Eating Junk

Every time I decide I am going to lose
weight, I end up doing everythng in my power
to make sure that doesn't happen (today: spicy
chicken sandwich from Wendy's--and fries, too).
I just have zero willpower or desire. Even though
my BP needs to go down (and cholesterol too, most
likely), and weight, I just keep hurting me.

I was so sick last week. I discovered I was not an
alcoholic. I didn't crave a drink, and I certainly
didn't want one. Nor did I crave a smoke. But,
by last Saturday, when I started feeling better,
I drank and I smoked and I've been doing it since.

I had such resolve during my sickness and such
confidence that I had turned a very necessary
and meaningful corner in my life. But alas, I
could not sustain the feeling that I could be free.

So, I continue to punish myself. I don't understand
why I have not grown weary of this.

Time to get back to work.

Things That Filled Me Today

I have not worked in the yard since the week
after the ice storm. At that point, my husband
was cutting limbs with a chainsaw and I was
hauling the dead to the front of the yard.

This is grueling. Trying to type when I can't
even see the screen.

So, my happy list:
my bleeding hearts made it and are blooming.
Lily of the valley, with it's tiny white fragrant
bells, did not shrink from my touch. The white
dogwood, which has stood watch by my
bedroom window for 20 years, burst into
blossom, despite the fact that this is the last
time it will ever be allowed to do such.
Molly is lying on the couch with my husband,
content and at home.

Fuck. I can't type anymore.

Dark Monday Morning

And it's time to get ready for work, though
I confess that I shall do very little to get
ready for work. Dress, put my hair up,
put a little concealer on those dark circles
and other flaws, out a little powder on,
some blush, mascara, and lipstick. I'll look
somewhat presentable.

And, I am actually wearing pink today. A pink
casual top with black pants. I've been in all black
far too long, though I have added color to my
wardrobe since starting this job in October.
I have worn lime green, a silky amber blouse
with beading at the square collar, red, magenta,
and a multi-colored sleeveless top I wear with black
slacks and a black dress jacket. I have even worn
a coffee-colored suit--very stylish. So, I am branching
out. It's just hard.

Slept from 10 or so until 3:44. That's a long time for me.
I have been having some difficulty breathing, but I am
not sure what's wrong. Everything feels tight. I am better
at the moment.

I would like to get away from the I of all my posts. For
posterity's sake (and perhaps some egoism), I am hooked
on discussing the I of me. Perhaps I can move beyond
that to more interesting topics. So many interesting,
unusual, terrifying, terrible, wonderful, amusing, note-
worthy things happen every day. Even on the most
ordinary day. Even when it is the most ordinary of things,
it is the mind which sees it some days as extraordinary,
and in seeing it as such, indeed elevates it to that level.
The robin in the holly tree who chooses to sing for me.
The deer in the woods who stops herself as my car rounds
the curve. Who waits until she knows I am n0t going
to hit her before she crosses in front of me, fawn in tow.
The light through the shattered trees as night approaches.
The purple sea my bakcyard has become, full of clover
and wild violets. The first butterfly of the season, spotted
in the field at the cemetery as Molly and I walked along.
Those were all ordinary events, but my mind sanctified
each, blessed each, thanked the universe for showing me
all the beauty I don't want to leave. For giving me conviction.

Just Another Easter

Today it's sunny and breezy, but no threat
of storms, thank god. We've been bombarded
over the last 6 months or so.

My father was still alive on this day three years
ago. He was still at U of L Hospital waiting to come
home, which he did just 6 days before his death.
He never got to go back home--just hospital
to hospital. I think he wanted to go home, but knew
it would be best, perhaps, if he died somewhere other
than his own bed. I can't say. The last night I saw
him alive was April the 18th. It was a Tuesday.
He was lucid and at peace for the first time since his
ordeal began on March 26th. It's a good memory
to have of him, but I still live with the regret of not
having been at the hospital the day of his death and
the day before.

