AAAARRRRGGHHHH!

I feel like Charlie Brown when he stares up at the sky and just lets one loose.

I really can't take much more of my life. But in order to change it, I'd probably have to hurt someone I really do love. Hubby. Because I don't know what's going to happen to us when I snap. And make no mistake about it, I'm going to.

In order of what's been bugging me:

First off - NOT PREGNANT. Not sure if that upsets me or not - reasons why, see previous post.

My weight. It's no big secret that I'm fat. It's no big secret that I'm depressed. So it should be no big secret and no surprise to anyone that I've done sweet fuck all the last month and a half. I've been away from the gym for two months. But now it's no longer just because I'm sad and tired. I'm feeling like crap and if even walking from one end of the building to the other to get to my car is causing me to have breathing issues, what is it going to be like on a treadmill? That terrifies me.

Last night, my mom said that I HAD looked like I'd been losing weight, but now it looks like I've been gaining it back. And I freaked out. Not only because I was sad and hurt that she'd say that, but because she's right. I don't have to get on a scale to know that. I can feel it. I can see it on me. And I'm grossed out and disgusted by it.

And it's affecting everything I do. I even hate sex. ME. I never thought I'd say that, and I'll only admit it here. But I don't enjoy it anymore. Writing about it too - actually, writing about anything. My brain has shut down completely to be honest. It's even hard to get out the words for this entry. My other blog hasn't been written in in about two months. TWO MONTHS. How can I call myself a writer if I can't even keep up with a blog?

Anyway, when mom and I had our little freak out - I went to Hubby afterwards. And him and I fought. TBH I can't take much more fighting. It's all we do - about everything. After dinner (pizza because God for-fucking-bid he cooks anything while I'm at work right?) when we went to bed, he fell asleep fast, as he usually does. But I've never been one to fall right to sleep. It's a rare occasion when it happens, and it's something that I need pills for. I take melatonin because it's natural. But it doesn't always work.

Hubby's a symphony of sounds, and when I'm tired, my hearing is super sensitive. He snores - LOUDLY (and might I add refuses to try anything to stop it or temper it), he mumbles in his sleep, AND he hacks up a lung on a nightly basis. This is from his smoking. And he usually makes these noises when he's facing me. PLUS he hogs the bed. He claims I do, but I took a picture last night and he was attempting to lay diagonal. I miss my own room. Or I wish we had gone for the king size bed. (I know I've said this all before but it's my blog and I'll repeat if I want to).

Anyway, between the arguments with both him and mom, and the fact that I couldn't find a comfy breathing/sleeping position, and with all the voices in my head screaming and yelling, not to mention Hubby's "concert", I felt seriously like I was going to kill someone. I was about fifteen seconds away from getting out of bed and going for a drive. And again, I'm an adult, I should be able to do that. Like I should be able to do whatever I want. But again, can't because of HIM.

I know the obvious solution is to split up. But I love him. I think. Anyway, that's something to be examined for another day.

Now, onto the work shit bothering me.

We have one girl, who's been made a supervisor, who hasn't even been WITH the company for a year. But she got the position. Meanwhile, I've been there going on nine years, and not once have I been asked to take a supervisory role. She has no credentials, not even a background in our industry. She was found as a coat check girl at a BAR and recruited from there.

So those of us who have more seniority have to listen to her sometimes. But we all know she got her promotion on her knees. She has no respect from the staff, only other supervisors and that's cuz she's got a relatively nice rack. She has barely any people who respect her in this company. And it's getting to the point where I almost threw myself under the bus by going to the boss and demanding that he revoke her supervisor status, because it's simply not fair to those of us who have been working for the company for years and never even got a shot at turning it down. (Not like I'd want to be a supervisor - more headaches and no perks. Not even additional pay.  But it would be nice to have someone ask me if I wanted the position. It would tell me that they have faith in what I do, that I'm good at my job.) But I was asked not to by someone very important to me. She said she needs me there, and doesn't want to see me fired. So I'll keep my mouth shut, bite my tongue, and hope that karma does her job and this bitch gets a kick in the head.

And the other job, the lousy day one that I'm currently at while I'm typing this - I really need to find a different job. A better one. With more hours - better benefits. And better pay. And room for advancement.

I need a purpose in life. A real one. Maybe a child would have been my salvation. Maybe that's what I need. I'm tired of being sad. I'm tired of being angry. I want to be happy. I can't remember what happy feels like to be honest. When I ask myself the last time I was truly happy, do you know that I can't remember? I think maybe the day I got married. Fourteen years ago. WOW. A long time to be miserable, doncha think?

I think, sometimes, maybe I need medication. But I don't want that. I know that I can improve things on my own. I haven't lost all hope yet. I just need someone to push me in that direction - unfortunately I need someone to hold my hand. I need to be accountable. I tried that with weight watchers. It only worked for a little while. I should be going to OA meetings. But I really don't think that's the right place for me. I do need to get a handle on my relationship with food. I know that laziness is at the very heart of it.

I have all the tools to do this - to get it right. Just not as much time as I thought I had. I'm going to be 40 in a year and a half. I have to step it up  now - i'm not living the second half of my life like I lived the first - lazy, in fear and too tired or sick to do anything fun.

Sound motivated enough? I hope so. I hope it keeps. I hope it kicks me in the ass every day. But I doubt it.


I guess I should try and look like I'm doing work here. Don't know why I bother though. I'm not fooling anyone.

Nothing to fear but fear itself

Calling BULLSHIT on that.

I might be pregnant. And that is a terrifying thought in itself. Because as much as I lamented the lack of a child, the truth be told, I'd pretty much accepted that it's my lot in life. I'd learned to live with that.

Now here's the weird thing. My period is about ten days late. But I've had no sickness, no sore breasts, no signs at all. Which is bizarre in itself. And all three tests I've taken so far say negative. So now I have to get my blood tested. But I'm scared of either outcome.

Because if I'm not pregnant, then it means that there could very well be a serious medical issue as to why I haven't gotten my period yet. And that scares me.

And if I am pregnant, well,  I'M PREGNANT. Hello???? Hubby and I aren't getting along lately at all. Just last night he went to sleep downstairs because he refuses to do anything about his snoring and it's keeping me awake. But he got all pissy about it. Granted I was able to sleep. So I guess it can't be that bad. LOL. Ok, that's horrible. But maybe I'm just meant to sleep alone? My hearing is so sensitive when it comes to noise at night that it's annoying.

And I think I'm hearing things too at night. Voices, music....but no apparitions have made themselves known to me, so I'm not sure it's supernatural. But I digress - again. The point is that when i went to see my doctor, and brought up that mom still wants a grandchild from me, he looked at me pointedly and said "Why does she want to raise one on her own?". Which scares the CRAP out of me even more. I don't think I'd have the strength to terminate another one, but if it meant my own life? I'm not sure what kind of person that would make me.

I have been so horrible with my diet lately. Still off the shakes. Which means no healthy anything. And last night I was supposed to go to meeting #2 for OA. But I was feeling like shit, and I'm so worried about this that I just vegged on the couch. At least I wasn't there when hubby got home. I told myself I should get off the couch and do something before he got home and yelled. Fortunately I was standing at the bed sorting socks when he walked in. Looking useful, if not feeling it.

I haven't been to the gym either. I keep telling myself every day I'm going to go, but I don't. And today I have to go to work in Hamilstone, so there's no chance of being able to work out, shower and then get on the road to be there on time. I mean, realistically, I COULD, if I pushed it. But I'm not sure I'm up for it. But my body keeps getting bigger and uglier.

What if there's something seriously wrong with me? I don't have the money to be off work while I get it taken care of. And the gov't hardly pays anything for disability. I remember that from my heart attack. And mom can't afford to support me.

Hubby and I argued the other night, ironically the day after the ladies and I came back from our Buffalo trip. It was about money. He wants a separate bank account. I bring in less than half of what he does per paycheck, plus my second job which barely pays anything. But he says he wants us to have separate money. Which means I really have to hustle. Part of me wants that. At least I can attempt to put myself on a budget. He refuses to even try. But before we can separate bank accounts, he has to get us and KEEP us, in the black. Because no matter what, our account is ALWAYS $1000 in the hole come payday. If we can get from one payday to the next and our acc't balance is $0.00 after the bills get paid, then fine. Separate the accounts. But until that happens - forget it.

