I’m Weak

Ok, cutting back on the double-posting…read it at writebrite.net. 

Resolutions…I’ve got them!

I’ve been staring at this blank “add new post”  page for a week, having nothing really to say.  Or maybe it’s just that I’ve had so much going on that I couldn’t nail it down to one subject…or even wrap my head around my thoughts enough to differentiate among them.  Either way, I’ve been neglecting my blog and in turn, my outlet for all this funk.  NO MORE!!

So…

• Parents left after a loooong two-week visit for the holidays…whew
• I have mice in my house.  Not one or two, but probably hundreds at this point.  I did call an exterminator who put out poison boxes (yes, I realize this is rather inhumane of me, but you are just going to have to deal with it because mice in my house, in my food, in my freaking bed is so not cool on so many levels!), but they are still there, I just know it.
• I am dog sitting, three small dogs, for a week.  Of course this has allowed me to confirm that I am in fact allergic to dogs!  Swollen, itchy eyes, tightness in the chest, scratchy throat…oh yeah, totally allergic…4 more days to go…
• The boy is starting school on the 5th.  Pre-k, but still school.  It’s a big and wonderful step, for him, for his dad, for me.  But, this single-mom thing is killing me as I am doing all the work in this effort and thereby shouldering all the stress.  Immunizations, physicals, registration, daycare, buses, school clothes that actualfit my weed-like child, visitation schedule that coincides with the school vacation/days off schedule…on and on and on.  I am so not digging this whole single mom, singular responsibility bit. 
• Bills.  Christmas has come and gone, but the damage to my bank account lingers on.  Damn me and all my generosity!
• Mr. W is going through a rough patch.  I know he is a grown man and can take care of himself, but I just can’t help but to worry!  That’s what I do with the ones I love, I worry when they aren’t happy.  Good or bad, it’s just my way. 
• Insomnia.  3 nights and counting.  I even took benadryl Sunday night (for the allergic-to-dogs thing) but still no sleep.  ARGH!
• My teeth hurt, for pretty much no reason at all.  The dentist even said so.  (ok, this “stress” is pretty weak…but seriously, they hurt!)

None of these things in and of themselves are much to scream about, but I have caught the post-holiday funk and it just amplifies everything.  As I read around the other blogs I peruse from time to time, I’ve noticed that this funk is running rampant among quite a few of us.  Is it normal?  Is it catching?  I’ve never really suffered from post-holiday funk before (not to be confused with post-holiday crud…which I also am dealing with…but that is probably because when I’m in a funk, I eat crap, and lots of it to compensate…but I digress), then again, normally I am ecstatic all throughout the holidays, so it’s all kind of new to me this year.  Is this an omen to the disposition of 2009?  If it is, I’d rather stay in ‘08.

In an attempt to look forward with hopes for the new year, and aspirations for myself, I’m going to do something very different this year: Resolve.  Yes, I am going to make New Year’s Resolutions.  I never have before, and as cliche as it probably is at this point, I’m going to list them here for all of you…you might want to get some coffee because these are probably pretty stale:

• quit smoking
• exercise in some way, shape, or form
• stop drinking soda (except for my daily 130pm Redbull)
• eat soup or a single sandwich for lunch every day
• take more pictures
• post more pictures
• spend less money
• hire a maid*, if only to facilitate all of the above, and
• cook dinner for the kids every night
• blog at least 5 times a week (my life isn’t that interesting, after all)

I know, cliche and boring, but it’s my first time…be gentle. 

*I realize the hiring of a maid goes against the spending less money, but bear with me on this one.  A maid means less time spent cleaning, which means more time.  Time to cook, time to exercise, time to spend with the kids, time to take and post pictures, just time.  I feel there is a serious shortage of time in my days, so anything I can do to get more has to be a step in the right direction.

Failing….

!#@$^*%&^$#^&*I%$^*(%*$##%$  ← (insert any combination of foul language you feel is appropriate here)

I can’t handle this. 

I’m not the type to hide in the bathroom and cry, but I’ll blame my teary eyes on the migraine that is rapidly encroaching my brain.  Besides, sometimes you just have to walk away from yourself and embrace that other self. 

