Random thoughts on a Thursday evening

It's almost 3am and I am surrounded by my sweet kitties and the endless cat hair adorning my couch. It's part of the "crazy cat lady" lifestyle I adopted near 14 years ago. My beloved is asleep in the bedroom, having had a very long day at work. His snore is particularly strained tonight, which happens when he is exhausted. My poor bunny. 

The TV is on, showing the 2nd battle scene of whatever army movie my husband was watching before he went to bed. The remote control is hidden under one of my cats, not sure which one, so this is what we are watching. 

Seems apropo.

There's a certain kind of war going on within me tonight. My mind is racing, thinking about past friendships that have gone sour. Truth is, I have a hard time letting go, especially when I feel betrayed. This particular night I feel full. Not like, oh man I shouldn't have had that third taco full, but more like my soul is about to burst in the seams. I don't feel like crying, I feel like . . . punching. Not anybody in particularly.  I want to release this confusion, anger, betrayal, sadness, and shock from inside. This is where a punching bag or one of those punching dummy manequin things would be in order.

One day I'll get in to the specifics of these relationships. All of them female. All of them insecure. A similarity I thought connected us. But, what quickly came to light, is that this similarity was a farce, and that insecurity can exist as a toxic and dark energy. 

I sometimes blame myself. Why do I continuously attracted bitter and insecure women? Who can't be happy for you? Why are 2-faced and betray your word? Who will jump at the opportunity to kick you when you are down? Then try, in a heroic fashion, to zoom in and raise you up? Acting like they save the day?

Or the insecure spineless one, who is quick to throw you under a bus? It's not in my nature to ever do this, so when it happens to me, I feel like the wind was kicked out of my tummy, goosebumps invade my neck and cheeks, and a warm sensation overpowers my mood. It's devastating, embarrassing, and humiliating.

Let me be clear about something. I take full responsibility in my role in these relationships. I am not a victim who had a gun to her head. I participated in these songs and dances willingly. And I was no innocent party. 

The question is, why? Why this trend? Why do I participate? Why didn't I run for the hills the moment I sensed that dark energy? 

The truth is . . . I don't know.

At the same time, I have a group of wonderful friends who have maintained my faith in, well, friendships. This last year was especially difficult, and I really saw who my friends were. It's such a cliche but it's so true. In your time of need, your people will be there for you. 

I just need to take ownership of my involvement in this. I want it to end. Whatever cycle, pheromone or shitty luck that has allowed for these interactions has to stop. As I get older, I realize more and more it's not about quantity, but it is about quality. 

The interesting thing is that I have had quite a few females cross my path recently that want to be friends. Successful and positive women that I have met in classes, at my old job, in my building, etc. And I have this freakin guard up. I don't want to let anybody else in, anybody get too close. I'm sure they are lovely, but I don't trust myself, my judgment. My track record is basically poop.

I did accept an invite to go to an ax throwing event with some girls this Sunday. I don't know if that's a good idea, since I have the aim of a cross-eyed snail, but at the very least, there will be laughs. 

I really need to get some sleep. Blogging helps. I'm sorry if this is a total borefest :/ But it's my way of puking out these thoughts. How's that for a visual?

I don't want to end this on a negative, so here are some happy updates:

• I'm down 20 lbs
• My career is becoming a dream fulfilled
• I get to play with puppies every day
• My kitties are beating the odds and still alive and healthy
• I have some amazing people on my side. You know who you are <3

Ok, off to sleep I go. If I can only get this kitty off of me :)

I'm so tired of it (warning: very raw post)

Before I proceed, I want to warn you that I intent to go on full on rant mode. I need to let out whatever burden is on my shoulders that has made the last 2 weeks really difficult. It may not make much sense, but please forgive me for that. I just need to write it out.

