We are creating our "Auld Lang Syne"

This has been one hell of a year. We moved a few hundred miles south to Gainesville, FL. Awesome town. My body is changing in leaps and bounds so fast that I can't keep up with it. So is my mood - which is disconcerting to say the least. I'm learning life after the 8-6 grind. Life without that grind is AMAZING. Not a day goes by that one of us doesn't remind the others that we have an awesome fucking life.
We have found stability within ourselves and our little family structure. We've come through some seriously inane bullshit and are now past that and doing. . .really well. Depression and Anxiety are still major players in our lives, but they no longer have the leading roles sewn up between them. We've negotiated more of an ensemble performance than was previously possible.
We're just starting to branch out down here. B has a job - after 15 years. She's going to be teaching. N & I are going to keep the home fires burning (which is much better than the home fries burning!). Okay, he's going to burn, I'm going to spin or knit and look cute as hell while I do so! When you're good at something. . .
Life is good. This year has been up & down - as all years with a major move are - but we are in a good place. Next year will bring its own challenges and rewards, and I'm looking forward to that. However this year is one of the first in a very long time that I won't be so glad to see go that I shut the door on its coattails. This year I intend to thank graciously for its time as I hand it its hat before it strolls out the door. Someday, long from now, I expect that N & B will be sitting under my tree, cracking open a lambic and remembering this year as one of the better ones. Not the best; there is room for improvement after all. One of the better ones.

So in your days of "Auld Lang Syne", may 2015 be remembered as good, and here's a wish that everyone's 2016 is even better. Hug your people, tell them you love them, and stop letting fear and worry eat what time you have together.

BATHING SUIT ASSUMPTIONS FROM HELL

NOT ALL WOMEN WHO ARE OVERWEIGHT WANT FRILLY SKIRTS ON THEIR FUCKING BATINGSUITS

Mic. DROPPED.

Please pardon me for a moment

I just went shopping for a new sports bra.
I have to get a medium.
I haven't worn a medium in 14 years.
If you'll excuse me now, I'm going to go quietly gibber in the corner and pretend that I'm not freaking out.
Have a nice day.

Today I'm Grateful for This Mess

Woke up this morning in a pretty bad place. Remembering things that were always best left fuzzy - if remembered at all. I woke up with a visceral body memory of a certain moment, and that was a horrid moment for a young child to endure. Being me, and raised as I was, I didn't make a huge fuss over this emotional state, but blundered through my morning more than a bit shaky. Nick & Bronnie were (as always) great about it, but they know that the best way to fuss over me in these moments is to give me my space and let me approach them.
Then I started doing yoga.Everything fucking hurt like hell. I was reminded in literally every fiber of my being that I am not a young child and that I am most certainly NOT in that horrid place any longer. I was reminded of who I have become and where I am now. The routine reminded me that even if everything feels chaotic, I can create a place that has a constant. I sank into that. I sank my being into the hurt of my muscles, and for the billionth time let that calm my head.

Today, I am extremely grateful for this overweight, tired, worn-out and (hopefully) recharging body.

Back . . .again.

Quite a lot has happened since I last posted. Moved into and out of a life with a life-partner. Lost 40 lbs. because I couldn't stop vomiting. Have since regained a small measure of health stability and am continuing to lose weight without throwing up - which is generally considered a plus. I've been discovering some stuff about losing weight.

1) I have NO IDEA what I look like. Looking into the mirror helps if you have eyes that work. I'm not recognizing myself when I do look in the mirror and I especially don't when I touch my own body. (yeah, I'm hearing the DiVinyls too) This sensation is. . .disconcerting.

2) Emotions REALLY are stored in fat. When you lose the fat, they come up. Like mushrooms. I HATE MUSHROOMS. I especially hate emotional mushrooms that won't die. I've been having little roller-coasters all the hell over the place at the most inconvenient times humanly possible. I'm informed that I'm doing great at stealth breakdowns. Woot. Go me.

