Month: June 2015

My Soul Music

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I have never tried to write my blog while listening to music before. I thought I would give it a try. I am listening to In Blue by The Corrs. I love this CD. It helps to put me in a better mood when the thick fog of funk rolls in. I have the sound turned down a bit so I can process my thoughts. It is true that you never forget a good lesson learned. I used to sing, listen to music in high school to help me prep for tests. Feels like home, who knew? I switched to my go to gal…Streisand. Her music gives me something no other music has ever given me, the ability to believe in myself.

Lately, ok maybe that is a bad reference for time. I have not been getting along with myself for a few years now. This rift in my being has caused me turmoil and self-loathing. One would think that I would have learned to set myself free from that bullshit already. I think I have finally realized it is part of the mystery I call me. I lost faith in myself. I got lost on my journey. I am in the deep woods surrounded by mosquitoes and other wild life with no FECKING idea how to get back to the main road… except, I know the way. I have been unwilling to “fix” my course. Listen, I was in the middle of a first class pity party. I had balloons and snacks and more snacks and more snacks, well I think you get the idea. Eventually it was time to crawl down from my perch in the tress and rejoin the world around me.

I choose my life. Every crappy, wonderful, screwed up minute. I want to be healthy. One of my mother’s last wishes for me was to be well. She knew she was fading and her time was drawing to a close. She gave me one of her best Junie hugs. “I love you, Trish. I know you will take care of Daddy but I worry you won’t look after you. Don’t become me. I can’t walk. I struggle for breath. Someone has to help me with every small thing. Do you want to end up like me? unable to live like you want?” I brushed it off at the time. Mom being dramatic with all the trappings. She died three months later. I started WWs March 3, 2007. My mom passed away June 11.2007. In that short time I lost 50 pounds. I continued to lose for her, for me until I left behind 145 pounds. Hold your applause. Yes, I lost all that weight and then I walked away.

Funny thing about grief after awhile your mind softens the sharp edges so you can move on with your life. Unfortunately, I chose to move in the wrong direction. I had my reasons; ill conceived most of them. Shortly after my Mom’s passing I began taking care of my Dad. In the beginning he only needed gentle reminders and help with his shopping. I was on course. I managed to lose 145 pounds. I was 6 pounds short of reaching lifetime goal at WWs when my Dad had a cardio-vascular accident that changed our lives. He nearly died on me. I was thrust into full time caregiver with part time hours. Where was my rock? Suddenly I felt so useless and small. Dad got better physically but his dementia…well, that is an ongoing adventure = (

I coped the only way an addict knows how. I FELL off the wagon. No, that’s a lie. I JUMPED. It has taken eight years to regain most of the weight I lost. I didn’t want to deal with all the sadness, disappointment and loneliness that comes from taking care of an ailing loved one. There is no one to blame. It is what it is. I allowed myself to fall short on purpose, fulfilling my own doom theory. Well guess what? Screw that shit. I have things I want to do. Things I need to fix. Adventures to take. People to love. I accept I will always have to fight my need to “fix” my problems with food. Food is the worst friend, ever. I can’t live without her. She won’t change so I need to learn to give her space so my soul can have peace.

Tears for Mom

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MuthaAs I sit here typing this I am crying. Sometimes in the wee hours of the morning I need her; grumpy old woman that she was. She made me laugh. June 9th is my Mom’s birthday. This woman drove me crazy. I suppose it was her right seeing she birthed me into this world. There were days I hated her. I misunderstood her. I was ashamed of her. Perhaps those days can be written off as growing pains, maybe not.  I like to think that she helped me become all the wonderful things that make me Trish. The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly and no I don’t mean the Clint Eastwood movie.

My mother was truly one of a kind, thank gawd. She was a tormented soul. She struggled with mental illness the whole of her life. She still managed to raise three daughters. My father loved her with every fiber of his being. He still does. Over the years I learned to accept the kind of love she knew how to give. It was hard growing up with a damaged parent but it made me strong. It taught me to be kind. It taught me to look at problems from all sides. It taught me how to duck when food and dishes would get thrown = ) I miss her.

Happy Birthday you old bat!
Love Shotzie

Parting Ways

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It is difficult to be “in” everyday. We all do it. Walk through a day instead of being in the day. Maybe it happened the last time just a few days ago when you had to sit through a work meeting or maybe it was at a function you didn’t want to go to like a graduation or a wedding. My point is we all do it. I do it as a way to preserve my sanity; play along to get along. I hate that about myself. Every time I walk through a day I lose a tiny piece of myself. I am tired of giving me away for no return on my investment.

I find, for myself, that every time I do this my ANGER grows. I become less happy. My resentment level builds to a point where I feel like a cat whose fur has been rubbed the wrong way, putting me on edge. I feel boxed in with no hope for escape. It needs to stop. I am letting go of my anger, again. I want Anger to leave and take her nasty friends, Fear and Loathing with her. Whenever we hang out together I am the one who suffers. I start to question all of my life choices. I am 50. Let’s be honest my anger about wrong path taking should have been set on the right road along time ago. I didn’t follow my dreams because I was afraid. Afraid to live.

I hold a grudge against myself for letting myself down over and over. Self-loathing doesn’t change anything. The only thing I accomplish by being angry with myself is fulfill my own prophecy about not amounting to much. Hold a person up to high expectations and the common man will do whatever it takes to rise to the occasion, to prove his worth, to be given the chance for better and bigger things. I just want my chance. I know in the depths of my soul that I am capable of being so much more than I allow myself to be.

I need a positive change. I will post at least one positive thing a day. I will make it about something that I do or accomplish for me. I am worth the time. Today I made the choice to be happier with myself just the way I am. All my flaws and all the things I like about myself; the whole package = )wpid-20141101_172457.jpg