Author: kidtrish

I am a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an Enigma. Good Luck ;)

Capable or Culpable ?

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You decide. On this journey, we all must choose what we are. Capable? Willing? Wanting? Or ?

I make it no secret that I am a semi-active member of Weight Watchers. I say semi-active because while I attend my meeting most weeks I haven’t been “living” the program for a very long time. I could list a bunch of excuses, but really c’mon who wants to hear that BS? Life is an undertaking. The world continues to go on even when you don’t. I am capable. Very as a matter of fact. What I am is not willing. There is a part of me that is unwilling to try to be part of my solution instead of most of my issue. Do you get what I am trying to say? I get lost in the anger of my life. Perhaps anger is not even the correct feeling. I am frustrated. I am sad. I am disappointed. I am overwhelmed. I feel like there is never enough. Enough happiness, enough sunshine, enough love, enough peace, enough of whatever magic ingredient I feel that I am missing. Maybe there isn’t enough of me. I don’t give enough of myself to me so I can be more capable and less culpable.

I overeat that is why I am overweight. Simple. If you put 5lbs of sugar into a 2lb bag the contents will spill out. I am culpable. No one else is to blame for what I have done to my body, to myself. Just me.

What’s next? I think the answer lies in the questions. What do I want for myself? Am I capable? or am I more comfortable in the role of “won’t do”? Do I have enough faith in myself? Am I willing to embrace this program? to come to terms with the fact that left unattended I will always make the wrong choice because it is the easier path? Am I ready?

I need to look at each of the questions. I need to work on finding what works for me and what doesn’t . I need to be more into my success and less in to why I keep faltering. I don’t have all the answers. I will work this journey one moment at a time. I know I can do this. I want this.

Just a Number?

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As people go I am not a big fan of being thought of as a number. Counted, sorted, relegated to a pile. I am not Borg. Seven of nine or any other combination there of. Having said that I can’t help but wonder about all the ways that we as people put numbers on things to give importance to events, people, places. Is first place all that there is? The end all, be all? There is something to be said for the one who sticks in there and crosses the finish line last. Perseverance, pride in accomplishing a task that one has started but was afraid to undertake. I would much rather have the last slice of cake than the first but that is just how I roll. Last piece for me means there is no way I can keep eating something that I shouldn’t have tasted in the first place. = )

Trying to be that number we set for ourselves can be a scary, daunting task. I have been a WW for seven years. I have been close to my “number” only once. I try not to let the scale define who I am or who I think I should be. The scale only really measures the pull of gravity on your body. We all joke that Gravity is not our friend. She causes wrinkles and sagging. We say Karma is a bitch, go figure.

Inspiration

I hate judgment days. Weigh in days. Tipping the scales or whatever other dreaded name this event has. It is a necessary evil. It can help a person to be brave enough to continue but it can also dash your greatest hopes and make you face truths you just don’t want to see. I am the one responsible for my own success not that scale. I put in the work, or some days not. I am the one.

I am more than a number.

I am trying to make peace with a bad coping mechanism that I foolishly taught myself. Feed a hungry child? Yes, but NEVER teach someone to soothe bad feelings with a cookie. It is a BAD idea. A hug, a real hug and some encouraging words take a person a lot farther than a chocolate cake ever carried anyone. My greatest hope? Some day I will wake up and live in my moment. Enjoy every wonderful and horrible thing that comes my way without THINKING about eating a bag of chips “to take my mind off” the unpleasantness of my moment.

On The Road

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I find myself on a road that I am all too familiar with. I feel angry, confused and just a little like a balloon with a pinhole leak. I don’t handle my anger well. I obsess about all of the details that have lead up to my anger. It takes all of my concentration to let go of my anger balloon. I want to be acknowledged. I want to feel that the thing that I am angry about is justified. That I am indeed right to be pissed off. I want my feelings to be validated. I want to be heard. I want to be understood. Sometimes I over react. I allow a situation to spin out of control. When the shit hits the fan, and it always does, I am stunned. Caught with my eyes half closed. Will I ever learn? probably not. I am one of those hopeless romantics certain that tomorrow will be a better day.

I have too much faith in people. Trust in someone other than yourself and time and time again people let you down. Truth is I let myself down. Why do I expect more from others? I am a WANTER. I want to be happy. I want to be believe. I want to be someone other than who I think I am. I want money( who doesn’t). I want to be wanted. I want to be loved. I want to be the best example of me that there is but all of these wants are of a dream of unattainable desires that I don’t know how to acquire and sadly, even if all my WANTS came to fruition, I wouldn’t know what do with them.

