Hope.

Where to begin...  So much has changed since my last post.  I found a job, got married, moved into an apartment and started a new life.  Shortly after that, I lost my father.  My wonderful, hilarious, sweet, gentle, loving father.  It has been 10 months since he's been gone.  It has been so devastating, sad & lonely.  I know that is a huge reason for my weight gain.  I'm probably the heaviest I've ever been.  And here I am.  Starting over.  Again.

I went back and read a lot of my old posts.  I used to be pretty funny.  I hope I still am.  Or will be.  I will also try to be honest.  See, that's the thing.  Fat people lie.  They lie to themselves.  They lie to others about their habits.  I was impressed by the honesty of my older posts.  I will try to keep that up.  I could use some accountability.

I kind of had a meltdown/breakthrough the other night.  I went nuts and cleaned out my fridge and pantry and threw away junk food.  What was my meltdown about?  I'm going to be 30 this year.  3-0!  I'm an overweight, depressed, future bag/cat lady.  And I don't even like cats.  I have GOT to change!

I've explained this to my sisters and friends before, but the night of the meltdown, I was trying to explain to my husband, Cliff, how scary it is.  I have been overweight my whole adult life.  It's not like I can slap a formerly skinny picture of myself on the fridge as motivation and say, "Okay, I am getting back to that!"  It's scary to think you will work really hard for a year to two years to get to where you want to be.. and you have no idea what you will look like at the end.  And even scarier, will you even be happy with yourself when you do finally get there?  I feel like no matter what is staring back at me in the mirror, I will always be a fat girl on the inside.  That's frightening.  I don't like her.  She's mean.  And she picks on me.  And her butt is too big for our jeans.

The meltdown actually was set into motion by my dentist appointment earlier in the day.  I go regularly, but it seems like every time I go, they're always harping on me about flossing.  I TRY!  Well...  sort of.  Sometimes.  Okay, when I have something stuck in my teeth.  Of course, Janet, the dental hygienist, has no idea that I recently lost my dad to a heart attack-- so I can't really blame her.  But she's telling me about the link between oral health and your overall health.  And how you can't control plaque in your heart arteries, but since I can control plaque in my mouth, wouldn't I want to do it?  Don't I want to be healthy?  Don't I want to help myself?

I have this aversion to doctors of all kinds.  I feel like they judge me for being fat.  Like it's my fault I don't feel well because I'm fat, so I should just have to suffer.  I remember when I broke my toes one night when I was about 15 (thanks to a metal post on a bed and some intense horse play with my little sister, Eileen)..  My dad told me he'd take me to the doctor first thing in the morning.  I literally stayed up all night in tears and sick from anxiety...  Not because of my two broken toes-- but because I was terrified they'd make me step on the scale at the doctor's office!  How RIDICULOUS is that?!  I was more worried about the doctor judging me for my weight than I was about two broken freakin' toes.  That is not rational.  (They didn't even make me step on the scale because of my hobble.  So all my fretting was for naught.)

I haven't even gone to see anyone about my horrible migraines this last year I've had from stress..  Just because I DO NOT WANT TO HEAR a doctor tell me I wouldn't have them if I ate better, exercised, drank more water.  I do not question the validity of those assertions.  I know they're all true.  But I don't want to hear it from a doctor!  I don't want to hear someone who doesn't know me at all tell me what I need to do to have a better life.  Because in my head, all I will hear is, "Maybe ya wouldn't have migraines if you weren't so fat."  Thank you, sir.  I have a mirror.  I don't need you to tell me.

So I was explaining all this to Cliff the other night.  And I told him..  The only *slight glimpse* I have of a semi-skinny version of myself is from about 7 or 8 years ago.  I was doing like an Atkins type diet when it was popular.  It was totally not healthy.  I only ate plain tuna for like 6 months straight.  And of course, I gained everything back the first time I sniffed a piece of bread.  But I have one picture of myself where to ME, it is a skinny me.  I still had a ways to go, but it was a peek into what I would maybe look like if I lost all the weight.

So I'm whining & crying to Cliff that this stupid picture is the only thing I have to show me what I could maybe look like... But I still don't knoooow what goal I'm working towards.  And the blessed man said, "Why don't you just start there?"  Oh.  You're right.  Makes sense.  Best advice he could have ever given to his irrational, ranting wife.

Fast forward to the pantry cleaning frenzy.  Then I went to the grocery store and stocked up on chicken, tuna, fruits & veggies.  I hope it was a breakthrough.  Lord knows I need one.  I also made an appointment with a new doctor to get my noggin checked out.  And as you can see, I decided to blog again after 2 years!!  In one of our daily emails, my BFF Sandra told me that she had faith in me that I would stick with it.  I told her I don't know if I have faith yet, but I have hope.  And since I've been in a place with no hope for quite awhile, I'll take it. ♥
 

Hope      

by Emily Dickinson

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

Sort of skinny-ish past and hopefully future me.