i feel sometimes...

...i wanted you to know...i love the way you laugh...i want to hold you high and steal your pain away

...i keep your photograph...i know it serves me well..i want to hold you high and steal your pain away

 

cos i'm broken when i'm open i don't feel like i am strong enough

cos i'm broken when i'm lonesome and i don't feel light when you're gone away

 

...the worst is over now...and we can breathe again...i want to hold you high you steal my pain away

...there's so much left to learn...and no one left to fight...i want to hold you high and steal your pain

 

cos i'm broken when i'm open and i don't feel like i am strong enough

cos i'm broken when i'm lonesome and i don't feel light when you're gone away

Belly

There was a time, a long time ago, I think, that I enjoyed my belly.  For one, it is fun to say.  Bellybellybelly.  For two, it is fun to make fun of people's bellies.  "There is a dime on my belly" still makes me laugh.  For three, it is hard to do a belly roll without much of a belly.

 

But now, my belly and I aren't getting along.  All of the weight I have gained has gone directly to my belly; so now, it protrudes out from the front of my body like a foreign thing.  They say that when you have to bend over to see your toes, it is a bad sign.  I'm at that fucking sign, folks.  (Yes, it deserves an f-bomb.)

 

And I'm kind of sad about it because I got my belly tattooed because it was the seat of my soul.  When I was meditating or praying, my hands would automatically go there and cradle the ink I designed myself.  But now, I just stay away from my belly altogether because it is so freaking round and in the way.  I still feel the seat of my soul is there; it is just furrowed down underneath all of the damn belly.

 

The last time I saw my dad, he said that he would like me to "lose a little of my middle" by the next time he saw me.  That's been a year ago, and I have gone up a size in that time.  That makes me feel like a loser, a failure.  Even though I am taking steps NOW to get healthier, I couldn't give him what he asked me for, and that makes things difficult for me.  (I DID manage to tell him that I'd like to see him with a few less beers next time I saw him, but I didn't see either of those things happening.  That kind of made me feel good.)

 

But what can I say?  I'm a fat girl, and I'm trying to get healthy.  I have this tremendous belly, and I'm trying to get rid of it.  It takes a long time, though; and sometimes, I think people have unrealistic expectations.  I know I did / have / probably still do.  So, my belly is going to disappoint people, and that disappoints me.

 

Damn the belly.

5/25/10

So, I have a confession.

 

I haven't been completely sticking to my eating plan.  I *have* gotten on the treadmill on all the days I am supposed to do so (I take one full day of rest per week, usually Saturday); so, that is good.  However, I haven't been sticking to my eating plan.  I have been derailing myself with mini twix, mini musketeers, "emergency" Jimmy Johns, and KFC.  I was steady at 233.0 all week long; and then, today, 234.2.  It seems like a small amount; but when the scale goes up, I go down, down, down.

 

"So, what are you going to do about it?"

I can hear it from across cyberspace.  But the truth is:  I don't know.  I don't know if this is a question of willpower or self-exploration.  Why can't I stick to the plan?  Why do I keep sabotaging my progress?

 

I honestly don't think this is an issue of willpower.  I truly do think that there is a part of me, on a base, instinct level, that wants to eff things up.  Frog once told me that I was comfortable in the uncomfortable - that I was at my most normal when everything was hectic and in a tizzy.  For a long time, she was right; but I worked long and hard to get out of that space...except it creeps up every now and then.  Like now.  Amidst all of the not sticking to my eating plan drama, I've dreamed up a bunch of unhappy drama that I think will only be fixed by wiping the slate clean, getting the hell out of Dodge, and starting over somewhere else.  If I try hard enough, I can see her.  A little black and grey bitch, hobbling along trying to jump up on my back and drag me down into the muck.  I have to fight her every day.  Most days, I win.  Some days, I don't.  I don't think she is my lack of willpower, though.  I think she is the visualization of my BPD.  And she wants me to swing back and forth.  She wants me to go crazy all over again.  But I'm not going to go there.  I will not go there.

 

But digging up my roots and running with my tail between my legs isn't my truth either.  I will still be the same person I am now, just in a different city, still with the same bitch I keep trying to keep at bay.  I do wonder, through, if she'd be happier in Florida?