It sucks not having the energy to do the dishes, or mop the kitchen floor. Or wash my hair. It's a burden to wake up in the morning and feel like icy boulders have made a home on your legs and chest, making it impossible to move. It's heartbreaking to look over at your sweet beloved who is still asleep and have to try and explain to him why today you won't be able to do the laundry. The guilt compares to carbon dioxide, slowly suffocating you, as you seek a respite in a your 5th rem cycle of the last 24 hours.

I fucking hate depression. I hate it. I have secretly wished for cancer, or some other debilitating disease, where there is more empathy or support. Less shame. More hand holding. More acceptance. More love.

So many people aren't kind to the mental illness card you are dealt. Shit, I am not even kind to myself a lot of the time. Every possible hateful look, feedback, or judgmental look I have received from friends, family, and colleagues during my 25 year fight with this floods my mind when I feel one of these overwhelmingly paralyzing bouts hitting:

• You're fucking lazy
• You are a liar
• You are dramatic
• Get over it
• Stop bitching
• Boo-hoo, you can't do the dishes. Big deal, I can't . . .
• People have to work harder than you to make ends meet and you can't even get out of bed
• You are a waste of a human
• You're victimize yourself
• I have it worse than you, Claudia
• You're crazy
• EYE ROLL, EYE ROLL, EYE ROLL

I am so tired of this life.

Please don't get me wrong. I have absolutely NO intent of harming myself or anything similar to that. I am just tired of these cards. Of this cycle. Of having so many dreams and goals and they being halted because I couldn't meet with a client, or because I didn't go to a gym class and wasted the money, or because I cancelled on dinner with a friend for the 10th time, or because the overwhelming waves hit me from the back, knocking the air and jovial outlook right out of me. Because I feel like I have wasted my life away on dreaming, and do not have it in me to accomplish my goals.

I'm tired of hating myself. Of looking in the mirror and judging the shit out of the girl looking back. 

I want to be "normal" and wake up at 9am and have coffee and read the news. I want to do laundry because I want to feel productive, not because I am one day away from wearing my bathing suit bottom and/or my prom dress. I want to clean my apartment because it's awesome coming in to a house that smells like pinesol and Clorox, not because I am hosting a dinner for friends and need to keep a facade of "I have it all figured out".

I want to go to the gym because I know it will help, not because I want to look good in some dress I wore 8 years ago.

When somebody asks me what's wrong, I want desperately, DESPERATELY, to have an answer. And most of the time, I don't. It's just because I have a chemical imbalance in my fucking brain. It's because my serotonin has the attention span of a kitten. It's because these were the fucking cards I was dealt.

I often think what my life would be like if I didn't have depression. And it hurts tremendously. I feel like I would be super successful in my career. I feel like less people would be disappointed in me. I feel like I would be a better daughter, wife, friend. Maybe I would have written that book, launched that talk show, bought my mom that house. Maybe I wouldn't have settled for the absolute shitty female friends I have tolerated my whole life. I would have told them to fuck off a lot sooner, and would have stood up for myself a lot more. Maybe . . 

Maybe

Maybe

Maybe

Maybe

The Maybe rabbit hole. One I am very well acclimated with. 

Guys, I truly love my life and, despite the challenge of a mental illness, I am proud of what I have done. But not this week. Not in the last 2 weeks. I'll be better soon. Right now, I am just simply tired of it.

2019 Resolution Update - Day 19

Almost 3 weeks in to the new year, and I am still holding strong to my resolutions. I have dropped 11 lbs, have only ordered out twice, and continue to pay down the debt, slowly, but surely. Also, and most shocking of all, I have been quite dry and rather sober for 2019.

I would be lying if I didn't say it's been challenging. And that, for the first 3 days of 2019, I was the crankiest of assholes, having to use a stove, and drink seltzer (sans the vodka). I started to try and reframe this narrative, and would tell myself, "Well, I am used to being cranky. And being an asshole is part of my charm. And I think I'm feeling a bit better health-wise. So keep it up, C!"

