Everything Stays the Same

It has been over 2 months since I last posted.

In 3 days it will be one year since Daddy died.  Wednesday it will be 52 weeks, Friday it will be 365 days.

I still can't make myself say "passed away"
That's too gentle and easy.  It's not heartbroken enough.  As someone who prides herself on choosing the right word to evoke the desired emotion or feeling, passed away just doesn't do it.

A friend of my mom's reminds her
You'll never get over it,
but you will get used to it.


I kind of don't want to. It has been a year and I still rail at God for what He took away.  I still shout at him that It's not supposed to be like this. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

And I look around at my life.  And nothing has changed.  Except for a broken heart.

I am still in the same cozy 2 bedroom apartment.
I still have the same solidly running American-made car.
I still have the same job (basically) that I've had for 3+ years.
I still have no savings to my name.
I still have over half my credit card available limit used up.
I still have 3+ started novels that haven't gotten finished. And I haven't edited the first one I did finish.
I still haven't gone back to school.
I still haven't launched my freelance business.
I still haven't learned piano, in spite of specifically asking for a keyboard for my birthday last year so I could learn.
I am still single and just hope and pray that someday, someone will see a beauty and value in me that makes him want to stick around for more than a few dates.
I am still well into the "overweight" BMI range.
I still haven't memorized any more Bible verses.
I still have utterly sporadic and completely inconsistent "quiet time."
I still haven't started any of the groups I said I wanted to start.
I still wish I had said that one thing to Dad that I put off until it was literally too late to say.  I said The Important Stuff.  But there was this one thing. And I don't honestly think it would have made any difference to anything, but I still wish I had told him.

I am getting used to the broken heart.  I am still in shock.  I can go days and sometimes weeks before it really hits home that he is gone.  And the weirdest stuff sets me off.  Random lyrics that have nothing to do with loss.  Watching an episode of Bones where Booth finds out his dad has died.  My dresser being broken ... the dresser that Daddy put together for me.   And of course the obvious stuff.  Anniversaries and holidays.  Red Trucks.  Old school country songs.  Going to the cemetery.  Not being able to go to the cemetery because it is in Iowa.

And everything stays the same.  The whole of my life is almost identical to what it was a year ago.  I have the same questions for Dad and the same insecurities.  I have the same habits and pitfalls.  I still cry much too easily and don't talk directly to people about things I want to say or want to know.

Since I know most of you are my friends and know me personally, I know some of you are shaking your heads and saying that I've changed a lot or I've come a long way or whatever.  But that list has not changed. And that list are the things that Daddy would notice.  He probably wouldn't notice if I had gotten over an insecurity or two, he would notice if I could afford to buy myself a couch.  He wouldn't notice if I had memorized more Bible verses, he would notice if I was keeping my car clean.  Yeah, maybe he would notice, but he wouldn't have said anything.  He was truly, literally a man of very few words.  And I had so hoped that losing him would change something in me and make me more like him.  But so far .....  not so much.

So far ....  Everything stays the same.

~day 28~ End Point

This month of posting has stretched me. A Lot.  Which I've said previously, so I won't harp on it.  After this post goes up I will have 3 more posts and be able to proudly say I blogged every single day for an entire month about Hope.  That sounds kind of impressive.  The novelist in me doesn't think it sounds as impressive as "I completed a 55,725 word novel in 30 days, less than 30 actually."  But, opinions, beholders etc.

Tonite, hope takes the form of knowing there is an end in sight.  I won't be letting anyone down if I don't post anything next Tuesday night.  I won't be adding yet another thing to my lengthy list of things I never bothered to finish (like my last novel currently is).  I can see the end.  I can see the rewards.  I've gotten encouragements. I know this will not last forever.  Yes, I realize this may sound quite dramatic and woe-is-me.  Yes, that sentiment would be an exaggeration for this actual situation.

But in real life, there are a lot of situations in which we lose our hope because we don't see the end.  We don't see things being any different in a month or 3 months or a year.  It is hard to keep hoping for our heart's desire when we can't see any form of fulfillment in our near future.  Especially when we see those around us getting their heart's desires and sometimes their own version of exactly the thing you desire.  It is hard to watch yet another friend, younger than you, get married and you have had exactly 1 date* in 7+ years.  It is hard to go home to an apartment, no matter how lovely, after leaving a friend's beautiful home.  It is hard to listen to someone talk about how easy it was for them to lose baby weight when you can't seem to pry off even a few ounces of cupcake weight.

Much more importantly, it is hard to have hope when a loved one battles for their very life.  Intentionally putting poison in their body that makes them violently ill in the hopes that the poison will only kill the thing inside of them.  It is hard to have hope when you truly have not met any decent, single, available guys within a reasonable age range in years.  It is hard to have hope when you carry something around inside of you that can be managed but not cured.  When there is no cure on the horizon.  When those around you don't even know that you have this thing because it is managed so well your symptoms are nearly imperceptible.  It's hard to live that for very long and keep hope.

