Positive Thinking

I know I come across as kind of negative.

There are lots of things about myself that I absolutely hate.

My stupid, crooked nose.
My freckles.
My stomach.

I'm trying to be more positive about...things. About myself. About everything.

On that note, here are somethings that I like about myself. Things, I've decided, that I will think about more often.

I have the bluest eyes ever.
I have a nice complexion.
I have really, super thick hair.

That's enough for now...I'm having a hard time of thinking of things that don't have qualifiers. (I like my nails but they grow crooked because of damage to my nail beds when I was young.)

I'm trying to be positive. I know I can do this.
This time.

My Cup No Longer Runeth Over

I went shopping today.

It was awesome. I love spending time with old friends and catching up.

We went to LB and I got measured for a new bra--I went down TWO cup sizes! That's CRAZY! I never lose weight in that area. It was so exciting to be able to buy a bra at the store and bring it home instead of special ordering and having it sent to me. I also got some cute panties (I love that word!) and a nice shirt--because some of mine are starting to look a little...sack-like. Between the two of us, we spent $105, but we SAVED $217--which is a way more important number!

We went into a couple of other stores...I'm looking forward to being a weight where we can try on the same clothes. There were a couple of things she picked out that were really cute, but I knew I could never squeeze into them. Some day...sooner, rather than later, I hope.

I made it to the shoe store, too. I grabbed a handful of shoes in different styles to try on and sat down. KB scouted the store and then came to check on me. She told me she saw a bunch of tennis shoes on clearance and asked if she should bring some over. She returned with a huge stack of boxes, which I sorted through and sent some of them back with her. I ended up with two pairs--some New Balance runners, which are suspiciously like my old ones, but pink, and a pair of VERY comfortable Dr. Scholl's walking shoes.

The best part is, when I got home, I slipped on my new running shoes and headed upstairs to the workout room. I walked a faster pace for 10 minutes, then did some weights, then walked a slower pace at a level 6 incline--my booty is killing me! I did some more weights and then came home.

I'm nervous about tomorrow's weigh-in. I try not to obsess about the scale during the week, but it's hard not to step up there a few times a day. This morning, I weighed a full NINE pounds more than I did last Monday night. We ate Chinese food last night, but I certainly didn't eat NINE pounds of it. What's the deal?

One Last Kiss

When I was growing up, my mother wanted me to date more.

Not that she wanted me to be a floozy...she just didn't want me to fall for one guy and get "stuck" at a young age.

She was married to my stepfather, and I knew how their relationship was, so I adamantly refused to take love life advice from her. Sometimes, though, I wish that I had listened.

I did tend to fall for just one guy...I never dated around. I thought I was fat. (And I was, but it wasn't fatal.) I was terrible at choosing, too. I picked the one that hit me. The one that never respected me. The one who hurt me time and time again.

Since I didn't date a lot of boys, I didn't kiss a lot of boys, either. Unfortunately, I can count on one hand the number I've kissed. (God, is that pathetic? I guess I'd never thought of it like that before.)

Don't get me wrong. The Hubster is a great kisser. But we're married. We have jobs, and kids, and a home to take care of. We don't waste much time just kissing. (Because when we do, it tends to lead to other things!)

I don't know why I'm so hung up on kissing...probably because I'm sick and haven't been doing much kissing of anyone lately.

I do wish I had kissed more boys. It's weird, I know, but I do.

Getting Published

I have a dream.

I have lots of dreams, actually.

I'd like to be happy with the way I look.
I'd like to own a house someday.
I'd like to have more children.
I'd like to be published.

I love to write. I love putting myself out here in print. It's just something I do. I never realized I was good at it.

I was actually surprised when people commented on my writing...like I said, it's just something I do.

I have stories, words, paragraphs, sentences in my head. All the time.
I have notebooks and journals that I've filled with short stories. Poetry. Comments to myself.

There was a story that kept beating at me until I started to write it down. 52,811 words later, it was a book. An honest to goodness-sending it to a publisher-ready to get rejected book. My book has not been published yet. I don't have high hopes that it will make it, because I know the number of undiscovered masterpieces is unmentionable, and what I wrote--while fantastic--is no masterpiece.

I write other things, too. Earlier this year, I started writing articles for Helium.com. I've written several, but I enjoy reading the articles of others even more. There's a section there called the Marketplace, where publisher post titles of articles they're looking for. Helium writers right the articles, and the publisher picks which one they want.

They picked me.
I got the e-mail earlier this week, and words just could not describe the euphoria I felt.
I'm getting published.
The pay is...well, the pay is $16, and I just can't find a good word to describe that amount...but it's more than I've ever been paid for anything else I've ever written.

Published. FINALLY.

The Key Ingredients for Grasping a Second Chance at Life

Eyes Wide Open (Or "I Can See Clearly Now")

I bought my first pair of glasses in 2001. It was exciting because with them, I could see things that had been blurry for quite some time, they made me look different, and my insurance covered them.

Fast forward almost 7 years, 2 pairs, and 2 (3?) insurance companies later. My prescription has changed every year, which means every year I'm forking over more and more money for a decent pair of eyes. While the price of living (and everything else in the world) keeps going up, my insurance coverage has gone down the drain. Imagine my distress to learn that my most recent prescription was going to cost me $250+ for lenses alone!

