Choices

I start my routine in the darkness of early morning. I have been following this particular routine for many years. Sometimes under the guise of wisdom I try to change my set patterns for a new bag of tricks,which in all honesty, is the same routine only with more swearing caused from not applying my new found wisdom correctly. What? ; )  Sometimes I am such a dumbass! Do I get points for stubbornness? Having routines helps me to stay on point. The only problem is that sometimes I find myself grumbling over being bored. Routines can be so mundane… I fall out of love with having order where once there was chaos. Silly right? Everybody wants peace but if Peace and I go steady too long I get antsy. That is why I created cheat day. It can only happen once in a while and I can’t waste a cheat on something I could have everyday. You know like going hog wild and ordering croutons with my salad. Really? That’s all you got?

No! What I mean is that I allow myself to do or have something I really want. I won’t give into the dark thoughts that swim in the recesses of my mind. Those thoughts try to undermine my success by throwing guilt at the windows. Screw that! I think I have finally learned that it is ok to have a treat every once in a while as long as I stop and ask myself first, “Is this what you really want? or are you needing something else? like validation? or a hug? or some new pants?” Turns out sometimes I am not really looking for something to eat. I am looking for a nap, or a hug or clothes that fit.This morning while I was trying to decide if I should wear a pair of pants that fit or wear the baggier pants, I realized something. It feels great (wonderful and inspiring) to have more choices. Instead of trying to figure out what I am still able to squeeze myself into I have to figure out what won’t fall down around my ankles. It’s a nice choice to have!

This time around the Sound I have approached my weight loss efforts in a totally different way. I’ve changed my routine. I have not bought ONE frozen prepared entrée. I have made a lunch everyday. I have made better fruit and vegetable choices. I have been more patient with myself. I no longer hide my eating; instead I have expressed my needs and fears to my hubby. I am not obsessing over every ounce that I consume. I am having fun. I bought a Jawbone just so I could see if I can beat my own steps from the previous day. When I make a choice to eat something that is off the “grid” I try to leave a few bites behind. THIS IS HUGE for me. I was raised with the thought that leaving something leftover on your plate was not being thankful for what you were given. Horse pucky! It is my educated choice about the non nutritional value of that double dipped, chocolate swirl, caramel sticky bun surrounded with nuts, gooey heaven on my plate.  I only really want you because I am tired or stressed or any other myriad of excuses. It is okay to just have a taste. I can live without you BUN of DOOM! I’d much rather enjoy my new way of living than hang out with you anyway.

Never Give Up On The Person You Are Meant To Be

 

Weak One

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.

 

Lost My Sh*t Sunday

Not every day can be stellar. Some are doomed from the first jarring ring of the alarm clock. I hate days like that. I was fooled today. I thought today was going to be a history maker. You know what I am talking about that kind of day when everything fits and you are in the zone. I slept well. I felt well. I was waking up and it was NOT snowing. I barely got my first cup of coffee down when my perfect day suddenly twisted in on itself.

I am struggling with the everyday need. He needs me. He Needs me. HE NEEDS ME. Some days he calls me fifteen times in the span of a few hours. I get overwhelmed. I can’t catch my breath. I feel small, alone, helpless, a failure. I am tired. There is no room in my life for anything. I take excellent care of my Dad; yet at the end of my day I feel like I have accomplished nothing.

My Dad (yes, with a capital D)  is a hot mess. He lives with dementia. I love this man. He has taught me so many things. He helped to shape the person I am today. I love to laugh, sing and watch old Tarzan movies. He took his daughters on many odd, out of the way field trips, therefore I am adventurous. He loved ice cream, still does but I won’t let him eat too much of it. He loved us with his whole being. I saw him cry a few times when he thought he had let one of us down. My Dad is one of the good guys.

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Dementia takes a toll from everyone involved. It magnifies your loved ones quirks. My Dad was always slightly mistrustful. Now he doesn’t trust a soul not even himself. He is easily frustrated and doesn’t  remember how to calm himself down when he gets  worked up. He is lonely in a crowded room. It is too hard for him to follow a conversation if there are more than two or three people involved. He thinks that people break into his house to leave things. This always makes me laugh. “Pop, for real? Who breaks into someone’s house to leave stuff? No one does that. Well, not any crooks I ever heard of !”

His life revolves around routine. Disrupt the routine disrupt the peace. Winter is a tough ride for us. Every storm brings a new challenge. Anxiety is the worst enemy. He starts to worry that I won’t be able to get to him. He worries the lights will go out. He worries he will run out of food ( ice cream ). He worries I will die and no one will take care of him. He worries so much he frazzles my last nerve.

You know what I miss? I miss him. The man I called Daddy was strong, handsome, funny. He made me feel safe, loved.

I lost my sh*t Sunday. He called. He sounded nervous and unsure of himself. He said he needed me right away. I picked up the phone, I yelled at him and hung up…and then I cried and cried and cried. I want someone to tell me that everything will be ok even if it’s not the reality. I want my Dad to have his memories. I want him to be free.