Sunday, February 28, 2010

"Why do you talk about me all the time, Sarah Jo?"

Why do you ask questions you already know the answer to? Things you already know but I could never actually say to you. Is the answer not written across my face and between every other word I say?

And what is the purpose?

Am I just one more trophy upon your wall? Or the one for whom you would eventually fall?

I know you don't want to give me what I seek. And I know all the things you don't want from me.

But that doesn't stop the delight I feel in your presence. Doesn't stop me from feeling that everyone else must be missing all the wonderful things I see. I don't even know why you spend time with me.

I know this could all end in disaster. Some invisible cliff and I am approaching faster and faster.

But maybe you'll always be one of my best friends. And I'll find the love that makes everything else make sense.

I still don't know why you ask questions you already know the answer to. Maybe you don't know. I thought I was being abundantly clear. But you won't get the words from me here.

Despite the laws, they STILL smoke in bars.

I stayed out late. My mom woke me up early by making lots of noise in the kitchen. I have every intention of going right back to sleep, but I wanted to write.

Yesterday I grabbed the wrong end of my razor and it cut three parallel slices across the tip of my finger that quickly turned into one chunk. Now it hurts to type. Well, it hurts to let my finger touch anything at all. I just wanted you to better understand just how much I wanted to write.

(I have nothing particular to say.)

Last night I was supposed to hang out with Johnna but she canceled on me. Instead I made bread in my new breadmaker (honey oat wheat) and tried a new soup (peanut butter chicken vegetable) and then got bored. So I texted Jaylene to see if she was busy. She wasn't. We ended up getting smoothies (bahama mama, no white chocolate, extra cocunut, made with splenda instead of turbinado, add matcha green tea) and found a bar to karaoke in. It was a lot of fun.

When we first walked in, a man stopped us and said he had to buy me a drink. I asked him why and he said he had been one of my customers at some point and I had been more nice and helpful than he expected and he still remembered me and wanted to buy me a drink. We let him buy us drinks. He came over to visit us at our table a few times and it became apparent to me that he was interested in Jaylene. For the first several songs, Jaylene and I would go up together when either one of us was singing but once I noticed his interest I made sure to tell her she could stay at the table so he could get to the part where he expressed his interest and she would turn him down (she isn't single) and I wouldn't have to watch. Things went according to plan.

When I returned and he left Jaylene explained that he had asked if we both taken. They are always taken, he said. She told him she was but I wasn't. He said he thought I would be too nice for him. She said he would be surprised about how untrue that was. He told her he could hardly flirt with a girl after flirting with her friend all night. But he did then start paying a lot more attention to me after that.

That is the story. My feelings follow:

It was nice having someone buy me a drink, for whatever the reason. It made me feel good that my customers remember me even after time has passed. That my cheerfulness and smile are actually noticed. I try. And some days it is so hard to be kind and friendly and joyful when I have had people yell at me or a problem in my personal life or whatever. This reminds me that 5 minutes of kindness can have a lasting effect. And unforeseen rewards, apparently.

It was familiar watching a man flirt with my friend. It is always my friend. It is never me. I don't know if it is still my weight or if I don't seem sexy or flirty or interested enough. It isn't ever me. I get the kind of attention men give to "the friend" so they seem personable and friendly. So they don't seem rude. It is familiar,but not good. It makes me feel unseen. Unnoticeable. Just sad.

But when he found out she was taken, he didn't do the normal thing where they go away and don't come back. He did come back and started paying attention to me. Enough so some other man came over and told me, "I believe that boy is sweet on you and wanted to make sure you knowed it!" (He was from Virginia and I was trying to catch the accent.) I feel flattered that he considered me worth his attention. His compliments made me blush. I was nervous that he would ask me something I would have to say no to because I wasn't interested. But I was also a little offended. He was right, you don't flirt with a girl after flirting with her friend all night.

I'm not at my goal weight yet. I have STILL never been in a relationship. I have no idea how a person is supposed to play that game dating people play with one another. My mother has told me I am "the same nice to everyone" so it would be hard to tell if I was interested. I'm cute and not sexy. I'm friendly and not flirty. I'm smart and not playful. Still, despite all the reasons a person might not be attracted to me, I don't want to be someones second choice.

That was what I came here to say.

Saturday, February 27, 2010

This is what I do while my car warms up.

This morning I started tracking my calories on my sparkpeople page for the first time in a very, very long time. It felt very familiar. This is where success comes from. This is what it feels like to feel good about my choices.

Last night I dreamed about a boy I had a crush on in middle school. Actually, I dream about him fairly often for a person I haven' t seen in years. I don't really understand it.

