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I'm not without a pang of guilt when I consider posting a spate of personal "ish" when the world is careening on her tilted axis toward inevitable chaos. But Xer that I be - spending my formative years wondering if at any given point I'd be nuked to death, sitting in the car in line at the gas station, eating liver once a week because it was 27c a container - not my first pony, not my first ride. There are two threads holding all this paunch in place today. Accountability, and honesty. In other words: I own all the personal ish. And I really struggle - not because I'm restricted - but because I'm kinda lazy. I'm back to making my own meals daily - as it was when I was younger and I resent it. I resent the restrictions and I resent the investment of time and money it takes to comply. I pay my bills, I do my job, I try to be a decent human. Now this? And here's the real ishy ish. I don't have to do any of it. I could drive through at Taco Bell and chuck all the supplements in the toilet. I could gain back the 20lbs. I could start falling asleep in the middle of the day again. I could puff up like roadkill. Or I could keep on hammering this rock until the health issues that will kill me slowly if left untreated fall like so much dust at my feet. And then I can kill the next monster. I'm sure I'm still going to vent but the truth is - I've been throwing tantrums - begging for miracles like a spoiled toddler. This my friends is the long game. No tapping out. No cheating. I'm in for the duration. I'm still gonna want to drive through Taco Bell, y'all. But today I have more peace about my sitch. - end diatribe.
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My elder spawn calls it "having big feelings." When he was a little guy he would say "I'm having a bad mood day." Yep. I've been told by my doc of the moment that she can only get me "halfway there" without the OSA being addressed. While I wait for my appointment to be scheduled I was advised to find my vintage Darthomatic as I could have it tested during the appointment and use it in the interim while waiting for a new CPAP. A basement flood, a married couple setting up house, and six years of shuffling resulted in the disappearance of said Darthomatic. While I'm qualified for a new face sucking mechanical disaster - there is currently a shortage of CPAP machines. Of course there is. IDK. I may have chucked the thing in the trash myself. Guys and gals, I am seriously considering a puppy because I really crave the love right now and I am not feelin' it. I feel like I've been grounded from everything and the only way to get off the grounding is to take a whuppin'with the belt. And while I will no longer divulge details about my profession, work is imitating the personal sitch right now. I'm not sure bringing a puppy therefore to work would be feasible.
Feral outburst in 3…2…1: I don’t want to do this anymore. I feel like I’m clawing my way through quicksand. I’m on the struggle bus and it’s a short bus at that. Stress, menopause, and fat storage have created the trifecta of chronic health issues in my body and the more I shovel the more the manure keeps piling up. Three prescriptions – ten supplements, no dairy, no gluten, no peanuts, low carb, no oatmeal, no noodles, fruit restrictions – and now the dreaded Darthomatic and I must partner again. I LOATHED the CPAP machine with a fire and fury equivalent to a metric ton of NAPALM. The absolute last thing I want is to deal with a nightly face sucking, air blowing machine from the third level of HELL. Hear my heart. I know it could be worse. But my inner toddler is face down, limbs flailing and screaming please, when is it going to get better? And today? If all this is my indefinite future – militantly hawking every single thing that goes on my plate – downing a plethora of pills and literally sleeping with the enemy – with minimal real change in my girth or my mood what is the point? End Tantrum.
I’m compliant. I’m disciplined. But I’m also disillusioned. And I’m momentarily struggling to get over myself when myself is the freaking problem. I need a good cry, a two-minute hug, and a chat over tea with someone who really loves me. Instead, I’ll be taking a trip to the basement to exhume the Darthomatic and binge watching Fresh off the Boat. Peace. Tomorrow will be a better day |
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January 2023
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