Category: Ponderances

For questions I can’t seem to find the answers to.

Where Does It Come From?

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Inspiration for a blog post comes from many things around me. Little things that everyday people miss everyday. The smile on a little girl’s face when she looks up at the man she calls Daddy, the homeless man on the street holding his sign pleading for 2, the school kids heading home from class on a beautiful day, a small child crying seemingly unhappy at not being understood. I see. I have trouble not thinking about all of the things I see. The world is not a safe or friendly place. My mother often struggled with everyday things.  She struggled keeping the house clean, food in the fridge, clean clothes in our dressers. She suffered the whole of her life from mental illness. I often felt growing up that we were teetering on the edge and the slightest upset in its delicate balance would spell ruin for our family.  My darkest fear is to be homeless.

The other day on my way home from a doctor appointment I saw her. A young woman with a cardboard sign on the side of the road. She could have been my niece. She was young, pretty, her clothes clean.  She looked out of place, she looked cold. She made me sad. I admit to you that I didn’t roll down my window. I am not sure handing someone a dollar through the crack of my window could change the course her life is on. It did however put a bump into my world. I can’t shake what I see. What I keep seeing. Where has the kindness in the world gone? the trust? the hope? the love?

I do not know this girl’s story. I am not sure if I asked her that it would be a truth filled tale. She may have fallen on hard times, lost her job, or her way, or tripped out on drugs and still hasn’t made it back to the “real” world. All I know is that every time I see someone on the street holding an overused cardboard sign my soul cracks just a little more. My heart gets a little heavier, tears manages its way down my cheek. Life is a precious gift that people throw away. When will we learn? Will we ever learn?

March On

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As February is preparing to make its exit into March, I am taking a few moments to think about the good things I managed to do for myself. Instead of wallowing in the sorrow I allow to consume me every year on Brenda’s birthday, I went back to WWs. I wanted to do something positive for myself on her day. Put a different twist on the day. I made a commitment to myself. Live for the day you awake to. Do the best you can with the moment you are in. Be kinder to yourself. Everyone makes bad choices but one bad rock does not spoil a stone wall. Listen to how you feel. If you are angry verbalize why. Even if no one else is listening, you hear you. It’s OK to let go.

Let go of the emotions that keep you tied to the version of yourself that you don’t like. Stop calling yourself bad names. When left alone with my thoughts sometimes they (I am)are mean to me. I alone allow myself to be negative over small slights of weakness or anger or sorrow. Why? Have you ever just asked yourself why?  No? Me either. Odd but true the people in your life love you just as you are. So why do I suck at liking myself? I set my self expectations way too high above my limitations that’s why.

My back is finally on the mend, most of my mobility has returned which is just wonderful.  Every February during school vacation a group of gaming geeks gather for a weekend of gaming. It is about the  exchanging of ideas, bad food and the great company of people you love that you haven’t seen in a year. Not my cup of tea but it makes the hubster happy so I tag along. I spend my weekend being the trophy wife and running around fake shopping and exploring with my best gal pal, Jadira. This year my bestie was ill with a bad bout of bronchitis and I was a stiff painful back muscle cramp. We both tried to have a great weekend but in truth I would say on a scale from disastrous to cool we mellowed out somewhere around ehh, it was ok.

I tried to stay on program as much as possible. I even went to a WWs meeting on Saturday just like I was at home. Yippee for me. I am trying to stick to my guns, to become a better version of myself. For the first time in more than a few years I feel like I can do this.

Trying Week

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What a week. I threw my back out on Valentine’s Day. Not doing anything kinky = (  which would have been way more preferable to the actual , “I was reaching for the bar of soap.” I was trying to get ready for an afternoon with some friends; new, old and yet undiscovered. I was invited to a Galentine’s Day brunch. A day to celebrate the women in  our lives that don’t have that special significant other. A friend and fellow co-worker invited me. I am married but she thought I might enjoy the fellowship of some other ladies outside my social circle. Truth be told I thought the idea was sweet and I was flattered to be invited.

Even though I was uncomfortable, the pain in my back was not of the emergency room visit type, so I decided to keep my plans and go. I am not sorry that I went.  My friend, Linda is an excellent hostess and her home is lovely. The food was amazing. I had a enjoyable time chatting and laughing with the other ladies present.

I paid for my merriment the next morning. I should have hit the heating pad as soon as I came home. I should have taken some anti-inflammatories. I should have known better. I awoke Monday morning unable to sit up on my own. I couldn’t get into the shower. I couldn’t dress myself. My back muscles were in true full on spasm mode. I have never wanted to scream so much in my life. It hurt to draw breath. I called out sick from work. I sat for the entire day on my couch watching countless hours of crap TV. I am thankful I don’t live alone. My hubby was truly worried about me and did his best to assist me in anyway he could.

I stuck to my WWS program the best I could. Food prep was not a high priority on my to do list. Too painful to stand for any real length of time. I feel that I managed quite well.  I will satisfied with whatever outcome shows on the scale this week.