I think I can count another blessing in the timing of my Dad's death.  I have struggled to keep hope alive probably for as long as I've struggled against depression.  I will count it a blessing that I, we, didn't have to wait for test results to see if it was working. We didn't have to try another round of this cocktail or that combination and start waiting for test results again.  I tried to have hope in the few weeks that we had.  I'm not sure I was all that successful.  I can hope that the next wedding will be easier.  I can hope that next Father's Day will sting less.   But I don't know how long I could have continued to hope if we would have had to fight for very long.  I don't know how long I could hope if I got a diagnosis of something chronic and/or incurable.

But Tonite? Tonite I can have hope because I only have 3 more posts and then begins my noveling adventure.  I think I'm going to name her Constance.  Constance Marie or possibly Constance Naomi.  We'll see what she has to say next week.

~day 27~ One Thing

I've heard all sorts of things about how to change a habit. I've heard it takes 12 days, 30 days, 45 days, 60 days and maybe even 90 days to change a habit.  I've heard willpower is the way to go (which is total bunk, by the way).  I've heard you have to create a distraction from the habit.  I've heard you should come up with a Bible Verse to "fight" the temptation when it comes. I've heard you have to replace the bad habit with a good habit.

And I've heard you should only change one habit at a time.  That is part of why New Year's Resolutions rarely work.  We fill our heads with these grandiose ideas of how this year will be different.  Of how our life will be Amazing and Perfect if we can just defeat these few mountains in our lives.  But that is all bunk too!  First and foremost, let me point out that even if we defeat these "few" mountains life will not be Perfect.  It won't be Amazing for very long.  But, more pertinent to this post, secondly, we can't possibly make that many changes all at once successfully. I've gone so far as to stop calling them resolutions and set goals instead.  I've even taken those goals and broken them down into chunks and pieces and steps and planned it out.  I've split them across the months of the year so that I'm not trying to fight 5 battles all at once.  And you know what?

I am still significantly overweight.
I still swear too much.
I still haven't memorized more than a half dozen Bible Verses in a single year.  And ask me how many of those I still remember!
I still am not independently wealthy.
I still am not comfortably wealthy.
I still bounce checks at least once or twice a year.
I still have no savings to speak of.
I still have not published a book, nor researched getting published, nor edited the books I have managed to finish.

I keep those lists of goals.  So I can refer back to them.  You know, Someday.  I've looked at them in my moves and rearrangements etc.  There is a common theme through them all.  Change.  I want my life to look different.  I want my home to look different. I want my body to look different.  I want my bank account to look different.  I want my character to look different.

Today I changed one thing.  In order to accommodate that one thing and make it worth changing I had to change 3-4 other things.  I thought about texting it to facebook because I was quite proud of my one change.  But I realized I wanted to store it up for myself for that moment.  As I pondered what I could possibly still have to write about Hope I decided to share this one thing.

I decided to walk on my lunch hour instead of going home and screwing around on facebook for 45 minutes.  In order to do that I had to remember to take walking shoes and clean socks.  I had to put them in a bag and hang it on my door handle or I would for sure and for certain forget them.  Since I wasn't coming home I also had to figure out lunch.  So I had to mix a slim fast shake (I do the powder ones you mix yourself, the pre-canned ones taste icky) and take it with.  I also decided that if I was going to try to do this 'healthy' thing that maybe I shouldn't be drinking 2 cokes a day, every single day and eating 2-5 mini crunch bars a day.  I can only drink coffee at work until it gets ice cold.  I bought a juice smoothie drink thing to take with and open when the coffee got cold, instead of opening a Coke.  Plus, I had to put all that stuff into a bag and remember the bag when I left for work. Then .... are you ready for this?  I actually USED it all AND went for a walk on my lunch!  And, I enjoyed it!  My walk was lovely.  I was not starving most of the day, like I usually am if I try to do the slim-fast thing.  The smoothie was a PERFECT replacement for Coke #1.  And, I just plain felt good about making a good choice.

I've been seeing a counselor for awhile now.  We talked last week about my terrible sleep habits.  One of the things she has repeated to me in various situations regarding a variety of issues and always in a different way, is to not be so absolute with myself.  I have been a very All or Nothing person for a very long time.  If I'm not going to go to bed "early" every night like a Responsible Adult does, then why bother ever doing it? If I'm not going to work out "regularly" then what good could it possibly do me?  If I can't keep up with my checkbook every day or every week like a Good Steward, then why bother trying at all?  But as she so accurately pointed out, you know your schedule, you know your life. You know that Monday nights and Thursday nights are late for you.  So cut yourself some slack.  Go to bed early when you are home early and you can.  Basically, stop beating yourself senseless over the fact that two nights a week you choose something else rather than sleep.  She's told me this 'stop beating yourself up' thing repeatedly.  You'd think I'd be able to start seeing it on my own.  Nope!

