I started this blog to share my weight loss journey with everyone, but it has become much, much more to me. It has become my lifeline, when I have so much to say and yet don’t feel like talking to anyone. It is both a soapbox where I can yell out my woes in laughter and strife, and a mirror where I can watch and reflect upon myself.
I am a hot mess emotionally, I can’t hide that. I have always been a crier both alone and in public. My mom would say it’s because I’m a Pisces. We are the most emotional, the most intrinsic and intuitive, whose everyday is like trying to stay afloat on the waves of the ocean (get the fish analogy here?). This is both a blessing and a curse. On one hand I think I am extra loving, extra accommodating, and extra romantic. It doesn’t mean I “love” more, just that I have a special extra-dramatic way of showing it. I care too much about how other’s think and feel. I am a peacekeeper. I want everyone around me to feel at peace. On the other hand I am always on the verge of tears, always on the brink of feeling too much. Tears of joy or tears of sadness, they are always there at the back of my eyes burning my vision.
Our family, just like your family, has a constant array of shit that is going down. Although some journeys are harder than others, and some seem completely unfair compared to your own stupid “problems”, no one is spared when it comes to the constant baggage that is being piled on. And for someone like me that means a mix of minute by minute, play by play emotions. Luckily I was blessed with being able to fake it. Just like my days on stage, I can numb myself to the point of almost being a cold-hearted bitch, but it’s in there, it’s always in there, choking me.
And it all makes me so tired. By the night I only want to loose myself in a mind-erase like a book, or shower, a lover’s-romp, or to sleep or type. I over-love and obsess and think and feel all over my kids, my students, my husband and family, friends, job, etc. etc. to the point where I’m holding my breath until everyone is tucked away in bed. It’s goddamned exhausting.
And so is loosing weight. I am putting so much time, energy, sweat and tears into this it’s become a full time job. Counting calories and exercising takes as much preparation as a lesson plan some days. Good news is I think I have made the scale my bitch finally. We have such a love/hate relationship it’s borderline codependency. We need couple’s therapy. But two weeks of keeping the junk out of my system, even with calories the same, and we are going down again. Damn would I like to see 80 for my one year in March!! Five and a half-weeks and about 6-8 lbs to go.
And the day is now finally over and it’s my night on the couch alone and the only thing that can keep me warm tonight is my husband’s old “Titanic Swim Team” t-shirt. Yes, the 15-year old treasured one I wore for my sleep study. And just putting it on brings me peace and a tear to my eye. And that’s fine by me.