 

Week Two

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Week Two is drawing to a close. What a ride. This week I anticipate no weight loss coming my way. Not because I didn’t try. I made better choices all week so I am already ahead of the game. I just let too many things distract me this week. I ate some homemade goodness brought to me by people in my life who love me. This time around, however; I am trying to be in the moments of my life. Guilt is something for a court to decide, not for me to carry around like unwanted carry-on luggage. Who needs it? Not me.

I have made a commitment to myself. Let go of the things in my path that serve no useful purpose. Be kinder to my inner self; stop ignoring that little voice in my head that screams to be heard. I can do this. I want to do this. I am responsible for my own happiness. Imagine how much easier it is to row a boat in a body of water than on dry land. Odd comparison but my whole life I have been trying to row my boat up a mountain.

This week I pep talked myself into getting back on task if I wonder off course. I was able to get right back on track. I promised myself to log every thing. Make myself accountable. No blame game going on here. I ate. I logged. I moved on. No angry thoughts about should have, could have, would have. It is what it is. My journey continues…

 

I went to WWs this morning. I weighed in (like the courageous soul that I am) and… to my delighted, surprise I lost weight  =  )  Yippee! GO ME !!!!

Just breathe, believe in the power of yourself and DO wonderful. Never give up on the person you are meant to be.

That Unknown Part of Me I Can’t Let Go

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You were like a Spring rain. Intense with high potential for damage. Just like a storm you left someone else to do the clean up, me. In your wildest dreams I bet you never imagined one little girl could leave behind such devastation. Hearts were broken, lives ruined; and yet the sun came out. The sun always shines after a storm. Even the heavens want the world to know there is light after darkness.

You taught me to be brave. You forced me to embrace my life. You have brought me places I wouldn’t go myself, you made me participate in my own life. All it took was you dying. So very sad , so very true. Why did you self destruct? Why didn’t you try harder to leave him? why didn’t you value yourself like I valued you? why didn’t you believe in the wonder that was you?

I have lost my way without you. I like to pretend I am above my feelings. I am drowning in my own pool of denial. The more I try to lie to myself about how I am doing the deeper the pool becomes. My tiny craft is taking on water. I am unable to bail the water fast enough. I am circling the drain wondering where all my time has gone off to adventure without me.

I am becoming an old lady without you. I used to wonder what that unknown part of me was. I finally figured it out. It’s the shards of my broken heart. Just when I think I am in a good space, I feel their pain as they push against my soul. Your laugh I hear only in dreams. Your smile a faded memory that mocks me from photographs. I miss the sound of your voice. I am afraid if I let you go, I will lose what little I have left of you.

Weak One

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I didn’t want to get out of bed so early; but, I did it. I didn’t want to admit that I had left my journey on the road back at my fork; but, I did it. I didn’t want to accept that I needed to go back to WWs; but, I did it. I got up before the alarm clock went off. I woke my hubby by trying to be TOO QUIET. I rushed out the door. I was a walking emoticon. I felt like crying. My throat felt tight like I couldn’t breathe. I was anxious about walking through that door. I talked to myself the entire drive over. I sat in my Jeep for a few moments and pep talked myself into going in. I went in. I weighed in. I sat down and I let go of my anxiety. I did it.

I did this for me. I am worth this. I forgot how important I am to myself. I need to be healthy for me.  How things have changed. New rules to learn, bad habits to tame into healthy routines, exercise!?! UGH!!! I have a hate/love relationship with that. I could blame this on high school forced participation (with little to no encouragement or positive feedback) ; but, I am adulting today. I listened to the topic for the week. As a group we laughed, exchanged ideas and talked about our lives. It felt wonderful. I love my early Saturday morning meeting. I have missed you.

I have struggled all week to make better choices. I made a few mistakes. Unlike times past, I haven’t given into myself. I am trying to make this work for me. I miss seeing my feet. I promised myself a long time ago that I would never be the Diva in double digit underpants ever again. I want to be the best version of myself. I have quite the adventure ahead of me. Tomorrow is my weigh-in day. I am a little nervous and excited at the same time. I had a great week because I took part in my well being.  What have I learned this week? I am not the WEAK ONE. I can do this.

 

Fear

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What are you afraid of?

I have lived with some form of fear, well, I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t afraid. I guess you could say fear has always been on my side. I was afraid of the dark as a child. I was afraid of my mothers’ rage. I was afraid to try new things or to look stupid in front of others. I am afraid of chickens and dolls with faces. I am afraid of losing myself to obesity. I am afraid that some day I will get dementia like my Pops. I am afraid of being homeless, jobless, abandoned.

The problem with fear is that it can be so powerful that you get frozen by it. It is difficult to free myself.  Fear has a way of making you small. I forget sometimes that I am in control of how my day goes. I have the power to turn a bad day around. I am a force to be reckoned with  when I stand up for myself. Being fearful makes you weary in a way that is hard to explain to a person who doesn’t understand what it is like to carry this burden.

Fear …I hate you. I hate how you fill me with self doubt.

 

A Hangover

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for a person who has an eating addiction can be horrible. Eat too much  and your tummy  may not be the only thing that hurts you. I woke up this morning with a full blown migraine, blocked ear and a sour stomach from too much hot sauce. WTF! Will I ever learn?

