Dusty Canvases

Good morning…It’s another day, another hour passing, another blog post that begs to be more than meaningless words.

Weight loss, that’s what this blog is supposedly about, ok. Eph that. I need to just swirl everything into one focused thought. Losing weight, that’s good. Losing the behaviors that keep one in  self medicating  states, even better.

My struggles:






Not kidding. I’m just a regular woman on a path, yesterday I felt like a girl and thought you saw me as that too until you called Ma’am one too many times. Just wait little woman, your day is coming. That’s the funny thing about life, no one gets out of this easy, if your lucky you’ll get wrinkles, you’ll love and lose it, you’ll die a thousands deaths in your heart and be left with emptiness of body and soul…and the sun will rise again in the morning, inviting you to do it all over again.

Since I have stopped using food medication, my anxiety level has raised to the point where I can feel it in my body. Not a great feeling. It really crept up on me, and guess what I am doing more of? Smoking. It relaxes me and I love it. I know it’s bad for me, inhale, which is why I have to get this crossed off my feel good list, yesterday.

Oddly enough, I am in the best shape of my life, I run once or twice a week and ride my bike an average of sixty to seventy miles a week. I am posting all of this because I need to say it. I am not going to pretend that life is roses or cherries all the ephing time, nor is it always cigarettes and Cheetos.

Desperate for middle ground and balance.

I haven’t hit my second goal, but I don’t care. Not a cop-out. I don’t care if it takes me two years to get this weight off because with each pound I am uncovering old pieces of myself that must be dealt with. Like spelunking in the attics of my life, the deeper I go the dustier the canvases become, and as I pull them off I discover a treasure buried there. Some treasure requires more time, more love, more preservation. Some, require burning. I didn’t get this way overnight. I won’t give up on me. Even if me takes forever.

My husband has been such a good man during this season in my life. He walks with me and deals with my high drama and emotional vomit. I won’t candy coat it,  he’s a pain in the ephhing ass too sometimes. But he’s a man, and we’re so different. I don’t pretend we have a marriage made in wonderland. We have a very real marriage. We wrestle it out, there are days we can’t stand each other, and days we want to be close. He’s a good friend, a good daddy, a good companion. I cringe at the thought of what his blog would say about me:) He doesn’t blog by the way…lucky me.

What you missed while I was away:

My Triathlon, I did it. Although I almost forgot how to swim, but I did it. YAY!

Atlanta, learned some lessons about myself while spending time with my dearest friend.

New job, forthcoming.

Made another video for the ANCC Art of Nursing film festival, not really creative, just helped a friend, earned a trip to LA in October.




Inspires Skinny Girls, that’s My Indian Name

When I weigh in on Wednesday, I will have  been doing this new thing, this intentional eating, if you will, for a full three weeks. Wow, it seems more like three months. You know what they say, time flies when your having fun…eating lots of nutritional foods. Cue sad trombone. 

I’ve been struggling here and there, with my calories above or below the goal. I can’t always say no to indulgent foods, but do say no a fair amount of the time, which is much more than I ever did before. For three weekends in a row I’ve said no to the doughnuts at work. I love doughnuts. Yesterday, I did however, indulge in the creamy mexian corn dip and Fritos scoops. To the tune of 600 calories, much to my chagrin. But here’s the interesting part, in the past I’ve never pugged the “bad” calories into my journal. I’d hop on the float trip down the river denial and have a binging hay day. I used every little mistake as an excuse to bail. This time, I’m plugging it in. I’m not binging, but studying my patterns a bit. And best of all, I’ve not let it completely discourage me.

Having said all that, I’m discouraged. BAH. I am feeling more anxiety than I used to, which is probably due to the fact that I am not self-medicating. It’s so weird. I feel this funk in me sometimes that I just can’t shake. It’s real anxiety and I feel it in my body, now the hard part…how to deal with it in a constructive way. Prayer, meditation, reading, exercise?

Again, three weeks in…I sort of want to bail. Go back to self- loathing, eating junk-foods, living for the next bite. Man that sounds a bit like hell doesn’t it? Yeah, it does to me, and I can’t with a right mind chose to go back to that today. In fact, it kind of brings tears to my eyes. I hate living like that. So I have to find a way to white-knucle it through the tough part, to seek and find a better way to live. Find something more fulfilling and affirm myself. I may just have to do something Stewart Smalley-ish.

A skinny girl came up to me at work yesterday. She asked me how Insanity was going. Asked how bad it hurt etc. Then she said something amazing. She said I inspired her to get on it. She’s 41, her knees are bad, but she said if I could do it, she could do it. If I were walking in pride that day I might have been offended. But she’s right! I’m at least 80 lbs overweight. She’s maybe 5 -10 at the most and verbalizes her need to exercise. I inspired her. That’s pretty freaking awesome to me. And it just might carry me through another week of this intentional living.