3) My body is disgusting, and it is letting me know it. Whatever I've been doing for the past years has been absolutely gross, and it is coming OUT. I will spare you all the gory details, because deep down I really am a loving person. You're welcome.

4) THIS SHIT FUCKING HURTS! OMG, I didn't know that muscle even BELONGED there. WTH?

Those are the overwhelming thoughts today. This is cross-posting on both blogs, because it kinda fits both.

I Don't See ME.

So, I've lost 40 pounds this year. I don't know what size I was when I started, but I was 248. I'm now 202 (okay slightly more than 40, but less than 50). People all around me are telling me I look great. My doctors are practically doing back-flips for joy. Me? I don't see a damned difference. When I look in the mirror, I'm no different in appearance than when I was 248. I can perceive that my clothes are different. A pair of sweats that my life-partner gave me that used to barely fit now fall off. Some other articles of clothing that used to fit just fine slide right off my hips to the floor now.
I still don't see a difference. 46 pounds, and I still see me as I always seen me. Some part of me recognizes that this might be a problem. However, I've been living with this for a very long time. There has never been a moment in my life when I've felt my actual size. Most of my life, I've felt like a 300lb woman. I've never actually BEEN 300lbs, and that doesn't matter. To my perception, I look like I'm 300lbs.
So, there it is. Mental twitchy #1. I don't ever really see ME in the mirror. I see some weird, twisted version of me that isn't really there. Being told that what I'm seeing isn't there hasn't helped. I just have to constantly disbelieve what I'm "seeing". Most days, I settle for clean & put together, and I leave it there. There is a good place to leave it, after all. Dress-up days are much MUCH harder. Those days I have to scrutinize my reflection, and there is a LOT that I perceive needs that scrutiny. At the end of any given dressing, I still have to settle for technical aptitude over any feelings of well-being that might come, because they simply don't.
Sometimes, people lose weight & it changes everything about they way that person sees him/her self. What happens when it doesn't? What happens when everything changes BUT the vision?
For me, its just another day to walk away from the mirror,trying to convince myself that I actually don't look like a blimp (actually, most days I feel like I look like Violet Beauregard pre-juicing). I've lately wondered if there will ever come a time or a weight at which I won't see that reflection. I just don't know. Not going to bank on it either.

On Being Sick At Work

So, first off, this sucks. Unbelievably sucks. You sit there holding the basket at your desk, trying to be as quiet as possible, praying that no one hears you or smells what's going on. If you are truly blessed, you don't go outside the basket. That is a TRUE blessing. If you are also further blessed, you have people around you who are willing to politely pretend that absolutely nothing is going on, nothing is wrong, and you haven't made a complete and utter spectacle of yourself.

Then you have to call maintenance. I am here to tell you that angels exist, they are really nice and they all work in some dark & dank maintenance department.

Yeah, it IS in fact one of THOSE days. I got to work & started cracking just in time for my nausea meds to decide that I REALLY should have stayed home today. The people in my office are awesome about pretending I don't exist, which in this one narrow instance is a truly marvelous thing. The maintenance guy wishes I didn't, but was kind enough for a man who had to clean up after my mess.

The best you can hope for - honestly - is to ride it out and not make too much of a mess or fuss. It simply is. It happens, and there is NOTHING you can do about it. On those days, I keep the basket close, the rolodex turned to the maintenance line, and just hope I don't gross everyone out (which is a rather futile hope, because I'M grossed out), and hope you don't make an obvious ass of yourself.

That's it. That is my stellar advice. Aim for the basket and hope you don't miss.

Yes, I am all too painfully aware that is inadequate advice. We don't have handy-dandy advice for these times of life. There is no Emily Post for puking at the office. Maybe there should be. Maybe we should have better rules for defining illness & disease.

We don't. So, aim & pray & be nice to the guy who doesn't make enough money to put up with your shit. (Yeah, I'm no Emily Post.)

Oh! And try to feel better when you can.