“Pasta doesn’t make you fat. How much pasta you eat makes you fat.” – Giada De Laurentiis
I’ve got back…LOTS and lots of back. Too much really. I won’t give my measurements, but my BMI is 41.3. Yes, that is morbidly obese.
I’ve also got hope. LOTS and lots of hope.
Yes, I have tried pretty damn near every diet, plan, scam, etc out there. I’ve tried Slim Fast, I’ve tried It Works! (it doesn’t). I’ve tried being vegan, I’ve tried cutting back, keto, Atkins, exercise plans…oh my, I could go on and on. I won’t.
What I haven’t tried – surgery. I met the bariatric team on Friday and I have so much hope. I hope I qualify, I hope I can do this! No, I KNOW I can do this. I can learn to love loose skin, what I can’t learn to do is feel aches and pains and heavy breathing from activities others take for granted. Feeling weak and breathless after going up a flight of stairs to another floor is NOT ok. Even with MS, it isn’t. Painful knees and hips when walking is NOT ok. A back that tightens up from simple walking.
Struggling with self-image and being unable to keep up with my children is not ok. I want to swim with them, run with them, play with them. I want to hike with them. I want to garden and enjoy it as much physically as I do mentally.
I have hope. My backside will probably always be big, but it doesn’t need to be morbidly so. I’ll always have certain aches and pains from MS, but it doesn’t need to be from being fat.
“Laughter and tears are both responses to frustration and exhaustion. I myself prefer to laugh, since there is less cleaning do to do afterward.” ― Kurt Vonnegut
I love to laugh.
Lately my MS has reared it’s ugly head and pain radiates in various areas of my body. I’m exhausted mentally, physically…emotionally.
I’m exhausted from worrying about how my children are. How can I not be a burden to them?
I’m exhausted from worrying about my husband. He has Parkinson’s, I don’t want to make him worse.
I’m exhausted from forcing myself day in and day out to sit at a desk. I HAVE to be the bread winner. I’m the only one able to work full-time.
I’m exhausted from fighting for help for my son. He’s 17; we adopted him young, but it didn’t protect him from the in-utero alcohol and drug use. Now he’s paying the price for someone else’s folly.
I’m exhausted from fighting for my daughter. She’s almost 19; she’s fought through so much emotional trauma. She’s finally conquered high school and on her way to college.
I’m exhausted from worrying about my youngest son. He’s 5; he starts this school this year and I wish with all I am that I could wrap him in a warm blanket of hugs and hold him tight to me away from the upcoming onslaught of expectations and rigidity.
I’m exhausted from trying to maintain our house. Selling it has been both the worse and best thing for us…if only it would sell…
On Friday, I meet a bariatric team in hopes of getting a much needed surgery to help me in my health journey. I have no fear in this, only hope. Hope that all this exhaustion will be worth it. Hope that I will once again find some health and joy.
Hope that I will laugh without pain and not in spite of pain. Hope that I will no longer feel so exhausted.
I don’t want to understand this horror There’s a weight in your eyes I can’t admit Everybody ends up here in bottles But the name tags are the last thing you wanted As the world explodes you fall out of it And you can’t let go because this Will not go away
There’s a house built out in space
And I can’t see the thief that lives inside of your head But I can be some courage at the side of your bed And I don’t know what’s happening and I can’t pretend But I can be all, be all
Someone help us understand who ordered This disgusting arrangement of time and the end I don’t want to hear who walked on water Cause the hallways are empty, clocks tick As the world implodes we fall in to it And we can’t go home because this Will not go away
There’s a house built out in space
And I can’t see the thief that lives inside your head But I can be some courage at the side of your bed And I don’t know what’s happening and I can’t pretend It’s a long, long get away, it’s a long, long get away Make it home again, make it home again
It’s a long, long get away, it’s a long, long get away
And I can’t see the thief that lives inside your head But I can be some courage at the side of your bed And I don’t know what’s happening and I can’t pretend But I can be all, be all I’m here But I can be all, be all I’m here It’s a long, long get away”
Songwriters: Arnold Lanni / Michael Maida
Death is a thief; we are all it’s takings.