I only have five minutes before I have to leave for work. I wanted to write last night. I had so much to say. But I didn't have time and then it was time for bed. Maybe I can write today sometime. I hope so. It feels like when I'm hanging out with him and all the words I'm not saying are building up inside me with no release. Things I cannot say.

Ah, so many, many words.

Friday, February 26, 2010


I don't have a list for you. I don't trust you. I think you mean something else with every word you say. It seems like you are slowly laying a trap that will spring shut at any moment. It makes me feel uneasy and suspicious. I wish you would just go away somewhere and not come back. I can't see the good anymore. I tried. I tried. I tried. But now the thought of you is a sickness in my stomach. A catch in my breath. I'm waiting for the horrible, horrible thing to happen. I hope it never does, but even the waiting is unbearable. I don't like uncertainty. I would rather see the horror then wait and wait for it to appear. I can't start dealing with it until it happens.

I don't have a list for you. I used to. I remember the good things I thought you were. Where have they gone? Perhaps they were fabricated. Perhaps they are still there and I am blinded by my own mistrust. I miss the rose-colored glasses sometimes.

I don't have a list for you. And I would really, really like to like you.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

I feel: content, impatient, satisfied, frustrated, grateful, guilty, hopeful, and loving today.

I'm considering going to sleep at 9:30. That sounds ridiculous. I'm sleepy though.

I have laundry to fold and my room is a mess and I really need to take a shower and I wanted to make Christine a list of all the reasons I think she is awesome and I wanted to write.

Clearly, you see where my priorities lie. Writing makes me feel better. I don't know why. Quit demanding explanations! Oh. Right. No one demanded anything.

I could probably spend forever talking about this or that feeling or this one thing that happened today and how it illustrates everything and forever. Blah Blah Blah. I like to make connections. I like everything to make sense.

I haven't lost weight in nearly a year now. I'm starting to feel fat again. No, I already feel fat again. Like that horrible helpless feeling I felt right before I started losing weight. Except this time I know what to do. And this time I know I CAN do it. Probably. I lost 100lbs and then some. Can I keep going? Sure I can! Then why haven't I?

First, the horrible, awful, terrible things about being morbidly obese all but disappeared. It stopped sucking so much and so I let myself get complacent. Because counting calories sucks. Honestly. There is so much planning involved! It is super hard to be social and count calories at the same time. And I got a lot more social when I got happy with me.

WOW. Did you see all those excuses? I could have kept going too! I sound like a person that doesn't really want to lose weight, don't I? I don't sound motivated at all. Pathetic. No more. Because I know how it feels to feel healthy and successful and happy with me and I don't feel that way now. I feel fat and disappointed and like a failure. I mean, people have stopped asking the question, "How much have you lost NOW?" because I kept saying, "Oh, still the same." No more!

I feel so gross. So guilty. So unhappy with me. This is going to stop. Now.

In other news, (it's 9:27) I waited on this customer today that I just wanted to keep talking to. He was so beautiful and smart and kind and talkative and engaging. He was married. That's not sad though. I mean, he deserved to be happy from the five minutes I talked to him and he kind of glowed extra when he spoke of his wife. The point of this is that it gave me hope. Because I was all, "I am a messed up human being who can't see past the man that doesn't want her and can't move on boo hoo hoo ect." And then that man had a completely different energy about him. Nothing about him reminded me in the least bit of Jeremy and I was interested. So maybe I'm not broken. Maybe I just need to think of it as not finding someone "as good" as him but rather, just someone different. No comparison. Just different.

I am SO impatient. One would think that all the waiting I have had to do in my lifetime would teach me endless patience. No. Not at all. Maybe God keeps trying to teach me patience and I just keep not learning it. I am am patient with people. Slow to anger. Not easily aggravated. Pretty quick to forgive. But I am completely and totally impatient for waiting. Even when I can see the reason. NOW. NOW. NOW!

It must be boring for you to watch me repeat myself time and again, but I would implore you to imagine how it is to feel the same thing over and over again. Like being on that carnival ride, The Scrambler. Getting thrown towards the same faces in the crowd in a series of jerks. One. Two. Three. Four. One. Two. Three. Four.

I have nothing new to add. No new insights to add. Tell me other people feel this way.

Because I am a whole, healthy person. I don't need someone else to make me happy. I AM happy. I'm freakin joyful. I have many good friends and I feel content most of the time. But I am curious and lonely and impatient in a way that no social time fulfills. I don't need a man to complete me. I don't need my "other half", but I really want a partner. A teammate. My Person. I might have this completely unrealistic idea about what it is like to be with another person, but I'm completely ready to try. Correct me, please.