So, this week, I went to bed early Tuesday night and tried to go to bed early last night.  Tuesday I ended up not sleeping quite as early as I'd hoped, but still way earlier than I had been previously.  Last night, same thing, but that time I couldn't fall asleep once I was in bed, so I didn't actually get a great night's sleep, but I tried.  Tonite, I am home early from campus so I might just get to bed at a decent time!  We'll see.

Today there is hope in the one choice.  Today I chose to walk at lunch.  I am going to be happy about that.  Even if I don't do it again for MONTHS!  I did it today. And that is worth celebrating.  I've done it once, I know it is possible, I can do it again another day.  Possibly tomorrow.  Who knows!

~day 11~ Comfortable

I am 33 years old.  Almost 33 1/2.  I lost 21 pounds so far this year, which puts me a bit under 200.  At 5'2" that's not a healthy BMI.  I have dated 4 men in significant, long-term committed relationships since I was 15.  They weren't necessarily the "best" choice for me, but that's what hindsight gives you.  I was almost scary thin for the first two and had rounded out just a little for the 3rd.  Then I went almost 3 years being single and put on not just a Freshman 15, but a Freshman 40.  That's right, 40 pounds first semester of my freshman year.  Which I never lost. And that was 20-30 pounds ago.  But after putting on that weight I met a guy and we dated and we ended up being together for 2 1/2 years.  He never had much of any problem with my weight.  (There are things that can be said and stories that can be told, but ultimately he was never mean or cruel about it).

I have always been the one with the problem about my weight.  I have been told that I have very nice characteristics and features and at least a couple of very nice "parts" that can attract the right kind of man.  So it is odd to me that I still think of myself as too fat to be attractive.  That I still worry that if or when a man asks me out that I will worry it is some sort of dare and I will end up humiliated.  Because the thing is, I really am pretty comfortable in my skin.  I love my backside, I love my hair, my eyes are beautiful and I have a fantastic mouth.  I have strong and shapely legs.  And, none of that accounts for my personality or character.  I am just recently coming around to agreeing with my friends that i am kind of a catch.  (Don't get me wrong, I got all kinds of crazy going on over here, but a few of you have assured me that we're all a bit crazy and I'm not *that* far off the reservation).

The weird thing is, when I'm alone, I'm very comfortable in my skin.  I am reasonably sure that once I am in a significant, committed relationship I will be even more comfortable in my skin and even become quite confident in my self.  So, it's funny to me to recognize that I am 33 and just now finally getting comfortable in my temple I inhabit.  To truly acknowledge that the only "part" of my body I don't like is my santa belly.  And even that I can reason will make a great pillow for movie watching for the right man some day. (think Aaron Rodgers likes movies??)

So, today, hope is being comfortable in my skin.  Hope is adoring the sound of my high heels click clacking around my world.  Hope is focusing on my beautiful eyes in the mirror and not the bags underneath.  Hope is appreciating my very sexy legs that work so very hard to hold me up and keep me moving.  Hope is acknowledging that it truly takes all kinds and there is a lid for every pot.

~day 6~ Focus

Last night as I grieved my dad's passing I realized something, again. 

I am greedy.  

I want more.  

More life.  

Just more.

It's such a profound and bone deep desire I can barely articulate it.  But, right alongside more is better.  I want to be better. 
A better housekeeper.

A better budgeter.  

A better friend. 
A better sister. 
A better volunteer.
A better woman. 

People have told me all sorts of cliche things about still being single and waiting for the right man and working on yourself while you wait.  For me that translated into
"There is something wrong with you, and until you fix it, you won't find him."  
"You're not good enough for the kind of man you want, once you're good enough he'll be able to see you."
I've heard it in the media, I've seen it in movies, I've even heard it in various ways to different degrees from friends.  Only one or two friends have honestly said "I don't know why you're still single." And said it in a way that attempted to tell me that none of those other things are true.

Tonite I cried and I prayed.  As I prayed I asked for more, almost as a default, I'm not sure I actually think much about it anymore.  Then I asked to be better.  At first I meant healed, done with this grieving, moving on, progressing, better.  Then I felt like God said to me "Better than what?" And I listed off all those things above that I want to be better at.  And I felt like He said "You're doing just fine. It's ok to be here. You're not as bad as you think."  Cause see, the thing is, I focus on the comparison I make to my friends and family.  The comparisons I listed out in a previous blog about people who keep their houses clean and their weight down and their checkbook balanced.  I see that, and when I measure myself against that standard I lose.  I will always lose. Always.

I thought to myself
"I am going to work.
I pay my bills. 
My dishes get done eventually. 
I spend time with my friends, and i'm not catatonic.
I spend time with my family, and i'm not catatonic.
I am pouring into my students still." 
Could life be better? yep.  Could I be better? possibly.  But if I compare myself to where I was 5 years ago, I'm doing very well.  10 years ago, very very well.  Even one year ago, much much better than where I was then.

So why do I focus on what I still lack? Why do I focus on my perceived shortcomings?  Honestly? Because they're easier to see.  It's easier to let the negative voices of life repeat to you that you're not enough, that you're ugly or stupid or fat or lazy or loud or emotional or whatever.  

