I’m just having a bad day. Isn’t a girl allowed to have a bad day? For no reason other than she woke up sad. There’s a lot if things going on and I’m having a bad day. I feel scared, alone, exhausted. I feel netvous anxious. I feel like the tears are coming from no where and I can’t explain them. You ask me why and I say I don’t know. I can’t tell you why I feel this way. I can tell you the kids are just fine. This has nothing to do with my miraculous little creatutes. This has nothing to do with their father. He’s alrite in my book too.
This has to do with the fact that I feel so very alone. That words and memories and songs keep playing through my head like faded memories and I can’t make themstop. I can make them go away. That I’m fighting this battle, this amazing, fantastic journey and I’m doing it all alone. And yes I’m fucking proud of nyself. It has nothing to do with pride. It has to do with I wish I had someone to hold my hand. To tell me ill be ok. To hold me through my what if and im scareds. To tell me they were right there beside me all along and you know what I don’t. And I’m mad. And I’m sad. And yes I’m allowed to be sad. I’m allowed to want to curl up and be held and just worry for a little while.
I have all these emotions. I’m feeling all these things. This year’s has been so hard and I’ve been through so much already. And yes this is my journey, my step towards a better me, a healthier me, a new life. But I’m fucking scared. I’m scared that this is how it with always be. An uphill battle. Me against the world. With nothing soft to come home to. I miss the soft. I want the other side of my bed to be warm. I want comfort in knowing my insides are loved as much as my outsides. I want my forever. I want to stop THINKING about it. It hurts. I’m tired of it hurting. The hurt springing frp. No where at random times. Random moments of goid, like in the shower when I’m peaceful and safe and the thought of a forever moment creeps up. Because I let my mind go a little to easy. I let the wall crash down. I let myself relax.
This is the person I don’t let you see. The girl behind the mask. The girl who still has the softness to her. The fear of letting the world in. The one that wants to be held. Craves to be cherished. The girl that sits, weeping in her parked car, at the edge of a park. Instead of going home to sit in her room. Because maybe I can get over this and still make something of my day. All I want to do is eat. And I can’t eat. I gave up that line of defense.
I’m allowing myself this time to have a bad day. Because it’s ok for me to cry. It’s ok for me to want. It’s ok for me to feel. I just wish….wish I had the switch to make it all ok again.
This is something that is incredibly important to me. So I cross posted it onto this blog from my bariatric blog. I hope it sheds some light on how my mind works and maybe helps you a little too.
I know, I know I broke a promise. Not only to you my loyal readers but to myself. I promised that I would hold myself accountable everyday. I promised I would update you in my journey, not only for you but for me too. To see where I was, how far I have come and what I’m running towards. Tonight I don’t come here with excuses or justifications, though I thought up a whole batch of them before I typed this out. I came here with the truth. The reason why there have been far fewer updates than I promised, no pictures and less content than I wanted all boils down to one word….Fear.
That’s right, I’m afraid. I sit behind my computer screen or on my phone everyday, just after I weigh myself and watch the cursor blink. 5 billion thoughts come to mind and I can’t put them down, simply put, because I am afraid. I’m afraid of judgement and not by you but because I judge myself. Far be it from me to say I have done everything in my power to be in the best physical shape I can be right now. I haven’t. I walk as much as the weather, my health and my state of mind let me. I eat or at least try to eat 3 meals a day and keep healthy snacks around. I drink tons of water and managed to get my soda down to one a day. I quit smoking. I’m pretty fucking proud of myself. But the numbers on the scale haven’t moved.
I know in my heart NSV’S are the best kind of victories and I try to celebrate them. But trying to get my motivation up when the numbers on the scale bobble between 7 pounds is really hard. I know I’m trying, I know surgery isn’t that far away….but I have this voice in the back of my mind that I try to ignore. That negative Nancy that tells me it’s all for naught. So I don’t post my progress, because to me I’m stuck, not progressing. I figure no one wants to see that.
As I write this I realize how childish I sound. I realize that if I were my best friend I would tell myself to put on that selfish outfit and start snapping a weekly pic. That I deserve to show off my journey. That I have come do far. I know it all starts from within and lately I haven’t been practicing loving the self within. But I have decided to turn the page. I am going to try my best to update you more regards, try out new smoothie recipies, walk more and just take care of me. I want to hear your stories on your journey down this path
Feel free to write me. Let’s take this one step at a time!
Raw edges of a soul torn open, yet the wound will never heal if you keep touching the edges. Flashes if a past, of friendships long forgotten, of family so dear, stitched up inside you so tight. Until the day….until the day you switch gets flipped and without knowing it those wounds are torn open. Years of blame, guilt, regret. Years of. Instability, worthlessness, invalidation come pouring out.
And it isn’t till you catch yourself staring at the label on a valium bottle that you realize your face if soaking wet and your curled under a blanket. It isn’t until your wrists at skinned raw and blood is dripping down your fingers that you think maybe you need stronger duct tape to hold your wounds shut. You watch your shattered pieces gather themselves with pieces of glitter and glue trying to rebuild itself into some semblance of what it once was.
But a bandaid can’t fix a shattered soul, a valium coma can’t make you survive the day and blood is better inside then out.
So take a deep breath and grab yourself some glitter. You will survive. I believe in you.