 

And all of that leaves me with this:  I am doing this to myself.

Which leaves me with this:  If I am doing this, I can stop doing it.

Which leaves me with this:  If I can stop doing it, it is a matter of choice.

Which leaves me with this:  If it is a matter of choice, I get to choose the outcome.

 

I get to choose the outcome.  Maybe not yesterday's outcome, but right now's outcome.  Five minutes from now's outcome.  Tonight's outcome and tomorrow's outcome.  I can make sure that I get on the treadmill tonight as I have been doing.  I can choose to do better tomorrow than I have today, even if it is only by an increment.

 

"It doesn't have to be all or nothing."

 

Again, I hear it from across cyberspace, and I understand logically.  My higher brain understands.  It is just taking longer to filter the message down to my more basic personalities, my more instinctive individuals.  Little by little, the message gets to the intended targets; and little by little, I do better, I react better, I am better.  I'm not hiding anymore, and that was a huge step for me.  All of these other little, baby steps will add up to huge steps for me, too, but I have to recognize that they will come in their own time.  Bit by bit, everything will begin to add up into strength, empowerment, and a strong will.

 

So shall it be.

The 56 million-dollar question

So, I'm sure my scant reader(s) wants to know:  Did you get on the treadmill last night?  Did you follow the rules?

 

Yes, my friends, I did.  And while I was on that treadmill for five whole minutes, in between thoughts of wanting to quit at two minutes, then three minutes, I began to think of how I got here.  How was it that I came to weigh 233 pounds?  My mind and I have been ruminating over this question for a while because before you can move forward, you have to understand the past.

 

I'm not a binge eater.  I never have been.  I'm not a sneak eater.  I've never hidden food from my parents, my husband, etc.  I'm just a ritual eater.  If I get stuck on a favorite, I will eat it for months - even if it is bad.  For example, when Jimmy John's opened up near work, I got stuck on their #14 with cheese and extra mayo.  That is over 1,000 calories right there.  For lent last year, I got stuck on McDonald's fish sammiches (two at a time, yo) with a dessert of cinnamon melts.  That lasted a few months, too.

 

Also, I am addicted to sugar.  I am not kidding at all when I say that at 30 years old, I have a 30-year history with Pepsi.  My parents were putting it in my bottle when I was a baby.  (Yes, we are hillbilly folk.)  Then, I discovered Diet Dr. Pepper and OMG I had to have them all the time.  I've done pretty well at kicking the pop habit and drinking more water, but I can't yet drink plain water.  The water has to be fizzy or have a flavoring of some sort.  Another aspect of my sugar addiction is sweets.  Candy, cookies, cake, brownies - I've had long-term relationships with all of them.  I particularly crave candy when I'm around my period time, and I don't seem to have the willpower to say no to the craving.  Right now, even, there are cookies and cake in the break room, and I am having a hard time not having some even though I  ate a clean breakfast and a clean mid-morning boost (yay me!).  It is the sugar, man.  If I can break THAT habit, I think I will be much better off.

 

Another factor in the weightiness of fish is the fact that I have been living off of processed foods for fifteen years.  As I learn more about eating clean, I see that my diet has been crap since I was in high school where they used to bring in pizza hut, taco bell, and burger king for lunch options.  Even if I brown bagged it, I'd get a pizza to go with my lunch and eat both so my mom wouldn't know I didn't want my lunch.  Sometimes, I still do it!  I will bring a lunch, but I will get something else and eat both because I don't want hubby to know that I didn't eat my lunch.  I guess that is the only way I've ever "hidden" food.

 

So, that is how I got here.  Little by little, I am figuring out how to get away from here.  Wish me luck!

Circe

Alone but not lonely, Circe is the epitome of autonomous woman. Harness her energy to empower your own destiny, but beware of the temptation to use the energy to harm others.

 

AFFIRMATIONS

I can make choices

I am my own best friend

It is my right to choose my path

My awesome power is released

I am full of energy and passion

Look out world, here I come!

