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.
[Note that I've disabled comments for this post. I don't know how long for, but right now I need to be able to write without worrying what anyone thinks. Not so long ago, no one read what I wrote and, while I love the interaction with all of you, I'm afraid that it's made me loathe to face some hard truths because I was afraid of your reactions. At this point, I'm in survival mode, so it has to just be about me again.]
Saturday night. The post that's been at the edge of my consciousness for weeks. The thoughts, jumbled and incomprehensible until now, suddenly coming together in a terrifyingly clear picture. My confidence, so green, still young and tender, shaken and battered. My heart racing and full of fear. Suddenly, it's as though I'm facing the perfect storm for a compulsive/emotional overeater. More food. More food. More food until it stops. Until this fear, this aching feeling of not being enough, stops. But, of course, it won't stop. Nothing will make it stop, certainly not a binge, not wishing that I felt better, and not writing sham posts about a cheery outlook that just doesn't exist anymore.
How long have I been feeling this way? Tough to know, really, because my true understanding of how bad it is only became clear for me this afternoon on the way home from Junior League training. It was only when the realization hit that I've been as good as bingeing for days now and been on the verge for weeks that it all made sense. When I asked myself what's going on, the answer was clear: I'm scared.
I'm scared that it's all not enough. That losing weight, being healthy, getting fit, my work as a CASA, going back to school, my newfound (and, obviously, easily-shaken) confidence, none of it will ever be enough. Would anything be enough? Is there enough of anything in the world to fill the huge, gaping hole inside me? I know there's not enough food. (Been there, tried that.) I don't believe there's enough love, either, although any man that got involved with me would surely soon tire of my constant need for reassurance that he really loved me.
I don't know if there's something inside my brain - some on/off switch or secret compartment - that allows these thoughts to go away temporarily, because I had been feeling really good for a while there. Happy, with myself and my life. (No, it's not all been a lie.) I don't know if it was some event or a certain set of circumstances or just the right amount of time or what, but something unleashed this terrible beast and I'm flipping out thinking that I will never get it all shoved back in the box where it belongs.
Hang on. Hang on just a little second. I think I've got a lead on the source. Things started going wonky around the same time I bought my new car. The monetary commitment, especially the stress around all of the things I'm going to have to give up in order to afford it, started pushing my emotional eating buttons. I am someone who absolutely must be in control (or have the illusion that I am) and my financial life is most certainly not in my control at all. I felt pushed into buying the new car - my old one just couldn't go on much longer, if I wanted to get anything for it I had to sell it quickly, it wasn't going to pass smog inspection (which was due the day after I sold it) - and it left me feeling helpless and scared that I'd bitten off too much. From looking at my old patterns of overeating, I know that the helplessness was a huge trigger for me, so this all starts making a lot more sense.
What to do, what to do? I'm taking steps already to ensure that I'll be OK for a few months at least without any sacrifices and that buys me some time to figure the rest of it out. Surely it's a good sign that I've figured this out (I think), right? I can't lose everything I've worked so hard for. I've come too far this time, I've seen The Promised Land, I can see it still, just beyond the horizon. I know it's there and I know I'm meant to get there. Perhaps I haven't got it all figured out, but I've gained a lot of tools since the last time I was here and, if nothing else, I want it more this time. I just need to remember why and how I managed to get here.
I can do this. I know I can. One foot in front of the other. One meal at a time.
Thursday afternoon. I'm so tired. I'm not sleeping particularly well (it's the cold) and work is just putting me through it, so I wind up feeling very hazy all day. Add to that the general lethargy of the stuffy-head-coughing thing, and it's just not pretty. Nor, in fact, am I, at this point. When I look in the mirror, I see a nearly-Albino face staring back at me. My eyelashes seem to have disappeared, my skin has the color and consistency of poi, and my hair is just lying there. Gee, what a good idea it was to drink tons of alcohol and eat lots of bad food all last week!
I'm going to my Junior League team's wine tasting social tonight, but I'm not sure how long I'll stay. The cold and tiredness are part of it, but I also don't want to end up sloshing down a bunch of wine and then feeling like poop tomorrow. Speaking of tomorrow, I'm thinking of changing my major at school from Management to Accounting, so I have to go to an orientation tomorrow night at 6pm. The unfortunate thing is that Alcott's basketball game is at 7pm and it's about 20 minutes away from the UoP campus. I won't miss the boy's game, so I'll have to leave early. Hope that's OK with the powers that be, but I'd rather wait another month to be able to start class again than ever disappoint that child. Ever.