It's easier to listen to those than to block those out and shut those away long enough to hear

The Lover of Your Soul rejoice over you with singing.  

To hear Him say you are his Beloved.

To hear Him say he will never leave you nor forsake you.  

To hear him say you are enough, even if no one else believed it, He does.

He always has, He always will.  

And He never lets go.

He will always ever continue to whisper His Truth to your heart.  

All you have to do is focus and it comes in loud and clear.

Resistance

Tonight's playlist:

Most of us have heard someone somewhere say

Be Careful What You Ask For!

Because You Just Might Get It!

Well I had that moment tonight. And for the first time I can remember, ever, I didn't freak out and get angry etc.

I have been on this Made to Crave journey since about the start of the year. I started the year at a weight of 211. I am still working on not letting this define my worth, better than I was Jan 1, but not quite got it down yet. Anyway.

I weighed 197.5 last week. on the one hand that is more than a couple of pounds. I have lost them slowly but steadily, and even My Father's Funeral didn't derail me! So I am feeling pretty good about it. But on the other hand, at 5'2" that leaves a minimum of 60 pounds left to lose if I want to get to a truly healthy BMI and hit any sort of acceptable range on anyone's height to weight ratio chart.

Now that it's finally (sorta) gotten nice in Wisconsin I have been trying to be active. And, again, for the first time, possibly ever, I am doing it for the right reasons. It makes me feel better (there will be a post about how exercise apparently can actually help depression, but that is for another day). It accelerates my weight loss. It gives me something to do. Somehow even a walk will get out some aggression for me and cycling gives me a peace and contentment and freedom I don't get anywhere else. Not to mention the challenge!

My Mom and Sister and I are going to be seeing family Memorial Day Weekend. And earlier this week, probably right before we went to Olive Garden for my birthday, I thought

Wouldn't it be cool if I could say I lost 20 pounds since the start of the year?!?

And then I calculated that out. Yes, I have to think for much too long figuring this stuff out. Subtraction is not my forte and these are not multiples of 2 or 5. Once I was done with the calculating, which to be honest felt a bit like I imagine calculus would fee, I realized I'd have to basically lose 6 pounds in two weeks. Then I thoroughly enjoyed my Olive Garden supper with the Fam. Mind you, I did not overeat, I did not stuff myself silly. I did have a few more carbs than was "best" perhaps, but I had salad and tried to balance those carbs with chicken. Chicken, I might add, which was DEE LISH US!!

(possibly) Needless to say, I have not lost any weight this week. Which is truly not a huge deal to me. It would have just been cool to be able to say that. Which also assumes anyone would even notice or say anything, since most of them just saw me 6 weeks before. It still gives me a kick to think about when I can say that.

All of that story to tell you this story.

Tonight I went on a bike ride. Last night I walked and oh! my! gawd! I hurt so bad when I got home I decided that as long as it wasn't raining or something today I was biking. Got home from work, reloaded my mp3 player and hit the road. I had pondered the route I thought I wanted to take on my way home and started out that path.

The thing is ... Janesville sits on a hill. Actually it sits across a hill. Basically one half of the town is on the top of the hill and the other side of town is at the bottom of the hill. Which effectively means that no matter which way you ride you have to go up or down a fairly significant hill. There are some ways around this, but you really have to think about it ahead of time and plan out which hill you want to come back up on your way home. Well .... I have to figure that out because I live in the top of the hill part.

I had figured out what route I thought I wanted to take and headed out. One of the first things I do is go down a steady but not super steep hill. So it's a great way to start. Then I hit a few spots here and there where there is the slightest incline and I have to pedal to keep going. I met up with the bike trail that runs through town and was debating walking my bike up this super steep hill and heading towards home, or continuing on the path a bit and taking a slightly longer route home. The bike path has a water fountain at one point and I was PARCHED. So I decided to go find the bubbler and then decide. The bubbler was much closer to continuing the longer ride than going backwards.

(If you don't know this about me, I don't like to backtrack. At all. Ever. For any reason. I will reroute myself going to or from a place just so I don't have to backtrack. Don't ask me why, I don't know.)

I un-parched myself and kept riding. Somewhere on the bike path it had gotten really hard and wearing to ride and I couldn't figure out why. Then suddenly it dawned on me that it was because there was a wind. Not a huge crazy wind, but a little more than a light breeze.

Enough to create resistance.

For a moment I dropped into old habits.

"Really God? Really?! Wind? Right now? Seriously?!?"

And just as quickly as those old tapes went through my head I realized the resistance was a gift. I want to lose 6 pounds (and yes I do consciously realize that is an absurd goal) in the next week and a half ... what better way to do that than with a more intense work out!!

I couldn't quite get to a point of Praising God in the "storm" but I was definitely singing along to the songs on my mp3 player. I definitely didn't have the pity part, super angry, stop-testing-me-God-because-I-will-always-fail argument with him. I did, sorta, thank Him for the resistance and the better workout.

