B-B-B Bennie, she’s a cat

Isn’t she adorable?

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Listen, smith of the heavens, what the poet asks

Morbid thought, I suppose, but I would love to have this performed at my funeral.  I don’t even remember how I came across this song, but I fell in love with it and have searched for the “perfect” version of it.  This is about as close as you can get.  I’m a big choir nerd from back in the day, and so I’m very sensitive to pitch and such things like that.

I went to urgent care yesterday, because my shoulder has been bothering me for a week or so, with pain going into my neck.  Just a muscle strain from sleeping in a weird position, but annoying nonetheless.  They gave me a shot in my ass, and sent me to CVS to pick up prescriptions for steroids and muscle relaxers.  So far, so…decent.  The pain isn’t completely gone, but I care less about it.  I think that’s really the whole deal with muscle relaxers (and pain killers, if they’re the good, strong type).  You just don’t care.  There’s pain? Meh, whatevs.

So my Sunday shall be spent watching various music videos on youtube, with a squirmy cat by my side.

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From the Pho restaurant

Well. Kinda soon, but in 2 months I’ll be well on my way!!!

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I’m down to your last cigarette

 

As part of the pre-surgery process, I have to quit smoking.  Yeah, yeah, I should’ve done it years ago.  Meh.  I like smoking.  If I didn’t have to quit, I wouldn’t.  But there are medical reasons, so as of yesterday, I am one week smoke-free.

It actually isn’t so bad, most of the time.  I don’t even think about it.  Unless I’m out at the bar.  There’s something about a beer and a smoke that is oh-so-satisfying.  But, I’m also not going out as much, and won’t be for a while after surgery, so, maybe that will get easier.

In the meantime, I’d still like a smoke.

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This is the story of a girl.

 

 

 

It’s been over 3 years since my last blog post.  I am in Texas.  I am working for my previous employer in California, remotely.  I am still happily married and we now have a cat.

So all is well, for the most part.

It’s funny, I looked back through some old posts and it’s the same ol’ bitching – I’m fat, waaah, waaah.  Oh, if ONLY I were as “fat” as I was then!  I am pushing maximum density these days, despite my efforts.  These efforts include Weight Watchers, Atkins, Noom, Modere, hypnotherapy, and more!  I hate how I look, sure.  But as I’m in my mid-40s now, it’s more than that.  My blood pressure is high, my cholesterol is high.  My feet swell if I stand or walk for too long.  My joints (back, hips and knees) ache constantly.

A few years ago, I was doing 5Ks.  Now, I’m as sedentary as they come.

Well, I’m doing something major about it.  I’m getting Gastric Sleeve Surgery.  I feel like an asshole saying it.  I feel like a dick blogging about it.  But that’s what I’ve decided to do.  I’m getting the surgery, following the rules, and getting healthy.  And I’m going to write about the process — the good, the bad; the ups and downs.  Because I think that will help ME in the long-run.

Still, I feel like a self-absorbed tool. Being all *look at me, look at me*

I know that some people will not agree with what I’m doing.  But in the end, I have to do what’s right for me.  All I can ask is that people wish me well during the surgery, and that I have an easy healing process.

Surgery is scheduled for 11/6.

 

 

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Thoughts right now

I’ve got a lot on my mind, so I guess I’m just going to dump it here.  I’m home alone on a Saturday night, which is both good and bad.  I’m used to it, I guess.  I miss having friends.  A lot of them have moved away, and others…well, I guess I’m just more of an acquaintance.  Out of sight out of mind, but happy to see me when they do.  Part of me blames myself.  My depression and anxiety have led me to isolate myself.  The thought of reaching out to others terrifies me. It’s paralyzing.

I have a job interview on Monday.  It’s for a part-time, seasonal retail job.  I’m nervous, yet not.  I haven’t interviewed in nearly 10 years, but having worked in HR/Staffing, I know what to do and what not to do.  The consensus (mom, hubz, etc.) is that it will be a good thing for me to get out of the house.  At least for a few hours a week.  I’ve been literally sitting on my ass for 2 months now.  Part of me is less stressed out, part of me is more stressed out.  I’m glad to be out of the work environment I was in (stressful!), but I feel like a slug here at home.  I sure as hell haven’t been productive.  No cleaning, no chores, no decluttering.  Well, not none, but very little.

I’m scared to work again.  I’m scared of not working.  I’m scared about our impending move.  What if I can’t find a job out there?  What if I get a job, but it’s not enough to pay my expenses?  Will my car get repo’ed or some shit like that?  These are the weird things that keep me up at night.

I’m currently obsessed with rose gold.  I love that hue.

I hate how fat I’ve gotten.  Overall, I’m attempting to eat better.  I’m still just eating too much.  I eat my feelings.  However, lately I’ll find myself walking to the fridge, looking for food, then I shut the door, saying, “I’m not hungry.  I’m just bored/sad/lonely/whatever.”  So that’s at least something.  I’m making smoothies with fruits and spinach, trying different types of salad blends, trying to eat less starchy foods (pasta, breads). Things like that.

