I'm just your average, everyday, divorced 38 year old girl -- overweight, tragically unhip,
and trying to make a life for myself. I live with two furry beasts, Dave and Abby, whose
feline mission in life is to choke me with their fur. Nothing special.
Saturday morning. The astute among you will note with surprise that I am posting when I specifically said that I wouldn't be back until Monday, and you will be correct. It turns out that the cobb salad at a certain fast food restaurant is not only really bad for your weight, but it can also give you a wicked case of food poisoning.
I was feeling OK prior to getting to the airport, and even made a special guest appearance at work for the big meeting to discuss our department's latest personnel changes, then I ate said salad and, about 30 minutes later, things got ugly. I was in line with the "A" boarding group (gee, which airline was I flying with?) when I started sweating profusely, got terribly nauseous, and felt unsteady on my feet. I walked toward the bathroom but, because there's only one bathroom once you're past security and there are seven gates full of women needing to use it, there was a really long line. I tried to be patient and stand in the line because the line for security was wrapped up like a ride at D1sneyland and my flight was supposed to be leaving in about 45 minutes. Much as I tried, I just couldn't stand and wait, so I went outside the security line and proceeded to get very sick in an airport bathroom. By the time I was able to stand up and put one (wobbly) foot in front of the other, my flight was boarding. It was time to make a decision and I did. I'm sorry, but traveling while I'm not feeling well just didn't sound like a good thing to me, so I went to the ticket counter, told the agent what was going on, and he cancelled my ticket and gave me a copy of my confirmation number, which I can use for another flight for a year. I called Tracy and her father (who was to pick me up), then crawled to the shuttle pick up area and , when I got to my car, I just curled up and slept for about an hour. I felt horrible and I just couldn't face trying to drive in that condition. I slept some more when I got home, and had white rice made with fat free chicken broth for dinner. It seemed to settle things down a bit, and we'll just see how things go today.
Thursday night. Today is my last day of work for the week, although I'll be coming in for a critical communications meeting tomorrow morning before my flight, and I'm just wiped out. If I had my druthers, I'd so be staying here for the weekend and just vegetating. I suppose it's probably for the best, however, that I'll be getting some sun and fresh (hot!) air out in Phoenix instead. Hibernating sounds perfect but I doubt that it would bring about the best results long term.
In addition to the trauma/drama in my personal life, things at work took an interesting turn, too. My boss is moving to another position in our division, one of my peers will be my boss when I get back from my long weekend, and I might have to take over a different team now that she's movin' on up. Lots to process for my already overloaded brain. Additionally, and it doesn't bother me unduly, although it's something to give some thought to, I was, essentially, passed over for the promotion. I had to say, when asked, that I'd have made the same decision, too, because I've not been giving it my all at work for a while. I think I had a lingering sense of ennui that wasn't helping me stay energized and positive about my job. That changed a few months ago, mostly because of some personnel changes which put more responsibility on me and actually energized me because I knew that I had to do it because no one else would. My boss basically acknowledged that, as well as my strong communication skills, and told me that he felt very strongly that I was doing a good job, but that she was better suited to the job at this point. As I said, I agree with him and, additionally, I'm not really sure I would want that position anyway, because it's a lot of responsibility and would have a definite effect on any life outside of work I try to establish in the future.
Anyway, I'm going home now, to curl up on the couch, get some laundry done, and get ready to fly tomorrow. I won't be posting until Monday, so do try to find something to tide you over in the meantime. (Ha, ha, ha!)
Wednesday afternoon. I had an epiphany in the shower this morning (perhaps I should try bathing more often?) and I think I've resolved my lingering doubts about whether I've made the right decision or whether I should try to fix things with Chris. The revelation, and it's silly, honestly, because I've known this all along but just never made the connection, is that the things I want Chris to compromise on are part of his core being and, as such, it would stretch him to the point of breaking for me to even ask him to give on them. I can't ask him to change and I can't live with our relationship given those attributes, so the decision that I made on Sunday was the right one, no matter the regrets I'm dealing with now.
* I regret that we won't watch our children grow up and be able to love them and nurture them and help them be the very best they can be * I regret that his won't be the face I see waiting for me as I walk down the aisle one day * I regret that I will never hear his beautiful, melodious voice tell me, "I love you, Sweetheart" * I regret that I will never see his amazing brown eyes twinkle as his wondrous laugh booms out * I regret that I will not be able to spend another afternoon laughing and listening to his family telling stories * I regret that I will never be safely wrapped in his strong arms again * I regret that I have hurt a wonderful man, his children, and his family * I regret that I will not be able to see how his life's story turns out * I regret that I am not the woman he needs although I am the woman he wants
I don't regret all of the times I told him that I loved him, because they were all true, or the time that we spent together, or the degree to which I gave him my heart, or even the fact that, now, I have yet another unsuccessful relationship to my name. I gave it my all, I tried, and I opened myself in ways I hadn't been willing to prior to meeting Chris.