I’m falling, I’m failing, I’m floundering and I don’t know what to do about it all.  I’m taking my frustration and anger with myself out on all those around me…on my freinds, on my co-workers, worst of all, on Mr. W, the wonderful Mr. W, who is alone, in Iraq, for a year…I’m a bad girlfriend.  I suck.  I could probably manage it if I were a) more organized, b) more motivated, and c) less tired…but unfortunately my organization skills have always lacked, my motivation was sucked out of me years ago, and sleeping doesn’t come so easy since Mr. W left. 

So the juggling act begins again…but the balls are dropping and I don’t know how to pick them up again.

Love Your Body Day?

According to the NOW Foundation (The National Organization for Women…really?  I didn’t know we had our own nation wide organization) yesterday was Love Your Body Day.  Hmmm…that’s funny, I missed it.  It’s kind of ironic, actually, since I have been pondering my relationship with my body just recently, and whether or not I do actually love it.  I’ve gone back and forth with it, but I’m still not sure.

I had a crisis a number of months back when I realized just how skinny I had gotten (from a bigger than 10 to a smaller than 4 in about 6 months).  It was more from stress than anything else.  I had just started working out and got my first glimpses of myself in those 360-floor-to-ceiling gym mirrors.  After a couple months getting up at 430am and going to the gym to lift with Mr. W, I began to get used to the skinny girl in the mirrors, and I noticed a few things about her:  She was growing muscles!  She was getting stronger!  She had energy!  She was feeling better!  It was great!  But, alas, I say was, because I haven’t been to the gym in over 2 months.  With Mr. W leaving, we kind of skipped over our mornings in lieu of spending more awake time together at night, and with his traveling up until he did leave, he wasn’t home much to go to the gym with anyway.  I know, I know, it’s no excuse.  I could still drag my ass out of bed and go, but seriously, I need a partner, a spotter, a cheerleader.

After 2 months, I feel like crap.  I’ve been semi-sick for about 1 1/2 months out of the 2.  My metabolism has slowed back to a crawl.  My clothes are becoming more and more snug.  I’m tired all the time.  I’m back in the vicious circle of insomnia.  And I just generally feel like crap.  Not to mention the little muscle tone I had aquired and was oh-so proud of has disappeared.  So just when I was beginning to love my body again after so many years of hard times and a rocky relationship, we are back to square one.  *ugh* 

The plan is (here I go with a plan, a goal, a disappointment waiting to happen) to pull myself out of this physical funk I am in and do some sort of exercising activity every day for the next two weeks (while the babes are gone).  Be it running or going to the gym or yoga or working out at home or just simply walking, I AM GOING TO DO SOMETHING!  Really, I am.  NO REEAALLY!  I want to love my body.  I really do.  I don’t want to be super skinny.  I don’t want six-pack abs.  I don’t want bigger boobs.  (Ok, I do want bigger boobs, but I was learning to like myself in spite of their laking) I just want a little muscle tone.  I want to have clear skin.  I want to fit in the clothes I have so I don’t have to buy more of the staples and can concentrate on things like shoes and accessories.  I want to feel good.  I want to sleep.  I want to be healthy. 

Dear Body,

If you can give me all the things I’ve listed above, I will love you always.  I promise not to abuse you.  I promise not to neglect you.  I promise not to feed you endless amounts of junk, although the occasional treat would definitely be deserved.  I will put all our problems and hang-ups behind us.  I will love you.

Please??

–me

And a plea to all of you out there reading this:  BUG ME!!  NAG ME!!  Especially those of you who know me outside the blogosphere.  I need a little prodding to get me going, and while I may be whiny at first, I will love you for it!

It’s only 2 weeks, it’s only 2 weeks…

This weekend has been rough.  Mr. W left Sunday afternoon for a week in Indiana, followed by a week in Georgia, then back here for a night, then off to Iraq for a year.  I’ve had so much swirling around my head so fast that I’m only catching glimpses of what is there.  It makes it a little difficult when asked “what are you thinking about?” to pin down what I’m actually thinking about.  I wish I knew, then maybe I could sort out what is going on in my head and not feel so lost. 