And it's been working. When I feel temptations taunting me, like the little bitches that they are (ie: Kate Spade sales, Extra Supreme Guac Tacos, DAILY delivery.com coupons (as I am sure they are concerned as to my sudden neglect of their services), the Wine store that delivers the high end Pinot Noir that goes well with air, etc.), I tell myself, slow and steady. Or I'll throw an adult tantrum. Pouting and bitching all the way home. But then I'll have a thought, like how good it felt to go up 3 flights of stairs and not want to vomit last night's said Pinot Noir. Or I'll continue to tantrum and take a nap.

Sleep is the best weight loss tool. It doesn't get the credit it deserves.

With that, there are a few other tools that I have stumbled upon and relied on during this successful journey (all 19 days of it). Whether they'll always work is no guarantee, but they have been quite helpful thus far.

Indulgence

I won't deprive myself when it comes to food. Yesterday I gave in to my cravings after watching some serious ASMR eating videos (it's seriously like porn for the celibate). Typically, I am able to watch, fantasize, and move on to a Gala apple, but yesterday, I wanted the fried dough crunch. And since I don't have unhealthy food in the house, I had to order takeout. It was the first time in the new year that I did so, and with one of those freaking delivery.com coupons, I got 4 empanadas for 12 dollars, with tip. And I tracked it on my WW app. All 4 empanadas were the equivalent of a day and a half of food. But I was ok with that. I told the guilt to fuck off, I ate those empanadas like they were leading me in a seductive tango dance, and I finished the meal off with said Gala apple.

I know my cheese fries and cheese sandwich cravings will hit soon. And I will indulge in them. And I may not lose weight that week. And that's ok! The moral is, it's fine. I want to be healthy, but a girl has gotta eat!

Research

In doing research about debt, I have come to realize that, no matter what, no matter how bad you think your are in the hole, there is always someone WAY worser off than you. And those people love to share their stories on the internet. And for them, I am eternally grateful. Not only did I realize that realistically, my husband and I can pay off our lenders, but I also realized how easily and swiftly your debt can double, triple, etc. I read some devastating stories about how many young people will be paying their debts until well after they retire, possibly taking it with them to the grave. And don't get me started on student loan debt. That shit is no fucking joke! I was fortunate enough to pay that off a few years after my undergrad, but seeing how so much of my generation has been fucked over by that.

I suddenly realized how blessed I was. But also, how easily I can lose sight of that and end up in a deeper despair of debt. This is what I hold on to when I want to go on a shopping spree at Staples (don't judge), or order a Kate Spade, or book the Greece trip I have been dreaming about for the last 2 years. 

Greece will look better from outside of that hole. So, all in due time, sister.

Prep prep prep

Now this is a given when it comes to planning your meals, right? I mean, we have ALL heard this. Sundays is prep day. Plan your week, yada yada yada. So this was an easy life style change for someone that banks on cheerios and almost expired milk to start the day (said no one ever). And when that isn't an option, there was always Seamless! 

I decided to start very slow when it came to meal prep. I wasn't getting fancy. I wasn't making anything that required any kind of marinating, baking, chopping, or measuring. And, the first week, I did just that. It was a lot of omelets and Amy's soup. And fruit, almonds, cheese sticks, and spinach. Precut and preheat were my pre-heroes. And, again, no deprivation. But I realized I would get bored fast, so the following week, I started chopping shit and even sautéing. And then last week, I actually baked that spaghetti squash thing. Which took me all afternoon, as I was using my stove for the first time in this apartment, and I was sure I would burn the place down. All in all, it was good. And the over-easy egg, spinach, and cheddar cheese I added to it made for the perfect dinner. And it was 3 points. To put that in perspective, the aforementioned empanadas? 30 points. Meal prep works! But I'm still not marinating anything. 