I think all the mess in my head is out now. I won't be able to get blood work done until Monday. I'm not sure what to cross my fingers for. Maybe early menopause?

And now for your SNL Weekend Update...

No, not really. But it was an interesting title.

So last night I went to my first Overeaters Anonymous meeting. I'm still not sure if it's the group for me. I don't compulsively over eat, but I do have a warped relationship with food, and maybe that can get it under control.

I mean, I've downloaded a dozen apps to my ipad and iphone to help me keep track of shit, but I don't use any of them. It's like the lists I mentioned in my last entry - if I ever used them, my life would be a whole lot better. But I don't.

I feel another bitch session coming on, so let's get the food stuff out of the way first. I've been lousy at watching what I eat. I took four days off the shake, and I could tell a bit of a difference because I wasn't getting those two servings of fruit in. I did cook fajitas the other night. Prepped, shopped and cooked. And mostly cleaned too. Was pretty darn proud of myself. Last night - Wendy's chicken strips. :(

SIGH. And I've been away from the gym for almost six weeks now. With my shortness of breath lately, the idea of getting on a treadmill is scary. I need to get back there. I'll admit it - I felt good when I went. Not overly fantastic because let's face it, I'm still sick. But proud of myself, and it's not often I feel pride anymore. It's not often I feel anything positive anymore.

And here comes the rant:


I know what I need. It's a whole new life. I need a new job, one that doesn't make my brain feel like it's atrophied. I need a new body - and the only way that can happen is if I work to improve the one I've got. I need to travel, to do exciting things. And I need a new relationship - or at least I need to fix this one so it seems like new. There's just so much that's happened, so much that's gone on that I doubt it's ever going to be possible.

He'll never forgive my mistakes. He'll never like my friends. He'll never really trust me. Right there, that makes a case for a new relationship right? But I love him. And he knew Dad, and loved him. And no one will ever understand when I break down and cry over a Jimmy Buffet song like he will.

I'm just TIRED of being miserable. I've been in a serious funk for over a month now - hence my absence from the gym. And of course he doesn't buy it because I've gone out with my friends and had a good time. Or so he thinks. How does he know if he's not there? How does he know I'm not crying on people's shoulders? Of course I barely cry in front of anyone these days. When I do cry, I'm usually having imaginary conversations with him in the car, or talking to dad - in the car. Because it's the one place I'm truly physically alone. If I'm home alone, I never know what time anyone's coming home. Mom usually calls, but he won't. Because he's hoping to catch me doing something I'm not supposed to.

In his mind though, no matter what I actually AM doing, it's something against my marriage vows. Like if I'm playing a game on my iPad, he accuses me of chatting. Every night I set my phone alarm and he accuses me of texting my "boyfriend". I wish I had a boyfriend sometimes. Someone who'll treat me good with romance and love and not hostility and suspicion.

I know he loves me. I know he wants me. But I don't honestly know how much more of this I can take before I just lose it and take off. Every time I get in my car, I spend at least five minutes mentally calculating how much money I've got, how much gas, and how far I can get before running out of both. A few people I've talked to, are amazed that I haven't snapped yet. And these aren't the people I normally bitch to. I have one friend that I've been honest with as far as my mistakes, and his, go. She knows how things are at home. I've told her how much we relied on him to keep things going, to keep things clean, but then did nothing to help him.

She knows how mom & I sit on the couch and watch the shows from the PVR. She knows how much it annoys him too. She knows all about the abortions when I was younger. She knows about my miscarriages. She knows about how I feel about my bestie and new niece. And she understands when I tell her that I need to make the sacrifice worth it.

I'm so bloody bored now. With everything. Even security doesn't provide the same thrill that it once did. Maybe because I stopped taking the club shifts so I could be home earlier. I've never taken an overnight shift because of him. And to be honest, I never really got pissy about it, well, not after I got this job. Because once I had both jobs, I didn't need the hours. But as much as I love my security job, I need something to punch it up.

I'm not sleeping well. Even with OD'ing on melatonin. Because once I wake up in the middle of the night, for whatever reason - him trying for sex, his snoring in my ear, or having to pee - the affects dissipate and I'm up. Then I'm lying there, staring at the clock, wondering if I should take another one or just pray to fall asleep quickly. Neither really works. And with his high-ness (and I mean that literally cuz he smokes weed) passing out pretty easily, he doesn't get it. And he says I snore, and I know I do. But I'm willing to do something about it, like try that dental device I saw advertised on tv. He's not. I can't go the rest of my life like that. AND he hogs the bed. He starts out fine, but then stretches out diagonal, and there's no room for me. But when I try to nudge him over, he calls me a bitch. And when I DO sleep, I clench my jaw, so I'm constantly waking up with major headaches that sometimes develop into migraines.

I don't do my night time routine anymore. When I was sleeping alone, I did. I didn't have to worry about anyone saying anything negative. I brushed my teeth, washed my face, put on my moisturizing cream, exfoliated my hands, covered my zits, took my pills and yes, even did the damn eye cream (I know it hit me in the tub in July, but I was using it before hand, it just didn't hit me that I HAD to). But now, if I go to bed after him, I know I'm setting myself up for some form of comment.

Yeah, I kind of miss the days after dad died when I had the bed and a room to myself. It's not that I need privacy, like he seems to think. But the room is always a disaster, no matter what I try to do to clean it. I'm sick and tired of weed on the floor all the time. I'm tired of tripping over his clothes because he decides to step out of them wherever he feels like it. I'm tired of pee on the toilet seat AND on the floor.

I'm tired of the look in his eyes that tells me I'm useless. I'm tired of being called selfish, inconsiderate and mean. I'm tired of the way he treats me, like I'm stupid. Because then I start believing I am.

I haven't really written anything in months. I've toyed with a few things here and there, but every time I get an idea, I'd like to get down on paper, I freeze. I have a lap desk next to my bed that I should be able to pull out whenever I have an idea (because my lap has disappeared under fat), no matter what time of the night because I am an adult, and I can do these things. If I can't sleep, I should be able to go into the other room to watch tv without being accused of doing anything wrong. If I want to sit up and surf the net, I should be able to do that without dealing with crap. I'm an adult. I've earned the right to pretty much do what I want, as long as I'm not causing someone else physical harm. But I can't, because too much of what I do plays into his insecurities and his perceptions, and that hurts him emotionally. So I don't.

And I don't think I'll ever be able to.

I'm so stifled - my actions, my thoughts, my personality - it's ridiculous. And I know I brought it on myself, but really? He's holding on to all of it with both fists. And now, reading all this, I know the solution seems to be to split up. And when my heart no longer breaks at the thought of him gone, when I know for certain I won't regret it the rest of my life, maybe then I'll do it.

Because really, who needs to be happy & fulfilled?

Honesty - is such a lonely word

So, this blog is about honesty. And in reality, it's also harder to be honest on here than it is if I was, say, talking to a shrink.

My best friend of 30+ years just had her first child. She's my idol. She's beautiful, athletic, intelligent, with a killer sense of style, and her personality is gold. She's unrivaled in anyone I've ever met. Next to her, I'm the dumpy, dumb, sidekick you always see in the movies. But she's never treated me that way. She never planned on having kids, or even getting married. So I was content with the way things were with me. Her and I could be the crazy aunts and bring the kids to R rated movies, fill 'em full of sugar, and then send them back to their parents. But suddenly, she IS the parent.

Holding my beautiful new niece in my arms brought me to a few realizations and truths. The first of which is, as much as I'd like to (and as much as I will) blame hubby for the fact we don't have children, the fault lies with me. I could have easily started losing weight earlier on. I could have insisted we set up a budget to get our own place. I could have just gotten pregnant. But I didn't do any of those things, because I refused to grow up.