Death does not care if you are rich.
Death does not care how popular you are
Death does not care how young or old you are
Death does not care how loved or hated you are
Death does not care for pain or peace
Death does not care about the colour of your flesh
Death does not care about what gods or goddesses you worship
Death does not care how much you fight it or not
Death does not care
Death is. Nothing more, nothing less
Death comes for all, no matter the shape, size species or form.
Death is.
I, and many others I know, have suffered too many losses in the last few years. It seems to be one hit after another, old, young, healthy, disease filled, awful or angelic. We lost them all.
I’ve always loved this song. I know it was written for a young girl with a brain tumor. From Wikipedia – “Vocalist Raine Maida has stated that the song was written about a young Kitchener girl that he knew named Mina Kim who had an inoperable tumor in her brain. The “thief” mentioned in the song refers to the tumor. The short clip at the end of the song consisting of a young girl singing a Sunday school song is a real audio clip of Mina Kim singing “Little By Little” with Maida‘s wife Chantal Kreviazuk and band member Jeremy Taggart.”
To me, that Thief can represent so many things – illnesses, heartbreak, loss, emotional trauma.
Just remember you are never alone, even when you feel you are.
“I wish could tie you up in my shoes Make you feel unpretty too I was told I was beautiful But what does that mean to you Look into the mirror who’s inside there The one with the long hair Same old me again today (yeah)
My outsides look cool My insides are blue Every time I think I’m through It’s because of you I’ve tried different ways But it’s all the same At the end of the day I have myself to blame I’m just trippin’
You can buy your hair if it won’t grow You can fix your nose if he says so You can buy all the make up that M.A.C. can make But if you can’t look inside you Find out who am I too Be in the position to make me feel so Damn unpretty (Yeah) I’ll make you feel unpretty too
Never insecure until I met you Now I’m bein’ stupid I used to be so cute to me Just a little bit skinny Why do I look to all these things To keep you happy Maybe get rid of you and then I’ll get back to me (hey)
My outsides look cool My insides are blue Every time I think I’m through It’s because of you I’ve tried different ways but it’s all the same At the end of the day I have myself to blame Believe I’m just trippin’ yeah
You can buy your hair if it won’t grow You can fix your nose if he says so You can buy all the make up that M.A.C. can make But if you can’t look inside you Find out who am I too Be in the position to make me feel so Damn unpretty I’ll make you feel unpretty too
I’ll make you feel unpretty
You can buy your hair if it won’t grow You can fix your nose if he says so You can buy all the make up that M.A.C. can make But if you can’t look inside you Find out who am I too Be in the position to make me feel so Damn unpretty
You can buy your hair if it won’t grow You can buy all the make up that M.A.C. can make”
-Writer/s: Francine Vicki Golde, Dennis Lambert, Dallas L. Austin, Duane S. Hitchings, Tionne Tenese Watkins. Publisher: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group
It’s funny how so much external and internal ‘junk’ can make us feel. I’ve always had low self-esteem. Why did I quote the whole song? Because, after all this time, it still rings true.
I’m always telling my friends that I have a laundry list of plastic surgery I would get if I could afford to. Liposuction, tummy tuck, butt lift, breasts reduction/lift (actually, that one is more medical since I have arthritis in my back), arm and thigh tucks, get that damn turkey neck gone. Yes, that really is my list. Oh, and electrolysis so I can permanent get rid of the hair I hate.
I can in all honestly say that I don’t like myself – probably detest myself. Everyone says that in order to really love, you need to love yourself first. If that were true, I would never love anything – but it’s not. I love my children. I love my husband. I love my family, my pets, my friends. I just don’t love myself and I really can’t see how I could.