It would be easy to write this off as another failure for me, but I won't stand for that. Nothing as beautiful as Chris and I together can ever be considered a failure. I wouldn't trade a minute of the pain I'm feeling now for anything I've experienced in the last 10 months. Chris taught me so much about myself, he tried desperately to get me to love myself, and he gave me the complete, unwavering love of a man secure in who he is and what he wants. I am a better woman because he loved me and I desperately hope that, one day, he will feel the same way about me.
Wednesday morning. Not too much to report, disappointingly. I'm still here, still plugging along. Yesterday at work felt like the longest day of my life, but I maintained composure and managed to get through some important tasks, which felt good. Of course, I have pictures of Chris and the girls all over my office, which is tough; I'm just not ready to pack it all up and say it's over at this point.
Only one team member knows what's happened, and she made a comment that haunts me. She said something to the effect of, "I hadn't seen you happy -- truly happy -- in years. Since you met Chris, you just glow with happiness." She's right, honestly. It wasn't that I was unhappy prior to Chris, because I wasn't. I had a good life, not as exciting as I'd have liked, but it was OK. I was doing well on my fitness plan, seeing changes, feeling good about that. There was something missing, though, something to take my life from satisfying to wonderful, and that something was Chris.
What Chris brought to my life was joy, grace, and an absolute certainty that I deserved the love he gave me and that I was enjoying it (and reciprocating) to the fullest. I never, not for a single moment, doubted how he felt about me, never worried that I'd have my heart broken again by another faithless man I'd foolishly trusted. This man was, and is, faithful, strong, and honest. I am a strong-willed woman and I've overpowered many of the men I've been with in the past. Such was not the case with Chris, something which eventually led me to the decision to end things, and which is now bringing with it some of my deepest regrets. Will my willfulness keep me alone forever? Wasn't my ex-husband's inability to stand up to me one of the reasons I ended our marriage? What do I want? Am I some sort of commitment phobic dinosaur, destined to be alone forever?
On the weight loss front, things are not going well, either. After promising Chris that I'd take care of myself and get on track with my fitness, I've done just the opposite since Sunday night's debacle. When I eat (and I've not been doing that regularly enough), it's all junk. Nothing sounds good, nothing tastes good, and I can't even be bothered to have a full fledged binge. Walking to the car or to the shower is nearly too much effort right now, much less getting into my workout gear, getting in the car, and going somewhere to walk. I just want to curl up and make it all go away -- work, the trip I'm supposed to take this weekend (to Phoenix for Spring Training baseball), exercise, fitness, just everything.
Add to all of this the facts that I think TTOM is starting and that three people on the Fit portal gave me only four stars out of five but didn't leave any comments as to how I could improve, and you've got the beginnings of a super duper Wednesday.
I didn't post after I'd met him for the first time online. Part of me didn't want to jinx it, part of me didn't believe that someone like him could be real. In any case, I didn't post about it until we'd decided to meet in person.
Thank you very much to each of you that has taken the time to write since my posting this morning. In reading through my archives to find the "Chris material", I have, quite literally, walked down memory lane. In reading the post from May 25th, everything that I felt that day came back to me, crystal clear and in Technicolor. I remember my amazement at the fact that I'd let my heart go once again. I never thought, after my divorce, that I'd feel that way about anyone again. Funny, but now, I'm shaking my head in amazement that I was ever that closed up. The grace that I talked about, that's still here with me -- though not so much today -- and it lifts me above a lot of the bureaucratic stupidity at work and in life. Chris gave me all of that, or our love did, or perhaps it only helped reveal what was already there, covered with an overgrowth of insecurity.
One line in particular stays with me, though. It's from May 18th: "You just don't get the opportunity of a lifetime twice, and I'm holding on to this one for dear life."
Monday morning. I have either taken the first step toward a braver new world or made the most terrible, crushing mistake of my life. I broke up with Chris last night. I had reasons, still do, but, right up until the phone rang and it was him, I was still vascillating. We spent 90 minutes on the phone with me crying and apologizing for doing this to him and him just sitting there, stunned, speechless, and quietly crying. I had reasons -- rational, reasonable all -- but I didn't think about what my life would be like without him. Now, I'm sitting in my pajamas on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably and wondering what I've done.
I love him, and he loves me, and that ought to be enough, oughtn't it? Who cares if we don't agree on some pretty fundamental issues? I mean, if Carville and Matalin can manage, why not us? The geographic challenge? Surely true love could overcome that? The fact that he doesn't care about what's going on in the world beyond his own doorstep? Why should that bother me so much? So what if his interpretation of the Bible is more fundamental than mine is? He loves me and he wouldn't care if I were an athiest, because what he loves is my essential self, not the outward trappings.
I had some idea that, in order to go forth and live my authentic life, as I'd written in my last entry, that I had to do so unencumbered, but is that true? Do I really have to be all alone in the world to allow myself to be the woman that I want to be? Oh my God, what kind of victory is it going to be if I have this all figured out, fitness, health, achievements, and no one in my life to share it with?