In the last three months, I've found out that friends are pregnant, four friends have given birth, and life seems to be settling down for everyone. And when I hold those children in my arms, those tiny newborns that have given their parents a new reason for living, my heart breaks, because I know that my time has run out. And it is really all my fault.

It's a hard truth to realize. I'm going to grow old alone with no one to take care of me. And being the crazy aunt, when you're younger, is great. It's when you get older and you're the crazy, senile, lonely aunt that life gets to be unbearable.

I'm not even going to have a partner. My husband hates me. And it's another hard truth to realize that I caused that as well. I had to take everything to the extreme. I pushed him away so far, he doesn't want to find his way back. Yes, he's to blame for certain things. But in the end, I did go too far. And I can't blame him for keeping his distance.

So, in the spirit of honesty, I have to admit that my marriage is over. And that too, is my fault. I want to be with someone who's happy to see me. Someone who smiles when I come into the room. I need a partner that will hold me when they know I'm having an ultimately shitty day, not just touch me when they want to get into my pants. I want someone who will sing silly songs to me, or who will just want to be with me. He doesn't anymore. In fact, he doesn't even smile when he sees me.

He's got such a gorgeous smile. He needs to smile more. And I can't do it for him.

I've said this before - I know I have. But I've been holding on, just hoping that things will change. But honestly, I'm not sure that this is what I really want. I'm just not good at letting go - of anything. Even when I re-read my blog entries, here and on other ones, it's a vicious circle of repetitive crap. Because I can't be like others and just purge and let go. I don't know why. Writing is supposed to be therapeutic for me, but it's not proving to be. Not the way it was before.

I feel, that since I've made this big sacrifice to my life - not having kids - i should be HONORING that sacrifice by really living instead of just floating from day to day like I have been. I should be traveling and making memories. Since there's nothing to really tie me down. But I need a better job that will allow me to save money to do that. By the time that happens, I could be ready for retirement. How bad would that suck?

I'm great at making plans, making lists. My lists are detailed, make sense and if they ever got implemented, my life would probably be a whole lot better. But I suck on the follow through. So my to-do lists remain undone, and yet they still grow.

I think I need to work on that.

I think that's all the honesty I can handle for today. I've had a few crying jags. I've had a few breakdowns. I just want to spend a week sleeping.

And honestly - that's about all I want right now.

Take thirty-two...and...ACTION.

Well, here we go again. Going to take it from the top and try to do this weight loss thing properly. Been very out of shape and hurting the last few weeks. Really bad diet. Really bad choices. The only thing that's stayed the same is no smoking. Which is a blessing. It's tempting to go back to it once in awhile, but really, it's not worth it.

I'm going to try keeping a food diary. I was always scared to do that, because I didn't want people to know the little ways I was cheating. i didn't want someone to find it and say "Well, no wonder you're a fucking pig." I didn't want to have to keep track of the three cookies here, or the half a chocolate bar there. It would mean being actually accountable. If I only ate what others saw me eat, and I didn't lose weight, I could say "Well, *I* don't know why. I've been sticking to my diet."

But now it's time to be accountable. Even if it's just to myself. I have goals now. I plan to try and hit them. They are going to be difficult. But I know I can do them. I'm also going to start attending overeaters annonymous. There's a chapter that meets by my house. I can't do it the next two weeks, because I've got work. But I WILL go. I have a warped relationship with food, and I need to understand why this happens.

I mean, I'm all for the message of Love Your Body and all that. And I agree that you should - ONLY if that body is healthy. But mine isn't. And if you're genetically predispositioned to be heavy. I'm not. Just take a look at both sides of my family going back three generations. None of them are as big as I am. I need to do this.

Last night, at work, I had issues with walking and breathing at the same time. It wasn't happening for me. So I had Andrew, one of the paramedics and a friend of mine, take a look at me. My blood pressure was a little higher than normal, but my airways were clear. And we just started talking about everything I'm going through: the problems at work, the problems at home, and the crazy amounts of stress that I'm under. He thinks I need to talk to someone about it. He says that there's only a certain amount of strong we can be before the weight starts getting to us. And he thinks, without knowing everything, that I might have reached my limit.

I haven't had a decent nights sleep in weeks (except for last nights, but I took an atavan before bed and doubled up on my melatonin). I can't find comfortable positions to sleep in - sometimes I wind up sleeping sitting up, clutching a pillow, and that's how dad used to sleep. And that terrifies me.

I've got no one to really talk to about it. The hubby's convinced that I'm screwing around, and that's why our sex life sucks. Well, no. Our sex life sucks because my insides are a mess. With all the problems we have, yes, I agree that he maybe shouldn't take much stock in my FEELINGS (emotionally - after all, I caused half this shit even if I didn't mean to). But why we're not having sex has nothing to do with emotions and everything to do with physical feelings. When I'm having problems breathing, and finding comfortable ways to sit/lie down - the LAST thing I feel like doing is an activity where my heart rate increases and sometimes feels like it's going to explode. And I NEVER feel like doing it at 5am. That's just ridiculous. A friend of mine told me that if her husband woke HER up for sex at that time even ONCE, let alone on a regular basis, she'd deck him. I've never been a morning sex person - ever. This is nothing new. But to him, it just means that I'm fucking someone else. I wish he'd take my physical condition into consideration.

He really doesn't help as far as food goes either. I'm guilty of making lousy choices on my own, but I can admit that I need help. But he won't. He just gets seriously frustrated and we wind up eating whatever take out is quickest. It needs to stop - and I'm doing my best to get it done now.

When I was younger, take out was a treat. Mom cooked just about every night. The worst thing I did on my diet was fries at lunch in the cafeteria. Then I dated Kevin, and he was the fast food king. I ballooned up to fifty pounds past my regular weight - which was always a little heavier than normal. But let's face it - I hit puberty at ten (including boobs - BIG ones) and that made my gorgeous straight hair go frizzy, my eyes got bad so I needed glasses which were huge, plastic and HORRENDOUS back then, and no one wanted to talk to me. So yeah, I turned to food for a bit. But I still played sports and swam and was MAYBE ten pounds over what I should be. Kevin was my first serious boyfriend and Jewish to boot. So he hated food at home, and we wound up eating Burger King, McDonalds etc.

After we broke up, I lost fourty of the fifty pounds. I still had big boobs, but was only about twenty pounds away from my goal weight. And then I met the hubby. Well, if Kevin was the take out king - hubby is take out emperor / ruler of the universe. For sixteen years, fifty out of fifty two weeks of the year has been spent eating crap from drive thrus.

Sad huh? Especially for someone who can cook (hubby) and someone who LOVES good food like veggies and fruits and fish and chicken (me). But there it is. I've tried weight watchers, which worked for a bit but I was never able to stick to, and mom's wanted me to go on every available program out there - Jenny Craig, Nutri-system, etc. My whole problem is that eventually, I have to eat on my own. So what happens then? I wind up back at this weight?

No thank you.

So, here I am. Trying to make my way on this journey - not necessarily on my own because I do have friends - but essentially on my own because none of them can be here to eat with me, or help me make the right choices. And I know what they are - I just need to make them.

This breathing issue has me scared to go back to the gym. I don't want to collapse on the treadmill. I will get there though. And I have the Wii fit, I have the Biggest Loser Wii game, and I have Jillian Michael's 30 day shred, which I know I can at least get through level one without dying.

I want to show this blog to my friends, so that I have some feedback on days when I feel this bad. But I don't want to annoy them with my whining. Only one person has this address, and she's the one person I know I can't completely annoy. And the one person I know I can count on.

So here's the before picture I took for my Visalus challenge. I look disgusting. But this is honest - this is real.

Ok so I took my face out of it. Ironically, there's an herbal weight loss system commercial on the television behind me. Disgusting isn't it? I'm so embarrassed at times I just want to die.

I can't stay this way for much longer. I've wasted too much of my life being this way, being complacent, not accepting that my life could be different if I just tried. Well, now I'm trying.

Here goes....everything.

Maybe some important stuff - I'm not sure anymore

I seriously think I might lose it. I'm not kidding. I'm surprised I haven't by now to be honest. With everything the last two years have thrown at me, I'm really honestly surprised I'm not a babbling mass of goo somewhere in a padded room with a cute white coat.

