My Happy Place

They've taken away my happy place.

I used to have my writing space set up next to the sliding glass doors so I could see out into the yard while I'm writing. There was a mulberry bush that was nearly as tall as a tree and it kind of blocked me from my neighbor looking in and I had a bird feeder hanging in it.

They cut down the mulberry bush. Now there's no place to hide from my neighbor and there's no place for my bird feeder.

Oh, the trunk is still there but there's not a branch or a leaf left on it. Now it's not a happy place. It's sad and pathetic and it makes me so mad I can't think coherently.

So, I moved all my writing stuff to a corner in the living room by the windows. Now my view is the back of my husband's easy chair and the mini blinds on the window. Not a bad view, but not a tree with a bird feeder and a flock of Chipping Sparrows.

My happy place is gone, taken away by my rotten property manager.

This blog post is my official wish that someone takes her happy place away so she can feel like I do right now.

A Strange Bit of Insight

I had a creepy thought the other day. The kind that makes your soul blink back at you like it's not sure what your brain just said, but surely it couldn't be what it thought it heard.

I can understand how someone could fall into an eating disorder. I sometimes like the feeling of being hungry so much that I don't want to eat to make it stop.

Yup, this is the level of weird I've achieved.

Now, before anyone panics, I'm not going to become anorexic. It's just that I realized that if you're not conscious of what's happening, your mind can fuck with you in ways you never imagined. Ultimately, you need to be aware of the terrain so you don't fall into an old mine shaft and have to spend time and money on therapy to climb out of it.

Forced Slowdown

I'm sick.

I'm not going to complain about it though. I think I need this right now. I feel like I've done nothing but push, push, push lately and I need to coast for a bit. It's been a long time since I've felt so bad that I wanted to stay in bed all day, but that's where I'm at and I think I'm going to give in to it today. Well, except for laundry and cooking and dishes. To me those aren't chores, they're part of being alive. Like breathing.

Anyway.

Usually Saturday is for cleaning the house with Jack and Pandora. (If I make it fun, it goes faster and I actually do a better job.) Luckily, I have a man who isn't hung up on a perfectly clean house. (A life full of dogs and a kid and all his friends will make you easier going than you thought you could be.) If he has clean socks and underwear, he's happy. This Saturday will be for dishes and laundry and podcasts and catching up on my fitness videos on YouTube.

I do have a party to go to tonight and that's another reason to take it easy. We're going late and not staying long, but I'd like to try to enjoy this. (I'm not contagious. I have a UTI.) If I can score some extra sleep between loads of laundry and video watching, then I'll be ready to have a little fun.

So the point of this ramble is that I'm not happy that I'm sick, but I'm grateful because I need a break from myself. I don't need to run or workout or clean the whole house or work on Novel 4 today. I need rest without guilt and that's the gift I'm giving myself.

I need new slippers.

(I fall off the wagon and drag myself back on more than anyone I know. Sheesh. Sorry.)

I hate these slippers. I've had them for over a year now and because I'm a cheapskate, I won't just buy new ones because I don't like them. I want them to die first so I can justify sending them to the landfill graveyard. They're beyond the point where I would give them to the Thrift Store to make fifty cents off of, so that's not an option either. Die they must.

They're cute, don't get me wrong, but they're too loud. They're those ones that don't have anything to attach them to your heel, so when you walk, the heel of the slipper slaps and drags over the floor. I couldn't sneak up on a deaf person in these things. Not that that's the goal, but I can't pace in them without everyone hearing me and I need to pace and they're too damn loud. Even I can't stand to listen to the chck-shhh, chck-shhh, chck-shhh a thousand times.

Yeah, it's a little thing. And yeah, for twelve bucks or so I could get ones that don't drag the floor. When I get fed up enough I'll do it. In the meantime, I'm trying to walk them to death so I don't have to feel guilty for sending them to the slipper Underworld. But I can only walk in them so long before I have to give up and put my gym shoes on so I don't have to listen to myself pace. I'm already crazy, I don't need to drive myself further over the edge over a pair of slippers and how they sound when I walk.

You can file this under "First World Problems" for sure.

Frustration

I feel stuck.

The chasm between what I want to be doing and what I can do is so big right now, I can't even see the other side. It's stupid, but it's making me feel desperate. I hate stagnating, but worse than that, I hate moving backwards and that's what this feels like.

I can't power through this. If I try that, I'm going to get more injured and then the healing will take even longer. It's been four days and this is how crazy I'm getting. I need another ten before I can even try walking any distance, much less running. Squatting and dead-lifting are out, possibly for a couple of months. I need to take the long view and realize that a few months is nothing compared to twenty years or more, but I can't. All I can think is that I'm stuck.

Yes, I'm whining. Yes, there are people out there who are in far worse shape than me. Yes, I'm still healthier and stronger than 85% of the people I know. However, when I'm sitting here thinking about how far I've come and how far I have yet to go, knowing I can't progress kills me. It feels like I'm being punished for trying to be better.

I'll get through this. I need to trust the process. When I come out on the other side, I'll be stronger.

Blah, blah, blah. Empty promises. I just want to do what I want to do.

The Space Between

I am stuck in the middle of everything right now.

I'm between writing projects. And yeah, I've got one on deck, but I'm not "involved" just yet, so it feels like limbo.

I'm injured, so I'm having to put off working out until Monday and then I'll have to create workarounds just to function.

Work has been slow and I've done a lot of sitting around instead of making people feel better and that makes the days longer.

Yeah, I'm whining. Hopefully by Monday I'll have everything going in the right direction.

Shit No One Tells You About Losing Weight

(I could have written a whole post apologizing for not being here for three months and making excuses. But, why bother?)

1. It's Ugly. If you have five or ten pounds to lose, you'll look great right away. If you have thirty or more pounds to lose, you get to see how ugly you really are. Loose skin is ugly. It has wrinkles and pockmarks and yuck. Yes, eventually you'll look great, but you have to wait until you've lost the weight and your skin catches up.
2. It Hurts. It's painful. You will be hungry. There is no such thing as losing weight without being hungry and hunger hurts. You will be sore. If you're trying to lose weight without exercising, maybe you won't be, but if you're doing any kind of workouts, you're going to experience muscle soreness and possibly injury.
3. It's Boring. Yes, that first week or two when the scale is really dropping are exciting. Everything after that is boring as hell. Food gets boring. Exercise gets boring. Life gets boring.
4. It's Slow. Oh yeah, they say you can lose two pounds a week. You do the math and that's thirty pounds in fifteen weeks. Woo Hoo! Um. No. You'll do that for a few weeks and then something will happen. Margaritas. A picnic. Someone's birthday. A holiday. And you've gained ten pounds back and have to get back on track again.
5. It's Frustrating. No one ever tells you how hard it is. Or if they do, you don't listen. You think they don't have the willpower to do it or they're stupid or they're lazy. No. It's hard and that makes it frustrating because you think everyone else who has lost weight is somehow more genetically gifted than you and you have to work harder than they did and damn it, you should be able to eat one piece of cheesecake without suffering for it for three days and... Yeah.

The bottom line.
If you're trying to lose weight just to look good, find some other motivation. Looking good is nice. Being able to walk upstairs without stopping to rest is better. Being able to carry your own groceries in the house without stopping to rest is better. Being able to cut your grass and plant flowers and play with your kids or the neighbor's kids or your grandkids is better. Being able to take your dog for a walk is better. Looking good is relative anyway. Being able to do things other people can't do is a gift you'll appreciate a lot longer.