I think I need to get something to eat before the wine tasting. What sounds good?
Wednesday morning. Guess what? No talk of boys, cute or otherwise, on my site today. Instead, I thought I might write about something related to weight loss and fitness - what do you think?
So, by some miracle, the food (and alcohol) fest of last week doesn't seem to have affected my weight at all. I don't know why either, so don't be too annoyed, OK? In any case, I've set a goal for myself of being 180 pounds by Memorial Day. That's 12 weeks from now and ought to be eminently do-able. I'm going to incorporate the "24-in-24" milk challenge into my efforts, because several prominent studies have shown that drinking 24 ounces of non or low fat milk each day will help you lose more fat when incorporated into a low calorie food plan. We shall see how this turns out, but I've gotten back to basics with my eating, I'm pushing to get more water in, and I'm not snacking midday, so I think I'm on the right track. No activity yet this week, but I've got a cold and I don't want to push it just yet. Tonight I'll do 60 minutes of walking even if I have to slow it down considerably, and then I've got wine tasting with the Junior Leaguers Thursday night (I think I'll just be drinking water) and Alcott's all-star basketball game Friday night, so it will be Saturday before I'm back to activity. Slow but steady wins the race, or so I hope.
Come one, come all: Watch nine months of hard work evaporate in an encounter with one (very cute) man!
Tuesday morning. I should be in a side show. Really, I should. Here I've been preaching that I'm enough - good enough, strong enough, smart enough - for months and, the first time a man walks in, I toss it all to the side and become Painfully Insecure Girl again. (Thanks Marla for bringing that to my attention!) So, I guess what I need to figure out is, has it all been a lie? Have I been bluffing my way through all this time? Or, am I, in point of fact, much stronger than I've been feeling since Thursday night? And, perhaps most importantly (to me): can I be Strong, Secure (Healthy!) Girl and have Love in my life?
Here's what I think (I think): while the confident, I-don't-need-a-man me schtick was great and definitely helped me get where I am now, it's not who I am. Now, don't freak out, kids, I'm not saying that I want to be a doormat for love, either. What I'm saying is that, to be true to myself...to who I truly am, I need to find a way to integrate that strong, confident woman with one who can be vulnerable to love. I must do that because, regardless of whether I ever do find it, I simply cannot close myself off to the possibility forever. No matter what anyone else says, I still believe in love and am still trying to keep the belief that it's out there for me alive. Oh, I'd done a pretty fair job of ripping that flower out of my garden, but it's a tough plant, with lots of roots curled around everywhere inside me. You don't give up the dream of a lifetime just because it's not convenient, and, for me, finding Love and building a life with someone has always been at the center of my life.
Perhaps I'm looking at this all wrong, though. Perhaps the two dreams - being strong, self-sufficient, and healthy and being loved and in love - are not mutually exclusive. Perhaps, in fact, they are intimately connected and the one (love) cannot truly, happily exist without the other?
I don't have answers right now, only questions. Questions and the sure and certain knowledge that, whatever else happens, I cannot give up on me. Cannot throw aside the last nine months of hard work and dedication. Cannot stop being The New Me just because there's a wonderful man out there who may or may not even feel the same way about me. I want both and, because it's eight weeks before I'll know how things turn out with Nathan (yes, that's his name), I'm going to focus all of my energy on kicking some butt with my health. In eight weeks, I can be well below 200 pounds and back on the path of strength and security that I worked so hard to find. Then, if the young man is, indeed, interested, I'll be ready.
Sunday morning. As the distance - both time and space - grows between New Orleans and here, I am growing less and less confident of everything that happened there. Perhaps I came on too strong and he said what he did just to get rid of me? But then I remember our talk and the way that he held me and I know that I won't really know the score until May. Was my first reaction right or is this budding fear/skepticism the truth? I just don't know.
I'm so totally afraid that he'll forget me, that it wasn't real, and that this will become just another nail in the coffin of my cockeyed optimism, my sunny belief that Love really does conquer all. I guess the only questiona that matters would are: is this man really worthy? Is he really as special as I think he is? If he's not, then none of this matters. If he is, then none of this matters, either.
So, where does this leave me? I'm adrift and confused, but then I read this on my Yahoo horoscope: "Frustration can be motivating. Don't give up -- prove the naysayers wrong." For me to give up would be to repudiate my heart, and I just cannot do that. I'd rather be hurt (again) than ever to admit that Love is not all that it's cracked up to be. If I use this fear as an opportunity to put the courage of my convictions to the test then I can come out the other end stronger and happier than ever, and that's just what I intend to do.