I have also been prepping financially. I started doing something I haven't done in at least 10 years: balancing my checkbook. Every Friday I have a standing date with myself and my spreadsheet, and I reconcile like the wild child that I am. Bad ass, right? In all seriousness, it's helped put my finances in perspective, even if it's painful at times, especially when you stumble upon the fact that the Kate Spade bag you bought in September hasn't quite been paid off yet. And that you don't know where you put it, for that matter! It's almost like landing upon a picture of yourself from your 20s, drunk and sloppy, sporting the atrocious duck kissy face fiasco. Nothing attractive or worthwhile about that picture. All. The. Cringes.  

Not that I would know from experience, or anything.

It's been super helpful to have this standing date with my finances, not only to keep me in check, but the transparency allows for a superb peace of mind that no alcoholic drink can ever bring.

Forgiving yourself

This is, by far, the most important tool I carry with me, 24 hours a day. I cannot tell you how easily my guilty voice sneaks in during my daily choices. You should have woken up at 9am and gone to the gym, you shouldn't be eating momma's white rice, you bought that Latte and there are starving people in the world. I mean, sometimes, she is relentless! I can typically block her out, but on the rarest of occassions, for a few seconds, I let her influence my mood and I sulk. But then I say out loud, and proud, I'm all good. I gotta live. And I'm only human. And, honestly, sometimes I have to say it out loud. Never fun to do in a crowded Starbucks, but if you have head phones on, it's really easy to make it seem like you are giving some one you love on the phone a pep talk! 

Not a total fib. I mean, you gotta love yourself to do these kinds of crazy lifestyle changes and shit. And you have to be slow and steady. My impatience is present, and I acknowledge it, and, for now, it hasn't derailed me. When it inevitably tries to, I have these tools I can refer to. Or I can come here and blog it out. 

And for that, I am always grateful.

 

 

2019 resolutions/goals/objectives - yada yada yada

I have frequently been labeled as an overachiever, essentially a nice way to say I set myself up for failure. I mean, sure, I have declared 6-month goals that include losing weight, paying off debt, obtaining a masters, climbing a mountain I can't spell, and growing my own herbs.

I'd like to think that I have become more realistic in my old age, with regards to my objectives, but still maintaining a little bit of a dreamer perspective.

Is that the case? Who knows, but I want to document this year what my goals are. I think it's more to brain dump everything on paper. Right now, my mind is beyond cluttered, and one thing I always share with my professional organizing clients is that clutter is needy and parasitical. It needs your undivided attention and will drain any joy from your blood. Typically, I'm referring to a wardrobe filled with 2-sizes-2-small clothing or a deluge of credit card statements, but it can also apply to the shit that is sucking the life out of your mind.

So here we go, my 2019 goals, in no particular order:

1. Breaking up with Seamless/Take-out

In going over my budget since being laid off, it became PAINFULLY clear that I was having a torrid affair with Seamless. Roman is aware but looks the other way. I don't blame the guy. Getting in between a ravenous wife and Mateo the delivery guy is a sure-fire way to lose a finger. I didn't realize how knee-deep I was in this affair until my post-employment financial analysis.

On average, I spent $1000 a month on take-out. For 2 people! And really, more like 1.5 people because Roman eats out when he is working. So I can't include him in this glutenous fat-assery debacle.

I was beside myself when I saw the spreadsheet calculation and immediately yearned for deep-fried vegan egg roles from the local vegan place. Stress-eating kicked in like the speed of light.

Spoiler alert - I had cheerios instead.

Resolution: I have since said bye Felicia to Seamless and all its other slutty take-out apps. For 2019, I am going to try to cook. Or eat my mom's delicious food. Or visit friends that cook.

2. Breaking up with Alcohol

Now, this seems like an obvious one. First, I am on anti-depressants. So I shouldn't be drinking AT ALL. But some how my crazy ass has made it work, but we should define work. Not on this post though.

Second (and third, fourth, fifth, etc.), it's unnecessary calories, ages you faster, is a depressant, and hangovers are evil experiences that remind you that your body is in real control here.

My drinking in 2018 has been historical. At first, I found it charming to have a class of red wine while binge watching The Office for the 3567th time. But then it became a bottle each time. A bottle a week. And so on and so forth.

