al-anon

D is for Disease

I am such a total loser. I’m so sorry about yesterday.

Alcoholism is a family disease. It is said that the age the person starts using is the age they generally stop growing emotionally. I had never realized that all the time my sister was sick, I was getting sick right along with her. That’s why I was in those roles, of my own choosing, and why I’m still in them, and in therapy learning how to get out of them. I’ll keep this short and sweet, since we all have many blogs we want to read.

When I first started this blog many years ago, I told myself I would always be honest no matter how much it might hurt. If I can’t be honest in my blog, where the hell else can I be honest, right? Here goes: intellectually I totally get that alcoholism is a disease. But that knowledge hasn’t traveled the few feet or so down to my heart. I still have wondered sometimes, “Why doesn’t she just stop drinking?” I’ve been to thousands of family meetings with my parents and Carol at the 20 or so treatment centers she’s tried. You’d think it would be cemented in my head.

A couple of months ago I went to one of my favorite Al-Anon meetings. It had been a while before I’d attended. I shared this problem I have with the concept of disease. I was crying.  Almost right after everyone at the table had shared, this woman practically stood over me and ticked off these things on her fingers: “The DSM recognizes alcoholism as a disease, Blue Cross recognizes it as a disease,” (and one other thing I can’t remember she said–I was a little in shock) “so you have to accept it as a disease.” There you go.

I’m an idiot. But I still haven’t gone back to that meeting. 

 

B is for Blaming

My sister’s three children, who are grown adults now — the eldest is forty, and the younger two are in their late thirties — like to blame her for the way their lives are now, drawing on countless stories of a “horrific” childhood raised by a sometimes absent practicing alcoholic. This is always heartbreaking for Carol but she has learned to say “Goodbye, I’m hanging up now,” when it gets redundant and too difficult.  I’m sure their childhoods were indeed difficult, but at what point does one say, “What’s happening in my life now is up to me. These are my choices. No one else is responsible and no one can change those choices except me.” 

It’s easier to blame, though. It hurts less, and pointing that sharp finger at ourselves takes blind courage. I know, because for years I went to Al-Anon meetings missing the point. I talked about the alcoholics in my life: my dad and my sister, and how they had wronged me; how screwed up my life was now because of them. Sound familiar? 😉 I reasoned that since Carol had started drinking when she was 16 and I was an impressionable three, my childhood was essentially taken away from me. I vacillated between the placater/pleaser and the lost child/adjuster in Claudia Black’s family roles  For those of you from alcoholic families, which role(s) did you play?

Naturally, I felt tons of victimization in these roles, and I played it to the hilt. Poor me, poor me, I cried at the meetings, and — I love them so much — no one at  those meetings ever  once stopped me, trusting the process.

It has taken years, and I mean years, for me to get to the place where I can sit down at an Al-Anon meeting and know I’m going to talk about some facet of my life that I need help with. Because that’s what it’s all about. Al-Anon is for me. AA is for the alcoholic.

Not that I still don’t play  the blame game every now and then. Who doesn’t? It’s  like something that almost rolls off my tongue and I have to consciously stop myself. Oh wait —noooo, what happened  was my own choice! 🙂

A is for Acceptance

Acceptance is a difficult concept to deal with, even if we’re not talking about alcoholism. None of us wants to be unacceptable, or excluded from a group, whether we’re small children, adolescents, or older adults. The synonyms for acceptance are many, among them approval and recognition.

I know a young woman who is gay. She has found a woman she loves, is very happy, and engaged to be married. Most people she knows are very happy for her happiness, but not all are as accepting. Some are even judgmental, saying she and her partner would always be welcome in their home, but they would never attend her wedding. This makes no sense to me, and seems more than a little hypocritical. If you accept the fact that someone is gay, you recognize it, you approve of the lifestyle she/he has chosen.

With my sister, it’s different, but somewhat the same. She’s been sober for a while now, and attended several family gatherings as a sober alcoholic. I don’t drink often, mostly at major holidays, like Thanksgiving and Christmas. In fact, my mom laughs at me, because I will see a drink recipe shown on The Chew or something, get all excited about it, buy all the ingredients, bring them home, and then the liquor sits in our cupboards, because I’ve immediately lost interest. :P)

Back to my sister. I never used to drink around her. I thought it was a sign of solidarity if I joined her in not drinking. Recently, I’ve realized it was actually codependency, and I was not allowing her a sense of self-esteem, and achievement all her own. She’s very capable, and strong in her own right. But I’m sure she feels that exclusion, that non-acceptance among non-alcoholics, even though she’s accepted by her recovering alcoholic friends. I still laugh when I remember going with her to an open talk AA meeting at Sacred Heart in downtown Detroit. I was so nervous I wouldn’t even smoke, even though I badly wanted a cigarette. One of her friends finally leaned over to me and said, “So, do you have any vices?”