But I don't know how much more I can take. I don't know how much stronger I can be. I'm tired of being strong. I'm tired of my life. And wasn't that the whole point of this? To change my life. I try. I really do. For the first time in my life, I'm trying, even if it's getting hard. But it's getting to the point where it's too hard. It's just not fair. Well, I mean, I guess it is in it's own way. Life's not fair, so therefore it's fair. Because it's not fair for everyone. It's an equal thing - a balance if you will.

But some people are just able to focus, put aside all the bullshit and get through it to their goals. If I could just keep my focus, I think I'd be ok. But right now, I'm not. Just when I think I'm on the right track, life throws a giant obstacle on the track, and I have to derail or crash.

Like my food choices are back to being HORRIBLE. And I have no excuse for them, except that it seems a waste to cook for just me. But if hubby and I split up, I'm going to have to cook for myself anyway right? So it's a good practise to get into. The trouble is that I'm so exhausted when I walk in the house lately, all I do is flop in front of the television. And it's been three weeks since I've been to the gym. I'm so damn frustrated with myself I just want to scream and hide away.

Sometimes I just don't see the point. So I sit and watch tv. And then I get depressed. I mean, I know it's fake, don't get me wrong, I'm not stupid. But some nights, I can't help but wonder if I'd had a show like Glee around when I was going through all my bullshit in high school, if somehow my life wouldn't be different today. I see Lea Michele's character of Rachel Berry as someone *I* was. Just not as driven. So, if I'd had this show around, and role models on tv like that instead of the getting-knocked-up-and-growing-up-fast type I'd had, would I have pushed myself?

Maybe. I'd like to think so. But I guess I'll never know, will I? The question is, do I allow her to be a role model to me now? Despite the fact that she's younger, do I take all that inspiration and move on to the second part of my life with the desire and dedication it'll take to get to where I want?

Or do I just accept that this crap shoot is my life? That I'm not special like I wanted to be? Do I accept that I'll never do anything brilliantly creative except sit in front of the television while my ass gets bigger and my second heart attack becomes inevitable?

I can't. But I don't know whether or not I have the courage to push as hard as I need to. Last night I went to bed convinced of the path I need to take, so sure that I'd be able to just jump into the routine I need and soon enough I'd be where I want. It's a great idea when you're in bed, and tomorrow is fresh, bright and new, but when the new day comes...well, resolve tends to crumble in the light of day.

I'm going to try. I'm really going to this time. I've never really succeeded at anything. I need to - it's about time in my life that I get to where I'm going. Or at least make an effort at the journey.

I need to make a break in some areas of my life. I don't know if I can - those are the scariest in the world. Letting go of things that you love - of people that you love. I've had to lose and let go of so many in the past two years without a choice, I don't know if I can willingly let go of others. Some days I'm just tempted to leave it all behind - my family, these two dead end jobs, my friends and so-called-friends (sometimes it's hard to tell who's who) - and just take off. A clean break from everything and starting over. People have done it before.

But I'm too much of a coward to do that. And in reality, my true friends are those I could never leave. And i really could never leave my family. Maybe if dad was still around - maybe if Janis had a reliable man in her life. Maybe if someone was able to take care of mom. But those are impossibilities and not even worth thinking about I guess.

Makes me wonder if it's worth having dreams sometimes. Am I off on another tangent? Yeah I guess I am.

Time to do something. Don't know what. But something.

Balance

I read an article today on Hello Giggles (an AMAZING website run by three amazing women - don't just click the link and read the article, browse the site) about PASSION. And after confessing to a few of hers, the author asks "What's YOUR passion?" And especially the way I've been feeling lately, it's like she wrote it just for me.

The truth is, I have many passions. All of them creative, all of them making up the very core of who I am. Some are yet unexplored due to monetary issues - such as my passion for traveling (although I don't know if that's so much a passion as a desire). But most of them I have experience with, just not enough drive. Does that make me less passionate about these things?

I don't know.

Example: I LOVE to perform. And I'm good. I'm not bragging; I'm stating a fact. I am the best talent you will never see. Because my skin isn't thick enough. I'm too sensitive. At least I was when I had the opportunity to do something with it. I acted. I did a show called Tony and Tina's Wedding. I've done an independent film - never did find out what happened to it. I've done extra work. I auditioned for Mamma Mia, and Rock of Ages. I'm not the best singer in the world, but I've got more heart than a lot of the singers that are getting record contracts.

See, at my age now, I know what I didn't back then. And while I'm still sensitive, I do believe I have the thick skin that the business requires. After all, who else do you know that wanted to audition for American Idol just so Simon Cowell could turn them down? Just me. But am I too old at 38? And what about my marriage? Do I drag him into the world of cattle call auditions, uncertainty and never being sure where my next paycheck is coming from? Or do I accept that I am too old, and it's a foolish dream?

I'm passionate about writing. I've been published. I haven't written the novel I've always planned on - yet. And I question if I'm good enough to produce a full-length novel. Or should I stick with the erotic shorts that I've had published? I seem to have better success that way.

I'm passionate about my family and friends. If I could give them my last cent, I would, just to make sure they're all taken care of. I'd gladly live paycheck to paycheck for the rest of my life if I could guarantee their futures.

I love school. I love taking courses to better my future. My problem is my brain can't concentrate on one thing for very long. Which is something that I need to address health wise. Maybe with my doctor. 

I feel old. I feel too old. Too old to start losing the weight I need to. Too old to even bother being passionate about anything anymore. I'm tired. I'm tired of being tired. But sometimes, it takes too much energy to fight it.

I titled this post Balance - because I need to find it. And I don't know how. But I know that the only way I'll be able to really follow my passions, follow my dreams, is to find the balance in my life. Part of me thinks it starts by being organized. I wish I was - I try so hard to be. But it's like anything in my life. Once it starts to be like work, I give up. When I was a kid, I was amazing at everything - piano, soccer, jazz, tap, ballet, school...but once it started to require effort, I gave up.

Ideally, I'd like my days to look something like this:

6:00 -  out of bed, bright eyed and busy tailed and ready to face the day

6:30 - at the gym, ready for a quick invigorating workout, a shower and my morning shake

7:30 - out the door on my way to a job I love

8 - 5 - be a productive and incredibly organized asset to an amazing company where I get to flex my creative muscles and am appreciated for my insights and efforts

5:30 - arrive at home, change, tidy the bedroom, throw in a load of laundry and pour a glass of wine, with a delicious, healthy dinner simmering on the stove.

6:30 - dinner eaten (not in front of the television), and settling in for an hour to an hour and a half of consistent writing.

8:00 - off the computer to watch favourite tv shows while folding laundry, or checking out postings on audition boards for the weekends.

10:30 - a quick once over through the house, replacing out of place things, and then to bed, to read for half an hour only.

11:30 - fall into a deep, even slumber with sweet dreams


Are you laughing your ass off? Cuz I am. It's ridiculous. No one's day goes like that - no matter how much planning goes into it.

Realistically, I'd like my day to have time during my day to do the following:

• a quick work out
• job searching
• tidying the house (including laundry)
• an hour of writing  (at least)
• watching a favourite show or two (not ten - which takes time away from the above)
• cook a semi-nutritious meal

I know, that with my schedule now, there's no reason this can't happen. I know it can be done. And from there, it can move into a more "grown up" version of all of the above. Maybe once I get that together, I won't feel so old, I won't be so tired. And maybe I'll have the energy to follow my dreams.

And maybe, just maybe, one day you'll see me on your screen - big or small - or on a stage near you. You won't be able to miss me. I'll be the one glowing with the light of a dream come true.

Ok so the pic is badly shopped - I'm no expert! 

More random ramblings from the other side of sanity

So went shopping across the border with the family this weekend. Which turned into a nightmare for me. I must have tried on about 100 things in my favourite store - which we don't have here in Canada - and came out of there with two tops, a thong and a belt. EVERYTHING looked absolutely horrid on me. Which led me to a serious depression bout. Which normally leads to me binge eating, and down south, there is a HELL of a lot to binge on. So many sweet and salty things we don't have here, and the types of alcohol? Let's just say I would be at least a hundred pounds heavier and an alcoholic if I lived down there.