Is that sad? I don’t think so – I think it’s realistic. I’m not one who resorts to such types realism often but in this case, it is a must. My MS has in a way made it worse. My inability to lose weight, to focus, to sleep well. My inability to even go for a decent walk without needing to rest for days afterwards. My inability to do things others take for granted – it all impacts my self-image. I full and well know it is an image of my creation. No one can see me the way I do. It’s been formulated over 44 years of horrid self-talk, bullying, verbal, mental and other forms of abuse.
Have I sought therapy? Yes, many times over. I’m tired of the platitudes that truly do nothing for me. I’ve tried all the exercises, I’ve tried journalling, I’ve tried meditation, I’ve quite literally tried it all. The biggest issue – if you can’t focus all of those things are for naught.
I love this song. To me, the other person in the song is just me on the inside. It’s two sides of the same coin – feeling like you look amazing only to have those inner voices tell you how much shit you are and that you are only fooling yourself. I’m sure it was written about a person who is thinking a significant other who is abusive; but to me it’s about self-abuse, self-denigration.
I’ve stopped wearing make-up, it takes too long. I’ve stopped trying to look stylish – I feel like I look like an old bat even trying. My social life is limited and I prefer hiding in my cave (home). I try to force myself out, but I always feel like my family is embarrassed to be with me in public even when logically I know they aren’t. I never wanted to be that fat mom. I never wanted to be that stupid person. More and more that’s exactly how I feel. My friends used to tease me over my jokes as I often thought the funny ones involved puns and large words and double entendres. Now, I’m lucky if I can remember how to spell, let alone get the jokes I used to love.
I’m tired. I’m tired of feeling unpretty. I’m tired of feeling stupid. I’m tired of never being enough. I’m just tired.
“Think of all the beauty still left around you and be happy.” ― Anne Frank
It’s been a while since I posted, I know. So much has been going on, so much happening.
I have three children.
My eldest was to graduate this year, she isn’t – and that is totally ok. She wasn’t ready, she definitely needed another year. No one is perfect. I love her unconditionally – she has to do what she has to do. She’s had a rough few years emotionally, mentally, and socially. She’s got this.
My middle child is in grade 10 (well, just finished). His challenges have expanded exponentially this year. We found out for sure that his birth mother drank while pregnant…a lot. This was that final key that fit the lock of who he is. Gawd I love my son. Gawd my son drains me so much. I’m not going to describe it all. It’s not fair to him to do so. Needless to say, No one is perfect. I love my son unconditionally, but I am exhausted. We all are.
My youngest child has yet to begin school. He’s four and won’t turn five until January. This means, in my area, that he won’t begin kindergarten until 2019. That’s fine with me. Children need to be able to be children. A few months back, my intrepid explorer of a son decided that climbing on his dresser was a great, fun idea. He slipped. He broke his right forearm – the ulna straight through, the tibia in several smaller cracks causing it to bow (it was horrid to see, my poor boy). It has healed wonderfully, but he is now scared of heights. It doesn’t stop him. It hasn’t slowed him down. Our family doctor said to us one day last year – don’t be surprised if he has ADHD as well (the older two do). All I could think was – no kidding! No one is perfect. I love my son unconditionally just the way he is. He has a lot to learn and I know he has got this!
I adopted a parrotlet. Kalypso (she has her own insta if you want to check her out @kalypsotheparrotlet) is sweet, tame, and so so so spoiled LOL! Just look at her! She was born February 5th, 2018 – so she just turned four months old ❤ I got her after losing one of my budgies, Lemondrop (RIP my sweet baby). I wanted a parrot species that would live longer, was heartier, and tame. Kalypso is all that and more. She makes me so happy.
Such a pretty baby ❤
I know this post seems random. I’m tired. I’m trying to dig myself out of a hole. It’s slowly working. Depression is a wicked attacker. I’m finally starting to win…this time.
What I really want to stand out from this – no one is perfect. Stop fighting to be perfect – fight to be happy, fight to feel amazing – but not perfect! Perfection is an illusion perpetuated by false perceptions of the world around us. Flawed, happy people are the best – they know what real happiness is. Love you for you.