I drove Mr. W to the airport yesterday, and I thought for sure I wouldn’t make it through without tears a-gushing.  His request to be dropped off at the terminal rather than walking him in (uh, yeah, not likely babe) pretty much confirmed his thoughts were on point with mine.  Honestly, I didn’t think I would make it through last week without tears.  But it was strange.  Although, there were a couple moments on the drive up to the airport when I got that thickness in my throat and the stinging in my eyes, some well timed jocularity threw those moments off.  And even at the airport, I didn’t cry.  Even on the way home, I didn’t cry.  Even last night, I didn’t cry.  Now, I’m not a crier anyway.  Frankly, women that do break out the tears for every little thing annoy the hell out of me.  But I thought for sure I would break down with him leaving.  I’m pretty sure I haven’t signed off on the idea of him leaving yet and that is why I’m doing ok.  Of course, for the last 3 or 4 days leading up to Sunday, I was telling myself every 30 seconds or so, “It’s only 2 weeks, it’s only two weeks.  Then you will see him again.”  Not sure what I’m going to do when the 2 weeks is up and I have to see him off to the plane to a year in Iraq…I’ll keep you posted on that one, and any suggestions are much appreciated!!

I’m not so sure about Mr. W’s level of ok-ness, however.  He was pretty quiet Saturday night after dropping his kids (who were staying with us all week) off back home.  He was quiet and edgy Sunday.  And last night when he called from the hotel, he was very distant and untalkative.  He told me he’s stressed about his kids, leaving them and not being able to see them for a year.  He told me he’s stressed about the house, leaving me with so much to do and in a shambles and such.  He told me he’s stressed about me, not sure if I’m going to be ok, or more likely that I’ll not be able to keep up with the house and fall back into my deep hole of depression.  I tried to reassure him that the months will fly by for the kids.  School has a wonderful way of doing that.  I tried to reassure him that the house will be fine.  I’ve had a house before, and although as long as he’s known me, I’ve been a little of a clutter-monster, that was mostly as a result of me wanting to spend time with him and with my kids instead of tidying up.  That really won’t be an issue for the next year as he will be gone, the boy will be full time with me, and the girl is right up the road or with me.  I tried to reassure him that I am ok.  I told him I didn’t cry.  I told him I felt ok, so not to worry about me.  I don’t think I helped.  He became more distant and quiet and soon after got off the phone for the night.  An email from him, sent late last night (apparently neither of us was able to get much sleep last night) and received this morning at work was equally as distant and almost impersonal.  I wish I knew for sure what is going on in his head.

I wonder if he equates me being “ok” with not caring that he’s gone.  I’m pretty sure he has thoughts of me cheating.  I can’t really blame him for that.  I’ve had thoughts of him cheating, and I haven’t been through all he has (except that one time, but I’d rather not think about that now).  I know he worries I won’t take care of the house because of the living habits I’ve grown into over the last year.  The worst part is no matter how hard I try, I can’t make him believe what I say. 

I’m going to miss him terribly, but I will be ok.  I have to be ok.  There is no choice, but to be ok.  Life moves on fast, and with two little ones around it’s like life is on permanent fast-forward.  When he comes home, we can slow things down again, together. 

I love him and would never, ever hurt him, especially in that way.  Besides, I am totally and 100% satisfied with him, in every way.  Maybe we haven’t been together long enough to develop those little irritations that are fuel for the 80/20* rule.  Maybe we are so perfectly matched that those things will never crop up.  Either way, I have no interest in any other man (or woman) EVER.  End of story.

I will not let the house go to shambles.  Or better put, I will get the house out of shambles and keep it there for the duration.  It is still his house, and I have tremendous respect for that.  Besides, winter is fast approaching, and I won’t have the boy full time until January, and with Mr. W gone, really, what the hell else is there to do.  I’ve tried to get back into my couch potato mode, more due to habit (I bum around when I’m bummed) than anything else, and quite frankly, TV sucks.   There are some humorous shows on, but after almost a year without…I really didn’t miss much.

Ah, well.  6 days until I have my babies back in my arms.  11 days until I have my man back in my arms.  Will time tick by in a flash or will it drag on and on? 

 

*The 80/20 rule is when someone cheats because while the one they are with is 80% of what they want in a person, what they want in life, what makes them happy, the “little annoyances” make the other 20% (usually found in someone other than the partner) start looking really, really good.  Enter temptation.  Exit honesty, trust, and probably your partner’s love when he/she finds out.