“And acceptance is the answer to all my problems today. When I am disturbed, it is because I find some person, place, thing, or situation — some fact of my life — unacceptable to me, and I can find no serenity until I accept that person, place, thing, or situation as being exactly the way it is supposed to be at this moment.” (Alcoholics Anonymous, p. 417)

In Anticipation of April’s A-Z Challenge

April is A-Z Challenge month. I have tried this several times and been successful sometimes, unsuccessful others. This year, my theme will be alcoholism, through the eyes of one who has (a) loved or lived with an alcoholic or (b) is codependent. Sometimes the two are interchangeable, as in my case.

Though I usually like to surprise you, Dear Reader, with the “letter” topics as they come, this year I have decided to give you little previews ahead of time and let you chew on them a bit.

So, the first six topic posts will be:

  • Acceptance
  • Blaming
  • Compulsive Behavior
  • Disease
  • Expectations
  • Functional Alcoholic

There you have it. I hope you’ll join me. Coffee’s brewing. 🙂 Pull up a chair.

How I Survived A Life-Threatening Illness


I lie awake at night, wondering what fresh hell tomorrow will bring me.

“Change is inevitable We can depend on that. By letting go of our efforts to influence the future, we become freer to experience the present, to feel all of our feelings while they are happening, and to more fully enjoy those precious moments of joy.” –Courage to Change, One Day at a Time in Al-Anon

So, you might think, as you read this, that bringing humor to the situation is insanity. But you know me and my sarcastic wit. Would you recognize me any other way? 😉 Besides, the alternative is too stupid to consider, and useless. Plus really, who doesn’t love a little Tina Fey?

But seriously, I have had such a hard time writing this (it’s been on my mind for a while), because I honestly don’t want to come off sounding pitiful, or elicit sorrowful responses, most of all. What has happened to me could happen to anyone–could happen to you. So please–don’t feel sorry for me. I’m here, I’m alive, and that’s a good thing.

It has not been the greatest year so far. Lol. First, I had to go back into a psychiatric partial day treatment program to get my bipolar meds adjusted. But what I learned shortly after I was admitted was that this therapist had noticed my hypomanic episode building since before Christmas. Why she didn’t say something earlier is still a mystery to me, but hey–at least she copped to it when my mom finally told me my agitation and irritability were getting hard to deal with. All of this explains why I  had such a hard time decorating for the holidays last year. Seriously, I was like a slug, and even when I’m depressed it’s like my favorite time of year. I barely put up lights on the ceiling and yanked out the tree (with lights already on), no ornaments—voila. There. Be happy. Ha ha.

Psych partial started on January 25th. My psychiatrist there (it’s like you no longer have the shrink you had on the “outside;” this shrink, the one in the hospital, calls the shots) tried several different meds, at different levels, and suddenly—instead of hypomania, I started feeling incredibly depressed. Yeah, I know–I should have my own channel on Youtube, because my life is just that fascinating.

Then, I went home early from the program on February 13th, because my back and left leg were just killing me. All I missed was relaxation therapy, but you’d think it was chemical engineering, for all the tap dancing I had to do to get out of it. So I went home.

That night, I woke up in the wee hours freezing cold with my teeth chattering. Yikes. I can’t remember the last time my teeth chattered. So I got up, took my temp, and it was elevated; something like 101. (I’m not totally sure at this point; my baseline temp is 97. I just know I had a fever) I also noticed like a big cyst or something high up on my inner left thigh. I wasn’t too worried at this point. I took a couple aspirin, ran some hot water on a washcloth to lay on the cyst and went back to sleep under like 5 blankets.

The next I knew it was morning and I was in a sweat. Good. So my temp was down and the cyst had also diminished. But then, my fever spiked back up again at around eight. I told my mom I thought I needed to go to the ER, and she agreed.