(insert infomercial voice here) BUT WAIT!!!

Then I got home. And calculated out the distance of my ride. I had mentally clocked it around 5-6 miles. I try to be realistic and I probably under calculate because I am fully aware that spacial reasoning is not my strong suit. But if I'm on the bike trail, a lot of that isn't even on maps, so it's hard to calculate out the true distance of a ride.

Today's ride was all on city streets, or right next to them.

I RODE 9.4 MILES Y'ALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I was STUNNED. 9 miles?!?!? And I didn't die!?!?! And I didn't think I was going to die?!?!?

That in and of itself is a feat. I am not quite feeling proud, but I am feeling very good about my night. Thanking God for Resistance tonight.

Here is my route if you want to know where exactly I went.

And here is my playlist if you didn't hit play above and wanna hear them now.

Picky much?

I read a post on Her.meneutics today. The post was good, it was a book review about a book aimed at single women and declaring that they/we are too picky. I started to read through the comments to leave one of my own because I really appreciated what the author had to say. Then I read a few of the posts and forgot what my own thoughts were.

Originally I read the post and thought

"How and why is this book being marked to Christian women? The author is not a Christian and has no problem with pre-marital sex nor with eliminating religion as a must-have in your relationship. Also, I loved your comment: I can’t help wondering where the book is that tells men that they need to “settle” for a woman who is kind and caring but might not look like a supermodel."

Then I read this:

The heart of the problem is women, especially professional women, have grown accustomed to "getting it all" in the jobs market and now this is spilling over into the selection of a mate. Sorry, ladies there now appears to be some justice for men.

and

Of course single Christian women are way too picky. Unless you are "perfect", whatever that means, Christian women will say that they "just want to be friends". On the other hand, if you are "perfect", whatever that means, Christian women will go gaga over you, even if you don't know the difference between Jesus Christ and Buddha. I accept that there are people who remain single throughout their lives because they have been called to serve God in that manner, however, any single Christian woman who desires to marry, and are not married, only have themselves and their unrealistic "criteria" to blame

and in response to other comments

you seem to be saying that, if a Christian woman is single, it's her fault, and if a Christian man is single...it's still her fault.

The whole conversation bothered me. All of it. How quick we are to judge each other. How quick we are to blame the "victim." How quick we are to Declare All That Is Wrong With (insert descriptive of your choice). And how incredibly quick we are to excuse and justify ourselves.

I posted this as a response:

As a single, 30 something, Jesus Girl in a moderately sized midwest town, I do not think i am too picky. Period. I was quite offended and hurt by citylady's comments and annoyed by a few others. but I recognize two things. 1) I didn't read the comments in order to respond to them. and 2) those people probably will not even read my comment; so I choose not to respond to them.

I live a very full life. I volunteer mentoring college students twice a week. I enjoy my church, which is in a smaller town a half hour away from my home, and has, literally, no available single men at all. I go out for dinner and lunches with multiple friends and spend time with them at their homes. I see my parents once or twice a week, every single week. I am currently building a business and have plans to launch a second one next month. I tried online dating last year and was simply not able to give it the time and attention it would need in order to have any level of success.

And I haven't even mentioned my "criteria" yet. So how can you possibly, how can ANYONE possibly declare that I am picky? That anyone else in my boat is too picky? How can you possibly? You don't know a single thing about me! You don't know my issues with self-esteem, you don't know how deeply I desire a man who loves Jesus more than he loves me, you don't know that I haven't even MET a new, possibly single, Christian man in years, you don't know that I desire a man who is considerate and will carry groceries and open doors for me. So how can you possibly read this post about this book that isn't even written by a Christian and declare that *I* am picky??

Yes, I have a list. But it is not based on Hollywood or Harlequin. It is based on YEARS of seeing my friends work on their marriages and love each other. On seeing in them what makes one work and what doesn't. On watching husbands interact with their wives and learning to appreciate the things that are much more than skin deep. I have a list of 5-8 non-negotiable items #1 of which that he be a Jesus Lover. and then I have a list of another 8-10 things that would be preferred, but are not necessary to my life-long happiness.

Multiple friends have told me that they don't know why I haven't found a guy by now. They have also in the next breath told me that they don't KNOW any single, Christian men. So, you tell me. Is it women who are too picky? or is it men who are refusing to step up and be mature, responsible men and own their own pickiness? Their own desire to have a Christian Barbie doll to sit on the couch next to them while they play video games and pine away on the porch while he goes and plays with his buddies.

Please stop determining that "all" of us single Christian women are too picky. Please stop blaming us for something that most of us would change in a heartbeat if given the chance. Please start talking with the men in your lives about their desires and lists and what they are doing to meet us. Because I, for one, will NOT ask him out. He will need to find me and ask me. Like another commenter above, if you ask, I will give you at least one date.

Can we please have an honest, caring, compassionate conversation on both sides of this issue and help each other find Jesus in the middle?

