I feel like a broken record lately, singing the same tired refrain. I'm not happy with the way things are, I try to change, I fail, I try again, I fail, I try again, blah blah blah.
So the latest attempt lasted all of three days. I'm back in the "life's not changing any time soon, so learn to live with who you are now and change later." Honestly, is being a size 12 the end of the world?
No. But when you were almost a 6 two years ago, it sucks.
More than once the thought has crossed my mind that getting to a toned and fit 146 in the summer of 2008 was a horrible thing. I was in the neighborhood of that weight for a few months, and they were glorious. I loved my body, as much as I could love a still imperfect body, and I felt confident and kick ass. I had great clothes. I looked fabulous in pictures and my hairstylist's mirror.
But I remember the summer of 2007 when I went from a 14 to a 12, and wore a belt for the first time in years and bought a bathing suit. And felt great about how I was shaping up. I was more toned then, but if I still had the clothes from 2007 (I gave them away in 2008--dumb move) I know they'd fit.
Now, I have the old mind set of The Me from our original Amazon blog days in 2006. I just can't get it together, can't string enough days together to get some momentum. When I think I can finally do it, life comes up and bitch slaps me back down.
It's really quite annoying.
But. Life moves on. I bought size 12s. I can pass for "average" still. Not obese, "just" overweight. I can still run (and did, yesterday, 3 miles in 40 minutes), albeit only a few minutes at a time. I'm not buying boxes of powdered donuts and eating them all in one night. It could be worse.
I fully expect that, eventually, I WILL conquer this weight battle again. Some days are better than others. The weather changing for the cooler will make a big difference in my ability and desire to run/walk. When my dad passes away and I've gone through the proper therapy, I will have space in my head to think about myself again.
For now, things are too messy. Joy is fleeting. My dad's the one with ALS, but the rest of us live with a cancer of pain and guilt and sorrow and fear that's taken deep roots over the past year. And it's not taking our lives, but it's draining the life out of us nonetheless.
Dad's 3rd week in the nursing home is not going well. The first 2 weeks he had lots of family all the time, except at night. My sister's trying to pull away a bit, spending fewer hours and letting the staff take care of more of his needs. Well, dad doesn't like it--who would?--and he's making things more difficult for everyone.
I had a big project for church last week and didn't have time to see him for the whole week. I finally made it last night and he was horrible to me. As in, I left the nursing home sobbing. I called my sister and she's a great help because she understands him better than I do. He's angry and hates the place. He needs someone to blame for being there, and I expected it to be me. I just didn't know what form the blame would come in or when. I wasn't prepared. If it weren't for my faith in God I don't know if I'd go back to see him. I need heaven's power of forgiveness.
I told him I had to leave (it was 7:45 pm, I'd been there almost 90 minutes), hugged his shoulders goodbye, said I love you--and he shook his head no. As in, no you don't love me. I questioned him several times and it's what he meant. My uncle was there too, so he witnessed it. It was devastating. I didn't know how to respond. You can't have a conversation with him. It takes 30 minutes for him to type one short sentence. I told him he really didn't want to go there, what if he died and that's the last thing he says to me. I said it's not my fault you're here. He'd already typed "I hate this place" so I knew where his mind was. I said to type whatever his grievance was with me, and Crystal could read it to me the next day. I said more, but that's the gist. I left at 8 pm and cried my eyes out all the way home.
My sister said he does whatever he has to to make people stay with him. He sure did it the hard way with me. My sister and two uncles laid into him. He texted me an apology. I'll go see him in a few days. Who knows what awaits next time.
There's so much more to all this but you've gotten enough for one post. You're all so great to stick with me. It seems like it's never gonna end. But it has to eventually, right? This is only temporary. I keep telling myself that. But lately I'm having a hard time believing it.
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