In other news, (it's 9:42) I have/had plans with different people every night of the week. I feel popular.

Sunday - visiting and smoothies with Jaylene
Monday - DDR with Jaylene, Dennis, Katy, and Paul
Tuesday - gym, chipotle, smoothies with Ashley
Wednesay - movie night with Sarah R.
Thursady - lunch with Christine, dinner with Sarah M.
Friday - birthday celebration with Nika and co.
Saturday - something as yet decided with Johnna
Sunday - hanging out with Jeremy

Being social makes me feel good. I just wish it was summer so the list could include more things like hiking, biking, walking, swimming and less food and sitting around. Maybe I can work some more dancing and gym time in there somewhere. Gym is pretty much a given between work and social time, but if people join me it is so much better.

There is something delicious about the way the keys feel when I type fast.

This week I made lists for several of my friends just about the things I like about them. They seem to like that. It helps me pay attention to why I like people instead of just assuming everyone is excellent. If I can' t make a list, maybe there is a problem. And I have a really horrible time seeing the way other people see me. I don't want anyone else to wonder how I feel about them. I want to be open and affirming and honest. I want the people I love to know not only that I love them, but why. That it is not just some arbitrary thing given after a certain period of time. It is because of all the wonderful things they are, what we are together, and how they make me feel to be around them. "I love you" isn't enough. I can't find words enough. I make lists. I spend time with them. I hug them and tell them nice things and listen to stories and show up even when I maybe don't want to. I wonder if anyone ever really understands how another person feels. "I love you" seems diluted to me.

I think I will really go to bed now. Being sick for almost three weeks (so far) makes a person tired. Or maybe it is the social schedule? Either way, I'm beat!

Monday, February 22, 2010

The snow is melting. It seems "warm". I can't wait to ride my bicycle. I can't wait to hike in the summer sun. I can't wait to see light at 8pm. I feel hopeful.

It is STILL February.

Sunday, February 21, 2010

These feelings won't go away. They've been knocking me sideways.


That is my, "I'm overwhelmed" sound. Ahh! Because I have all these feelings and thoughts and I can't work through them and I don't know how to talk about them.

I just got home from a trip to the comedy club with a few of my friends. I was the DD. That was just fine because 1.) I'm sick and don't need to be drinking. 2.) I wouldn't even drive home from our central location if I did drink. And most importantly 3.) I don't need to be drinking around Jeremy, especially when he is drinking.

Lets talk about 3.

Jeremy gets really friendly when he drinks. I mean, friendlier than normal. New Years Eve being the perfect example. And I get really, really honest. And the honest part of me wants to touch that man even if the rational part of me says that would be something like driving during a level 3 snow emergency (Sorry, using current experiences here.) Sure, everything might turn out okay, but that is a dangerous, dangerous risk to take. I am adventurous but some part of me still longs for safety.

Even so. It is very hard. Harder than it used to be. Harder than I thought it would be.

So many things I never expected to happen keep happening.

Like this look I keep occasionally seeing in mens eyes. I think it is interest, though I can't be sure. And I don't know what to do with that. And when I went on that first date last weekend and he held my hand and traced invisible patterns on my arms I thought I would just die right there. I have no idea what was happening in the movie. My whole being was focused on the fingers roving over my skin.

I've never had that kind of attention before. It was nice. Very nice. But strange and overwhelming and it made me feel ridiculous because don't most normal people go through these experiences in middle school? High school? Not being 23 years old and holding hands during a movie for the first time ever.

But I'm not healthy. Because when I looked at that man, everything wrong with him was that he wasn't Jeremy. It isn't fair to hold hands with a person and wish he was someone else. My mind knows that I need to move on. My heart hasn't figured out how to yet.

I tried disconnecting myself. Don't talk to me for a few days, I told him. And I didn't hang out with him. But the days felt so long. I missed him. Even when he pissed me off. Even when he didn't understand why I was angry. And now it feels back to normal. Back before things got all complicated. Back when he was my favorite person.

But it isn't right that I can't see other guys. I look at them and I just don't care. If he doesn't want me, I should learn to want someone else. But I haven't figured that part out yet.

I think things like: This guy isn't very masculine. Isn't very strong. Jeremy is strong. He is manly and dangerous and muscley. This guy isn't interesting. Jeremy is so captivating with his stories and his little dances and songs and the way he pushes my buttons and the way he looks when he is angry. This guy is so nice, it can't be real. Jeremy would pick at me and make fun of me just to talk his way out of it and he would say exactly what he was thinking even if it isn't politically correct and then when it IS nice it means so much more.

I could keep going. Not healthy.