Amazingly enough though, I didn't really do the binging. I ate a grilled chicken sandwich for lunch that day, with two forkfuls of poutine. I brought my powder with me to do my shakes and did one that morning as well, so I was still going pretty good. Dinner came along (Cheesecake Factory), and I only ate half of my meatloaf sandwich - not for any altruistic reason though, it genuinely sucked.

I couldn't do my shake yesterday morning though. I was just too damn hungry. So I feel like a bit of a failure, especially since I haven't hit the gym in days. I think Tuesday last week was the last day I went. Maybe. I have to keep better track of it.

So I'm kind of down on myself today. And frustrated. And tired. I didn't do a proper shake this morning since I woke up late and had to rush to get ready for work. And I left my gym stuff at home cuz I cleared out my car so I could use my gym bag for my ipad and stuff for the weekend. Even if I had it, I'm too exhausted to go anyway. Which concerns me. I did have a few problems breathing this weekend. And a sudden, sharp pain in my abdomen. Mom said it was my kidneys. But it was the first time that had ever happened, and it hasn't happened since.

I kind of feel like I'm drowning in Should be's - I SHOULD BE looking for another job, I SHOULD BE going to the gym, I SHOULD BE doing more writing, SHOULD BE, SHOULD BE SHOULD BE.... it's all stuff I want to do. I know that if I budget my time better, I'd be able to. I think we'd be so much better off if we threw out our tv. Or at least cancelled our cable. And internet. It's nothing but a time waster. But I love those time wasters. :P It's a nasty habit I know. I feel like I SHOULD BE a more productive human being.

I know it's all about balance. And the funny thing is, today is Tuesday. I started this entry yesterday - and it will post under Monday's date. But I couldn't even be bothered to go home and finish this entry.

It's funny - but I'm not laughing.  I do have an entry for today - maybe it'll make a little more sense than this one.

Ranting

I have to ask forgiveness right now. This might be nasty, it might be awful, it will get ugly before it's done. But if I don't get this all off my chest, I think I might just have that nuclear meltdown that's been threatening to happen for years. It's directed at one person, who will probably never make it here, but I don't care.

YES I SCREWED UP. There. Are you happy to see that? Hear it? Know I know it? I'm not stupid, or delusional. I know I messed things up. And I know it's completely juvenile to say "You started it." But you did. And I guess you were more adept at making up for screw ups, because you did the best you could. But the point is, you still screwed up. No one had ever hurt me that badly. You cheated on me, with my best friend, while we were newlyweds. Your excuse was you weren't getting what you needed at home. I had barely had time to adjust to being a wife. I did nothing wrong EXCEPT agree to let YOUR BEST FRIEND stay with us. In our bachelor apartment. On our couch. Two feet from our bed.

I wasn't a kinky girl back then. I hadn't had a lot of experience with guys. Ok, that's a bit of a lie. I had slept with a lot of guys. But it was all straightforward. Certainly nothing to write to Penthouse about - well, except that one threesome. But I wasn't an exhibitionist. Fucking with someone on the couch two feet away made me intensely uncomfortable. But you refused to throw him out. Sure, you moved him to the closet, but he was still there.

By the time he left, our sex life had suffered, and you had gone and done things behind my back that made me sick. You twisted something inside of me. And sure, maybe it was my responsibility to untwist it. Maybe I should have gone to therapy. Maybe I should have forgotten about it. I even watched the damn tape with the three of you because I didn't want to be a "poor sport". Like that's what it was - a sport. Something fun to do just for the hell of it. Fuck how it made me feel, fuck how it made me look.

I wasn't like her. I wasn't an exhibitionist. I wasn't a whore for the taking. I didn't do stuff like bring guys home to be with me while you watched. I know that's what you want - but it's not me. I talk a good game. I write a better one. But it's not, at my core, who I am. You took all that I wasn't and used it against me. And you continue to do so. Only now it's open to include everything about who I am, and what I'm not.

You continuously hurt me, with your sarcastic laughs, with your blank stares, with your indifference. You don't hesitate to tell me you don't give a shit about me. And you know what? I know that. I know you're only around still to help with mom. And because you don't have to pay rent. It's a (practically) free ride for you. People told me that - some of whom are those you consider friends. They told me you'd never leave as long as the ride continues. I never wanted to believe it. I wanted to believe that somewhere inside, you didn't want to leave because you still love me and you believe in us.

But you don't. You don't support me in anything I do. You want to keep me fat and unhealthy. I don't know why. I do everything possible to make you happy - except the one thing you desperately want from me. You want me to get rid of everyone that even remotely came between us. You want me to ditch all my friends from Northwest. You want me to ditch all my old club friends - June, Josh, Meaghan, Bhavna, Lisa, Brad, Amy, Jenn, Todd, Ariel, Eric, etc. But Josh especially. Because you feel threatened. Because of something you found WHILE SNOOPING. Funny how you thought that *I* deserved what I found when I snooped. But me writing that letter - just plain horrible of me. When its' the same damn thing. Only, here's the only thing I can think of. You're worried it's real, because, in reality, so were your conversations with Michele. So if YOURS were real, who's to say this letter wasn't right?

Nothing I do makes you proud. Do you know how discouraging it is knowing that you accomplished something major and yet the person you pledged to spend the rest of your life with isn't proud of you for doing it? Or being halfway to a goal, and getting no encouragement at all, because YOU don't like my choice of schools? Because somewhere in your mind, I'm still young enough to give a shit about having an affair? What you don't realize is that it's not the physical shit that's going to do that - it's the emotional abuse you put me through. I could probably resign myself to falling in love with my gay best friend. Sure, there'd be no sex, but I can guarantee he'd make it known to me if he was proud of me, he'd listen to my problems and care about what I'm going through. He'd hold me when I cry, he'd be behind me, supporting me.

Sex - while important to me -I can do without. You really want to know why I don't want sex with you? Because no woman in love wants to have sex with someone who just wants her body. I don't have sex with men who can't stand me. And you just don't get that. I'm not 20 anymore. Sex needs to mean something to me. And when I have it with you - I know it's just because you're horny and I'm an available body that you want. Our hearts an minds don't connect anymore because you've shut yours down and shut me out.

You don't care when I cry - and that's fine. Most of the time I do it without you around anyway. Just admit - you don't love me anymore. We can't even be friends. And then go. Because it's killing me to have you here with this attitude. I want to be happy. Somehow. And I know you want that too.

If you're waiting for me to admit that I've had an affair - you're not going to hear it. There are days I want to say that I have, just so you'll leave. Because you're not here for us - you're not here to make things work. You're here to destroy me. Because you're vindictive. You read into everything I do as being against you. It's not meant that way. It's just how your mind is working. And it has to stop, because it's not healthy for you.

I don't want you to die. I don't want to die. But it's funny. The changes I'm making in my life, you can't accept. And if I happen to fall off the wagon for anything, you're right there to judge me. As if you're saying "See? I knew you couldn't do it." Before you, with Kevin, I ate fast food a lot. And now I do with you too. So of course it's going to take a long time to break bad habits. But I'm at least trying. You, you really don't want to bother. And when I do try, you do nothing but put me down.

I work two jobs to try and bring in enough money. Even when i was working full time, I still worked two jobs. I'm going to the gym - I'm taking my pills. I quit smoking. I am going to school. I am  TRYING to make a life. You don't want to have one - you don't want a future. We have nothing put aside for the future. We have no insurance. We have NOTHING. And I'm not satisfied with that anymore. And if you are, maybe you should leave.

No, not maybe. You should leave. You'll be happier without me. Find some young broad who doesn't care about a future. She'll screw your brains out seven ways from Sunday and do every kinky thing you want. And I'll go on. I'll cry over you, miss you like crazy, lose my weight, finish my certificate, get a better job, be healthier than I have in years and find someone to have a baby with.

