Overwhelmed

I had a physical at the end of July, had some routine blood work done, and besides a cholesterol level that is a little higher than it should be, I'm doing pretty well. My husband was having some issues and went to the doctor and 3 weeks later, had his gall bladder removed. Today, we went to HIS physical. The doctor had asked that I be there. We weren't sure why but assumed that it would be to talk to him about his weight and that I be there as a support system.

Well, HIS talk turned into OUR talk.

Contrary to popular belief, this doctor was NOT a giant douche bag when it came to this discussion. He's a cool guy and easy to talk to, and honestly, it's not like it's a secret that we are both overweight. He admitted that talking to people about stuff like weight or body odor is very awkward, even for a doctor. He doesn't like to make people feel uncomfortable, but wants to help. So, broaching the subject wasn't tremendously awful.

The good news is that in 1 month, my husband has lost 17 lbs. He was following a low-fat diet leading up to the gall bladder removal, had surgery, and also didn't eat for about 4 days.

I, on the other hand, probably gained at least 5 or more this month from choosing junk ALL OF THE TIME. I err on the side of cookies, cake, sweets, anything. I make everything a vehicle for sugar. Hello, iced coffee, let me put some chocolate syrup in you. Yum! I also don't just eat when I'm hungry. I reach for sugar in the time of need. If I'm feeling sad, I always reach to sugar for comfort.

The frustrating part for me is that I KNOW THAT I DO THIS. I can identify my problems and yet still continue to go down this road.

Over lunch, my husband suggested that maybe I see a therapist.

It sounds weird, but I'm afraid to see one because I'll have SO many feelings. I'll be a basketcase every week. And yet, it's probably a good decision. I know that a lot of my problems with food are emotionally based. I don't think that the doctor, or the nutritionist, will be dealing with THAT side of things.

So, anyway, as we were discussing this over lunch, I started to get really overwhelmed and crazy about stuff. My knee/leg is still an issue. I am in the process of seeing a physical therapist and am, hopefully, strengthening myself enough to start running again. BUT, I have to stop thinking so far ahead and just focus on the "here and now".

But, if I'm being truly honest here, I think that my main issue is that I already did this. I succeeded. And then...I failed. I failed myself. I failed all of my hard work. And I gained 50 lbs in 2 years. I am only about 30 lbs down from where I first began this "journey" in 2009. I let my laziness and my excuses win. And I failed all of those people who supported me. I feel overwhelmed by the prospect of doing all of this work AGAIN. These are the same goddamn pounds. I already lost them once. And some of these pounds, I've gained and lost a few times already.

I am overwhelmed. And I feel like I don't know where to start. But I know exactly what I have to do. I just have to choose to do it. I don't know if the nutritionist will help, or if the doctor will be an ally to us in this process. I don't know if I have the strength to do this again.

I like to think I have all of the answers, but in this case, I'm...lost.

My Own Worst Enemy

I am my own worst enemy.

I treat myself far worse than any one person ever has. I berate myself. I judge myself. I constantly find fault with anything that I'm doing. I don't trust my abilities.

On January 1, 2011, I was at my lowest adult weight. I was feeling great about myself. I was happy. I was healthy. I felt invincible. And now, fast forward 2 1/2 years and I am 50 lbs heavier than I was at that point. I am unhappy. I am not exactly healthy. I am lazy. And I am fearful.

In May, I injured my knee at a dance audition. I was "getting back out there", auditioning for the first time since starting at the museum, over a year earlier. I realized that I was losing myself in my work and not allowing the musical side of me to ever really be seen. (Sure, I had gone back to voice lessons last August. But that has presented its own challenges that I'm sure I'll get to shortly.) Anyway, I went out for 2 different shows in a span of a week. I felt great about my audition, except for the part where I may have sprained my knee and couldn't walk. I sang really well, probably the best I ever have in an audition setting. But, alas, I was not what they were looking for. Not even a callback. This business is rough, even on the community level. No one knows me, so I don't get cast. And I also realize that my voice is a bit of an anomaly when it comes to community theater. I'm not cast in ensembles usually, unless the rest of the audition pool is big voices. They can't use me. I may get a supporting role, but due to my size, I'll probably never see a leading role. And I may be "amazing" and "talented" (according to other people), but if I'm not getting cast, there's obviously a problem, right?

