It seems if its not one thing, its another. If its not death keeping me busy, its homework. If not homework, then actual work. If I’ve managed to carve out some free time, my friends claim it almost immediately. There is no time to do anything but keep my head above water and hope treading burns more calories than I manage to take in. Keep breathing. Keep breathing.
Being sad is debilitating. I haven’t had a good cry yet (me, who cries at everything, cannot cry because her aunt has passed) and so I’m just a ball of nerves and flint, waiting for a spontaneous combustion of tears.
Eating wise, I wouldn’t call these last few days “binging” but it certainly wasn’t mindful, and damn, I didn’t want to lift my head, let alone my feet. I danced, when I felt like dancing (Which is not to say often; also, I’ve decided thats why my thighs and calves are so tight right now, and the rest of me is a blobby blabby ball of blub) and sang, when I felt like singing. I raised my arms above my head to stretch my spine and pray that when my manos were lowered, the switch would flip, and I would start the next stage of the grieving process.
So it looks like I’ll be in Colorado for my b-day. It’ll be nice seeing my mom again, as I usually only see her once a year. We decided it was important for me to be at the memorial service. I want to feel like I’m apart of my family, and I never have. I want to honor my beautiful aunt, and relearn my family history, as its MY history, and I’m so afraid of losing it.
I’m so sad right now.
My most remembered memory of my aunt:
I was five, maybe six years old. Having loved my aunt thus far my entire life, I was thrilled to hear she would be at my house, the very next morning, on a weekday. She’d be there to see me off to school! Yay! I loved visiting her house, 60 miles south of mine, surrounded by trees and shrouded in mystery. She had two dogs and a bunch of chicken and iguana. It was my favorite place to visit. I thought I wouldn’t be able to sleep, I was so excited. Of course, I zonked out almost immediately.
As sleep goes, it was slow and fast, dreams spinning, colors twirling, and then suddenly, DING DONG! went the bell.
“Who wakes me from my slumber?” I bellowed. I ran downstairs and opened the door. There was my beautiful aunt, with her long blonde hair, and shiny blue eyes, holding a plate of still warm homemade apple cinnamon raisin bran muffins (which were to DIE for), smiling and happy. She was like magic- beautiful and unreal. She and my mom sat in the living room, sipping coffee and getting down to business- the way they do (did). I ate one muffin, reveled in its deliciousness, then prepared to get ready for the day! I remembering feeling alive and refreshed that morning. I wanted to feel that way every day for the rest of my life.
It was 5 o’clock in the morning.
In May, when I restated the purpose of this blog, I mentioned I was waiting for a couple of things to happen. I was waiitng for my grandpa and my aunt to die.
Both of these have happened now. I’m not quite as torn up about my aunt, but it did take a whole day for my grandpa’s death to full hit me, so we’ll see.
I know I’m not the only one who experiences loved ones passing. I think I’ve been very lucky in that most the people I’ve known that have died, had good long lives first. Not all, but most. But it always hurts way more, it always effects me way deeper than I thought it could, and I always feel completely alone in my loss. Like no one could understand my pain. If you’ve lost loved ones, I’m sure you know what I mean. Sorry’s and well wishes from anyone just… don’t help. Imagining they’re in a better place is of little comfort. Words of comfort are without meaning, and no one could ever say the thing you’re waiting to hear, which is this; this a joke, no one is dying and no one is dead, because we live forever.
I wake up at 7:49am, crawl out of bed and into the shower. I try my best to wake up. Then I crawl out of the shower and back into bed until 9am, when I finally decide that I must get dressed, go down stairs and eat breakfast because I’m in for a long day. I have my daily cereal (half Kashi Go Lean Crunch, half Special K: Red Berries, with chocolate soy milk) pack my school bag, and by 9:30 I’m out the door. I go to class, become inundated with new information to be processed, then rush my way to work by noon. At work I sit at my desk and stare mindlessly at my computer, feeling my blood sugar drop lower and lower until I finally recognize the feeling as hunger and grab my lunch. (this weeks lunch: Pork loin roast with potatoes and carrots, with a side of grapes) Some times I eat it in front of my computer. Sometimes I don’t. If I’m lucky, I have actual tasks to do, but more often than not, I wait for something that never happens. Finally my work day ends at 8pm and I head home. While sitting on the bus I think, “maybe I’ll do some homework. I need to clean my kitchen. I need to do 20 minutes of yoga the minutes I walk through the door.” However, as soon as I walk through the door, I rush to my room, take off my work clothes, throw on my pajamas, race back down stairs and check the refrigerator to see what I can eat.