Because I want one. I want yours. But you've made it quite clear how you feel about that. And that's ok. I'll find someone. I don't have to love them with all my heart to be a parent with them. Hell, might even go artificial. I have a good family. They'll help me. I've got great friends. They'll help me. Because THEY love me.

And you no longer do.

There's still so much inside me that needs to come out on this. But I just can't find it in there. So instead, I'll say this.

I'm sorry. For every time I made you feel like you weren't good enough to spend time with. For every time I chose to be out of the house instead of with you. For every time I kept a secret, or lied to spare myself the fight.

I'm sorry for every time I told the truth and you didn't believe me. I'm sorry for thinking some things weren't a big deal, when they obviously were to you. For the double standards I had when it came to our money, our actions, our friends. For leaving you with the responsibilities of the house while I partied.

I'm sorry for not having children by now, and for laying the responsibility for that at your feet. I'm sorry for waiting for you to take care of me, and I'm sorry it's taken me this long to take care of myself.

I'm sorry for every time I've turned an argument around and put it on you. I'm sorry I made you feel inadequate in the sex department. I'm sorry I haven't told you until this rant what the issue is. But since you'll never read it, and since you've proven you can't sit down and have an adult conversation with me, I'm sorry you'll never know.

I'm sorry you feel I don't support you enough. I'm sorry you feel that I'm just using you. I'm sorry for us growing apart. For the fact you feel our values aren't the same anymore.

I'm sorry you can't support me on anything I want to do, whether it's a trip to see Gowan, or my schooling. Or even reading anything I write that I ASK you to read, not what you find through snooping. And I'm sorry for all the times I've snooped in your phone. I'm sorry for any conclusions I've jumped to.

I'm sorry for not appreciating what you used to do around the house, especially now that you hardly do shit. And I'm sorry for the little catty remarks I have to make sometimes or else I'll explode into little tiny pieces of nuclear waste.

Above all, I'm sorry for wasting so many years of your life. I should have left you when I found out about Tami. Then we wouldn't be here, in this spot, wondering how to get out of this mess intact.

We can't. I know I'll be destroyed. And yes, I might be happier without you around. This you - but my memory still holds on to who you used to be. And I've been miserable since I chased him away. I know it's my fault.

And for that most of all, for turning you into this suspicious, nasty, catty, sarcastic, unfeeling shell of a man, I cannot apologize enough.

I hope one day we can both forgive me for that.

I have to stop this - my left arm is numb and my jaw is killing me from clenching while writing. The tension I carry is getting to me. Something has to give.

List after list after list...

Ok, so I'm going to go crazy. I have list upon list upon list of things to do and say and be and....GAH! My initial to do list is so long, Gene Simmons tongue is jealous. And then there's lists that branch off from the main to-do list.

SO. MANY. LISTS.

First off, yesterdays trip to the gym was less than stellar. Yes, I made it there, but came off the treadmill seven minutes before the end of my scheduled thirty. Don't know why - felt very weird yesterday. Had to force myself to go. But couldn't force myself to stay that last seven minutes.

I feel like I'm not doing myself any good just by doing my walking. I know I should get on the machines, but in truth, they scare me. Not because they'll harm me. I have an anxiety attack just looking at them. I'm not sure why. Maybe because I don't know what I'm doing, or maybe because I'm alone when I'm there? I just get a really oogy feeling when I walk by them. I know I have to get over that. One thing at a time.

I'm getting a little concerned because my left forearm has been giving me some issues. Nothing major - just tingling and minor pain. I will go see a doctor. I just want to lose a LITTLE bit of weight before I do. I want to show him I'm working on it - for real this time. Most of the other times I've tried, I've quit when it's become too hard. I'm not quitting this time. I'm just sorry that I wasted so much of my life just accepting what I was instead of striving to change it.

I have one item left for my final project for class, and then it's DONE. And then time to choose my next class. Not to mention galleys from Alison to proof and then return. Three short submissions due by next Wednesday. And then Sommer's zombie call - and it's barely started. THAT'S due at the end of the month.

I feel like this: (and since I couldn't find a clip for it I'll just have to give you the line). It's from the Princess Bride - when Humperdink and Tyrone are talking by the tree:

"Tyrone, you know how much I love watching you work, but I've got my country's 500th anniversary to plan, my wedding to arrange, my wife to murder and Guilder to frame for it; I'm swamped."

It's how I feel. I'm going completely insane with the amount of work I have to do. Not to mention how completely broke I am. This month is a bad month to be broke - Mom's 65th, Nanny's 85th, Diane's birthday, Tami's 40th. Yep. And me without a ton of hours from Northwest because I didn't think ahead and plan out my days off better. AND we're going to Buffalo this weekend. First time without dad

I really am not feeling well again. Don't know what's going on with me. It's not one particular thing. Nothing hurts, nothing really aches. But there's a dull...something behind my skin that I just don't get. But I think two days at the gym in a row is good. I'll take today off and go tomorrow. Assuming we don't get the monsoon we're expecting. I need to get my inner "goddess" in line. And I need to finish this project, otherwise my GPA is going to fall so low, there'll be no saving it, at least not in this lifetime.

So, skipping the gym today wouldn't be too big of a disaster. As long as I PROMISE myself that I'm going tomorrow. Which I will do. And as long as I get things at home accomplished, which I will do. 

And since this blog post is all over the damn place, I'll just settle for saying see ya soon folks. (Pshaw - yeah like anyone's reading this anyway).

Later!

Exhausted

I'm trying to stay positive. Let's just say that today is a bad day.

Yesterday I had to host a party for a girl I don't particularly like. But it was her 40th and she had asked hubby if she could use the backyard to host. He said yes, and just like that - I'm roped in. I made over 100 jello shots for the party, anticipating at least 20 guests, not including myself, hubby, the bday girl and her brood.

I was wrong. There was a total of 11 of us. I felt really bad for her, especially when it's happened to me before. One year, bestie took me out to a bar where eight people, out of the invited 40 showed up. We had to go to our regular bar to catch up with my other friends, who'd forgotten all about the party.

I know how heartbreaking it can be. But she seemed to have fun. Which I guess is the main point. I didn't sleep very well, so I'm exhausted today. And to top it off, I've TOTALLY veered off my diet - having no shake for breakfast, instead having one donut, two cheesecake pops and a coffee. I feel gross. And I hate myself. Mainly because I also know I'm going to have no choice but to eat crap at work today.

I don't want to go to work. But I feel damn guilty over everyone who's been working their asses off this summer. On nights when I don't work, I try not to tweet anything, because I don't want to deal with the crap that I know will either be said behind my back or to my face. Most of it behind my back.

And then there's a friend of mine who's currently living in a shelter. His mom kicked him out, which seems pretty harsh, but it was the only way to light a fire under his ass. I adore him - he's one of my best friends. I am doing everything I can to help him out, but I feel like he is my responsibility and I don't want it.  I can barely take care of myself. I don't have the strength right now to take care of him too.

Like me, he's tried to keep a positive attitude - but unlike me he hasn't tried very hard. It lasts for about an hour, and then he allows his situation to get him down. And there are days I can't take it. Like tomorrow is a holiday and apparently the libraries are closed. He goes to the library during the day to have something to do. So what's he going to do tomorrow? Hopefully go to his dad's place to hang out a bit. But I feel like I should pick him up and do something with him, and I just can't.

I can't be everything to everyone. I have to be everything to ME first. And since I've put others ahead of myself my whole life, I think now I might be entitled to think of me once in awhile.

Ok, now that I've said all that, I think it's time to try and clean this house. And find out which roads are closed to get to work. And make sure I've got everything I need.

Can I just go back to bed?

Long Weekend Woes.

Ok, so here we go. We're approaching the long weekend.

I had a goal in mind this week to hit the gym every day. And I did it for the beginning - Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. Yesterday I had all the best intentions to go. But around noon, I started to get really bad cramps, to the point where walking to my car was uncomfortable. Never mind half an hour on the treadmill at the gym. I figure it might be my body reacting to the amount of good food it's been consuming. Either way, I needed to get my paycheque and it was the last day of class. Which I couldn't miss. So I just went home, made myself a beef wrap (left over beef from Tuesday's tacos) and lay down for a bit. The cramps subsided but didn't completely go away, which left me uncomfortable for the rest of the day.