Sometimes I wonder if I can even consider myself a "singer", or more specifically, an "opera singer". I am a person that sings arias from operas at her lesson. I have not performed in an opera in over 5 years. I have not auditioned for anything opera-related in, at least, that long. I was moved to return to voice lessons after a 2 year hiatus after seeing a friend of mine perform last summer. I hadn't been singing seriously in too long and needed to do that for myself. I've changed fachs. It's a bit of a mind-fuck. Having spent my entire life as a mezzo and then to be exploring soprano rep and learning how to use my voice all over again...it's quite a mess. I was told that singing is 90% psychological. And you bet I'm trying to sabotage myself with every bit of that 90%. I don't know how to trust the sound. I don't know how to trust myself. And when I feel like it's good, I also don't feel like I can say that. I get very self-conscious. I don't want to be seen as egotistical or vain, but I end up berating myself in the process.

Like many of us out there, I am very good at berating myself. I come up with new and creative ways to do so. And since I injured my knee, I've been especially good at it. IT'S AN INJURY. You can't rush yourself back to doing all of the activity you were before due to risk of reinjury. But, my mind won't have it. I just keep saying "it's an excuse", "this is why you're fat". No, the reason why I'm fat is because I choose Ben & Jerry's over fruits and veggies. (And because I "eat" my feelings.) I make excuses. And then I get sad about it and find it even harder to try and refocus.

And, in the meantime, I find myself at work all the time and not having the energy or the drive to do anything afterwards. I pull away from friends. I just want to be at home, quiet. (I suppose this is a normal reaction of a tour guide...but people don't necessarily understand that.) And again, the vicious cycle of self-deprecation comes up. "I'm a bad friend", "I have no friends because I'm a bad friend", "I'm a bad person".

As I write this, I'm amazed at how I can say these things to myself and keep allowing it to happen. I wouldn't let someone else treat me that way, and yet, I find it perfectly acceptable when I do it.

I was hoping that I'd feel better after saying all of this, but I don't think that's happening. *sigh*

I have a great job. I have a loving husband. I am lucky that my knee injury didn't require surgery. My voice is starting to bloom in ways that I never thought it would. I have good people in my life. I need to remember these things. I need to focus on these things to get me through the doldrums.

And maybe, just maybe, I should put on my knee brace and just see if I can jog a little. I miss running. I miss races. But most of all, I miss who I was when I was running.

To heal

Written on April 25, 2013:

10 days later and I still don’t know exactly how to process the events that unfolded at the finish line of the 117th Boston Marathon on April 15. I don’t know if I’ve fully grieved for my city yet. I had 2 days of shock, some moments of almost breaking down on a city bus, lots of emotion at an otherwise unrelated work event, and sobbing while watching videos of National Anthems from various sporting events. The montage at the Bruins game was probably the thing that hit me the hardest. The musical soundtrack was Phillip Phillips’ “Home”. (I thought it was Mumford, which shows you how “hip” and “with it” I am.)

Hold on to me as we go,

As we roll down this unfamiliar road.

And although this wait is stringing us along,

Just know you’re not alone,

I’m gonna make this place your home.

Settle down, it’ll all be clear.

Don’t pay no mind to the demons, they fill you with fear.

The trouble, it might drag you down,

If you get lost, you can always be found.

Just know you’re not alone,

‘cause i’m gonna make this place your home.