Not sure what to do, though.  I can’t stick to extreme low-carbing. Putting foods in color-coded containers (a la the 21 day fix) isn’t working for me.  I can’t shove foods I don’t like down my throat, just for the sake of health.  I got burnt out on cottage cheese really quickly.  Cooked spinach makes me gag.  That sort of thing.

When I was back in Jersey, visiting my family. I came across pictures of me from 70 or 80 pounds ago.  Back when I was working out 2 hours a day, in the middle of the night, and fasting/purging. My brain knows that’s not the way to do things.  But my eyes, heart and psyche long to be a more reasonable weight. I’d say by any means necessary, but clearly, I’m not doing that.  I’m weak and have very little willpower.  Then I eat.  Then I get sad.  Then I eat.  The cycle is never ending.

I’m clearly at a low right now.  Everything seems to be on pause until the move, at least in my mind.  However, I do want to lose weight before moving to a region where it is hot and humid 90% of the time.  The last thing I want to be is more of a sweaty fat fuck than I already am.

I took a walk today.  I put on a facial mask. I put a deep conditioning treatment on my hair.  I’m doing these things that fall under the catagory of “self-care” because research has told me that these are good things to do. Some days I can barely stand to take a shower or brush my teeth.  So when I manage to do certain things – go out to run errands, take a walk, etc. – it’s like I want to give myself a gold start.  Atta girl!

The mini mart down the street has started selling diet ginger beer. I love it. It’s not beer; it’s like ginger ale.  So yummy and it settles my tummy.

My anxiety about driving has very little to do with actual driving, and more to do with parking.  We have a parking spot, but the angle of it causes horrible scraping to the underside of my car.  I got it checked out, and it’s not scraping anything important, just a cover for important parts. But the noise is so terrible.  And since I misjudged the angle one day and ended up hitting the car next to mine in the carport, I’d just rather not use the spot.  Which leaves me with street parking, which sucks in my neighborhood.  I’ve ended up just rarely leaving the house.  My husband helps and we run some errands together, him driving.  Or I save my errands to do all in one day. I hope that once we move, this anxiety issue will resolve itself. Just a few more months to deal with it.

We’re going to Sea World this week. I’ve never been, so I’m looking forward to it.  I like aquatic life. There’s a lot of controversy surrounding Sea World, but I try not to think about that. I try to think of the good things they do.

Maybe I should do brain-dump posts like this more often.  I mean, pretty much no one reads this.  It’s kind of like when I’m tweeting.  I can just throw my thoughts out there, and not burden anyone.  No one likes to hear the same blah-blah, complaining and whining all the time.

Typing is quicker than writing in a journal.  Plus my penmanship is shit.  I tend to get writer’s cramp really quick too. I guess because I’m just not used to physically writing anymore.  I mean, it’s so rare! Everything is done on computers.

I joined a Fantasy Football league.  I have no idea what I’m doing – I barely understand the game, let alone FF.  But it was a cheap buy in, and I do like going out to the bar to watch games – there’s usually a lot of people there and a fun atmosphere.  So I can ask questions and hopefully learn.

Even with the window open, it’s stuffy in the apartment tonight.  There’s very little breeze.  I’m so sweaty. Ew.

Tomorrow is a new day, I suppose.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Sorry (I ain’t sorry)…

WordPress informs me that it’s been over 2 years since my last post.  WordPress also saved my password for all this time.  Good thing, since I have no idea what it is.

Meanwhile, every other site is asking me to change/update/redo my password into some asdf145!*sQz bullshit.

Anyway, 2 years since my last post. Life got hectic.  Actually work got hectic.  Promotions and the addition of new responsibilities to the laundry list of things that I can/will/must do on a daily basis.  Life revolved around work.  Going to bed around the 7pm mark became the norm.  The dark closed in and the anxiety flew through the roof.  I don’t think words can accurately express how low I was.  How miserable.  Although, maybe words can, and I’m just so out of blogging/writing practice that the correct words escape me.

It’s been bad.  Really, really bad.  More and more meds added to the cocktail. Tried and failed attempts at talk therapy.

So I quit.  My job, that is.  I’m fortunate that my dad set up a (non-retirement) fund for me when I was BabyMer, and it’s just been sitting around, waiting.  To be used.  My guess is probably for a house, or for kids, ideally.  But that shit ain’t happening.  Not in this town, and not at my age, anyway.

I budgeted it out, and I’ve got several months before I HAVE to go back to work.  By that time, hopefully I’m fixed (as much as one can be fixed), and out of the hole. Right now I’m just trying to learn how to be Meredith again.  Not MeredithTheEmployee, but just me.  I don’t have hobbies, so I’m trying some out – coloring, reading, going for walks.  I kinda enjoy cooking, so I may work on that a bit.  And, of course, writing.

I have no idea who I am.  So I’m taking time to figure it out, I guess.  Or maybe I’m just going to be a lump on the couch, and get addicted to Days of our Lives.  I hope that’s not the case.  But I’m only 3 weeks into my life as an unemployed chick, so I’m trying not to put too much pressure on myself.  I don’t need to figure it out today.

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