And then there is this new thing. I think last weekend some kind of flip was switched inside of me and now this new part of me is alive when before I only suspected its existence. And what I cannot say is that this new part of me wants to focus on him too.

Before, way back when, I didn't have any idea what it felt like to be physically attracted to a person. I was too scared. Too removed. Then I learned those feelings. Before, I didn't know what it was to have someone physically attracted to me. Then I learned those feelings.

I have some processing to do. Because it is awful to sit next to my best friend and want to move closer, knowing that isn't what he wants. But even more awful would be to lose my best friend.

So many, many things to learn. I have no idea if I even made my point. It is late and I should go to bed.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Looking for "The One."

On some other site about two years ago I was talking about looking for "The one." My person. The man I would spend my life with. And it was before my weight loss. In that post I had decided to wait until after my weight loss to really start hoping to find him. I knew I was overweight and unattractive and that people aren't generally attracted to obese women. I knew that.

Today, someone left a comment on that post. I don't understand why they were reviewing material that old, especially because they are a stranger to me but they said,

"Okay i'm going to be EXTREMLEY honast with you. I don't think you should be waiting for a guy to come along...because it ain't going to happen it only happens to real beauties. I know i sound like a bitch but i really think you should stop waiting for mr prince charming because not even the really pretty girls does it happen. Your not that young i hope when i'm 21 i'm dating alotttt not waiting for the one."

There are so many things I want to say to this. I won't. Okay, maybe I will.

First of all, many people find their mate in life, even the ones that aren't real beauties. It isn't about finding someone perfect and gorgeous and flawless. It is about finding the person that fits you. That makes your life happier just for being it. I'm not a "real beauty" but I believe I'll find the man that thinks I'm beautiful. And I'll think he is so handsome. Even if everyone else does not agree.

Second, dating "alotttt" does not increase your chances of finding your mate any more than patience and having an open mind and heart. That just increases your chances of getting your heart broken, accumulating baggages, and losing innocence. I've had enough of that already, thank you very much.

Finally, or maybe finally, I actually AM that young. I don't think my idea of my perfect mate in life at 18 is anything like the same idea now. I've changed. I believe patience is a lesson I've been learning my entire life. I thought that was because I keep not learning it, but now I see I AM patient. I know how to wait, even if I don't enjoy it.

But, what do I care about what some young girl says? She can't even spell. Doesn't even understand how to properly execute the English language. She thinks 21 is old.

What do you think about all of this?

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

I like stuff, don't you?

I got a little netbook. I like it very much. I appreciate the way it feels to be able to take my computer with me. It feels a little bit like taking a piece of home out with me. Plus, it's cute. That is the most important part, right?

Those weeks when we didn't have power at home, I didn't have my computer. My desktop. I couldn't do the things I normally do like check my bank account, pay my bills, check my email, write, or just look at facebook. It made me feel disconnected. I could use other peoples computers, but it was very much like borrowing someone else's phone. I live in a society where nearly everyone has their own. It is strange to me to use someone else's computer.

But now I have mine.

I know it is just a thing, just a piece of technology. Just a THING, but it makes me feel more secure. And I like that.

Now I'm trying to watch my first netflix movie on it. The most trying thing seems to be transferring my music over to this cute little thing. I have a lot of music.

I wish I could tell you the stuff going on in my life these last few days, but I can't. Oh well.

Monday, February 15, 2010

It is going to be okay, really.

We did it. I thought we wouldn't make it, but we did. It was almost certain that things would never be okay again, and they are. It felt like everything important to me in the world shattered and I would never learn to put myself back together, and here I am.

Shall we celebrate? Do we wrap our arms around one another and dance? Do we make up a song and sing along merrily? Or do we pretend it never happened? We go on like we never ever fell down?

I made it. Even through the trials that ripped you away from me. Even though pieces of myself were lost along the way. I survived. Though the person I am now is a stranger to that girl back then. I am better now.

Loss, heartache, trials, mistakes, and injury have taught me much. Sometimes it seems as though there will never be enough light again. The wounds will never heal. Life cannot proceed in any kind of acceptable manner ever again. But those are things you feel in the moment. Life does go on. And those horrible times can be the ones that make us stronger, kinder, better. Or they can break us. And I think we get to choose.

But I made it this far. And I'm sure I'll have times when I cannot see a way out. I'll try to remember then what I know now:

It is going to be okay, really.

Monday, February 08, 2010

Jaylene and Dennis made me laugh until it hurt.

I really think my happiness is greatly affected by my social life. I am happier when I've spent time with people I like, who seem to like me. I feel more connected to the world when I feel connected to just one person for just a little while. Sad days for me are the ones I spend alone. Even un-initiated text messages from a friend is enough to make me feel better.