Long story short, what started out as a simple cyst turned out to be necrotizing fasciitis, or flesh-eating bacteria. Yep. My WBC, which is supposed to be 10 or under, was 21, so I was admitted—instead of let go from the ER—on Valentine’s Day. I had three surgeries in four days in that most private of areas–whether you are a woman or a man–and spent eight days inpatient. Granted, I was on morphine, and much of the pain is now a blur, but still. My fever was up and down, up and down. They had me on I.V. antibiotics, three at a time (once I read a label, and it said 2,000 units!!)–like throwing paint on the wall–trying to see what would work. Finally the WBC came down enough that they could let me go with Amoxicillin for one week.

I had to have the surgical sites packed (with gauze) by home care nurses for at least two months, my surgeon said. So yes, I’m positive 2,000 people have seen my va-jay-jay at this point. I kept forgetting to charge an admission fee. I always meant to, though. At least I still had some self-respect. Just kidding. The nurses were so kind and gentle with my body and my heart. I couldn’t have asked for nicer people to care for me.

Now here’s the best part. I saw my surgeon yesterday for our weekly checkup of the surgical wound sites, right? She was SO pleased with how well everything is healing. Everything has closed (from the inside out, to prevent future infection) at least halfway, in some cases more. In fact, I’m doing so well that she said I can say goodbye to the daily nurse care and she doesn’t want to see me again for a month. After that, who knows? That’s exactly five weeks from the day I was admitted, right?

What an incredible journey!! I wonder what the rest of the year has in store? Bring it on.

A Few Measly Tears Never Hurt Anybody

“I need life to pause because I can’t stop crying,” said nobody ever.crying

Log Cabin Retreat Throw 

I’m finally back into crochet again after not seriously touching it since April of 2016. By the way, do you say ‘two thousand and sixteen’ or ‘twenty sixteen?’ I say the latter. It just seems simpler, less syllables or something  (and I’m all about saving syllables!).

This Log Cabin Retreat Throw is supposed to be different colors, but it’s been so long for me that I lost confidence in changing colors. For Pete’s sake, I forgot how to do a chain and had to look it up! 😲

This throw will go on the back of the couch when Mom and me move to a condo this spring. I tried (and failed) to do a snapshot of the pattern, but you can also find it in this book: Quick Crochet for the Home at Amazon for a wonderfully reasonable price. 

Have a wonderful day!

Peace out. 
 

Find the Spy

find the spyWe all know learning does not always come easily, in fact sometimes it’s at a high price. I’ve learned something in the past six months which has become my new mantra, and it goes like this: “I don’t need to explain myself.” Period. (Except probably to a boss, if I want to keep my job.) Now, I could think it’s a waste to learn something valuable in my early 50’s, but try to just look at it as added wisdom, and practice it. That’s the ticker. It’s one thing to know, and quite another to do.

Wow. I almost emotionally vomited all over this page. That was close.

Moving along,  today is brought to you by the letter F. How about a lively night where you and your friends are locked in a room together and granted thrilling challenges of teamwork, brain power, and physical stamina – all competing for hidden clues each round to the spy’s identity. Your friends will have a great time with exciting rounds of digging up clues and challenges while they try to figure out who the spy is among them and why they were invited to this special dinner party.

Thanks for playing.

Peace out.

Chris 🙂

Death Wears White

deathwearswhite

1st in the “murder mystery” series!

Hi. Hey there. *tap-tapping on the mike* Lou, is this thing on? Yeah? Okay, cool. That’s cool. So anyway, for those of you who don’t know me, I’m Chris, the owner and sometimes maintainer of this blog. I’m in the middle of changing the main content, but I can’t really figure out what I want to say with it from here on out. I just know I want to feel happier, more joyful and grateful about things in general. I think it has to start here *touches chest* and here *points to laptop, where blog appears on-screen*.
So anyway, I’m doing the April A-Z Blogging Challenge, but on my own. Mostly because I had signed up for the official A-Z Challenge–but I forgot. And kept forgetting. Which is not that difficult seeing as I take a medication whose larger side effect is upon short-term memory. I hope I don’t sound like I’m trying to make an excuse. If I do, I deeply apologize. I’m just trying to explain, that’s it. Now then, what was I explaining?

Well, if you haven’t already guessed or figured it out, my theme for this April is tabletop board games, specifically of the murder mystery variety,  from A-Z. Or, if you want to get all technical about it, D-Z, except for Sundays, which is a day of rest.  The murders will include many-varied kinds, and I hope you will be quite entertained. I’m not actually sure why I was drawn to this topic. I’ve played board games, yes, and I’ve been bored by games, but I’ve never played the murder mystery variety. Have you?