I am annoyed. A little upset. I have been tempted, on multiple occasions, over the last 5+ years to ask my friends, point-blank if there is something "wrong" with me that I need to be working on to make myself more attractive (not just physically) to men. But i have always stopped myself for two reasons.

First, I honestly couldn't handle the honest criticism. No matter how loving the source would be. I don't think I'd be able to stay friends with you if you told me that my laugh is obnoxious and puts men off because I'd never be able to laugh with you again and I'd never be able to spend time with you without wondering what else is obnoxious about me to you.

And Second, I am a Jesus Girl. I am a work in progress. I am very clear that I am not perfect. But I am working through My List in God's order and timing. I weigh over 200 pounds and I have for at least a year, possibly two. I have not addressed this yet because God had other items on My List that needed to be dealt with first. I believe now may be my season to deal with the weight and get the spiritual side of it under control, but I think we all would agree that men ought to consider potential mates based on spirit and soul and character and personality, and not on whether or not the jeans size is in the double digits.

But, somehow, this side of the equation never comes up in sermons or conversation. We never discuss how many men I browsed on ChristianCafe who were unwilling to even consider a woman who was any larger than "a few extra pounds." Most of them wanting "Athletic" "Fit" or "Slender".

What about my heart?

What about my compassion?

What about my dreams and goals for this life?

What about my laugh and sense of humor?

What about the way that I love my friend's kids and they all love me?

If you can't see past the size of my "Trunk" then you never get to see those things. You never get to see the truest heart of who I am

as a Woman

as a Jesus Girl

as a Midwesterner

as a Moderate

as a dreamer

as a business owner

as an author

And that is your loss. It takes two to Tango. There are two sides to every coin. There are plenty of places to lay blame and Declare this that or the other. But can we just not do that this time? Can we simply talk to each other? Can the men speak up and say "I asked a girl out and she laughed at me." And can we ladies apologize for what a bee-yatch that chick was? Can we ladies speak up and say "I had a guy tell me once, point-blank, that he was unwilling to date anyone who wasn't "Stunning."" And can you gentlemen apologize for his superficiality and shallowness? can we meet in the middle and see what Jesus would say to all of us, and each of us individually? Can we discuss our lists and must-haves and would-be-great-to-haves and see where we may be eliminating great partners?

Or can you just set me up on a blind date? Cause i'd be game for that too.

Made to Crave - Week 1

My church is doing the Made to Crave book/video series by Lysa Terkeurst. I've read about 6-7 chapters of the book and we watched our one video and I've started the participants guide. I tend to be something of a rule follower, at least in the beginning. And I've realized a few fairly profound things. One friend suggested journaling, which I don't disagree with, but I feel like a few of the realizations ought to be shared. In case someone else can realize they have as similar thought, pattern, problem, whatever.

One of the first things was something Lysa said during the first video. That this obsession and craving for food constantly, this replacing God in our hearts and minds with food obsessions and thoughts and plans etc is like a war. 1 Peter 2:11 says "Dear friends, I urge you, as foreigners and exiles, to abstain from sinful desires, which wage war against your soul" And at first glance that seems kind of strong wording for something as simle as food, but if you truly consider how you interact with food, it may be true for you too. I often spend minutes and sometimes up to a half hour or more thinking, pondering, justifying, rationalizing, deciding the simplest things. Should I go get a pizza or should I make something at home. Should I drive across town to get the super delicious Chinese food I adore, or should I make something at

home. I have literally spent half hour to an hour going back and forth in my mind trying to decide if I have the money, if I've been good enough with my other food, if I deserve it etc. And as my friend KG pointed out, it is definitely like a war. That realization alone has freed me from a lot of the warring.

Just last night I went to Logli to get a movie from Redbox and as I pulled out I thought "Oh, I should run and get Chinese! Wait, I'm not sure if I have the money for that. Well, I did just babysit last night and got paid cash ..." And just that quickly I was able, for the first time I can ever remember, to say "Nope, I don't need Chinese. I'm not sure where my finances sit. I'm going home to eat something I already have." And I did. VICTORY!!!

Another realization I had has to do with my love language. I am a physical touch person. I always have been. I realized that eating, food, chocolate, cakey-goodness, coke, sugar-laden coffee, are all ways of attempting to fill up that Touch Bank that is nearly empty most of the time. The worst part about this realization is that I don't really have a way around it. God, in all his power and might and grace and mercy and amazing wonderfulness, cannot re-incarnate himself simply to come down and give me a hug. Well, He can, I just don't think he will. Sometimes I can get a similar sensation through thinking of him and imagining him hugging me etc, but it's not quite the same. I've asked friends at various points to rub my arm, tap my knee, ruffle the back of my hair, give me a hug; but most haven't done much more of that than they ever did before. So, this will be an ongoing place of work for me. If you know me, feel free to give me a tap or a hug or whatever you're comfortable with. Or send your kids over to give me a hug, they work just as well, sometimes better. ;)

In Chapter 1 of the book she talks about that commercial for a weigh-loss program that personifies Hunger/Cravings as a small orange creature which dogs a woman's every step.

