When I wrote my last post, I was feeling out of sorts. Lots of changes going on, my friend, lots of changes… and from an individual whose main goal in life as a child/teen was “to be normal and stable” this is exactly the kind of thing which could send me into fits.
However, the opposite has happened. I don’t want to go into too much detail as I’m perpetually worried about getting in trouble by writing about job-related things. But… keeping that in mind, I’ve had a really good week. I’ve had things occur which have made me feel wonderful about myself and my accomplishments within my profession. People have come forward and said such wonderful things about me and I am forever in their debt.
Why? Not only have they given me a personal pick-me-up when my personal morale had hit an all-time low… but they’ve made me look at my current situation in a whole new light. I’m now seeing the positives of potentially leaving my current job for a new one. I’m seeing the potential for really great things to happen. I’m reminded by a post written by a blogging friend of mine. She was running a race with her husband and she had started to slow down and he asked “Are you ok?” She replied “Yes, but I’m going to run out of steam before the finish, I can’t keep this pace up.” And he replied… “But what if you can?”
And she did. She went on to finish having run the whole thing at a pace faster than she thought possible.
What if I really can have an improved work environment? What if I really can get a number of things I have on my mental checklist of “I wish I could’s”? What if leaving won’t find me miserable at a new job… but instead insanely happy? What if, by leaving, I open myself up to the opportunities I didn’t realize I had?
So, to those people who have lifted me up and said such wonderful things… Again, thank you so much. You’ve given me the boost I needed to change my emotional climate from fear to hope and excitement. Thank you so much.
Today was the day… the dreaded day of weigh in. I don’t remember the last time I’d stepped on the scale (ok that one time at the doctor’s office about six weeks or so ago and we all KNOW those “weigh heavy”).
I have been dreading this day for ages. I bought batteries the first week of January. I put the batteries in yesterday…. and I wasn’t even remotely tempted to step on the scale and see how much damage I’ve done in the past year.
And then this morning I really tried hard to forget about it. I’d showered, gotten half dressed, and was putting product in my hair when I realized I hadn’t weighed in. I nearly decided to put it off another day… until I realized I was making excuses…. LAME excuses. They were gems such as: Well maybe I want to weigh myself naked, and I already have pants on. Maybe I should wait until my period is over. And my personal favorite What if my tampon adds weight? Say what?
So I stepped on the scale and while I have only gained 8 lbs over my all time low of 170, I still cringe a bit at the number 178.
I’ve slid backwards and no matter what way I slice it, it is my fault. I can blame the accident and I can blame the way my body still hurts when I try to run, and I can blame any other thing out there but the truth of the matter is this is my fault. I let this happen.
And that is ok. I will survive and I will recover.
The best thing about today? Weighing myself has given me back my old mentality. I am once again someone who exercises. I am once again someone who has goals. I am once again holding myself accountable. And you know, the last time I did all those things… that was the last time I loved my body. See, it doesn’t matter that I still have a fat roll. It doesn’t matter that my nose is too big or that my thighs have dimples. What matters is that this is the body I’ve worked for. It is not the body that has “happened to me” which is how I felt all through high school, college and my 20s.
It’ll be nice to have that pride back.
Yeah, yeah…. so the name of the post isn’t all that original. Someone had to start this blog out and as I’m the person who created it, I’m thinking that duty falls upon me.
If you’re interested in figuring what in the world is happening around here, I recommend visiting the About page and then clicking on each of the names. There are three writers up in here. Three writers. Three personalities. Three different regions of the United States. Three different ages. (Ugh, I am the oldest by so many years I wish to cry and/or vomit. On the other hand, I can obviously hang with the younger crowd since these bitches love me so much. Side Note: Don’t let the word bitches offend you. Side Note: If it does offend you, then you’re likely better off leaving now. For real.)
It’s Sunday. Sunday is always a bit of a love/hate thing for me. Weekends can get lonely around here. I live in the smallest town which has absolutely zero things to do. When I say small, I mean small… 2600 people small. We have a Subway and a park and that’s it. While I hate the work week (something about HAVING to get up at a specified time), I do love my job and so it isn’t all bad.
What I’m actually not looking forward to this upcoming Monday (you know, tomorrow) is I’m weighing myself. The batteries in my scale have been dead for longer than I even care to admit. I’ve gained weight since the accident and it’s time to face the music. I’ll face it tomorrow. I’ll face it and then start kicking my own butt back into shape. I could act all fierce here right now and say something like “Oh, it’s no big deal… I’ve lost it before and I’ll lose it again” but I know that is crap. I know that the moment I see my weight I’ll cry and I’ll feel like crap and I’ll want to have a break down. But yeah, I’ve done it once and I can do it again. Yadda yadda.