On a happier note

If you recall January, I couldn't even get off the couch to do... anything. Eat, do laundry, talk to people. It is such a relief to be me again. It turns out I'm still here! The silly, slightly cynical, unique me is still here under all that depression and I can be productive! Not all the time, mind you. It was quite the battle to get some stuff done today and I still have things to do. Every day is still a battle not to fall back into depression but it's 3 million times easier than it was. Already today I've been to the gym, ate, cleaned the shower, put a bunch of laundry away, unpacked from a trip I took last week, made a playlist on youtube, and several other things that months ago I would have had to dig deeeeeep for the ability to attempt. I can't even count the gold stars.

Now it's off to the tailor and the grocery store before a good meal with protein, and evening walk, and some time to read. If only every day could be this good (sigh, work.)

Go, Katie! You can do it!

I must be careful not to be seen as I cross the parking lot from the drugstore to the alley where I'll duck in the back door to work. Once there, I'm happy to share my loot but as I dodge fashionable moms, grad students, and Jewish grandmas I'm glad that I changed my mind and got a bag to carry my purchase. It's one thing for a skinny chick to be seen carrying Oreos and milk. Even other skinny people think something along the lines of, "Gawd, I bet she can eat anything. Ugh, look at her and her stupid skinny legs." It's quite another for the fat chick to carry the Oreos. It's like a greedy little Gus the mouse in Cinderella trying to carry too much corn-- only not so cute. Even the other fat people look at her disgustedly thinking, "Doesn't she know how she got that way?"

Yup, I know I how I got that way. Instant gratification. I want milk and Oreos. I want it now. I want it more than I believe I can be skinny in 6 months, so snack time wins. Actually, it was lunch, but whatever. A meal by any other name...

Of course, there's a million and one ways I got this way. When I was 10, my metabolism got all freaked out because I nearly died. I hate exercise and always have. My knees are bad. I have fibromyalgia. I have no discipline, I have low frustration tolerance, and I cannot, for the life of me, actually see how I will be skinny in a few months unless I change everything. And I can't change everything. So I eat Oreos and hope my boyfriend still loves me and hope that I still love myself.

I wish a doctor would tell me that I have to change. But so far none have. Doctors have gone really soft these days. My last doctor visit was to a neurologist for migraines. She gave me a list of medications and told me that I should choose a couple and let her know what I wanted to take. Since when, I ask, am I the doctor? What do I pay her for? The problem with the weight/eating issue is that I can't tell a doctor to tell me what to do or I won't feel like they really have that authority over me.

In the meantime, I will probably continue to be consistently inconsistent at the gym, embarrassed to be seen in public, and will eventually look back at myself at this time and wonder how I was ever this skinny. How depressing.

Bullet Point Blogging

10:30, Wednesday night. I'd love to go for a walk, but I don't have a big dog. Or a boyfriend. Or a pocket knife. Even the flashlight on my keyring broke.

I don't know if I can make sense of all the things I want to say today.
Maybe bullet points would be better.

• I have reached the level of weight gain where I am embarrassed to be seen walking down the street.
• I had to be No More Mr. Nice Katie (Ms. just doesn't sound the same) at work today when a coworker decided she wasn't coming to work.
• Someone told me today that I only like boys who are just out of reach. I'm afraid that she is right.
• My first boyfriend is engaged. I don't know why this has any effect on me whatsoever.

If I were not so extremely tired (and did not have benadryl in my system) I would elaborate on these things. It is not to be.
Goodnight.

Use it up, Wear it Out, Make it Do, or Do Without

Unfortunately, this is a different age. This is not the age my grandfather,the hoarder, grew up in. I do not want to keep using my laundry bag with the large hole and pokey-out wire. I will, but I grudge it. I do not want to use my dirty, holey tennis shoes. Well, I don't use them, actually, since I don't go to the gym. So never mind. I do not want to wear the sweatshirt that is uncomfortable at the collar and has a stain on it and isn't flattering. Ah ha! Pay-dirt.

Early in my life I had to wear hand-me-downs. Cheap is what mattered, not style or comfort. Then I got into comfort and I was always in trouble for lack of style. Baggy sweatshirts did not impress my mom. Why don't you wear something more flattering? Of course, now that my body is not-so-little I wish I had taken advantage of it, but I thought I was covering up my "fat" as it was back then. And as soon as I wanted style I could not afford it, my body would not allow it, and it turned out that style, comfort, and affordability were long estranged friends or, rather, sworn enemies.

Use it up? I'm trying to think of something I wouldn't normally use up but now do because it's uneconomical not to. I suppose I use stale flour, but that's only because you can't really get fresh flour in this humid state. OH and I definitely used some not super-fresh eggs in a cake recently. And as long as we're actually supposed to be talking about style here, I definitely use makeup products longer than I probably should because I can't afford them. It's too bad, too, since makeup and accessories are the only flattering things left to me.

Wear it out? My socks have holes in them that, in a previous life, would have had my mother tossing them in the garbage. My underwear has strings of elastic hanging pathetically by my thighs as if to beg the question: which has lost more youthful tautness and sex appeal?

Make it do? I stopped buying expensive Nordstrom bras and Target was getting me by for a while. Lately, though, my shirt is all kinds of not-human shapes in that general area and I spend half my day discreetly or not-so-discreetly yanking the straps back onto my shoulders. I blame the notcheap, notexpensive bra from the Gap. Oh, and my size and shape. Oh, and the fact that I have to wear one at all. Sure, I'm making it do. But it ain't perty.