She asked you to consider what your cravings "look" like. I thought about it for a minute and immediately discarded this particular orange guy. Then the picture came to me. My Hunger, My Craving is a parrot on my shoulder. He gets louder and Louder and LOUDER until I give in to him. But Polly never wants a cracker. He wants cake, or cookies, or cupcakes, or brownies, or cinnamon bread or pasta or coke or another coke or another coke. As with many things in my life, once I realize something like this, it immediately starts to lose power. But then, I'm also at the very beginning of my journey here, so here's hoping that I can focus on Philippians 4:13 "I can do All Things through Christ who gives me strength." And that I am choosing to be Empowered and not focusing on being Deprived.

I'm still processing through my most recent revelations, but I will tell you it was in Romans 8:5-10. Just this morning verses 5-6 blew me away!

"For those who live according to the flesh are concerned with the things of the flesh, but those who live according to the Spirit with the things of the Spirit. The concern of the flesh is death, but the concern of the Spirit is life and peace!!"

Holy Wow!!

side effects SUCK!

Well, it's been a week. 7 full days since I started my first anti-depressant. Which I am still hesitant to announce to the "public" at large in my world. Which is duly ironic and amusing since I am posting all my business here for all the world to see. Anyway. I started Zoloft last weekend. Friday night to be exact. Around 7 ish. And hung out with my neighbors the rest of the night. I warned my neighbor that if I started acting "bizarre" to please tell me, since I might not realize I am. to which she replied "how will I be able to tell that it's different from normal?" Which, considering me, is an honest question. And we laughed about it. We also laughed about some of the other possible side effects. weight loss? BRING IT ON! Drowsiness? Well, I guess I'm taking this at night until i know otherwise! I read through the list, because that is what one is supposed to do. But I gave nary a thought to truly having a bad reaction to the medication. I never dreamt I would be the one in a hundred or more who actually had a rare and severe reaction.

WARNING TMI -

Unfortunate timing, but I also had my period over the weekend. Which ALWAYS makes me nauseous anyway. My metabolism spikes and my stomach goes all wonky and I have to be SUPER careful about eating enough and often enough and in the middle of the night or I get so hungry I'm actually nauseous, and then unable to eat at all. I have figured this out about myself.

So the nausea I felt on Saturday felt normal.
The ickiness I felt on Sunday felt normal.
I'm not sure what I thought on Monday. But I do know I went to work and worked the whole day.
Tuesday it occurred to me that something wasn't right.

I called the doctor. I explained that the medication was making me so nauseous I couldn't function. Their solution was to cut the pill in half and do half doses for a week while my body gets used to the medication. I was not quite coherent when i called and they told me that. So i didn't truly ponder it until after the fact. I thought that maybe if I took the pill in the morning it wouldn't make me so sick until evening and that way I could get through work. So I decided to skip Tuesday night's dose and take one Weds morning.

Then I realized Tuesday afternoon/evening, that the pill wasn't giving me an upset stomach. The medication in my blood stream was making me nauseous. Like nauseous. Like I woke up in the morning and was so hungry I was unable to eat. Followed very quickly by waves of nausea. A pain/rock in my upper abdomen. A ball at the back of my throat, right where your gag reflex hits you. And the sick feeling rolled over me repeatedly. Every few minutes. It was the closest I ever hope to get to Morning Sickness. Which officially created reason #28 not to have kids, ever.

Then Weds morning rolled around. For the 3rd day in a row I woke up, wide awake, at 6 am. Almost a full hour before my alarm. Ummm, no, i don't think so body/god/whatever! NOT getting up at 6. I got up, and crawled onto my couch since I 'felt' like I was half upright and maybe I wouldn't feel as sick as if I were truly flat.

And at 7:15 I called in sick to work.

I was so nauseous I could barely get off the couch. I dozed until almost noon.

Every morning. Especially Weds, thinking

I'd rather be depressed than live like this!!

And I decided, I was not ingesting a single granule more of that medication. I refuse. Not gonna happen. I went to work at 1:00 that day, and felt worn out the entire day. I felt like I was going to fall asleep at my desk!

And I recovered, slowly. In hindsight, each day was slightly less nausea than the one before. Each day lasted a little less than the one before. Monday and Tuesday are a complete and utter blur. Wednesday I was functionable by noon. Thursday I was functionable by 10ish. Today I was bouncing back between 8:30 and 9:00. Thank Gawd tomorrow is Saturday! So, even if I wake up at 6 am with some last vestiges of nausea, I can doze back off once it fades away.

Like I started this out saying. I never dreamt, in a 100 years, that I would be the one in a thousand who has a severe reaction to the medication. Never Dreamt.

And yesterday I called the Doc back. I left a message with the receptionist that I thought there might have been some confusion about my concern earlier in the week. I thought the nurse might have misunderstood my complaint. That the pill wasn't making my stomach upset, that the medication in my blood stream was making me so nauseous I couldn't function. I told her I'd had to call in sick to work the day before. She was very empathetic and told me she'd relay the message to the nurse.