Roman also hates that I drink. My husband is tolerant of a lot of things, but the look in his eyes when he comes home to an empty bottle of wine on our coffee table is enough to make you want to drink more.

In addition, my body is outright rejecting alcohol. My heartburn flares up, I get super bloated, and I wake up the next morning looking like someone ran over my face with a NYC street cleaner.

Will I have a glass of wine here and there? I don't fucking know. But I want to try not to. Should I go to a meeting? Perhaps. I've been to a few in the past, and they have been helpful. My introvert self, though, struggles with wanting to rapidly retrieve to my couch, Dunder Mifflin, and my cats. And a 2005 Cabernet.

Spoiler Alert - My last drink was not in fact a beautiful 2005 Cabernet. Nope. I ended 2018 and my relationship with alcohol with a 6 pack of lemon flavored cider, which is really a rip off of Smirnoff Ice. My last drink and it's a college wine cooler! I am pretty sure I lost my virginity being drunk on Smirnoff Ice. And almost 15 years later, I chose that to be my last drink.

Resolution: For 2019, I'm going to try and avoid alcohol. One day at a bloody Mary time.

** Honorable Mention Resolutions

Weight

I warn you that I am about to enter a whole new level of snarky, so if you offend easily, then . . . well, you shouldn't really be reading my blog.

My instagram is FLOODED with success stories on people who have lost weight. Everybody loves these stories,  and it can be truly inspiring. It can also be truly annoying.

These people who have found their waist lines and healthy cholesterol levels become product endorsing fortune cookies, posting limericks of encouragement that sound borderline inspired by Angel Dust. Hell, I've even walked the walk at one point and speak from experience. I was, once upon a time, an encouraging, most likely obnoxious, weight loss success story. In fact, this blog started as weight loss/maintenance tool.

It just all seems so insincere sometimes. It seems like the weight loss success stories are riding on a cloud of instagram likes and free laxative teas.

All this has weighed (pun intended) on me greatly, and so I don't know if I feel like publicly declaring anything official about my weight loss. Probably because each time I have declared it, I celebrate the announcement by ordering pastas and pies from Seamless on one hand and sipping a Pinot Noir on the other.

Some may think I am saying this because I am overweight, or jealous, or insecure, or simply, an asshole. It's hard to say now if this is true. Let's talk when I am an AFTER picture again.


Spoiler alert - I still follow these success story, product pushing, limerick writing Tools.

Resolution: Instead of saying I want to lose 75 lbs, I'll say this: I aim to not get winded going up stairs and jay-walking Ditmars Blvd. I aim to wear some of the clothes I own, when I had a waist-line and healthy cholesterol levels. I'd really like to lose one of my chins, since I carelessly and, often enough, have the iPhone camera facing me, and when I turn that baby on to snap a picture of a beautiful sunset, I flinch in confusion at the sight before my eyes.

Debt

Over the last 12 months, I have accumulated quite a lot of debt. Debt is something that I have had and have tackled head on. Once before, I paid off 25K in credit cards, essentially my thank you bill from my college years. I didn't have a college fund, so I worked my way through school. And everything from rent to milk to CDs were sitting on an Amex account.

But I worked extremely hard to pay if all off in the course of a year. Some thing to this day, I am super proud of. Never thinking I'd have to do it again.

And here we are. It's been a little more challenging to wrap my head around how this happened. I mean I know how it happened: Vet bills, Seamless, moving back to NY, taking a huge pay cut, taxes, etc. It all added up. And now being unemployed, I'm mildly panicking.

However, I shouldn't. I have an incredibly supportive husband, who is working 12 hour days to help pay this down. Which I have guilt about because I have always handled my finances. Now, I am a we, an our. Therefore, it is OUR debt. The aforementioned expenses were family related. But I have a hard time with receiving his help sometimes. Why do you ask? Great question! I don't even fucking know. <Sigh> I really should add therapy as a resolution.