Boston has always been a special place for marathoners. If you’ve “run Boston”, then you are something. If you qualify for Boston, that’s HUGE. Marathon Monday is the biggest homegrown event, and a lot of people’s favorite day of the year. I’ve lived in Boston for almost 9 years now and I’ve never had the privilege of actually watching the Marathon live. I’ve always had to work, as it’s a “holiday”, and people always seemed to request it off. Sure, I read about it in the news, but never truly SAW it. This year was a bit different. I had a much better window  into the event now that I’m working on tourism on a full-time basis. We were able to meet a lot of runners and their families and on Sunday, I went down to the Hynes Convention Center to collect our booth from the Runner’s Expo. (I had wanted nothing more than to be our representative at the Expo, but scheduling didn’t allow it to be me.) I sat in the car, making sure we didn’t get towed, and saw a sea of blue and yellow Marathon jackets. The energy in the air was palpable. People were so happy and so excited. We drove down the street, coming upon the finish line, and I was imagining how you must feel when you get to that point. I, myself, have never made it more than a 10K, and so far, that’s a great goal for me. I am a finish line crier. I am always overwhelmed by emotion at that point. I can only imagine the intense feelings that one feels finishing Boston.

About 1/3 of the field was not able to finish. And after 10 days, the toll of injuries has risen to 264 people. 3 people lost their lives on Marathon Monday, and a brave cop was shot in his car at MIT. The magnitude of this day is hard to comprehend. It’s still almost unbelievable to think that it happened about 2 miles from my place of business, places that I go to on a semi-regular basis. The Boston Public Library has been closed for 10 days. I have 3 books sitting in my apartment...wondering when I should take them back. I want to visit the memorial. I am also afraid of the emotions that might come.

Like many people, this transported me back to 9/11. I was 22 years old, at IUP, and seemingly, worlds away from any danger. I didn’t understand that day. I didn’t know what to feel. People around me cried a lot. I was glued to the news, hoping it would give us answers. I think it gave me more questions than answers. I felt like the danger of that day wouldn’t....COULDN’T touch me. I was in Western PA, in the middle of nowhere. I was confused when my family was calling my house, wondering if I was okay, after the plane went down somewhere in PA. My Western PA geography wasn’t that great, so I wasn’t sure where that was. All I knew was that I was fine and I didn’t know why people were reacting like this. I didn’t “get it”.

And now, 12 years later...I get it. Unfortunately, I get it. I’ll never understand why these things happen, or what turns people into a radicalized version of themselves, or why religion would cause anyone to do harm to others. But, I do understand how this shatters a sense of safety that we had built up in the years following 9/11. You never think it can happen “here”. You never think that you’ll be impacted by something like this. I was lucky that I had decided to stay home that day. I had considered going down to watch. More than likely, I would’ve gone to Brookline, as the crowds are thinner and the drunk college kids don’t seem to be around there, but I could’ve gone to the finish line. A friend of mine was there. He was waiting to photograph a friend who was running her first marathon. He invited me to go with him. I stayed home, and he happened to be in a different spot. But a lot of “what ifs” occur from that day...

At least 3 people weren’t so lucky.

But this day showed that in SOME ways we were very lucky. The right people were around. So many people were saved by the heroism that showed itself in ordinary citizens. I am humbled to say that these people are MY people.

I may not have been born here, but Boston, you’re my home.

Continued on April 29, 2013:

There was a time in my life, for a few short years, that I took great pride in my health and my efforts to be the best “me”. I don’t know where that “me” has gone. I should be happy with my life. I finally have a job that I love, I married my best friend, and yet, I keep making excuses because I don’t want to fight for the good things. I allow my life to slip away, day after day, and just talk about it. I don’t know where my motivation went. I don’t know why I can’t find it again. Everyday, I have a long conversation with myself about how I can do this. I’ve done it before, and I shouldn’t have stopped in the first place. I let laziness in and we all know that it can be a killer.

I get dressed on a daily basis and feel unhappy. I lumber through life again, instead of having a spring in my step. I feel tired and sloth-like, at best. I choose “easy”. I choose disgusting, packaged “food”, instead of filling my body with good things. I choose television and internet over ANYTHING even remotely physical.

I want to sing. I want to dance. I want to run. I want to do so many things, and yet, can’t quite make those thoughts connect to my body.

The Boston Marathon is a day to celebrate life and the great achievement of running 26.2 miles. I don’t know if I’ll ever step up to that line, but I do know that I have to find a way to make my life worth living again. I need to feel GOOD again. We all need to heal. Maybe my best chance at healing everything is to toe the line. To take a step. And another. And another.