It doesn't matter if I have debt. It doesn't matter if my career isn't satisfying. It doesn't matter if my home life is terrible. It doesn't matter if I'm not satisfied with my weight. If I have people around that love me and spend time with me, I can find happiness every single day.

So Friday was so terrible I wasn't sure I would be okay. It was the hardest thing I had tried to do alone in a long, long time. And it was so hard that it had physical ramifications. I stressed so much I actually hurt myself. But then there was this outpouring of love and support from my friends and family that made me realize that I don't have to do it alone, if only I can learn to trust people enough to need them.

And that is a lesson that will take me some time to learn. Because sometimes the people I decide to trust and need turn out to be the ones that hurt me the most. But we can't find love without risking our hearts. And the closer a person is to us, the easier they can inflict damage. But who wants to keep everyone at arms length? That would make for some terrible, terrible hugs.

Sunday, February 07, 2010

I am doomed to repeat the same pattern.

I am going to use this time to talk about whatever I want until I feel done. You know, like usual.

Last night I fell asleep with my clothes on at an obscenely early hour. I think I'm getting sick. Or rather, some little organism of some sort is attempting to do horrible things to my bodily functions and my immune system is already hard at work battling said organism. I won't feel the symptoms. It will be a thing that almost happened.

I want to get one of those cute little netbooks. Right now I have a desktop and it becomes nothing more than a thing collecting dust each time I can't come home. Parts of my life start unraveling around the edges when I can't pay or view my bills or check the status of my bank account. I have become entirely dependent on the internet. Oops.

Friday I had to take my mom to the emergency room. The short of it is that she overdosed on methadone and was released the next morning. The long of it is much, much longer. I can't tell it all, but I'll tell some of it. I was there all by myself at the hospital for so many hours. I couldn't tell the doctors what she had taken, how much, or when. I couldn't tell them anything. I didn't know. And I felt so alone. My brother and dad should have been there with me, but they had other "more important" things to do. I was falling apart. I cried and tried to hide it when the doctors came into the room. I was scared and angry. So angry.

Jeremy was the first to answer my texts. It was like a vent releasing the pressure building up inside of me. Relief. He let me come over after I left the hospital. He let me tell him all about how awful it was. He was great. My other friends did text me back after him. Let me know that there were many people around me ready to listen, ready to help.

The tears and the stress and the anger gave me a headache that pulsed in time with my heartbeat. I tried to stay calm. To make it go away by sheer force of will. But no. It got so bad I couldn't read my book. I couldn't eat. I thought I would throw up from the pain of it. And every time I stood up it somehow increased in magnitude until breathing was all I could think of. I left the hospital then. My mother was out of it. My family didn't seem to care enough. The doctors assured me she would be okay, they were watching her. I left.

It had started snowing outside. I pulled my hood around my face and bent in on myself in an attempt to keep the blowing snow from my face. It was already accumulating on the roads. The drive was slow and white and scary. I lost control of my car and spun around in a circle, coming to a stop too close to a car and a mailbox. Close, but not touching. I wanted so much to be done with the drive and I had to crawl along. Another stretch of lonliness. Another stretch of fear.

Yesterday I was happy. Just the difference between the horrors of Friday and the relative routine of Saturday were enough to make me feel grateful. Safe. Happy. Relieved. The problems aren't gone, of course, but I don't normally hold on to bad feelings for long.

I think I'm done talking for now. I would very much like this to be a day where I stay in comfortable clothes and maybe cook something hot and delicious and hide in my house from the cold and the people. I don't want to talk anymore. I just want to be.

Thursday, February 04, 2010

Sleep is for GIRLS!

My parents were high on something or other last night. They got their income tax return so I assume it will be this way until the money runs out. Mom passed out on the toilet. Dad yelled at her from the other side of the house till she eventually ended up on part of the bed. I found her at an awkward angle, almost as if she had sat on the edge of the bed and fell asleep mid-fall. Her legs were completely off the bed and her head was bent back much, much too far. Speaking to her produced only mumbles replies and feeble attempts to move. I grabbed her legs and swung her around into the bed.

Dad was more difficult. His glazed eyes were focused on measuring the dimensions of the fridge for reasons he never shared. I couldn't induce him to leave the kitchen. He had important stuff to do he kept telling me. Eventually I gave up and went to bed. At 2:30am I woke to find all the lights in the house on. Dad was sitting at the kitchen table, asleep with his face in his ashtray. After ten minutes of coaxing, I got him in his bed too.

At 4:30am his alarm for work went off for an hour. Mom woke up eventually and started screaming at him to go to work. This continued until the present time.

Good morning world.