Spoiler alert - I don't have therapy as a resolution.

Resolution: I know when I find the right job, paying this off will be no problem at all. I know Roman and I can pay it off within a year, or at least make a huge dent within a year.


There you have it folks. My incredibly honest, incredibly snarky and optimistic 2019 resolution list.

Off to make dinner. I'm dreading this already.

My heart is broken

Short post today.

My baby girl Pepper, my beautiful sweet kitty who I have had for a little over 12 years, is sick. She is on her last leg it seems, and I am devastated.

This year has been one that has left scars in my heart. Some are good scars, like a gratifying war wound, some are still healing. Some appear to be OK, but then are ripped open again.

I'll write more about 2018 later. For today, though, Pepper's illness is what is consuming me. So is all the eating and wine drinking, crying, and sleeping, pouting and dancing in denialville. I don't know how to handle these feelings.

I won't go in to why Pepper is wonderful. She is still here, and it's not the time for a eulogy.

What I will say is that the magnitude of this pain is one I haven't felt in a very long time. In fact, it's a pain that seems very foreign, very unchartered, very lonely.

It's like I am falling through an abyss, and there is no ground. If there was an impact to look forward to, a floor to splat on, a platform of sorts, it would hurt like a fucker, but then it would mean I could address whatever pain and brokenness comes from the landing, the crash.

No, this feels like riding a roller coaster, when your stomach is lingering through your throat and you feel like vomiting, and you feel like crying, you feel terrified, and you feel like it is never going to end. It feels like all this times 1,000,000.

My heart is broken.

To my friends, the ones that have been checking in on me, they are trying so hard to make me feel better. But I know how hard it must be for them. Not knowing what to say, not knowing what to do. To all my friends who have been texting and checking and calling, I love you and I appreciate you just being there. I will never forget that. And please know you don't have to say anything. Just saying hi . . . it goes so so far.

I am not even thinking about what I am saying here. I am just venting. So if it doesn't make sense, the P.S. of it all is this sucks major ass, everything hurts, and I want lots of carbs. And I'll miss my girl. She's in the hospital tonight. And I want her home with us. I want time to stand still. I want to ask myself why do I have to love these little fur babies. I want to understand.

For now, I will just cry and try, but still ask why.

To Christmas or Not To Christmas . . . that is the question

I have been trying to figure out if I should do anything for Christmas. Typically, Christmas is my jam. I am the nerd that plans the holiday party and orders the holiday cards with dorky photos of our cats, Roman, and me, all the while embracing the joy and cheesiness of the season! I have a closet full of decorations, and to portray true scale, a closet in a 1 bedroom NYC apartment is like 25% of the unit. But well worth it!

Well, usually it has been. But this year has put a cloud on that. I mean it's not like I am depressed or sad about the transpiring of the last week, but it feels like Limbo had a love child with Anxiety who was adopted by Freedom and Joy. No matter what, that kid is going to be loads of fucked up!

My mind is super distracted by what my next steps should be. So far, here is my list of ideas:

1. Return to my professional organizing days, double my rates, and seek out clients who want me to help them organize their sock draws and shred all the paper
2. Go back to school and invest in clown college a Masters in organizational psychology
3. Write the biographical fiction novel I have been imagining working on for the last few years
4. Get Botox, but not for wrinkles. For these AWFUL chin hairs that are spreading faster than horny rabbits
5. Have a baby Plant a tree
6. Find the 6 figure corporate gig that would help pay off debt and cultivate my career, but would require a lot of ironing, both clothing and hair
7. Win the lotto
8. Lose the weight
9. Pay off the debt by reaching out to potential rich relatives still in the motherland on the brick of death

Nowhere on this list is roasting chestnuts and/or singing drunken carols after downing a few cups of coquito while tree decorating. 