Wanting is not a bad thing in small doses. Growing up I just wanted to feel safe. I have a hard time relaxing. I mean really relaxing, living in the moment. Whatever that moment is: joy, sadness, great conversation. I am always on guard, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Looking over my shoulder, waiting for the wind to change directions. Something wicked this way comes… Mom is in a bad mood. Hide your prized possessions. Be careful what you say. Walking on eggshells. Uncertainty is a difficult feeling to let go of.

I am an adult with my own life. My mother passed away almost eight years ago. My father is living in a nursing home. For the first time in my life I have no responsibility to anyone but myself. I made it my job to ensure everyone else’s happiness yet I never mapped out a plan for myself. I didn’t realize the prison I made for myself had a key. A way out. This whole time I had this key with no idea what it was for. The time has come for me to free myself from false expectations. I hold onto beliefs of myself that are simply not who I feel that I am.

I loved the MTM show in my youth. I often sing the theme song, maybe it is time I learned to follow my dreams  = )

Who can turn the world on with her smile?
Who can take a nothing day, and suddenly make it all seem worthwhile?
Well it’s you girl, and you should know it
With each glance and every little movement you show it
Love is all around, no need to waste it
You can have a town, why don’t you take it
You’re gonna make it after all 

The road to happiness is a journey many start but few finish. It is a state of mind, not a destination. Embrace who you are and learn to celebrate the wonder that is YOU.
 

Bed Time

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One day it just happens. You wake up and realize that Mr. and Mrs. are in dire need of a new mattress/box spring. Hell, why not spring for a real bed instead of just using an old frame? Claim grownup status once and for all and for GAWD sake buy a flippin’ bed.
The realization is simple the choice not so. Mr. and Mrs. are not small people. We both snore, me more than him. I know hard to believe but sadly so true : ( We have different support needs. Hubster leans more to a firm/extra firm. I want softness to the touch yet firmness for my saggy old lady bones. Extra firm is “to lay on a board feel” for me.
We haven’t even broached the money aspect of it all yet. I can’t wait until we start discussing price versus needs and wants.

I have always wanted one of these. I don’t need it but I would love one. A hobbit house = )
wpid-hobbit-house.jpg.jpeg

Pretty soon it will be tax season and if Uncle Sam is good to us this year and our bedstead does not break betwixt here and then we will have a new bed. Maybe.

Good night

Pepper in our bed
Pepper in our bed

The Girl at the Bottom of the Bed

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Have you ever woken from a nightmare not certain that you are alone? It happens to me all the time. I dream I am running away or trying to get away from some unseen bad ass behind me. The terror I feel takes my breath away. I cast a look over my shoulder, my breath catches in my throat. I am compelled to yell out. Suddenly I am aware that I am sitting up in bed, in the middle of the night, surrounded by my fear, my heart beating fiercely in my chest. I reach for the bottled water I keep at my bedside. Out of the corner of my eye I see her as I uncap the bottle to get a drink.
I have never been able to catch a glimpse of her straight on. Pigtailed, wearing a striped jersey, she is the girl at the bottom of my bed. The ghost of Trisha Past. She wants to be reassured that things will turn out OK. I have nothing to offer her. Life is not a sure thing. The answers she seeks only come with more questions. That is just the truth of it.
How do I tell her that she will have to grow up before she is ready? How do I prepare her for the emotional baggage she will never be able to walk away from? I have tried to make her go away but she always comes back pleading, “Please help me, save me !?!” I can’t help myself. What makes her think I can help her?
I rush off to the bathroom whispering to myself. She is just my imagination screwing with me. It feels real. I am uncomfortable making my way to the bathroom. I feel panic trying to force itself on me. I stop, look around and make myself take a deep breath. I search for a distraction to divert my mounting thoughts. I flip on the light. I pick up my latest book trying to read without my glasses. I am to afraid to pee. I need to calm down before I start to cry. Too late as the tears stain my cheeks. Down the book goes. I cry as quietly as I can so as not to disturb my husband sleeping just a few feet away.

