness and attendance. I'm one of those people that's almost always early to everything, or at least right on time. To me, on time means being about 5 minutes early though. I've become a little more lax with my timeliness in the last few years but mostly just with personal type stuff like parties, where it doesn't really matter if you're right on time and sometimes stuff happens and I can't always be on time. But I do try.
So there's this crazy random work ethic thing that's ingrained deep in my brain that keeps me getting up for work every day, whether I feel up to it physically or mentally, or not at all. But there's something else that makes me go to work all the time. Something that made me miss out on all of my vacation time for the first few years of my working life. I make excuses all the time to make myself go to work. Doesn't it usually go the other way around? People come up with excuses to get out of work right? Not me. I have to go to work because I'm the only one at the office that does my specific job (though my job isn't very specific). I have to go to work because I'm expecting a toner shipment and the office will freak out if the toner doesn't come and the machine runs out of it's current toner and then they can't print. I'm the only one that will clean the kitchen on Friday. I'm the only person that can do this and that and the other thing. I've been doing my job for so long I can basically do it with my eyes closed. I transfer calls like a ninja. I am the machine whisperer. The Office Guru! No really, that's my title according to the website. I know everything about everything and if I don't know, I can figure it out. That's who I am at the office. When I'm away from the office things break and filing piles up and things get dirty because it's my job to take care of those things. I don't want things to pile up. I don't want my coworkers to be frantic because of broken machines, lost passwords and misplaced transferred calls.
It's not the end of the world. I know they can survive without me.
But that right there is the other part of the problem. They can survive without me. If they can survive without me they don't need me. If I'm gone they might realize they don't really need me....if I'm gone, the things I don't do so well might become apparent. They might see the things I've put off...They might realize there is someone better for the job...They might see the spot I haven't cleaned in a while because I'm the only one that sees it and I put it off. They might suddenly realize that the things they need me to do for them are actually not that hard or time consuming to do on their own. Maybe they'll realize I don't really know as much as they think I do. They might....They could....what if?
What the..... Why am I thinking like that?! I don't know, but it's what makes me go to work when I'm sick. Even though every single time I come back from any length of absence, even a lunch break, they tell me how glad they are that I'm back. How they just don't know how I can do this job every day. They ask me to please never leave again, jokingly but not really so jokingly. Even though I work for one of the best companies to work for in Oregon. Even though I have an awesome job and work with awesome people that I truly care about and who care about me back just as much...I still have these paranoid random mental ramblings and make myself go to work when I should be resting.
It seems I'm suddenly talking about things that make me think more than the silly things I do, here on this blog. I guess that's just where my head is at lately. I'm still having fun of course. I'll write about it. Promise.
Friday, March 9, 2012
It's been a week
And not much has changed. No zombie invasion pending, and sadly, no change in weight according to the morning weigh in. I've been sticking with my plan. Last Friday I went for a walk at lunch. I went for a walk with A last weekend. All this week I've walked 40 minutes or more on my lunch and gone for a half jog/half walk after work, lasting anywhere from 45 minutes to an hour. A couple of times followed by yet another walk with L when she gets home from work. I have noticed my endurance is getting better. I can run for longer periods of time and spend less time walking on my after work jog/walks. I love getting out of the office and it's been a really nice week so I've been enjoying some sunshine while I can. I feel productive, doing something for my health every day. I even downloaded an app to help me track my calorie intake and exercise. I take the stairs whenever possible (because when the zombie apocalypse happens, elevators won't be working) and have continued taking my vitamins daily. I drink a ton of water and pack my workout bag at night so it's ready to go in the morning without having to think about it.
According to my tracker app, I'm eating just the right amount of calories and burning far more than I need to in order to reach the goal I have. Yet no physical changes are apparent. I have been allowing myself a daily dose of chocolate and this week my indulgence has been chocolate cake from Costco (brought into the office for a coworkers birthday and left here to taunt me). It's the stuff my chocolate coated dreams are made of and according to my tracker app, is actually fine calorie-wise for my "diet". But, after getting on the scale and seeing no change this morning, I'm thinking it's time to change tactics.
I'll be going from a small daily chocolate allowance to a small weekly chocolate allowance. I want to go to bed earlier so that I can get up earlier and get to the gym before work, for a swim or a stair climber session. I'm going to try to jog the trail by my house on the weekends at least once and get as much activity as I can in each day. I'm going to watch my food even more diligently even though I feel like I've actually been doing really well there.