I'm done buying new glasses and lenses every year. I've watched my husband pop contacts in and out for 8 years...it's no big deal, right?

WRONG...but I'm learning, and it's gotten easier every day.

It's been fun. It's amazing walking around the grocery store or driving or...just doing anything without these damn glasses on my face! (Yes, I still have the invisible pair that I reach to adjust or move occasionally.)

I haven't worn glasses forever. It's only been 7 years. But a lot happens in 7 years, and apparently, people forget what you really look like.

I definitely have to take better care of my eyebrows, and be more careful with my eye makeup since I don't have glasses to hide behind anymore. It's so...liberating to be free from frames.

Someone told me today that they never realized I had such pretty eyes. I guess they've been hiding, too.

RUN

I love magnet poetry.

I love those little letters and words that seem so random, yet tie together so perfectly. I got a page free somewhere, and found an entire box for a quarter at a garage sale, so the front of my fridge is covered in words. I play with them, the kids play with them, and apparently, Little Sister's Polly pockets use them as skates. They tend to wander when no one is looking, and little words end up all over the house.

Tonight, I've just had it. Another argument with Big Sister, and the way she treats me and Little Sister, and how the Hubster does nothing about it. I lost it, big time. Went on a screaming rampage. Told both of them that I was going to take Little Sister and leave because she doesn't deserve to be treated the way Big Sister treats her...how she's going to wind up hating her because all she ever does is yell at her. I've just had it. I'm done with half assed "I'm sorry's" that don't mean anything. I'm done with the Hubster standing by and watching it happen. I'm just done.

I've started picking things up when I'm mad...It's a habit I picked up from the Hubster, I think. Something psychological about controlling the physical chaos when I'm on an emotional roller coaster. I folded a basket of laundry. I cleaned one of the bathrooms. I organized the shoes in the rack by the front door.

RUN.

I saw it through my tears as I picked up, strangely enough, one of my running shoes. The little rectangular word, free from it's magnetic prison of the fridge, lost in the carpet, staring up at me.

RUN.

Is it a sign? That I'm really done? That it's time to just give up trying to fix things, cut my losses and go?

RUN.

How odd that I found that particular word at that moment in time. Does it mean something? Do I listen?

My Life is SAD

My life has been so stressful in the last month.

I just...can't even find the words to describe it.

I haven't eaten right. I haven't exercised. I haven't wanted to do any of the things I normally do. I'm tired all the time.

It's SAD. I know it is.

I am so far from fine this year. Fall is hitting us kind of early...the leaves changed from green to yellow to red to brown, fell off, and blew away all in one day while I was at work. One day it was 80, and the next morning, it was 34. I hate the cold. I hate Fall. I hate living here.

It's so easy to blame it all on the weather.

It can't be the turmoil of the challenges of everyday life, having two children in school, being employed full time, so far away from my family, or the distance of the friends I used to be so close to, right?

It has to be the weather.

Counting Down...

In just 2 short hours, I will officially be on vacation.
An entire week off...I haven't had that since my maternity leave ended almost five and a half years ago.

I. Can't. Wait.

That's IT.

I am just going to absolutely lose my f-ing mind. Whatever this is my page. I want to say fuck, I'm saying fuck. I'm going to lose my fucking mind.

Miss Late Every Day to Work, Lies on her Time Card, Always Takes Too Long for Break, Shuts her Phone Off for No Reason, and Would Not Shut-up Yesterday when I had the Headache of the Century just went to OUR boss and complained that *I* was talking too much today.

That's it. The gloves are off.

I WAS feeling better today until that. Time for some serious ass kicking.

Going Under

Depression.
It's become such a common word. Something millions of people suffer from every day.
It doesn't make me special, but it does pose a problem in my plan.

I won't insert the word severely. Not yet, anyway. I've been there, though. To the point where my doctor gently asked if I'd ever had suicidal thoughts and I suddenly burst out crying, admitting I thought about killing myself every single day.
It's gotten better. Through a year or more of medication, changing the way I let things affect me, and Faith--I've gotten better. I haven't been on medication for almost a year.

But all of a sudden, I can feel it pulling on me. I know that's what it is.
Tired all the time.
Loss of appetite. (Good for me--to a point.)
Overwhelming feelings of sadness and crying all the time for no reason.
Loss of interest in things I love.

All the signs are there. I just need to pull myself out of it.
I've got a doctor's appointment in three weeks. If I haven't snapped out of it by then, I'll get help.

Once More, with Feeling

Did I say it last time? Did I?
Because if I did, I'm saying it again. But I mean it this time. For REAL.

Ready? Here goes.

This is it.

This is the day I make the decision to move the hell on with my life. (Okay, so I made the decision a couple days ago.) THIS is the day I tell the world about it.

It's not just my weight anymore. It's everything. EVERYTHING.
My not-so-neat house.
My less than stellar organization.
My paycheck-to-paycheck lifestyle.
My EMPTY savings account.

I'm changing everything that I hate about my life. And I'm changing it for good. I really, really am this time.

Not right this second. I'm not naive enough to believe everything will change in seconds when it took me a life time to screw things up.