That all said, every time I leave my apartment, my nose is greeted by the aromas of winter's presence and of pine. And don't get me started on the BLASTING of Christmas Carols on Ditmars Blvd and 31st street. And the little baby Jesus who looks so full of hope and life (give it 33 years, kid), adorning the Catholic Church garden next door. It all brings me such joy but I also feel like I am missing out.

Also, let's face it, this is probably the last Christmas with 2 out of my 3 cats. I am sure they want me to feed them treats and clean their poop and pet their heads and cuddle them to sleep decorate the joint. Or maybe it's just for me, to remember this as being our last Christmas together.

Even my Muslim husband, Roman, wants me to at least get a tree! He's always so supportive, but this year he wants to ensure we celebrate. I personally think it's cuz he wants a stocking again, which totally blew his mine last year (a sock for presents? and it's all for me?). But in all sincerity, I think he knows it will liven up my spirits.

I honestly don't know what to do. A friend of mine even offered to come over and help me decorate, which moved me to tears. I am always moved when someone wants to take time to help me with something that seems so mundane, in light of everything else that is happening (did I mention the chin hair?!?!). 

I'll give it some thought and decide by weeks end. By then, I'll only have 2 weeks of the holiday to enjoy. Which is still something truly lovely. No matter what, when it begins to look a lot like Christmas, it begins to look a lot like happiness. 

To be continued . . .

The Fat Girl Within is Back . . .

Hello special friends. I have so much to update you on, but instead of recapping the last 2.5 years, I'm going to pretend you are all up to date and start from here. Because the last few months have been the kind of months that have thrown tailspins in to life and I need to write it out to fight it out.

But, just to ensure we follow a typical entertainment reboot format, below is a brief bulleted list of the VIPs (very important points) of the last 2.5 years:

• I married the sweetest, loviest, and funniest man, my husband, Roman
• I left publishing, went in to consulting, then to tech start-up-ing
• I have gained back all my weight and then some, weighing in at 216
• lowest weight: 143
• previous highest weight until now: 192
• new goal: not having a fupa
• I left NYC for a year and a half and lived in Princeton, where I learned what true rode kill was, how to drive a car, and how to buy anything and everything from Walmart
• I am back in Astoria with Roman and my 3 fur baby felines: Bam, Gracie and Pepper

That's the gist of it. There have been quite a lot more amazing moments of the last 2.5 years which I am sure will come up organically.

What finally brought me back to this blog was the need to free up my mind of concerns, anxieties, and so much emotion. Writing has always helped bring me back to a healthy track, both mentally and physically. Emotionally, let's face it -- that bitch has a mind of her own. But 2 out of 3 ain't bad. Here's what's going on:

My Fur Babies

Everything had been super peachy with my babies. They have been with me for 13+ years and have managed to deal with my life changes, including the new husband, with mellowness and bribery (Temptation treats are the shit). In August, that all changed. I had returned from a business trip from San Francisco and was sitting in my living room when my cat, Pepper, started to have breathing problems. I rushed her to the ER where the doctor confirmed what I had been dreadfully waiting years to hear: her heart murmur grew in to heart failure. She was diagnosed with a heart murmur when she was 6 years old and all had been passive and great. Now, 7 years later, it rapidly progressed and my little Pepper was hospitalized for a few days in an oxygen tank. Her life expectancy has been cut to an estimated 1 month to a year. It's been 2 months and she is back to her old self. She needs medication twice a day and is drinking incessant amounts of water. But her butterball weight is back and she is full of cuddles. Every day as a blessing, especially when she wakes up next to me, paw in my face, with her big beautiful green eyes staring at me, ever so lovingly as if she is saying, "time to feed me, bitch."