It's discouraging not to see any changes but it's only been a week, and I'm certainly not giving up. I might not even really need to make many changes to see results, but I don't know if I can wait it out any longer before taking some kind of action. It makes me feel silly that something so small can affect my mood so greatly, but sometimes that's the case. And this is one of those times. Yesterday the world seemed so bright and full of hope. Today, even though it's sunny, I'm feeling gloomy and sad. It's still better than a few weeks ago when I was losing my grip on life all together.
I know I'm not the first person to feel this way and it might not be the last time I encounter a mental roadblock like this. I've dieted before and have been successful at losing weight. I know I can do it again. Maybe other things in my life are affecting my mood more and I'm assuming it's this instead. I've been dealing with feelings of loneliness, inadequacy and a general feeling of being lost in life. When I look at the facts, it's obvious that I'm doing fine. I have a house of my own to live in. I have a car to get me to and from the places I need to be. I have a full time job with a great company. I have amazing friends in my life that encourage me and love me just as I am while still pushing me to be my best self. So why all the negativity in my mind?
Sometimes emotions blind us from the facts. All I know for sure is I'm not stopping.
I walked today at lunch and tried for another after work jog/walk. For some reason, today, I wasn't able to jog. Not that I was physically incapable. I managed a short burst of running but when I couldn't make it as far as I hoped, I broke down. I felt like a failure for not being able to jog long distances (to me a long distance would be 10 minutes of jogging without stopping). I felt like I was letting myself down. I was angry. Angry that I let myself get so out of shape in the first place. Angry that I wasn't being more diligent in my efforts to get back into shape. Angry at all the people running by me like it was the easiest thing in the world. Angry at the people that seemed to have no care in the world (though I know we all have worries and doubts and moments in our lives where we feel less than).
I kept walking though. As fast as I could manage. I'm hoping tomorrow seems a little brighter.
According to my tracker app, I'm eating just the right amount of calories and burning far more than I need to in order to reach the goal I have. Yet no physical changes are apparent. I have been allowing myself a daily dose of chocolate and this week my indulgence has been chocolate cake from Costco (brought into the office for a coworkers birthday and left here to taunt me). It's the stuff my chocolate coated dreams are made of and according to my tracker app, is actually fine calorie-wise for my "diet". But, after getting on the scale and seeing no change this morning, I'm thinking it's time to change tactics.
I'll be going from a small daily chocolate allowance to a small weekly chocolate allowance. I want to go to bed earlier so that I can get up earlier and get to the gym before work, for a swim or a stair climber session. I'm going to try to jog the trail by my house on the weekends at least once and get as much activity as I can in each day. I'm going to watch my food even more diligently even though I feel like I've actually been doing really well there.
It's discouraging not to see any changes but it's only been a week, and I'm certainly not giving up. I might not even really need to make many changes to see results, but I don't know if I can wait it out any longer before taking some kind of action. It makes me feel silly that something so small can affect my mood so greatly, but sometimes that's the case. And this is one of those times. Yesterday the world seemed so bright and full of hope. Today, even though it's sunny, I'm feeling gloomy and sad. It's still better than a few weeks ago when I was losing my grip on life all together.
I know I'm not the first person to feel this way and it might not be the last time I encounter a mental roadblock like this. I've dieted before and have been successful at losing weight. I know I can do it again. Maybe other things in my life are affecting my mood more and I'm assuming it's this instead. I've been dealing with feelings of loneliness, inadequacy and a general feeling of being lost in life. When I look at the facts, it's obvious that I'm doing fine. I have a house of my own to live in. I have a car to get me to and from the places I need to be. I have a full time job with a great company. I have amazing friends in my life that encourage me and love me just as I am while still pushing me to be my best self. So why all the negativity in my mind?
Sometimes emotions blind us from the facts. All I know for sure is I'm not stopping.
I walked today at lunch and tried for another after work jog/walk. For some reason, today, I wasn't able to jog. Not that I was physically incapable. I managed a short burst of running but when I couldn't make it as far as I hoped, I broke down. I felt like a failure for not being able to jog long distances (to me a long distance would be 10 minutes of jogging without stopping). I felt like I was letting myself down. I was angry. Angry that I let myself get so out of shape in the first place. Angry that I wasn't being more diligent in my efforts to get back into shape. Angry at all the people running by me like it was the easiest thing in the world. Angry at the people that seemed to have no care in the world (though I know we all have worries and doubts and moments in our lives where we feel less than).
I kept walking though. As fast as I could manage. I'm hoping tomorrow seems a little brighter.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)