I think of all the things I could have been doing over
these last three years to help me: be a better person,
be a healthier person, be a happier person, be a stronger
person, be a more spontaneous person, be a better
listener, be a better mother, be a better friend, be more
open to new experiences, be a person who would live
in the moment. I have failed largely at all of the above.
What I have succeeded in doing is not something I am
so proud to write about. I have succeeded in becoming
more hopelessly devoted to alcohol consumption. I
have given myself over to it without much of a fight.
It is so easy to fall in love with a vice which provides
so much freedom, so much relaxation, so much comfort.
Yes, I know. Alcoholics say things like that. Let it be
known that I don't feel I am an alcoholic. I am an abuser.
I have gone a day or two without it and not craved it.
There are days I drink it now and really could care less
about having a drink except that it's kind of my thing
when I get home in the evenings. There are nights
I simply don't want it at all. What I want and what
I crave is the ability to let go all the insecurities, all
the questions, all the worries, all of the self-loathing.
And it helps do that. And I know it's only a momentary
release. But a momentary release is better than none.

So, in these three years, I have seen myself age.
And age rather poorly, I must say. For years, I
managed to look much the same. Now I see the
ugliness of neglect and lack of self-worth. The
puffy eyes, the bloated belly, the long hair I have
not cut since I lost my job in Oct. of 06--6 months
after losing my dad. The loss of my lovely, long
eyelashes. I can still see them when I wear mascara,
but they are much thinner now and not so long.
I have some facial hair--no moustache or anything
like that, but that downy hair on my cheeks that I
can see when the sun is shining on my face. And then
there are all those lovely broken vessels--those small
veins on the sides of my nostrils, which make me look
like a coke addict. And the deepening wrinkle between
my eyebrows. Then there's the lethargy. The hope-
lessness. The belief that I cannot change this part of
who I am, no matter how hard I try.
The sleepless nights. The brain fog.
The desire to lie around on a beautiful day instead
of going outside and working in the yard or walking
the dog or finding some kind of outdoor thing to do.

This is the frist spring I can remember in which I did
not start looking daily for signs of winter's end. I
noticed the hellebores, the crocuses, and the hyacinth
from my screened-in porch but made no effort to walk
outside to see them up close. To touch their petals
or blossoms. To smell them. To get to work cleaning
up around them. My yard is still strewn with ice-storm
damage. Lots of small branches everywhere. I won't
be able to mow until they're picked up. But I don't
care about mowing. And I don't care if the rest of the
house gets finished (the contractors didn't complete
all of the work last October, but that's another story).
I'm just tired. Of many things. But mostly of my inability
to change me. I have settled, I guess. And I don't like
it, but at least I don't have to keep fighting. Acceptance
has given me a reprieve.

Goes On Life

Just carried my bloodied pillow and
pillow case down to the washing machine.
I've had them soaking since Sunday or monday.
Had a spontaneous nose bleed in the night.
Woke at 4 am wiping my nose thinking
it was running but it was bleeding. Funky.
Scary. I was so tired I could hardly muster
up much fear. But I stayed awake long
enough to get the bleeding stopped.

Been a fun week. In some ways. Had
fun at M's house friday night but maybe
I had too much fun. I am tired
of hitting the cap button. i can see why
some people never use it.

made chicken salad last night when i got
home from B's. don't like it or never have
so looked up a recipe i thought i would like.
curry, red grapes, yogurt, almonds, salt
and pepper, cilantro. i like it but i still
think chicken salad is weird.

also made some tortellini soup.

gonna go clean the kitchen.

Dancing Queen

That was me, last night. All inhibitions gone.
I hurt all night. Could not even sleep for the pain
in my knees and hips. But I had fun.

Today, I am so sleep-deprived (maybe 3 hours
last night) but I have been trying to stay awake.
So I can go to bed at a reasonable time.

Geez. I think of all the things I want to write about,
but my body and mind just can't get in synch.

So, maybe tomorrow.