Weighty Issues

My head is like a bowl of mush.  I've been feeling like I can't form a complete sentence without sounding like an imbecile so I've been avoiding this blog.  Possibly it's because I skipped therapy last week and even though I thought I was okay with that, my anxiety and depression levels have risen substantially in recent days and I seriously think I'm losing it.

Truthfully, this post might make me sound shallow..but it's my blog so if you don't like, screw (lol).  I hate the way I look.  I've gained a good 50 pounds and when you are only 5'3", that weight adds up quickly on small bones.  I don't look in mirrors if I can help it...and believe me, that takes a great deal of finagling when there's a full length mirror in the bathroom across from the shower.  I hate getting pictures taken of myself...unless they are from the neck up only.  I'll hide behind people so nothing shows except my face..and again, that takes finagling because they always put the short ones in the front. 

Last week, we had a retirement party for one of our colleagues..and the office busybody was bustling around taking pictures of each table.  I tried to hide..I really did..but it didn't work.  And the next day when she passed out our copies of the pictures, I could have sunk down into the floor and sobbed.  I feel really gross.  Seeing myself hammered home the fact that I am not healthy.  And it hurts like crazy.

At my last therapy session two weeks ago, I'd told my therapist that I really want to start doing things to make me happy.  That I need to start taking better care of myself emotionally and physically.  So tonight, she asked me what I've done to fulfill that wish.

I came up with one thing.  Only one thing out of fourteen days.  I took off to the beach for the day with Chase, my natural sister and our mom.  And that day was magical...aside from the frigging bathing suit business.  We dug in the sand and made sand castles...jumped in the waves and laughed as the water splashed us.  Watched a guy on a surfboard being pulled along behind a kite.  Was awesome.

But when she said, "And what else?" I had to admit, I had nothing.

I've decided that I'm going to pack my sneakers in my car tomorrow and start walking again.  Working my way up to jogging/running.  I need to figure out my life...and if I can get healthy, hopefully that will aid in my healing.  I'm tired of the weight that is wearing me down.  And the thing is, I'm not just talking about my body's physical weight...it's the emotional weight as well. 

On a completely different note, the day before we went to the beach, my amother asked to borrow our shovel so she could go to my grandfather's grave and dig a bed for his flowers.  I knew it was going to be hot out so I told her I'd go help her.  The kids and I picked her up and away we went.  Three-quarters of the way there she said, "Hey, do you mind if we go to your dad's grave so we can water his flowers?".

::thud::

My heart started racing, and I began to panic. 

"Sure.  That's fine."  I heard myself say.

While on the inside, I was shouting...You frigging idiot..what are you doing???? 

We got to the cemetery and were digging around Bumpa's stone...planting more flowers, watering the existing ones..while the kids danced merrily around my jeep.

After several minutes I mustered up my courage.

"Hey Mom...I don't mind driving to dad's cemetery, but I'm going to just sit in the car and the kids can help you water, okay?"  I kept my head down and kept digging.

I can't honestly remember what she said..probably something like "Are you alright?  We don't have to go...".

"No, we can go..it's just that I'm just finally realizing that I haven't been honest about some of my feelings..and I'm just trying to honor my truths...".

"Well, if you are sure...the kids can help me water the flowers and you can pull the car up past the stone.  I appreciate you being able to share that you're uncomfortable..".

And so, that's what I did.  The panic eased...and afterwards, I felt lighter.  I guess that's another thing I did for myself to make me happy.

Two things.  It's a start.