I've been gone for weeks. Where do I start?
I stole this category name from Marybeth because it is just so fricking applicable to so much of my life right now.
I don't think I have the personality to have a blog. The coolest thing about my favorite bloggers is that they post so regularly. Reading their entries is sometimes the highlight of my day.
Ezpy and Sharon and MB - my favorites, and I don't even know how to link to them from a post - duh - write such insightful, often inspiring posts, and I feel like all I do is bitch. (Maybe because I do?)
I was reading MB's post about her 4 1/2 year DS anniversary and I just about cried.
I spent this morning at a local department store trying to find "sucker-upper" foundation garments that were made of something remotely breathable. (It'll be 100 degrees here in about six weeks.)
For the first time in months - it's Nebraska, and summer's here - I perspired profusely as I tried to apply my make-up after I took a shower.
I had to dry under the C-cup sized lumps on my back and, despite an abdominoplasty that left me with a scar that looks like I was in a West Side Story rumble, I had to dry under my belly too.
I am nearing my 4-year anniversary. My goal was 160 - I'm 5'4" - which would give me a BMI of 27.4; still overweight. Currently I am at 180, BMI 30.8, which is obese. WebMD says I should weigh no more than 145 pounds. 140 would give me a 100 pound loss. My low weight was 147 in 10/04, which was 1 1/2 years out.
Lots of numbers, but what do they mean to me?
4 years out, still 40 pounds overweight - minimum.
Failure.
Lack of control over one of the most basic function in life: what I put into my mouth. Nothing new there. Why can't the DS fix my brain too? :-)
Un/Fortunately, I have no GI problems with any kinds of foods. I am not lactose intolerant, I can eat red meat, and simple carbs do nothing more to me than require me to carry a purse-sized can of Oust.
There are days when I think I should've had the RNY so that the dumping caused from simple carbs would "teach me a lesson."
And then there's the vicious cycle: Under stress; eat simple carbs, aka comfort food; no room for protein or fiber; tired from malnutrition; sleep too much; lower basal metabolism; make it harder to lose weight.
In how many languages can one say "Duh!"
And oh, the stress triggers in my life. I know there are others who have worse/more/more serious problems, but knowing that doesn't help me feel better. My mom says it's like saying "I can't feel bad that I lost one child because my neighbor lost three." An extreme example, yes, but in-your-face accurate.
I know folks from the online world who have autistic children, chronic illnesses, untreated mental disorders because the treatments are worse than the illnesses, women in unhappy/unhealthy/abusive relationships... the list is endless. Well by way of a catch-up, here's my list.
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I am married to a wonderful man with a hair-trigger temper and possible untreated bipolar disorder. God bless him, though, he's been in counseling with me and alone for 5 years and under psychiatric care for 4 1/2. He takes two psychotropic meds, which I'm sure he never thought he would be so "weak" as to need. He's a grizzly with the heart of a teddy. Unfortunately when the grizzly is present it's pretty damned easy to forget about the teddy. And, like most of us, when he is the most unlovable is when he needs the most love.
And, wonderfully - especially for a 50-something ex-Air Force son of a Navy veteran - unquestionably accepted Raymond's "coming out" two years ago.
His daughter, my step-daughter, is pregnant, unmarried, progesterone-charged, and has general anxiety disorder. She also took me out for lunch on Mothers' day, because the boys were with their father, so that "someone would take you out on your special day," and gave me a card that made me laugh and cry at the same time. It was a "Mom" card, not a general one, which also means a lot since she lost her mom when she was 11.
My firstborn, Raymond, is gay. That in and of itself is not a problem to anyone in our family, even the grandparents. But, especially in our right-wing military community, this places previously-unknown challenges in his life, and thus in mine. He's brilliant, musically and academically gifted, and probably too close to his mom. (Cliche? Yup. Whaddya gonna do.)
**Funny aside - when the subject of his being gay came up recently during a conversation about his father (who lives and will die in the closet) he said "Yeah, that's where we think I get it," as if he were talking about getting his brown eyes from me or his perfectly arched eyebrows and ridiculously long lashes - bitch! :-)
The firstborn of my twins, Andrew, thinks he is gay as well. he will be "Jack" to Raymond's "Will" and will likely get the shit kicked out of him more than once. to add to his challenges, he is 4'6" and 69 pounds at the age of almost-13. Oh, and he's the poster child for ADHD. If he forgets his meds, he practically forgets his name!
His twin, Michael, is bipolar. Because the twins are on HGH (human growth hormone) injections, their more rapid growth necessitates their medications getting adjusted frequently. The days/weeks that precede the obvious need for a boost in dosage are unbearable. Michael is the sweetest child and the most horribly-behaved; within minutes.
I am completely unfulfilled in my job, but it pays well; for teaching anyway. I have nearly completed the coursework to become a paralegal/legal assistant, and am beginning my internship on June 4th. I've put in a couple of Saturdays with my new boss, and this morning he only had me stay for a half-hour. During that time he pointed out, repeatedly - many attorneys are overly-fond of the sound of their own voices - that I am a "blank slate" and that despite my having completed the academic program required of me I "know nothing." He is rough around the edges, but what he said was all true. I don't want to be a "blank slate" at 42. I haven't been a blank slate in 20 years and it scares the shit out of me. Oh, and an entry-level, full-time position in this field pays 35% less than I make now. Even after I "graduate," which seems a ridiculous term for a certificate when I already hold a master's degree, I won't be able to start my new career; probably ever.
My mother is the most passive-aggressive woman I have ever met, and I can do no right in her eyes. Never could. Never will. Have actually given up. That was freeing.
I had a venti latte for breakfast and a Malibu with juice in the same tumbler for lunch. I think I'll go eat something. Besides crow.
I'll try to have something happy to write about next time.
Mel
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