And also, can you please tell me what that is on the floor in front of the nurse in the picture of the box? Oh dear, so many prepositional phrases all in a row in one question. I’m freakishly filled with pride. Anyone? Anyone?

Welcome to the Murder Mystery world, a world like none other. You like murky goings-on, tolerably tangled twists, mystery, unclear urges, and substantial subterfuge? Now you’re than a mere passerby or a gossip monger–this time you’re leading the investigation! Set aside an evening, call up some friends, pass out the roles, and let the fun begin!

“In Detroit’s Brighton Hospital, a well-known and well-liked doctor has just been found dead. The staff and visitors present at the time of the murder gather, and the inevitable begins – find out who committed the evil deed before they can escape!”–BoardGameCity.com

Please be assured, the rest of these posts will not be nearly so late. In fact, I should be sleeping by now (usually in bed by 8:30; I’m an early riser). My intention was to have this posted before noon. Well, you know. Tomorrow will  be a better day.  Thanks, Lou. That’s a wrap.

Peace to you and yours,

Smile!

Chris

Holidaze

The holidays are a weird time for lots of people. It can be fun and sentimental if we have family to count on.

But what if we don’t? What about those of us who are all alone, or estranged from family members? What if we’re homeless, and the best hope we can get tonight is shelter over our heads?

And don’t even get me started on expectations. We think we have the perfect Christmas in mind, but does it ever turn out that way?

This year, be happy for what you have, for where you are. Merry Christmas.

Love,
Chris

George Winston And My Piano Lesson

piano2222-e1432142923441-1024x728It’s ridiculous how nervous I was. It had been at least twenty years since I’d even touched a piano. It made the eight years of lessons and then some seem insignificant; the Excellent certificate I’d earned at a recital meaningless.

I arrived approximately 20 minutes early for the lesson, at Expressions Music Academy, smoking a cigarette of course. If I could have smoked two at a time, I would have done so. Then, since I was parked in front of a window, I became very self-conscious about the fact I was parked in front of a window, promptly put out the cigarette, and began to chew on my fingernails instead. I’m not even kidding.

At precisely 3:00 I went in, clutching my music, to introduce myself and say that I had an appointment with Vanessa when, lo and behold, Vanessa piped up behind me and introduced herself! She’s a very peppy Chinese woman (from China–very interesting story, she studied piano in Beijing!). We went into a room with a piano, thank God, where I told her I was terrified (my exact words), and how long it had been, that I wanted to learn two pieces for  my mom’s 88th birthday on Oct. 17th. I don’t think I took a breath I was so anxious. She laughed and smiled and said she thought it was a wonderful present.

Then she wanted to take a look at the pieces, and after looking closely at the pieces, we decided it would be better to do just one (it was a longer piece, but easier, and really a lot prettier), that way I can focus and not be so scared and scattered. We chose Joy by George Winston.

The bad problem came when went to pay. See, I don’t have a credit card, or a checking account. I pay for everything with cash. I pay rent to my mom with cash, and if I need a check, I give her money, and she writes me a check. The office wouldn’t take my cash for two lessons in advance! I was like, “Okay, so you’re telling me I have $120.00 right here right now that you won’t take because you have some hang up about cash?!” They have you pay through your bank accounts or something which I totally don’t trust.

Eventually they took my money, but it’s the only time they will do that. Maybe if I need more lessons and I give my mom the money, they’ll accept her checks?

Baaaaaah!

Arrivederci my friends!

Swollen Glands

I’m so sorry. I should have written this earlier today, but I kept trying to put a post together. It was actually last Thursday I went to the doctor with swollen glands on the right side of my neck. He said I have a virus, and asked if I’d been around any sick people lately. When I said I hadn’t, he said I could’ve gotten sick just standing in line at the grocery store or something.

Anyway, I’m on 2,000 mg of Keflex a day and it makes me really sleepy, plus I’m commanded to rest whenever I get tired. It’s weird, but no matter how many catnaps I take during the day, I still manage 8 hours of sleep at night!

I will do my best to get a post out tomorrow. It’s mental health month, for crying out loud!!

Not To Worry

I’ll be back, beginning Sunday, to bring you Mental Health Awareness month. 😀

My posting schedule will be a little different: Mon, Wed, Fri, and Sun.

Take care of yourselves, and each other.

Ciao, Bella.

Illness

Faithful Readers,

I’m sorry. I have been unwell all day today. Please come back tomorrow for letters R and S.

Thank you.

