There’s always been a battle within my brain.
No matter what I do, I feel that it’s never enough, or never good enough.
Not only that, I don’t do it correctly in the first place. The way I’m doing something is wrong. There are better ways. It’s not fast enough. And on, and on.
There’s no easy answer, and it never seems to end.
And it’s very tiring.
I’m bravest when I realize that I’m the only one affected by my decisions.
I’m brave when I know that if I don’t talk something out, it will fester over time and get worse. When I know that something will continue to hurt me or bother me until it is resolved.
I’m most brave when I know that my husband stands beside me and supports me.
The rest of the time I’m a wuss.
Whenever I remember my mother, I remember how much she loved me.
She scrimped and saved to be able to buy me Christmas presents that I had asked for. When she couldn’t find a ballerina doll for me (either because they were all sold out, or she couldn’t afford one), she bought a baby doll, and stayed up late making a tutu and ballet shoes for her. I loved her!
She would “borrow” my dolls after I went to bed, and sew clothes for them to give me for Christmas. She made sure we always had food on the table, and when I was older, often made me dresses or blouses. In those days, minis were common, and she made my skirts fashionably short. She made me an organizer to hang in my locker, and she sewed a rag doll for me.
We shared a birthday, and each one was spent celebrating together.
She’s been gone over twenty-five years, and I miss her every day.
Around me now are the reminders of my happy life.
There are cat toys scattered everywhere – moved there by happy young cats who are warm and loved and well fed.
I have my crocheting, and bags and bags of yarn to make more.
I have my books – enough to read for many lifetimes.
There is my husband’s easy chair – where he sits when we watch tv together, or just talk.
There is the window looking out on our back deck – I can see squirrels running in the grass, and hear birds stealing cat kibble that has been put out for the strays.
It’s a good life.
I feel purposeful when I am making or doing something useful.
That’s why I spend so much of my time crocheting beds for cat shelters. As long as I am doing something that benefits someone/something else, then I feel my time is not totally wasted.
That is also why I feel guilty when I’m taking time for myself.
There is also the issue of having a goal. As long as there is a goal, there is a purpose. With no goal, it feels as if I am just wandering through life.
Last year I was 26 pounds heavier than I am today.
Weight creeps up over a long period of time. It’s so insidious, because some of the changes are minute. The straw that broke the camel’s back for me, however, was when I could no longer wear my largest rings. Something had to be done.
That something turned out to be Weight Watchers. I started in February, and as of yesterday I lost 26 pounds.
It hasn’t always been easy. Some days I feel hungry all the time. I miss some foods a lot. And I’ve eaten more fruit in the last few months than in the previous 20 years of my life.
But I feel better. I generally sleep better (except when I’m coughing from a cold). My blood sugar has decreased a bit, as have my cholesterol and my blood pressure.
Only time will tell how much I will ultimately lose, and how successfully I can keep it off. Bit for now, I’m pretty happy with how this journey is unfolding.
If I were to write my biography, it would be very tough going.
After all, I would want to include all the formative events. And yet, who can be sure just which ones, exactly, these are?
Every action taken, every decision made, colours who you become as a result. It would be nice to think that I was destined to become a decent human being, but what would have changed if I had done anything differently?
What if I hadn’t been married at 19? Would I have met my current husband? Would I have had children at some point?
There are too many factors, and too many details. And, frankly, most of them are really boring.
So – nope – no biography from me.