I have four drafts sitting the trash. I started them along the way, but couldn’t finish. The New Year draft went exactly like this: How do I even start? Tricia colicked in November, right before Thanksgiving. We made it to GA for Thanksgiving, and what was supposed to be a five people dinner morphed into a 25+infant dinner. Not that I mind, that was the fun part. December was not our friend. I got a new job and got miserably ill in the first two weeks (never a good thing). Christmas was devastating. We lost our brother Christmas morning, and as I am writing this during lunch at said new job, I cannot go farther into it without absolutely losing it. So…amidst the first snow of the season in teen-degree weather we took our first lesson, and my first ride since 2016 last Saturday.
The ride was fantastic, Tricia was perfect in every way. Because she is always, and she always knows what I need. I was going to title this a “fat” post, but then decided that was just BS. As you can read, the last few months have been that kind of soul-searching stressful that one feels any time a family grows a little smaller. Sometimes I feel alien to the circumstances, as out of all of us, I knew J the least. That is both my blessing and my curse. I have been able to be strong when others are not, and that’s my blessing. My heart is heavy for the loss of what I knew as a good man, and just having missed the ability to have known what a truly great man he was.
I have returned to riding, and also crossfit, with a full time job and finishing my masters. Those are fun things. I am still a wife and a homeowner, and a fur-mom. These are my normal stresses. I stress out in un-obtuse ways, if you don’t count my ass. After J’s service, I had anxiety attacks for three days. Just small ones, but enough to know that I was coming down off the stress of part of the last few weeks. I was late to work one day. I don’t think they noticed. And I have binged. Oh, have I binged. I have eaten things that I would have never eaten in good conscious. Nope–not a spelling error. Had I been alert, had I not wanted to sink into the quiet calm of disjointing my mind and unconsciously consuming in an effort to push out all the clamoring and fighting for my energy and time and soul, and not try to feed that beast that everyone needs me to be, I would have done better, been better. What is so damning about it, is that being fat is its own kind of stress. The kind that comes when pants you bought weeks before don’t fit the right way when they come out of the dryer. Or that stupid sock or purse collection you have because that’s all that “fits” when shopping at the mall. Simply, I create my own hurricane. Seeking the silence of the eye, only makes the storm wider, more fierce.
My awesome husband is off galavanting the US to make sure you have satellites for communications (cell phones, facebook, etc) and that the folks on the ISS get what they need. He was dancing between NYC and Boston and will be in DC tonight. I will be glad to have him home. Since he was gone, I decided to take myself out to dinner. Yes, because it’s fun and easy to eat out, but also because if I came home there is a metric ton of stuff I have to do. I would never have gotten 75% of my assignment reading done (Food Safety, and germy things. Makes my heart flutter!). I ordered wine with dinner, not an oddity in VA as the whole state is slog full of wineries. And finished off with chocolate cake.
And it hit me. I AM the girl drinking wine and eating chocolate cake. I AM the girl drinking one (large-ish, it is VA afterall) glass of wine, and eating ONE slice of cake. I can be this girl. This girl of ones. And I can eat the cake and drink the wine (on occasion), because I am worth it. I am worth the moment of savoring the wine, experiencing the dark sweetness of the chocolate. I am so much more than the box of mac’n’cheese (which makes me break out, and completely sucks!) eaten somewhere between TV commercials. I can be this girl. Having this moment. Because this girl, in this moment doesn’t want to be the girl that gets lost in hours of disjointed-mind-tv-slogging-bingeing. These are my moments. Good time spent studying, with single simple pleasures…left at the restaurant…never to tempt me in my own house. Because then I don’t have a craptacular day at work (these have also been occurring), and eat the WHOLE damn chocolate cake.
This is so important because I am worth it. My time is precious. I have purpose. When life chews us up, its sooo important to remember these things. To not create our own hurricanes. To be our own moments. To be our own strength. Because we are worth it. We have always been worth it, and will always be worth it. That is true peace, not the eye of the storm.