I am one of those people who talks a good game but is horrible at go time. I will fix my eating habits tomorrow or the next day or the next week or the next month and so it goes year after year. Sometimes I let myself win, sometimes I throw obstacles in my path that are tough to move through.

Food is not my problem. I AM.

I want to like myself. I wish I could be comfortable in the who that I am and wouldn’t need to hide behind food. I have wasted so much of my time on being fat. I just want the pain to go away. I want to stop hating myself. The worst thing you can ever do is lose faith in yourself.  I never even taste the food I eat when I am in throes of my addiction. I am trying desperately to numb my emotions. I don’t want to feel anything;  but, I am surrounded by life.

The bottom of the hour glass is filled will the grains of my wasted life. To the casual onlooker it appears to be sand, sadly it is the tiny grains of time that I have let spill away from me unused or wasted on trivial,meaningless pursuits. I know I have less time to write that book, sing that song, love my life, my friends, my family. I feel hopeless. It is not a passing thing. I have fought the way I feel about myself most of my life.

I wasted most of today on self-pity. I have to say I throw a grand party. I blew up all my own balloons and had myself an awesome cry. The toxins from too much sugar are finally leaving my body. I can feel my head clearing. I am still sad but I will soldier on just like I always do.

Until the next hangover    = (

Once Upon a Time…

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when I still believed in magic.

It is Christmas time at my house or should I say apartment? I am very young probably between four and six years old. I am still too young to understand the nuances that come with reality and make believe. I am more than content to take “make believe” at face value and buy it all; hook, line and sinker as Gospel truth. I mean what four or five year old wouldn’t? Santa wouldn’t stand a chance without plausible deniability.

As December ticks off its days my imagination soars. If we have no fireplace how is Santa supposed to get in? Will he bring my “Kenner Give-A-Show Projector” and my baby dolls and popcorn balls? I try to be a good girl and do as I am told. At night my mother plugs in our tree, as I wait for sleep to close my weary eyes I watch the ceiling and the patterns the blinking lights make with the tree. I am happy; my tiny heart filled with joy. I am safe and loved and well cared for. My faith in the intangible magic of Christmas unshakeable.

Sometimes at night if I am restless my mother comes in and warns me that the footsteps I hear faintly above my head belong to one of Santa’s helpers sent to spy on little children. I gasp and try with my grandest of effort to be still. I am too young to see my mother’s mental illness or to know my dad works long hours and odd jobs just to put food on the table. As I look into my mother’s face I see her beauty, her eyes filled with love for us. I see my dad handsome and strong. They are everything to me and my sisters. I still don’t know how Santa got in but he always did. I got all of things I ever wanted. Clothes, boots underwear, art supplies, LPs, cameras, watches, basketballs, dolls, games, oranges, sweets, popcorn balls, silver half dollars, PJs, sleeping bags…

We had many Christmases together as a family. Some were over the top grand, others not so much. We had aunts, uncles and family friends, they were more like family than friends, who chipped in and helped my parents to make Christmas magical. As a child I never saw that part of the people in my life, I just believed everything would be OK. I was even fortunate enough to have a godmother( a fairy godmother; well, to me anyway ). Every Christmas she would bring a special gift just for me.

This is for my parents June and Roger and to everyone I could think to add : Terry, John, Veda, Fran, Charlie, Meredith, Maryann and Roni, Dolly, Mary, Edgar, Cecile, Nap, Bobby, Monica, Sophie Smith, Cleo…

I wrote this to say thank you to all of the people in my life for always being there for me even when I didn’t see.
Thanks for all the magic you enriched my life with. Love is the greatest gift.

Happiest of Holidays

Sharing

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I talk too much. I know it. Anyone who knows me has felt the pain of my inability to just be quiet. I have an opinion about most things. I am oddly happy when I am in the midst of an adventure with my bestie. I talk to people I do not know as if we are life long friends comfortable with each other that only familiarity gives you. I can’t contain my joy; it tends to spill out. I chat up whomever we come in contact with. Today my bestie and I went on a road trip to one of my favorite nearby destinations, Pickity Place a little slice of happy away from the crazy busy world. I love this place.

When we are there I feel removed from all the stresses of adult responsibility. I feel lighter in spirit. We walk the grounds and visit the herb shack and the little gift shops; there are two of them, each with different surprises. I feel like I can relax and draw breath and just BE happy. The staff are wonderful here, friendly and inviting. This place is more than just a unique dining experience. I step through the looking-glass to a time in the distant past before the madness of modern conveniences.

After our luncheon, delicious to say the least, we decided to pop into White Home Collections an old white house transformed into a shopping adventure. Here they offer antique clothing, dishes, furniture and one of a kind objects and objets d’art. Each room a different sellers niche. Beautiful arrangements of the Christmas kind to be found there now. There are even spaces in the attic full of interesting, thought provoking, inspiring items. An artist’s heaven. An antiquer’s paradise a dreamer’s wish come true.

Make someone’s day. Take them on an adventure, make a memory. Talk too much, be in your moment. = )