First off, I want to thank all of you who have contributed to my Fitspo gallery. All of you are lovely and awesome and it was incredibly generous of you to help. This is a growing project, so those of you who have not and want to contribute, please feel free to do so anytime.
And now the grits.
The movie Groundhog Day was playing on the TV at the hair salon during Boog’s epic haircut of awesomeness yesterday. It was all too coincidental considering that is what I have been calling my life for the past few months.
Wake up, check clock. Is it 3am? If so, wait for hot flash and anxiety to set in. Congratulations Batty, you’re now up for one of those longest days in your life. I usually end up really needing sleep by about 1pm but its kinda hard to do with the day job and all.
If its not 3am, rejoice a little bit and spend the next hour in the just-waking-up phase hoping maybe today is the day the brain fog lifts a little. It doesn’t. Path back to 1pm when I really am in need of sleep but its kinda hard to do with the day job and all.
Make a lot of stupid mistakes at work.
Count the hours until 5, power through dinnertime because the fam needs to be fed. Make an attempt at taking a walk, or at least going outside. Brain fog is usually screaming at me by this time. Oh, and I can’t do anything that my body would sense as hard physical exertion because that pretty much ensures I’ll be up at 3am the following morning.
Its shitty. I WANT do do All The Things but this is allowing me to accomplish Zero Things. Its like what took a mindless effort before now takes all of my brain plus about 5 extra.
All day, every day. Wash, rinse, repeat. Groundhog Day.
I am truly, truly appreciative of friends sending their love and well wishes and get better soon cards. There have been, however, been a few well intentioned comments of “well thats ok because you’re freaking ripped!” and let me tell you, my friends, that couldn’t be the truth right now.
And therein lies the extra conundrum of my present condition. The anxiety. The depression. The severe aversion to being out in public. The disdain for my current physical appearance. Blaming myself for fucking everything up. There’s been horrifying weight gain and the stress acne is incredibly unpleasant. A tornado of every physical and emotional malady has sucked me up and I am praying to all that is holy that I don’t fall apart any more than I have already. I am searching for that belltower that I can climb up into and declare Sanctuary and pray for a fucking rainbow to appear among the parting stormclouds.
It is not a pretty picture right now. I am getting help for the emotional issues because I fully recognize that telling myself that I am not allowed to enjoy life because I am physically revolting isn’t really productive.
And as much as I’d like to be unicorns and rainbows and marshmallows all the time, today I am not.