I am free to choose my own destiny

My power is unleashed for the greatest good of all

 

Her Story

 

Circe or (Kirke, pronounced Kir-kee) is the daughter of Helios (The Sun) and Perseis (the daughter of Okeanos). Goddess of the moon and the night, Circe began life as a 'mage for hire' in order to fund her expensive pursuit of magic.

 

She was immortalised in literature (Homer's Odyssey) as a femme fatale, enticing Odysseus to her island whereupon she transformed his sailors to the animal closest to their true nature - pigs.

 

Because of Circe's mannerism of encircling her "victims" before enchanting them, she was named after the death-bird "kirkos" (a circling of falcons). However, she was neither good nor evil. Circe was simply fixed in her endeavours to further her own goals.

 

Her Modern Energy

 

For modern women, this means Circe challenges you to take responsibility for your own actions and life. Stop floating along with the mindset that "life just happens" and draw on Circe's energy to use your own power to create your own destiny.

 

Living alone on her island, the archetype of Circe is that of autonomous woman, self-empowered and whole unto herself. She does not need a man to complete her, although some stories tell of jealous tantrums where she unleashed her magic to metamorphose men and women who had crossed her.

 

Alone but not lonely, Circe's bouts of jealousy represents love in its irrational passion and remarkable power. This energy can be harnessed to enable your own transformation too. Let Circe's energy carry you forward, up and out of the life that is making you feel powerless.

The Truth

I've been reading this zen website that talks a lot about simplifying your life.  One of the articles I read today dealt with the notion of marginalizing, shall we say...thinking in smaller terms.  But somehow I also took away the notion of the need for truthfulness from the same article.  Being truthful is important, and I think it is time I am truthful with myself.  So, here is my truth:

 

I am thirty years old, and I weigh 233.8 pounds as of this morning.  I am five feet and two inches tall.  I have been heavy all of my life, and I simply began believing that I was going to be heavy all of my life.  I am a walking Venus of Willendorf, ask anyone I know, and they will tell you that I remind them of her.

 

Here's another truth:  I have a poor body image.  I know where it comes from, and I know what caused it; so, I will spare you that and simply leave it at that.  I have it, and it contributes to the daily choices I make.  I sabotage myself so that I stay in the discomfort zone because being in a comfortable place makes me nervous.

 

But here's another truth:  Recently, I've taken back my life.  I decided that I didn't like a lot of things in my life, and there needed to be change.  Change has been a'happenin.  Some have taken to it, and some have not.  But it is there. So, change is happening INSIDE of me and all around me.

 

And here's the big truth:  I don't want this weight anymore.  In the last year, I have gained roughly 30 pounds.  I don't want it anymore.  I don't want the stress on my joints.  I don't want the excess weight on my body.  I just plain don't want it

 

But more than I want to be less dense, less rotund, I want to be healthy.  I want to be able to stick to my eating clean regimen without it being a fight every day.  I want to exercise so that my body feels better.  So, new rules effective now until June 1:

 

1.  Exercise five minutes every day.  It makes me seem like a wimp, but I am out of shape, srsly.

2.  Be prepared:  plan ahead for the day's meals and have the right food on hand.

3.  Be prepared:  plan ahead to say no.

4.  Take it meal by meal and step by step.

5.  Reward yourself on June 2.

L'Anxietie

Last night something happened to me that hasn't happened in a very long time:  I had a full-on panic attack.  Tears and everything.  Over something so very simply I couldn't tell you why it happened.  Today, I'm in recovery mode, I think, pulling into myself to try to figure out why it happened and petting myself to reassure me that it is all ok.

It is all ok.  Everything is going to be fine.  When you can do this, you'll do it.  Not before, and not forced.  Don't worry.

Don't worry.

Needy B*tch

I'm a needy bitch.  I know it.  My husband knows it.  Frog knows it.  Everybody I know knows it, I think.  I can't help it; it is part of my nature.  I want to know that I did a good job.  I want to know that my slave heart pleased someone.  It is such a sweet sentiment, isn't it?

 

But CALL me a needy bitch? And I might have to change my panties. >.<

 

Frog calls it "high maintenance"....I don't care what you call it...just say it every now and then.  :)

 

You needy bitch, you.