The life I have, the job I work and the things I surround myself with don’t fit me. I have become something smaller than what I set out to be. I can remember being timid as a child. I was nervous to the point of illness the first day of school every year until I entered eighth grade. High school brought other problems and I soon came to realize that the first day of school was by far the least of my worries. I don’t know how to acquire the things that I so desperately am sure will make me content. I only know that I am as empty as that mayonnaise jar that sits in a back corner waiting for the recycle man. Did I ever have a purpose? The meaning of life is to fill the life you have been given. Mine is empty.
All of my days start out exactly the same. I awaken to the blare of the hated alarm clock. Instant dread sets in. I am not happy to greet the new day. I am pissed off. Am I stuck in a time loop? Destine to repeat the same day again and again until I have paid for crimes past? I have so many other questions that seem to have no answers.
Sometimes you can’t quite put your finger on it. There is just something wrong. It is 5 in the morning and here I am in front of the bathroom mirror contemplating checking out of my life for the day. I am weary beyond belief. My eyes are puffy and red, my body aches; I feel like I’ve survived the roller derby. I hate what I have become.
I am not certain when the awakening began. I just know that one morning I woke up feeling different. How did I get here? What indecisions brought me to this point in my life? The last thing I remember was sitting in my fifth grade language class daydreaming about being a grownup. I am not sure how I got to this place but I am here. When did I give up? What was it that made the pile spill over into the well of “I don’t want to try anymore.” I wish I knew.
Why is there no happy ending? Why do we as people try so hard to acquire stuff in a short span of nothing more than a bunch of years? Is it really done in the quest for the happy ending or is it a personality defect? An inner voice driving you to prove you are as worthy as the next fellow in line?
I feel my youth is transforming into middle-age where everything seems old hat and tired. The face I catch staring back at me just couldn’t belong to me. When did my youth leave? Is everyone just as disillusioned as I am? I have spent a lifetime in pursuit of the next best “whatever” and I still haven’t gotten there. I can’t help but wonder if I am emotionally strong enough to leave my life behind. Do I have what it takes to walk away from the unhappiness I have lived with for so long? Can I finally be at peace? If I have spent so much of my energies on a battle I can’t win what is there to say about the war? I want to feel alive again. I want to be able to smile and mean it. Not just have it sit as a fixture to be applied whenever the cue card prompts me. How many people really have the guts to leap from their ledge of comfort out into the blue?

My life at least to me is about as ordinary as the next gal in line, which just sucks. I wanted to be the one. You know what I am talking about. The one that breaks free, the one who makes themselves a legend in their own time, the one. Truth is I am a discarded lotto ticket; all of my glamour and potential has been rubbed off. I find myself not caring about what is next. I feel cheated; left holding the burning end of the stick. I don’t like feeling this way. I have held secret resentment most of my life. Somewhere in my childhood someone made me feel like I was worth less. Less important than those around me, less pretty, less wanted, less everything. I decided one morning that there just wasn’t enough in my life. Enough love, enough respect, enough peace. If truth is to be told I felt like I had put up with enough. Enough bullshit, enough loneliness, enough anger, so I walked away.

I have never had a firm idea about what it IS that I want to do with my life. I can do many things rather well. The real problem; I can’t do any ONE thing well enough to make a sound living off of it. I have wasted most of my life trying to figure out the next move. I envy single-minded people. Pick the thing that you are good at and make it your life’s work.

Someday I will break free from the things that I allow to keep me prisoner. Someday, just not this day.

It’s Sunday Morning

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For the first time in months I have been allowed to sleep in. Somehow my hubby most have gotten engrossed in a book or is playing a video game or he might even be watching TV. Harder still to believe that my phone did not jolt me awake at 6ish a.m. with a barrage of questions from my Dad. I roll over still hazy with sleep. I can sort of see through my blurry vision that it is 8:27 a.m.! Hard for me to believe it is really this late. Ever wonder why the morning muscle stretch feels so damn good? I don’t know either but what an awesome way to start a day. As I stretch out my limbs the phone rings. I reach over to grab the cordless from the night stand. I don’t even have to check the caller ID I know it is my Dad. “Trish?”
“Yes, Pops.”
“Did I wake you?”
“Nope. I just woke up, the cat was letting me pat her so I was lounging in bed. What do you need?”
“What day is it? Sunday?”
“It is. Did you take your pills this morning?” I can hear him open the cabinet door. “Wait a minute. I’ll do it now.” He puts his end of the line down. I can hear the fridge door open. I yell into the receiver,” drink water!”
“Water?”
“Yes, water.” After another minute of me trying to hear over the phone what is going on in my Dad’s apartment, from across the city, he picks up his line again. “Mission accomplished.” I can almost see him smile his goofy smile into the phone. ” Are you coming over today?”
“Yes, Dad. I come over everyday. But, first I need coffee and breakfast and a hot shower.”

Before the Parade Passes By…

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… before it goes on and only I’m left.

I am uncomfortable around peaceful silence. The beauty of a calm day. The no worries of the Saturday morning you have waited all week for. Problem is; I don’t know how to relax. Sit in the sun, watch clouds, enjoy my surroundings. I grew up never being able to have normal adventures. I was raised in the 70s. My father was the only source of income.  We could have had a comfortable life but that is no even close to what happened. I am not complaining. I have a head full of wonderful memories but it is also clogged with bad memories. A slap across the face is remembered a lot longer than a kiss on the cheek. Truth

I know normal is not a reality for most people. Are we as people too dysfunctional to grasp normal? We all want “normal”; but ,our own version of it. It is a odd concept. What is it based on? life experiences averaged out?  I don’t know this answer. Normal for one is abnormal to others. It is also why everybody’s normal is different. I decided today I am no longer striving to be anything than what I already am.