My Bam, my sweet sweet boy, who wouldn't hurt a fly, except the house flies that annoy the crap out of us, also hit a health crossroads. While everything was happening with Pepper, I started to notice that Bam was limping a lot. I took him to the vet twice, both saying it was a sprain. After a week of waiting for this sprain to heal, I went to hug him when my sweet angel hissed at me. Bam has never every hissed. We took him back to the vet and it was discovered he had a tumor in his shoulder blade, that caused a fracture. We decided to have it amputated and my sweet bunny boy was back to his old self. We came to find out that his cancer would spread and that he had another form of a cancer in his lungs. The treatment for both would be incredibly invasive so we decided to let him ride out his remaining time with us happy and healthy. Doctor says that could be 1 month to a year. I cuddle with him every day, making sure to enjoy his time with us. He still chases and outruns his sisters for treats and poops like a champ. All celebratory observations!

My Gracie is a true angel. She has been unfortunately lacking the attention of her humans and has tried her best to be patient. I've noticed her being extra cuddly and playful, and so I try to also give her cuddles and kisses in the morning, which she repays me with cat butt in my face when I am not paying attention. She still purrs like a kitten and perpetually makes us laugh! I adore her playfulness, how much she adores her brother, and when she places her sweet and tender paw to my cheek when I am crying. My sweet Gracie.

My Job

This week, I was laid off from what had started as a job of my dreams. I was part of the training and development crew at a Blockchain startup and worked with incredibly talented and interesting people. Over the last 9 months I learned so much that I was not privy to in publishing and even in my consultant role. It was like entering the 21st century, learning to use a washing machine instead of the the bucket of soap and water out by the latrine outhouse. However, I recognized parts of the organization that concerned me and I knew I had to move on. It turns out, so did the company. For the first time in my 21 years of employment, I was laid off/let go.
I don't know how to feel about it. It's definitely for the best, and I was given a generous goodbye, if you will. But it's like dating someone who you know you need to break up with, because they annoy the shit out of you, but you keep them around for the time being because they put out when you need it and they buy dinner once in a while. Then low and behold, they break up with you! And you are like, "well, I was going to break up with you anyway!" But they have long gone before they can hear you exude such confident denial.


So now, I have to figure out what to do. My husband is such a champ, not worried at all, and could, in theory, take care of everything until I find myself. I could write that novel I have been working on, or get back in to a size 4 pair of jeans, or learn sign language. I have a 6 month grace period before we have to consider getting rid of Showtime, or, even dire: move back in to my childhood bedroom.


I was on a high yesterday, skipping to a confidential loo of living out my dreams. This morning, however, all that went to poop. I woke up panicking and shot out of bed, conceivable tripping over any loo in my path, and starting looking for jobs. I was even considering applying to publishing jobs that made me so unhappy.


The thing is, I don't know what it is like to NOT work! And to be given this gift to figure it out . . . it's like being gifted the flu vaccine, I suppose. It is for the absolute best, but it hurts and will it actually keep you from dying?

My Weight

So, my weight. The whole point of starting this blog some I guess 6 years ago? Not only has the fat girl not been evicted, but she has taken over the g*&d&*n lease! I don't even know where it all went down hill (or rather sky rocketed up through the solar system) but, alas, I have put on 74lbs since my lowest weight. 

I don't blame anybody but myself. And yes, I would like a cookie for admitting that. But I'll take a stupid piece of celery stalk I suppose. 

So now I guess I have an opportunity in front of me. The free time and liberty to workout, track my food, and stop ordering wine takeout (it's a thing, especially here in Astoria. The delivery guy, Pablo, knows me on a first name basis).

So my goal is to do just that! Sort of act like one of those rich housewives who workout 6 times a week and drink rosé on Saturdays. Become a hot trophy for my husband, maybe get some botox, possibly an expensive luxury bag of a dead designer?

Well maybe not that extreme. But prioritizing my health seems like an easy decision. And I have a few more goals. And I'll be writing about them here in future posts. That way, I can reflect in 3 months or so and say I did it! I have to have one of those BEFORE AND AFTER moments in 3 months or so help me  . . . 

This concludes my comeback post. I'll be back with more fun filled updates, including angry haikus, videos, and possibly a gofundme for the stapling of a body part. Yay!

C