So as for today, I'm hoping to get there. I have to organize my schedule though. I need to get jello shooter cups, go home, have lunch and meet with my cousin whom I'm helping with a video audition that we have to get done before he has to leave for work at four. O_O

In the meantime, work is being done on the house - again. And I'm not sure if there's anything been taken out for dinner. I'm pretty sure the King of Take-out will want subs. I was really good yesterday. Went to a pub for a bite, and instead of getting crap, I got the grilled chicken sandwich with honey garlic sauce, on the side. Of course I got the sweet potato fries, but I had a weak moment. And I had perrier for a drink. I ate only half the bread, using my knife and fork instead of as a sandwich, and only used half the sauce, which was needed cuz the chicken was horrible. And when I got home, I didn't eat the sub hubby had for me - that's today's lunch - instead I just took my pills and went to bed.

I think I'm doing really well with the discipline in the eating department. This weekend will be the test. Not so much Saturday - for the bday party that is happening at our place, hubby is cooking everything himself. So while it might not be fat-free or light, at least I'll know exactly what's going into it.

What's going to kill me are the jello shots/alcohol. I love a good party like the rest of humanity, and I love jello shots. I make them incredibly potent. :D Just ask the bachelorette parties I've made them for.

Just emailing back and forth with Terry. And she made a comment that made me stop and think. She said "You're going to win this one." And she's right - there's no room for failure this time around. Not with everything I want to do in life.

So I will hit the gym today. Just working out the schedule with my cousin now. If I keep this up, there's nothing I can't do. Now if I could only get disciplined with my writing, I'd be laughing.

Getting it all...

"I want it all, I want it all, I want it all, and I want it NOW...." - Queen

Truer words were never spoken. I do want it all, and I'm trying to have it all.

Yesterday, I did it all - sort of. I came to work, I had my shake. I had strawberries for a snack. I went to the gym and did my half hour on the treadmill. And then I went to the grocery store, bought stuff for tacos, and went home to cook dinner, and play with my niece and nephew.

Trouble is, once the kids were gone, and before hubby got home, I did NOTHING. I'm addicted to the damn television. I need to get away from it. But it's not easy. The PVR makes it too easy to get the shows you know you're going to miss when you're out doing things that are supposed to get you away from the television.

But that's a different addiction to break. And I digress. I made a great dinner with fresh toppings and cleaned the kitchen, and proceeded to watch tv again. SIGH. I did remember to take my pills before bed. So I am doing stuff that's healthy for me. But I didn't get any writing done, no school work and I didn't put out those resumes I wanted to. It's like the second I get home, something sucks all the energy out of me.

Today, I am leaving here (work) to go to the gym. I'm going to shower there, pick up a six inch sub on my way downtown to the OTHER job, which I have to start at 3:30. I have brought healthy snacks with me, in order to try not to succumb to the temptations of the crap sold at the stands. 

Aaaand once again, I lost all train of thought. Damn it's tough to keep a thought in my head these days. I never used to get this distracted. Wondering if I should worry about this....?

Anyway, in five minutes it's time for me to depart, and begin the rest of my day. 

Until we meet again friends.

Uncertain

Ok, so it's Monday once again. Last night I worked harder at the second job, possibly harder than I have in a long time. And it wasn't even like I had to move or chase anyone, or even search. After all, once you've had a heart attack, people sometimes look at you as if you're fragile. And I'll be the first to admit, I've played up on it once or twice. Not because I don't want to work hard, but because I'm afraid to.

I'm afraid that I won't be able to back up my team, that I'll let everyone down and then they'll never rely on me again. It's one of the reasons I'm so determined to lose weight. I'm tired of sitting on the sidelines.I want to be someone they can count on. I want to be able to roam the bowl, or the lawns and not get tired, and be able to take out ejections. I've got the training. I want to use it.

On another note - got on the scale this morning. Talk about depressing. It's been two weeks since I've been doing these shakes. According to my scale, I've GAINED two pounds. I can't tell if my clothes feel loose or what. I'm really discouraged. Trying not to be - god knows I've been in the weight loss game long enough to know that results are not instant or even easy.

But I'm NOT giving up. I am dragging my exhausted ass to the gym today, even as I try to make excuses. "I'm too tired." ; "Last night killed me." ; "I need sleep." ; "I have homework." etc, etc, etc. Because the truth of it is, I'll leave work, go home, play with my nephew for half an hour, lock myself in my room and surf the net before starting on my homework. Or watch tv. And then when my niece gets up, I'll play with her until my brother picks them up.

So really, all I'm doing is making use of the time I would be wasting at home. And making good use of it.

So yeah, I think I'll do that.

I'm My Own Worst Enemy

So, after a day of doing well by attempting to stick to my lifestyle change, I sabotaged myself again today. I had chinese food for lunch, and then pizza for dinner. Granted I didn't eat all the chinese food in the meal and I only had three slices of pizza, the toppings of which were grilled chicken and goats cheese. Oh and four chicken bites.

I know I shouldn't have done it. I should have ordered a salad from the pizza place. They do offer them. But no, silly me. I still haven't figured out how to eat right when it comes to eating (or ordering) out. I know what I'm ordering is wrong, but I can't seem to stop myself.

Which, yes, makes me wonder why I'm even bothering? I mean seriously. If, at my age, I can't figure out how to order healthy shit for me to eat, food I enjoy immensely, why am I bothering this attempt at change?

And then I walked the leftover pizza down to the fridge and had a huffing and puffing issue. And that answered my question.

But I need to stop sabotaging myself. Hubby and I were watching X-Weighted today, and he brought up the point of the people doing it for themselves, not for anyone else. And doing it BY themselves, with no help from anyone else.

Well, I'm sorry. But I do need help. I need HIS help. And if he can't see that, if he doesn't understand that - then I have no idea why we're still married.

Learning Something New...

"Those schoolgirl days of telling tales and biting nails are gone, but in my mind I know they will still live on and on." - Lulu

I love being a student. I wish I had known back then that this would be the place I wanted to be. I wish I could go back and tell my 18 year old self - hey sweetie, guess what? You're going to LOVE university. So do your fucking homework!

Going back to school twenty years after graduating high school is a surreal experience. Granted it's only night school, but still. I love walking through the campus, absorbing the energy from the wide range of students - freshmen, seniors, older students like me - it's just incredible. The vibe is just amazing. All these people, here to learn about any number of topics - english, chemistry, biology, politics. The course guide is incredible. 

i'm  sitting in class on a break right now, and I'm looking around the room. I feel old, I can't deny that. I listen to the others talk amongst themselves, and I feel left out, like I did in high school. But I'm not here to make friends. Although, I have to admit, in my last couple of classes I did meet some great people, and we did hit up the pub for drinks after class on more than one occasion, our professor often joining us. 

I dream about being a full-time  student. I dream about having the experience of living in a dorm, buying sweaters and hoodies with the university logo on it. Going to swim meets and football games. All the stuff I missed out on because I was "too cool for school." I dream about study groups, all night sessions, and running across campus to get to my next class because my stupid roommate didn't turn the alarm back on. 

I dream about sitting in those tiered classrooms, with the podium at the front, everyone working on their laptops. I dream about getting my diploma - wearing the cap and gown and walking on that stage with a sense of accomplishment. 

I know people have done it before. People older than me. I don't doubt I could do it if given the chance. I know I'm smart enough. I know now that I have the drive. I just don't know how I'd get it done. I'd need a sugar daddy, or a lottery win, in order to be able to focus on school, and not have to worry about paying bills and rent and making a living. 

I really wish I'd done it. I've wasted twenty years of my life doing absolutely nothing, and now the urge to do everything is overwhelming. 

On another note, before class is back in session- I stuck pretty much to my diet today. Well, my lifestyle change as it were. I had my shake at lunch, had a reasonably healthy dinner considering it was in the food court, and am having a healthy snack. Now when I get home, I have to remember to take my pills, brush my teeth with my new toothpaste. And I think I'm forgetting something....