Do Without. I don't even want to talk about it. I don't want to talk about what I do without that I shouldn't. I don't want to talk about what I should do without that I get anyway. I simply do not want to talk about it. The end.


I'm not going to be my grandfather. I will not save the rings from around the cap on the milk jug. I will not wash ziplock bags or flatten foil so they can be used again. (I think that means I will also not be my father.) I am not going to save the condiment packages from the restaurant so that I can save on groceries. My life is already run by this thing, whatever it is, in too many ways big and small.

I'm not saying that these are not good things to live by. I'm simply saying that I would like to be skinny and have money to buy things to dress my skinny self and not have to worry about saving milk-jug rings.

Not that I have any milk.

Everything Starts in the Middle

Whichever it is, or whichever one wins out... All I can say is that I think last time I felt this way I moved to California. Sigh. Oh, please, please don't let it be anything like that. I don't really have the energy to do anything big right now. Sure, part of me wants to be open to whatever God is up to and sure, he had to drag me half-way 'round the world to beat it into my head that he was gonna have his way. But... But... Sigh.

I feel like it's 2 in the morning and it's only 11:26 pm. I haven't eaten dinner (that is an entirely different discussion) unless you count the four Thin Mints and the five or so High Chew candies.

I feel like the week is never going to end and when it does it will only be the weekend for a brief flicker of glorious light. This weekend, in fact, will be eaten up by women's retreat at church, which by definition should be restorative but won't be.

Even as I write this incredibly imperfect post (and think that there must be a much better word, something literary and eloquent, something like "dithyramb,") I think of how much else there is write and how I shouldn't post this because I haven't written the other things. But I am learning: Everything starts in the middle.
That will be the title for this post EVEN THOUGH I would rather use the title for some other, better piece. Ah, dear.

Finally getting sleepy. Another night on the couch, where it is ever-so-slightly cooler.
Here's to tomorrow, the almost almost middle of the week.

Should

I've found life to be a bit overwhelming as of late. The other day my friend called and found me crying. I hung up rather quickly and wrote him this email trying to explain what was going on.


Hey Friend,

In order to not be crying while I tell you all of this, I thought I would just email you.

I'm just, as usual, totally overwhelmed with my life. With my pain, I don't know what is too much activity, when to go home from work because I don't want to be the girl that goes home and I don't want to be the whiner who stays at work and I don't want to be the girl who stays at work through the pain and then grudges the people who go home with a cold.

I don't know when or how to ask for help. I don't want to be needy (you've heard this from me before). For instance, one thing I often need is a massage. That is a particularly hard thing to ask for as some people are just plain bad at it, but more importantly, sure everyone wants a massage.

I feel like if I skip things, I'm skipping because I can, not necessarily because I should. Sometimes I don't know my own motivation. Because I am not practiced in taking care of myself? I don't know. Even the phrase "taking care of myself" feels loaded and selfish. Sorry, I can't, I have to take care of myself. It makes me feel like people are resenting me just sitting on the couch, curled up under a blanket. Maybe I resent myself. Maybe at those times I feel like I could do more. I probably could, but what should I do? I have no idea. *

And there are so MANY shoulds in my life. It is a wall. I should go to the gym. I should eat vegetables. I should drink a lot of water. I should keep better track of my finances. I should tithe regularly. I should read my Bible every day. I should work in a soup kitchen. I should go on a mission trip. I should trust God. I should reach out. I should read more. I should not buy so much. I should not have so many books. I should floss every day. I should be more private. I should play guitar. I should play piano. I should think I'm smart. I should love better. I should be more like Jesus. I should weigh less. I should do my physical therapy. I should change my eating habits completely. I should have a better vocabulary. I should journal more. I should write poetry. I should go to bed. I should use my CPAP. I should be on time to work. I should use less sarcasm. I should figure out how to get married. I should give that up and let God figure it out. I should learn more about my camera. I should back up my photos. (Are you getting the idea?)

I should delete some email.

I should keep in touch with people.

I should visit some places.

I should save better so I can travel the world, or even just visit a few friends.

I should take lunch instead of buying it.

Okay, I'm stopping.

And in the mean time, I wonder how on earth anyone will ever want to be with this person when she cannot even figure out how to deal with life? I'm 28-freakin-years-old and cannot manage my own life. Thus counseling, etc. But still. How am I supposed to find someone that's not terrified by that? First they have to not be bored by me and then they have to not be overwhelmed? And all by meeting me online? What are the chances of that?!?!

I've enjoyed the last few weeks of a slower pace. No rehearsal, no small group, no teaching, no YAF, no counseling, no community group... man, it's been great. But if I were to give something up, how would I choose? There's no way. Anything I give up, I give up community. And I'm just too relational to do that. It's hard enough to think about the relationships I'm not building, but to give up continuing to build the ones I have... I can't even think about it.

And so I cry. I'm overwhelmed by sickness and life and relationships.

All there is to do is take it one second at a time and hope I get to the next sleeping time. Which I will do soon. Unfortunately it leads to a waking time. Alas.

There you go.

Also, men are stupid.
That is 70% of it. And my life being overwhelming is 87% of it. I'm aware that doesn't add up. The heart disregards math, which I appreciate since I think math is difficult.



*post script written at the time of this blog post
Am I just being lazy? If I'm going to go somewhere do I also have to put out the effort to be helpful and social? If I'm going to a friend's house can I arrive and hunker down instead or should I have just stayed home?