–Chris

Baby Steps Out the Door

bill_murray_what_about_bob_i_feel_good Pay attention. Yesterday, I went and got the mail, from the mail box at the end of the driveway, during the day. Yeah.

Walking on the Wild Side

This is so eloquent. So fierce. So true. And reminds me so of me. I’ve never reblogged anything, but here for your Easter pleasure, the resurrection of hope for the addict.

A Walk on the Wild Side

800px-Near-Death-Experience_Illustration public domain Near Death Experience Illustration public domain

If someone who is close to you is suffering from drug addiction, you know what I’m talking about.  Addiction, as horrible as it is for addicts, can be terrifying to those who love them as well.  Like it or not, if we choose to be in their lives and support them while they fight this cruel affliction, we’re taking a walk on the wild side, going places emotionally and spiritually, and sometimes even physically, that are dark and scary.

And often we’re alone.

Too often when all hell breaks loose, and the dust settles, one lone family member is left standing to walk this scary path alone with their loved one.  Most others get blown away, or turn away, or run away eventually.  But a mom, a dad, a sister, a lover–hopefully for the addict’s sake, one of us remains behind.  One of us stays by their side all…

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Why I Don’t Like Al-Anon Meetings

sinceOkay. This post might make a whole lot of people angry. Let me just start by saying I love Al-Anon itself. It literally saved my life and my relationship with my sister. So let’s just clear that up, while you are looking at the silly meme on the left. It’s not about Al-Anon as a whole. Whew. There.

This is why I don’t like the meetings anymore:

1. People complain about the same old things. I’ve been to a lot of meetings, and okay. I get that some things are harder to let go than others. But it’s really tiring and sad to hear the same person time after time not healing over the same issues. Why aren’t we helping each other?

2. The same variations of experience, strength, and hope are usually shared. Similar to the above, when I go to meetings, what I seem to hear are almost “rehearsed” sharings. I’m afraid that when they hear me talk they might be to shocked from a sound slumber, because — well, I stutter, I cry, sometimes I’m unsure of myself . . . very un-put-together.

3. People generally don’t talk about THEMSELVES. They talk about “their” alcoholic. Last time I went to a meeting I didn’t have any time to waste. I was going through a personal crisis, me. It had nothing to do with the alcoholic, it was all about me. I don’t think I mentioned my sister’s name even once. Now, maybe people are wondering, “Why have a group like that, if you aren’t going to talk about the drunk in the room?” Because, my friends, the alcoholics hove a group that’s all about them. It’s called AA. Al-Anon is and should be all about us.

Please, please, tell me how you feel about all I’ve just said. I know people read this blog; so, while your reading it, take your time and comment about what you’ve just read.

I welcome diverse opinions! I like the interplay of discussion. Please, let’s have a discussion about Al-Anon meetings!

I wish you the best of days. Peace out. xx

Are YOU My Sponsor?

“If I am not for myself, then who will be for me? And if I am only for myself, then what am I? And if not now, when?” ~Rabbi Hillel

I am currently a sponsor-less (wingless, rudderless) member of Al-Anon. This year September will be three years that I’ve been in Al-Anon, but my former uber sponsor and I parted ways amicably over a year ago.

Since that time finding a new one has reminded me of the childhood book Are You My Mother? in which a baby bird is hatched while its mother is away from the nest and it goes about asking various animal species that very question, “Are you my mother?”

Seeking a sponsor has felt, not to be too melodramatic, like walking through a field of landmines. 😛 I’ve been turned down by three older women because they “don’t do ‘that’ anymore.” Whatever. I sucked it up and tried some more. I was consecutively turned down by three more younger women because they “didn’t feel up to it.” What?? Beg your pardon? Don’t feel up to it?

I’ll tell you the God’s honest truth, and that is this. I’m pissed off. If someone were to approach me today to ask me to be her sponsor, even though I don’t have one myself. I would pray, ask God for help each day, and do the very best I could by that person.

Isn’t that what it’s all about?

Tomorrow morning I’m going to my home group meeting “Peace at the End of the Road.” I’m not leaving without a sponsor, even if it’s just temporary. I’m tired of hearing my own voice bounce off the walls. We all need a little help sometimes.

Wish me luck, say a prayer, send good thoughts….could use it all.

