Wednesday, October 19, 2011
I've begun having an affair, and I can tell you nobody is more surprised than I am. It kind of came out of nowhere, but it was born out of the unhappiness that has been my life for so long.
I finally found somebody who accepts and loves me as I am, flaws and all, but who also wants nothing but the best for me, even if that means that I feel I need to make improvements in my life. This person enjoys my company, likes my strength, and most important, puts me first.
I've been spending a lot of time with my new lover, and I haven't looked back. If anything, this new relationship just shines a big old spotlight on everything that's wrong with my marriage.
Typically I would say that one would be making a huge mistake, taking up with somebody new before the old relationship is over. However, my new affair is not what you think. My new lover is myself. For probably the first time in my life, I have come to not only accept and like myself, but to begin caring enough to do whatever it takes to protect the me that's still there under all the crap that's been heaped upon her. Part of that new affair means allowing my "lover" to protect me and serve as a distraction from those who seek to hurt or bring me down. The other part is to enjoy spending time with myself, pampering myself, and distancing myself from ugly.
This means that I'm not wallowing. Heck, I have to feel something to wallow, and for the most part, I have shut down completely. However, I have been very diligent with my workouts, and I have not turned to my old nemesis, ice cream. I've been staying pretty good on plan, and my weight has not been fluctuating at all, which is truly amazing, but it's also further empowering. I'm finally taking charge.
I wish each and every one of you an affair of your own. It's a pretty cool place to be.
Posted by Beth at 10:21 PM
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Well, I'm on the verge of never setting foot inside a woman's store ever again. Yesterday I went shopping and gladly forked over $300 for some new clothes as my 18s are too big. I am now solidly in 16s, y'all! I can't tell you how exiciting that is! Since my banded journey, I have not been here.
And the best part? I specifically bought NOTHING in black. Well, except for the bitchin' sassy little lace-up heeled booties I got, but not a stitch of clothing in black. The tops are all in jewel tones (thankfully those are back this season as I haven't seen them in a while -- it's been pastels for far too long), and the pants were bought in brown, navy, and a gorgeous soft amethyst color.
To boot, I bought two new bras that are now a 42 C instead of a 44 C -- a necessary evil I always hated more than anything as a fat chick because they made fat girl bras such that they pulled your girls apart and nearly had them under your frikken' armpits, OR they looked like torpedoes, OR the bras had like eight hooks on the back. It was truly mortifying.
I also went and bought some new "REAL" makeup from the department store instead of getting Covergirl or Maybelline from the drugstore. Then I got a cute little silver bracelet I saw in passing as I went through JC Penney.
To top it off, I went and got a new haircut. I've had short hair for a long time (not because I wouldn't LOVE to have long hair, but my hair has changed over the years to the point that it won't grow long AND when it does grow somewhat long-ish, it grows OUT, not DOWN), but yesterday I had her chop it into a sassy, spiky 'do, something I've never had the nerve to do before. My mom has always wanted me to, but I just didn't think I could rock it. Now I'm ready to be a more confident, fun person. And I figured, hey, if I hated it, it'll grow back, right? :)
Ah, yesterday was truly a celebration in weight loss, ladies, and it felt great. :)
Posted by Beth at 10:49 AM
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
This past few weeks have been a mind f*** in many ways -- excuse the language. I just can't think of any other way to put it. I've broken the fun house mirror that is my life, and I've chosen to quit looking at my realities head on instead of filtered through splayed fingers.
Two and a half weeks ago, I walked out on my husband. I had to come back the next day because I don't have anywhere to go long-term, and I just started a new job. It was just one thing too many, one time too often. Couple that with the fact that I've really been sticking to eating healthy and working out and getting stronger and feeling that I don't need to keep taking this anymore, and you can do the math.
Since that weekend when I walked out, I have completely checked out. I don't wear my wedding ring anymore. There are no "I love yous," no "good morning/good evening" when I come or go, no doing anything together, no sleeping in the same room. This isn't just an "I'm mad" moment, I'm totally and utterly checked out. I finally -- FINALLY -- believe I deserve better than what I've been getting. He's a miserable person, and the only way he seems to be able to function is to make others around him miserable. Even though he adopted and raised her, he didn't like my daughter. Well, she's been gone for seven years. He hated my parrot, and I sold her earlier this year. He always had negative comments to say about the dogs (not that the dogs are/were bad, just focused on negative stuff whether true or contrived), and one died last month and the other is a senior who has a heart condition. Which just leaves me. I realized that the day would come when I will be the SOLE focus of all his negativity.
Earlier this week is when the mind f*** began. I came to a huge realization. When I was married to my ex, who was physically violent, I walked on eggshells, watched what I said, what I did, over-thought things so that I could be prepared for any reaction, and lived in a constant state of upheaval because I was afraid of being beaten. I got fat and guaranteed no man would ever beat me or abuse me again (though in all fairness, I gained 90 percent of my weight while married to my current husband and didn't during the four years I was divorced). However, with my husband, I find myself walking on eggshells, watching what I say, what I do, over-thinking things so that I can be prepared for whatever reaction he will have, and I live in a constant state of upheaval because I'm trying so hard not to deal with his emotional mind screws. So, in reality, what's the difference between being physically beaten down and mentally so? I really and truly came to the realization that I'm living the same freaking life in so many ways that I was before, except that with the BEATINGS, I knew they would eventually end. That hit me like a ton of bricks -- not only that it's abusive in its own way, but that the protective barrier I put up (the weight) was really all for naught, wasn't it?
Add to that I've been watching Ruby on Netflix. They just uploaded the 2010 episodes. When I get past her drawn-out caterwauling when talking to others and her Ruby-isms (I mean, really? Hacky for happy??), some of the show has been very cathartic. One episode in particular was exceptionally so, which I watched on Sunday. It was a two-hour episode in which Ruby and some of her other heavy lady friends do a six-day intensive therapy/detox, and they really start getting into the different things that happened in their lives which helped contribute to their weight gain. A lot of those issues in my life are not new and, frankly, have been dealt with through therapy, but on the heels of what's happening right now, it hit pretty hard.
Anyway, I have an appointment tomorrow night with a therapist that my husband and I used to visit for couple's counseling. I told her that I have one foot out the door now and wanted to talk to her about that and also about my willingness to stay for 20 years and put up with what I now consider to be emotional abuse. She forewarned me that her focus is on helping couples stay together, but she's willing to speak with me for one or two sessions since she knows us and our history. This way I'm not starting fresh with somebody new who has never met him. This is no longer about working on US. It's now about working on ME, and that me will likely be without him. The fact is, he doesn't believe he has a problem; and unless or until somebody realizes that they DO have one, then all the therapy in the world will be nothing more than a huge waste of money. I can't fix him -- I can ONLY fix me. And "me" doesn't like being shit on anymore. "Me" finally feels that I deserve better, and "me" no longer feels grateful that some guy wants to be with me. "Me" NOW wants to see how great I can be to myself.
Posted by Beth at 5:55 PM