Noone can hold it together all of the time. Not you and most certainly not me. There comes a time when even the most put together people fall apart. Those are the hard times. When those people that you look to, to hold your pieces together fall apart. You can stand there with your arms open, tissue boxes at your side, holding them as their body shakes with so many tears. You can run your fingers through their hair and whisper the words “I know” because you do. You can look them in the eyes and tell them they will get through this, that it will get better and know that in your heart it will. But why can’t you believe it yourself.
Your eyes mirror thiers, different shades of colors, kalioscopic tears, yearning to take their pain away. The pain of an ending before the book is closed. But thiers hopr. Their candle still flickers when you’re has been snuffed out. Helpless, you try and make the best out of the situation for them because you know it’s too late for you. You’ve accepted what you were handed and you’ve begun to move on.
You wish you could take their pain away, but you can’t.
You wish you could calm their fears, but you don’t have the words.
You wish that they never had to go through this, but you can’t protect them forever.
So you hold out your arms and wrap them as tightly as you can. You whisper the words “I know”. You give them the strength you have left.
Because you promised you’d be there. And best friends don’t break their promises.
I’m here. I always will be.
I was going to go into detail, tell you of my story but right now I can’t. I can’t because you don’t need to hear my story right now, you need to hear that I will understand yours. If I can’t understand you, I will listen and empathize. I will give you my hand, lend you my shoulder and certainly be a sounding board. I chose these pictures for you because in them I saw my past, I saw my friends, I saw my struggles and I saw the messages I needed so long ago. The reason I became who I am today, I wanted to be the person that I never found so long ago. So these are for you and me.
I am here for you. For as long as you need me.
My friend Tony wrote these incredibly touching words on why you shouldn’t put off I love you’s. Why saying goodbye comes way to fast and why you should always let those near and dear to you know that they have a place in your heart.
I wanted to share something very important that we should all take to heart. In this life all you have is your loved ones and your memories, and I finally realized after all these years you have to take advantage of them whenever you can.
There may not be a next fishing trip, the next cruise, the next family get together. I have buried more friends young than I have been to weddings, two this year that started seemingly innocent as a cold. So don’t take for granted that there will be a next time, don’t let it get to “it’s been far too long” because you never know when too long will become too late.
Don’t be afraid to take that trip, spend the money, do something out of your comfort zone because that’s where our best memories come from. Nobody talks about how awesome it was to sit home alone instead of making memories and I have made that mistake all too many times myself. Don’t be afraid to tell your friends you love them, that they mean something to you.
Spend the money, spend your time, make things happen with the people you care about. Don’t let the excuses, the laziness, the long drive, the lack of funds, the easy way out rob you of your life experiences. Money isnt the end goal of our lives, that’s not why we work, its a tool to be used to manifest the life you want to live. Go out and do it because there’s no guarantee there will be a next time.
Thank you Tony, you have touch mine and many others hearts with your words
…that I hate that you refused to fight anymore. That I hate that you walled off your heart and moved on. That you can tell someone else you love them and hide behind that and no be my friend. I hate that you promised me forever. I hate you promised the kids forever. It’s days like these that I hate that I gave into what I knew I wasn’t ready for. I hate that I loved you so much I could say no. I hate that I can’t unloved you. I hate that you are our sons person but I’m the one in the waiting room holding back tears because you can’t be here with me. It’s days like these that I hate that you held it all in and then threw it all in my face. I hate that I lied because I was scared to tell the truth. I hate that the truth burned me so nadly. It’s days like these I hate that you left them, not me them. I hate that his dark thoughts got worse, you are 10 minutes away but I have to rock him to sleep. Alone. You left me alone. You took the easy way out. And you can’t talk to me. I’ve healed so much and you are the scar that won’t close be a use I loved you so hard I can’t hate you. AND It’s Days Like THIS THAT I Hate that. A single mom strong and true thanks to you.
But life sucks without you because as much as you say you are, you aren’t really there.
I start this with the classic words of a song known to most 90’s kids. Yet I look up the definition of irony and unless she was going for the synonym of sarcasm…this song miserably failed…
And if you can follow my thinking (which most people can’t , it’s ok) I think about the Leo and Claire version of Romeo and Juliet. Now it was two houses devided, I would envision myself as the fabulous Mercutio, but I’m more than like Paul Rudd in the astronaut costume (yes it was him, imdb it if you don’t believe).
So a love fast and true being split by two house trouble (now I’m the houses). Only, death shall bring together, but neither shall take the poison or dagger because the houses miraculously come to some conclusion because they were raised up with Jewish guilt. (Yes I totally changed the ending).
I am torn my lovlies. Part of me loves him so much to break my steadfast rule (which I’ve learned in group, it’s ok to set boundaries and say no),the snarky part of me wants to walk up and say “Shoes on the other foot now Cinderella, how does it feel?!”.
I am trying to be mindful and let the snarky parts float away like balloons. (I loathe minfulness). But both are now feeling the agony I have felt for weeks (insert Chris Pine singing Agony…makes it better)
It’s a double edged blade really. Either way it cuts. And in the long term who knows what’s going to happpen. So do I bite my thumb at thee? Or do I go out in full glamourus style?
Good night and sweet dreams my lovlies
Listen to On the road by Shaina Abbs #np on #SoundCloud
What do you do when you feel like your soul has been ripped in two? You write…at least I wrote or try to. I have written a lot of little things in the past few years, I ham going to show you all of it. Because I will now hide my thoughts, feelings or actions anymore. I have to start to live. at 32 it’s hard to do that when your heart is shattered by the person that taught you how to love. That your kids call Daddy. But I will be ok when the tears dry up. or i can find a new bottle of glue and duct tape.