At this very point, I realize I have an opportunity to be good today. To reach for something healthy, or if not healthy, to eat it in a way that is mindful and not mindless. What usually happens is I grab the more unhealthy than healthy option, sit in front of the TV, and forget that I’m breaking one of my cardinal rules: Thou shall not eat in front of back lit screens. From that moment, is where it all goes to parch. Suddenly, I want something sweet. Right now, my home happens to full of all sorts of sweet things because the last time I went shopping, I went without purpose and didn’t get anything I meant to. I know the right thing to do would be throw it all out, to give it away, to do anything but EAT it, but part of this journey is relearning how to be around food. For the first time in my life I don’t have to fight anyone for the left overs in the fridge. If I want my cookies to last a day or a month, its up to me to make that happen. And so the junk stays. (Example: I have four individual servings of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream in my freezer right now, that have been there since the beginning of August.)
Then a new problem arises when I have my dinner, I’ll have the handful of gummy worms, followed by a soda, and I just munch and munch and munch. I don’t even know what I’m eating, just that I am. Last night I ate a second dinner because I didn’t feel full enough. I was in some sort of manic mode, and I was in such a fog that I couldn’t stop to figure out why I felt that way. Midnight hit, and I forced myself to go to bed. (Sleep didn’t come for a few more hours, however.)
I’ve done this every night for two weeks. I’m so tired by the time I get home, I can’t lift a finger to do anything except comfort myself.
I want to be the person who finds their second wind upon entering their house, and proceeds to work hard and sweat. I know somewhere deep inside me there is a potential for it. I know I won’t be that person until I start acting like that person. I guess I just wish it was easier.
Todays weight: 308
(I must be doing something right…)
I watched Thintervention this morning on the recommendation of my cousin. I’m not usually into “reality tv” of any sort, and with in the first 10 minutes of this show, I was reminded why: They only show you what they want to you see. Its not real. However, these characters are just whiny enough that watching them struggle while this http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=lilyflu-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=044654860X&fc1=000000&IS2=1<1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifrskinny lady yells at them is almost exciting. It even made me feel a little bad that while the characters were on the verge of vomiting, I was just sitting there watching them. So I stretched for the last 20 minutes of it. It felt good, I hadn’t stretched in a while. But of course, she had just enough time to name drop her book, This is Why your Fat. Has anyone read it?
So I’m wondering if shows like these really inspire people to get up and active, or if it some how feeds one’s subconscious into believing that watching people work out is basically the same actually working out. What do you think?
Have you heard of the miracle question? Its kind of brilliant. It asks, “Imagine you’ve woken up and come to realize your greatest dream has come true. How is your life different from that moment on?”
|Lunch: Overseasoned porkchop, baked mac and cheese, assorted veggies|
That, my friends is a good question. It’s a hard question to answer I’m finding, because my goal is so undefined. For the purpose of this post, I’ll say that my goal is to lose 100 lbs. If I were honest, this summer is the first time I’ve actively lost ANY weight since I was 16. The “Pro-ana” fad was in, and I starved 30 pounds off in one month. Then one day, my mother bought me a can of chicken noodle soup and an apple for lunch. Instantly, I became panicked and hid the soup in my dresser. I was on some crazy calorie limit, but I couldn’t let my mom see that I hadn’t eaten the soup! About 30 seconds after hiding the soup, my conscious came back and chastised me. “Are you really freaking out about eating 160 calories in one meal? Are you kidding me?” I may or may not have binged shortly after that. That part isn’t clear to me anymore. I haven’t lost more than 5 pounds at a time since then, however.
I haven’t lost weight in NINE years (outside of this summer).
I’ve been watching The Big C on showtime, in one of the episodes, the main character reflects back on old pictures of her self, wondering how she could have felt so ugly in a body she now wish she had. I get that. I feel that same way. The difference is, (its a tv show) she is now painfully aware that her time is running out, and I am in the prime of my youth (which is also running out. My 25th birthday is in less than a month!).
So how would my life be different if I woke up and had gotten rid of those 100 lbs? I don’t know. I don’t know. Because 100 lbs ago, I was 16 and had just starved off 30. And I was miserable. I can’t tell you how badly I wish I was back there. I think I would have a renewed sense of appreciation of my life, and my body. I hope that I would be more confident in my appearance. I wonder if clothing sizes have changed in such a way that I might actually be able to shop at “regular” stores… something I haven’t been able to do since I was 13. Mostly though, I’m afraid I’ll look in the mirror and see the same person I do today, and that’s not much of an incentive to change.
Today’s weight: 310.4