So the new life consists of a whole new way of getting
around. Carless.
And I sold the car. So now it's not even an option.
So it’s just me and my old friend, the bus, again. We spent
a lot of years together. I think it’s interesting that I am trying to recreate
things that happened when I was younger (getting a bad sunburn, riding the
bus). Yet, I don’t feel like it’s a bad thing to be re-living these
experiences.
When I was younger I was more engaged with the world at
large.
I was fairly active.
I need to be active again.
After having spent the last 4 months eating WAY less fast
food and walking a bit more (and taking some stairs) I was stunned to find out
that I’ve only lost 3 lbs since my last doctor visit which was in February
(tbc). ONLY.
Now y’all know how I feel about the whole issue of diet,
etc. but it turns out it really is about being healthier. I am taking a cold,
hard look at my physical self. I need to do more than be comfortable in my
skin. I need to make this body work better for me.
And I need to not worry that I will lose my …identity if I
lose weight. I’m known for more than being that …really fat girl.
Hmm. Fat girl. Should
I be one of those people that are brave enough to say I’m fat with pride?
Anyway, so the plan (action!!!!!) includes using the fitness
room when it’s finally done/open here in my building. And swimming. There is a
Y a block away. I mean c’mon, how much fucking easier can it get?
I’ve been going back to Physical Therapy (did I mention I
went once a week for about 2 ½ months this past spring) because it helped. I’m
now hoping it is the bridge between the body I have and the body I want.
Either way, I want to think about all of the wonderful
things I could do if I wasn’t so …forgive the pun …weighed down.
Or…is this just a new …drama …for me to dwell on in the
absence of any other?
Nope. Well maybe a little. My mother was back in the hospital this past week and them finally coming up with a diagnosis is a large part of this now too.
Congestive Heart Failure.
Fuck.
For her, it's about more than she just needs to lose weight ...she has to ALWAYS be eating right, be more physically active and always take her medication. She has to weigh herself daily to make sure she is keeping an eye on the fluid amount in her system, surrounding her heart and lungs. She also has make sure her Bi-Pap machine is working correctly, she's going to be going back to the sleep clinic to look at that.
And she has to not stop. To not give up even when she's discouraged. That will be the hardest part. She wants to see the weight going down on the scale as a result of her hard work. She wants to see a payoff and I don't blame her. I get it. I want it too! I mean 3 lousy fucking lbs????
This time around, she and I had a little bit of THAT conversation. The one where she tells me things she has put on her Health Care Directive. And I have to be strong and not bury my head in the sand and take it like a grown-up when she tells me she is sure I wouldn't want to be the one to plan her memorial service so she's not having my sign this thing, but instead Pop and her friend Judy will be the ones signing it. The ones who things will fall on when those decisions need to be made.
*Sigh*
I can't bear to think of her leaving this earth and it shakes me to my core to even think about her not being around. I, in my dramatic (but oh so real) way, think that I wouldn't even want to exist if she wasn't around.
Here's the big difference between us though...she doesn't fear death because of her religious beliefs and the belief in resurrection and I fear her death because I don't believe in any of that.
Does that mean I should jump back on that bandwagon in order to be able to better deal with it, when/if it happens?
I don't know. But would that be better than feeling the utter devastation that I imagine I will feel?
Either way, or regardless of any of that...
I don't want that to happen to me. I don't want to have repeated visits to the hospitals and feel so helpless.
I also want, I need, to be able to feel more comfortable in my skin again. To honor the one and only body I've got.
It pisses me off that the image I have of myself in my head in now way matches the reality. But maybe I can make it happen.
Oh sure, there are those who say I should say "I can make it happen" vs. "maybe I can make it happen" because of the intent behind the words but Rome wasn't fucking built in a day was it?
"It took a long time to gain this weight, it will take a long time to lose it again" (J.B.)
@@@@@@@
It's the weekend and soon I'm going to stop talking about this. All week, eating right and getting exercise was the main topic of conversation and I need a break from it.
But shit, what a fucking mountain to climb ...for her, for me.
