I had started typing last night and had gotten awful deep regarding what was on my mind the past few weeks and what has ultimately kept me from getting on here, and sleep got the best of me, and it became a draft. I opened it this evening, only to find that where I had left off was the corner of depressing and get it off my chest 'ville. That wasn't a good place last night, and it sure as hell isn't a good place this evening. Honestly hasn't been a good place the last few weeks. The long and short of it is, that my heart is jacking up again, and 28 years later, I find myself looking reality, true life griping reality in the face. Marcus and I have decided to put a halt on baby making until we know for sure what this means. I have seen my doctor, and have survived a pediatric MRI table, courtesy of Valium, thanks Dr. Forbess, an echo and now a pending stress test, and a follow up appointment that will soon feel the tank of what is my endless questions that is my future. I never thought I would be here. I am not here, am I? Am I really in this place? I now get why denial is visited often, and I am comfortable here. I like the rivers ability to carry me and my ability to let it. The fact is, I am not okay. I find myself crying at work in my patient's room. I find myself nearly getting in a wreck as I drive to work, because my mind gets the "what ifs" better of me. I love my husband and son so much. The idea that I can't be my 100% available self to them is not fair.
In the midst of all this new information, my husband walked into our home about a month ago and was mad. MAD. Mad because we live in Arlington, and he decided we were done living here. We spend crazy money on gas, about as much as the average American spends on a mortgage, and we are so over it. It's been almost 4 years of the commute and we are done. We will not sell our house, we will keep it, rent it out, and just buy a new one. We have an amazing realtor, and she is on board, patient, kind and loving, and we are lucky to have her. Here we come Lake Highlands.
I am addicted to food. Nothing new I know, but I mean, really addicted. Not the kind of addicted that a skinny bitch standing at the veggie tray spouts out as she sips her skinny girl margarita either. I mean, really addicted. I think about food like an addict who is salivating at the idea of his or her next hit, I lay in my bed staring at the ceiling wondering, imaging, dreaming about what I can put in my mouth. I never get full. I can't say that I have ever been full. I can eat and eat and eat and eat, and then eat some more. After I eat, I walk by the table, and have what I like to call "the rhetoric" in my head, and it goes a little like this..."don't look at it, keep walking, you just ate, your such a fat ass..." It's disgusting. I am disgusting. I have poisoned my body into thinking that food is THE satisfaction. The ONLY satisfaction. I can't believe that I have trashed my body like I have. I pray to God for help, but do I really want the help? I remember hearing an overweight woman, a gorgeous woman mind you, I mean so pretty. She talked about her marriage, and how she wasn't this size when she got married, and how she put on weight over the years, and now feels like she can't lose weight because inside she fears what would happen if she did. She voiced the reservations she had about her marriage, and how if she was thin, again, she would be afraid of what kind of wife she would then become. Could she still be that faithful, loving wife? Would she still dote on her husband and keep him on the pedestal that he lives on? And quite honestly, I completely related to her as she spoke. Or was I, am I, just looking for a reason to be the way I am? I want to feel confident again. And unfortunately, the kind of confident I want again, is the kind of confident that I got as I got dressed, any kind of dressed. Now I find myself living in stretchy shit. Can I get a grip please? You know, people talk about self control like it's a wash. Like self control isn't the key to success, but life change is. Well, I quite honestly think that life change doesn't even begin to work, unless you take control of that
self control. And the demon inside me always wins, I just wish that I had a Manzo daddy to buy me the lap band. Bastard.
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| Mother's Day...came and went, and in case your wondering who this glorious woman is...she is my momma. I love her so much it hurts me. I remember telling her how I hope that I don't live to see her die (in other words, I always wanted to die first because I couldn't bear the thought of losing her), and now we talk about how it's her love for me that I now get why I'm okay with her going first, because she used to rebut my ignorant comment with "no, you're my baby, I couldn't bear it", and now that I have Adan...I agree! |
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| Well, the quadpod, as Paige likes to call it, was together again, after a few years of separation, and it was all because sweet Madison had a birthday. She taught us oldies a few things, and one very important one...I am old, and can't hang like I used to. |
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| These little boys could very well be the future of our country, and we celebrated Memorial day with a few of their parents/grandparents who have either already served, or are currently serving...we love you because you loved your country enough to serve then, and continue to do so now. |
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| CICU's Friday Funight kicked off it's event with a dinner at The Vick and then a dranky dance at JBlacks. It's safe to say it was a good turn out, quality versus quantity outnumbered here folks. |
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| We went to the Zoo, can you tell? |
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| Adan. He is fantastic. He will help me conquer my addiction and help me be the mommy he so deserves. |