I have wasted so much of my life trying to conform to an image I have of WHO I think I need to be versus the WHO that I am.

The WHO that I am? On any given day a hot mess or a princess or a worry wart or a wife, a friend, a confidante.

 

 

Inspiration…

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…that word fell out of someone’s mouth today about me. I inspire people to be bigger than they allow themselves to be. News to me. I felt a little overwhelmed by the thought actually. I often feel like a stick living a quiet life trapped in a quagmire(cool word). Floating through my life not having any real affect on anyone. Funny what we are willing to believe about ourselves. Even stranger to try to accept what others hold onto about you. I know that often I like to hold onto a belief that is untrue. I tell myself I am unworthy. I don’t use that word specifically but the sum of all the other words that scamper around my head add up to UNWORTHY or HOPELESS or something along the lines of “what you want isn’t important”. I am important. I am beautiful. I am Trish. My value as a person is ten times what I believe it is. So why do I tear myself down? why do any of us do it?

There is always someone out there waiting in the wings to tell you bad things about the who that you are. It is something that I wish we as a people could learn to stop doing. Instead of throwing people under a bus why can’t we help them climb on board? be that hand that reaches out to help instead of slap you down? Funny thing about love and kindness it GOES NOWHWERE unless it is shared. In my encounters, with people that run through the valley of my life, I like to say something positive about themselves to them. Novel concept? maybe but I like the smile I get in return. I am honest and kind. I love the people in my life. I care about each one differently and yet the same. They stay in my life which speaks volumes about the type of person I am. Who I can be. People don’t venture into a garden for the bees ( well I am sure some might) they wander in to see the glory of the blooms contained within. People naturally are attracted to beauty. So maybe I am the garden in someone’s life, how cool is that?

Self-worth or an understanding of what you mean to yourself is often pushed aside or buried by people. I do it. You do it. It is ok to be. It is ok to like yourself just as you are. There will never be another you, EVER. Accept every wonderful and dark thing about you;  because this is it. Your show. Your time. A small belief in oneself can lead to such wonderful and amazing adventures.

I think I like inspiring people.

A Girl Named Fox

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Have you ever been someplace that vibrated from the amount of admiration, respect or love for a person? I mean for someone who isn’t a rock star?  I witnessed it up close today for a man I have never actually met.  Two minutes in a reception line does not indeed count, nice try. The number of people I actually knew at the benefit was less than fingers on one hand yet I didn’t feel at odds. I was awed today.

I went to see a girl named Fox today. She is dear to me in ways I can not list here. She has a way about her that makes you feel that you are a better person just for having known her. Recently her family has been through some real crap moments due to an illness of a loved one. I have been worried about her. A true friend is someone who wants nothing from you but everything for you. I want all the awesome things about life to be there for her and her family but I can’t promise these things or even fix the stuff that is wrong. It breaks my heart. I wish I could take all the pain, fear and doubt away. I can only give of my heart, my hopes, and my support. I jokingly tell her she is part of my Framily, but I mean it. You are blessed if you can say that you have family and friends in your life that care about you; the whole of you.

I hope you and your family felt the love today.

Did You Ever ?

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Did you ever think you’d be where you are at this moment? Did you ever look into the clouded sky in the middle of a hectic day and cloud surf? Did you ever want to leave the circus? jump a new ride, dream a new dream? just BE any place but where you are. I have had a searing headache for two days. Brought on I am sure from lack of sleep and high levels of stress. In my younger days I would have simply shut down, packed it in, lived everyday apart from the people in my life, my emotions, needs, and desires put on hold. I had no room for anything but ANGER. Anger is hurt and disappointment in an ugly dress. I am frustrated. I don’t know where or who to turn to. I am so very tired. And I am so sad…beyond sad.

I blog as a way to deal. I don’t need to be saved and I loathe being worried about. I have a dark side. Surprised? People think they “know” me but they don’t. I like it that way. Never willingly give someone else the upper hand by showing all your cards ; ) keeping people a tad off balance does me a world of good. Keeps them on their toes. I hate to admit it but my kid sister was my equalizer. She had a way with me when I got stuck on the dark side hating the world.

Did you ever want to see yourself as others “know” you? or is it all a pointless exercise based on concept of self that you are unwilling to own? People can be cruel often under the guise of helping make you a better person. I think I like not knowing how others see me considering the way I see myself change with the wind.

I still cloud surf. I still dream a new dream once in awhile. My breath still catches when unexpected beauty or love crosses my path. I still believe in magic : ) …and my headache is gone.