Peace out, peeps. xo sober

Just Relax

RelaxThere must be quite a few things that a hot bath won’t cure, but I don’t know many of them. ~Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

Tension is who you think you should be. Relaxation is who you are. ~Chinese proverb

Life should be touched, not strangled. You’ve got to relax, let it happen at times, and at other times move forward with it. ~Ray Bradbury

It seems like everywhere I go people are talking about relaxation these days. My therapist asks me about my stress level, like it’s something that can be quantified, measured on a daily basis. lying down

I probably mentioned already that I’m participating in an study for bipolar disordered people on a site called Optimism. I love the name, but the site is both complicated and ambiguous.

The site tracks your mood every day, how well you coped, hours slept, quality of sleep, whether or not you exercised, and took medications, if relevant (here’s where I find some ambiguity. It doesn’t ask if your meds make you feel like you’re on auto-pilot, or so thirsty you could drink a gallon of water and it wouldn’t be enough, so tired you’d just run a marathon…only you hadn’t). It then goes into three different categories: stay well strategies, triggers, and symptoms. 

Relaxation fits under the Stay well strategies, along with adequate sleep, plenty of water, and routine, just to name a few. I use a relaxation cd daily. One of the choices on the cd is A Walk on the Beach. The narrator uses the elevator technique to take me deeper down, until I’m so relaxed I’m actually somewhere way in the basement. Ha ha ha

If only it would stay. Not minutes after that, I checked my email, and there was something from an editor or promoter of a book I’ve signed up to read on Netgalley. Now, I love reading more than anything, and I just finished my third book for them. I have three more books in the queue before the book this promoter spoke of. All the relaxation I’d just had given to me went right out the window. I had no idea what to say to this person, so I took my usual route. Say nothing, and keep plodding along. My dog, Lucy, would have peed on the email and gone on her happy way. 😀 We should all be so lucky.

dog

Gambling on Goals

goalsGoals are so crazy popular, aren’t they? I mean, I went looking for one quote on goals for this post, just one, and they were all so contradictory. Some said set your goals high and don’t stop ’til you achieve them. Others said it starts with the spirit, and if that wasn’t true, forget about it. Then there’s the one who says to set small goals and build upon them. So even the meaning of the word goal is somewhat sketchy.

I know of a famous, at least famous on my terms, writing website, which has a whole board (forum) dedicated to the topic of goals and the achievement (or not) thereof. I belonged to it at one time. I did find it somewhat useful, but mostly I felt bad about myself for not achieving the goals I’d set out for the week. I might or might not have been the only person who felt that way, but it’s interesting to note, don’t you think? dont-worry-about-goals

Now, I know I could be feeling this way because I’m still coming off a manic phase and it’s hard for me to focus on any one thing. At Goodreads I’m reading five books at a time still, one of which is a book I’m reviewing for Netgalley. If you haven’t checked out Netgalley, you really should. And then there is Optimism, and the six month’s study I voluntarily upped for. Don’t forget the origami cranes. 😀 My brain also recently lit on zentangle, because it’s supposed to be so good for stress. I bought books and everything. I’ve only made one so far, but my mind is studying and learning (which I think is the opposite of what it’s supposed to do). How is a brain like that supposed to do anything except make it through the day? LOL strongest

With the above thought in mind, I took myself to the gym yesterday morning at 4:00 a.m. I just did it. My goal was to get in there, to buy a pair of headphones, sit on a cycle, and ride for at least fifteen minutes. My biggest worry about achieving the goal was, of course, the stares I might get. But–surprisingly–people didn’t even look at  me; even when the gentleman behind the counter had a hard time getting the cash register to work and it took what seemed like an eternity. No one stared at me while I fumbled with the outer packaging of the headphones, or while I figured out how exactly the cycle worked. In fact no one seemed quite otherwise occupied. Such a monumental surprise for the fat girl who expected finger points and taunts.

I had planned on going later that day (6-7 was a great time, because people were eating dinner) and every day after that. Then I got sick. Really suddenly, like wham, you had enough fun, no more fun for you. I know my thinking is distorted because I’m sick, so I’ll try not to take that too seriously.

Here’s my point. In between setting goals, life happens. So we need to become as flexible as a Gumby toy. Things can change in an instant. So, what am I saying, that I’m not going to the gym anymore? Heck no! But I couldn’t go today, and my body feels like I got hit by a Mack truck (Say, did you know there’s a r/l thing as a Mack truck? I saw one when I was driving a while back!). I’m saying sometimes it may be two steps forward one step back, but there’s always that one step forward.

Don’t forget to loveyourself intensely during this process. It’s hard. You’ll want to rail against everything. But don’t. You’ll be okay. Hang in there, and trust God. Trust your friends.

Peace out. xxlifer

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