Oh yeah - the damn eye cream.

Time

"Cause time won't give me time, and time makes lovers feel, like they've got something real. But you and me we know they got nothing but time..." - Culture Club

OK first off I feel really lousy right now. I mean, I've had my other blog for years and I've never written two posts in one day on it. Well, maybe once or twice, but that was playing catch up.

I did manage to get to the gym today. Was feeling pretty good about it too until an old injury flared up. I somehow, last September, managed to separate a tendon from the bone in my foot. Once in a while it kicks up with a roar. Today, my first day back at the gym in months, it chooses to remind me it's there.

FUCK. I have to keep reminding myself I'm not twenty anymore. I was just sitting in the tub, reading, when it occurred to me from out of the damn blue that I have to start using eye cream. Like WTF? When the hell did that happen? And HOW the hell are there so many of them out there? How do you even choose just one? Focus groups? Trial & error I'm betting. Part of me doesn't even want to bother. Why shouldn't I look like an old hag?

And then I get angry with myself for thinking that way. It's such a piss off. Where did the time go? It seems like only yesterday I was staying out until 4am with my friends, drinking it up at the bars, hanging at Tim Horton's parking lot until one of us mentioned work the next day. How did it pass by so fast? I mean, look at me now. I'm 38, and really have nothing to show for my life. A miserable sham of a marriage where we love each other but KNOW that we're poisoning the other slowly. No kids. No house. Not even a decent career.

And you know, part of me doesn't give a rats ass. I'm thinking that somewhere in my subconscious, this is how I wanted my life to play out - to a certain degree. I think that I wanted no ties. I wanted to travel, to see the world. A mortgage, kids, career - would just hold me back. I am that type of free-spirit.

But I'm 30-fucking-8. I still get zits. I still want it all - and am fucking certain that there is a secret to having it all. I just haven't found it yet.

But while searching, maybe I can find the answers to other secrets in the universe.

Like what fucking eye-cream to use.

And in the beginning...

There's something you should know about me, in case you already don't. Besides the fact that this blog will skip all over the damn place, and sometimes run off on tangents that you might find hard to follow (consider yourself warned, but I always make it back to my point), one thing I HAVE to say is this:

I'm fat. Not pleasantly plump, or simply overweight, as I've tried to tell myself for years. The first step in fixing a problem is accepting that you have one, and what that problem is. And my main problem is that I'm fat.

I'm still pretty, or so I'm told. I still "sparkle" according to one of my BFF's. But I'm fat. I have to accept this. This isn't just a physical image issue - it's a health one. I had a heart attack four years ago. I was 34 years old. Did I change my diet? For a little while. Did I lose weight? A little bit. Did I quit smoking? For a while. Until I went back to work. I have four stents in my arteries. And my diet still consists of deep fried crap and a marked lack of vegetables and fruit.

And then my dad died - from a heart attack. And instead of it being a wake up call, I went into what's been a year and a half long stupor. I smoked like a chimney, ate whatever I wanted, stopped going to the gym. Essentially, I gave up, waiting for God to take me too.

My dad was my best friend. And every day that goes by I miss him more and more. Summertime is the worst because it was his favourite time of year. But this summer, I quit smoking. It's been over a month now. Father's Day was my last cigarette. I still jones for them, especially when I am drinking. But overall it hasn't been as hard as I expected.

But when you're fat, anything you accomplish seems trivial. And I don't know if it's just me. But when I speak to my "thinner" and healthier friends, and they find out that I've quit smoking, or done something positive in my life, the tones in the "OH MY GOD. That's terrific!" sound incredibly insincere to me. It sounds like they're placating a child. "There, now, that's a good girl. But you could do so much better, if you'd just lose weight."

I've waited for years for my husband to help me with my quest to lose weight. I'm not a cook. If I don't have a recipe, I can't make anything edible. At least that was the way I'd viewed myself for years. I needed his help to cook the type of food that would be healthy for me, and for him as well. For years, we've eaten fast food almost every night. Not only has it been draining on our savings, but it's put eighty pounds of ugly fat on my body. That's right. EIGHTY POUNDS. I was never in my right weight zone. But now it's skyrocketed. And I'm fully disgusted.

But it seems like he doesn't want to help, because things aren't being done HIS way. Yes, whatever cooking's been done is usually by him. That stems from when we started living together and I tried cooking a few times. His response was "I don't feel like that; I'm ordering pizza." leaving me with food that I no longer wanted to eat, and a sinking feeling that I'd done something wrong. He's also always said that he's tired of doing all the cooking. And then alternately he doesn't mind doing the cooking, but he hates always having to be the one who decides what we're having. This has backfired on me too. On days I've decided what I want for dinner, he's resentful at having to cook it. So why would I make the decisions? And he doesn't see it from that side, only that I'm being unreasonable.

It's always my fault.

I made meatloaf last night. Just had an urge to cook, and tried to think of something we hadn't had in awhile. We had chicken and ribs on Sunday, and the pork chops weren't looking so good at the grocery store. So I bought ground beef and went with meatloaf. I've only made it twice. It's turned out great both times. This time, not so great, but I was still excited to surprise him with a home cooked meal.

Should have known.

ANYWAY (see tangent!) , that's not my point. My point is that who I am is not defined by how much I weigh. If I was this weight and healthy, it would still bother me, but not as much. But I'm not. So I need to get to the point where I am. And frankly, I'm tired of having to buy plus sized clothing.

Tomorrow I'll tell you about my first step to losing weight. The new program I'm on called Visalus. I don't know if it'll help, but I'm going to give it a shot.

Thanks for stopping by. Sorry about the mess. I'll clean it up later.

Once Upon a Time....

Let's face it. All fairy tales start out this way. And usually end with Happily Ever After.

Actually, technically, they all end with The End. If you're one of the lucky ones, you get the happily ever after.

But that's what bothers me. Why should we have to be lucky in order to get that?

See, I'm your typical Disney-princess-loving-drama-queen-damsel-in-distress. For years, I waited for my white knight to come along and rescue me. And when he didn't - I longed to find another one who would.

Until now.

I'm not a very confident person. I know there are a few things I'm good at, and a few things I'm GREAT at. But I believed in the fairy tale. If you just waited, it would come to you. Never mind my friends with the same desires I had actually moving forward and making their dreams come true with hard work and determination. Nope. I was the special one. I was going to be DISCOVERED in some grand Hollywood fashion.

After an agent saw me singing in a karaoke bar, he would pluck me from the depths of obscurity, and pitch me to show after show, bragging about my genius. I would start small, character roles, but then as the world fell in love with me, I would be a leading lady all the way. THEN it would be discovered that I'm not only amazing on film, but on stage, no star could compare.

I was going to win the Tony, the Oscar, the Emmy AND the Grammy. I was going to marry a brilliantly talented New York actor, and raise brilliantly talented little babies. We would split our time between coasts - our mansion in LA, and our three-floor penthouse suite in Manhatten. We would own condos around the world, and our children would want for nothing.

I would eternally thin, eternally youthful, and die with absolutely no regrets as the world mourned my passing.

YAH RIGHT.

In reality, my acting has gone nowhere, my singing less so, and as I hit 38 this year and look in the mirror, I realize that no one is coming to my rescue.



Not every woman gets her white knight. And what I've realized, is that I don't need ond. Sure it would be nice to meet a millionaire who just happens to think I'm the most ravishing creature on the face of the earth. I think my husband might have a problem with that though.

I don't need a white knight. Starting now, I'm rescuing myself.

And that's what this blog is. It's a purging of all un-realisitic fantasies, and it's to keep me grounded while I finally get my shit together. After all, it's only been at the top of my to-do list for the last twenty years. I think it's about time I got to it.

So, if you're along for the ride, I welcome you. Hopefully this will make you chuckle, make you smile, maybe make you cry a little. But above all, I hope that my journey to rescue my inner princess from the top of the tower can help you start your own journey.

So goodbye Cinderella, fair damsel in distress.  From now on, just call me Cindy.