This morning I got a call back, while I was at work. Which i also happened to miss. So I called them when I went to lunch. And the nurse seemed almost put out that I had quit taking the medication entirely. Almost annoyed with me for not taking their 'cut the pill in half' advice. Which, in turn, made me want to get rude with her. Which I did not. I held my peace and my tongue. I told her I would not ever ingest another one of those pills. Was Not Gonna Happen. Somehow I felt like she still wasn't understanding my differentiation between upset stomach and Nausea. Which was additionally annoying, considering SHE'S A NURSE! I asked that she inform the Doctor of this and find out two things. First and foremost, what is the next alternative, and an alternative which has a $4.00 generic at WalMart please. And secondly, do you happen to carry/have any samples that I could try a few before investing in an entire prescription to find out if I'm going to have a similar reaction.

They called me back at 5:05 to tell me they do not have any samples, but they have called a prescription for Celexa into Walmart for me. So i went to pick that up. Now I'm crazy nervous about starting another new one when i'm fairly certain the old one isn't quite out of my system and I had such a ridiculously B!A!D! reaction to the first one.

And, all of this is just my anecdotal explanation. I haven't even gotten into the whole spiritual battle I'm in now.

Did I truly pray enough?
Did i truly ask HIS advice?
Do I actually WANT His help?
Could this reaction be a punishment for not seeking his face instead of his hand?
Could it be nothing more than the enemy of my soul trying to stop me from having the Life of Abundance that He has promised?
If it's not a punishment, why won't he stop the nausea!?
If it's not the enemy, then why me???
ad nauseum (pun fully intended)

But even with all of that. I've made up my mind. And tonight, I decided 3 strikes and we're out. I start medication #2 tonight. If I have a ridiculous reaction to that one, I'll try a 3rd. If I have a 3rd ridiculous reaction, then I'm done. I'm off to therapy to see if that will help me by itself.

Because here is the thing. Last night I was on the phone with a friend and I realized I was humming. Not along to a song. Not to a song stuck in my head. Just humming. A non-tune. And I realized I can't remember the last time I hummed for no reason. And the friend I was on the phone with couldn't remember either. And we talk 2-3 times a week a minimum.

And I then hung out with my neighbors watching Will & Grace. And I felt light. Light, like I wasn't weighted down. Like everything wasn't ridiculously heavy and overly hard. I felt the same way at work yesterday afternoon. And today. So, I think the principle of an anti-depressant is what I need. The one I started with was just a bad start.

So, cheers for attempt #2!

p.s. Remember that weight loss side effect? I did somehow lose at least 4 pounds!! But that was probably because I ate one tiny meal a day for 3 days in a row. :)

So many hours in a day

A couple weeks ago I thought

"I spent 40 hours a week at work! Plus a one hour lunch every day. And an hour(ish) to get ready in the morning. And I only sleept 7ish hours a night. Plus I spent probably an hour a day on facebook. How much time does that leave me? Certainly not enough time to do all the things I wish I could get accomplished. I should look into that. I should start a spreadsheet and figure that out. Maybe that would motivate me somehow."

Well, I figured it out.

Color me disappointed.

A week has 168 hours in it. (24 hrs a day x 7)
I spent 40 hours a week working.
I spend about 35 hours during the weekdays sleeping.
I spent 7 hours getting ready.
and 7 hours of lunch time
Average 5 hrs during the weekdays on facebook
9 hours a week watching tv shows
2 hours a week watching a movie
2 hours volunteering to meet up with a student.
4 hours spent with my parents
3 hours, totally made up averaged number, a week in the bathroom
3 hours a week driving around to various places and things
Plus I figured about 16 hours of sleeping over the weekends.

This leaves me with 35 hours a week of free time.

That is 5 hours a day. Averaged.

Obviously the numbers are skewed. The weekends screw it up. I can't work 8 hours a day, sleep 7 hours a night, get a 1 hour lunch, take an hour getting ready in the morning, spent a half hour driving around, an hour on facebook and an hour to an hour and a half watching tv and STILL have 5 hours a night to accomplish other goals.

Stupid weekends.

So, let's take the weekends out entirely.

But when I do that I realize I screwed up my original math. Leaving me with even more time than I thought. We're not gonna go there.

If I take out the weekends. I am left with 16 hours of time and an average of 2.5 hours a day. But, wait, I just realized I didn't account for the blogs I read. Maybe an hour a day. So that leaves me with an hour and a half a day to "accomplish" something.

Like working out.
Or cooking well for myself.
Or writing
Or building my side business.
Cultivating my friendships
Fighting depression
Or taking pictures
Or figuring out how to make money off the pictures
Or figuring out how to make $1k a month freelancing something I do well.
Or paying bills
Or figuring out how to save some frickin money already
Or doing dishes
Or cleaning my place
Or grocery shopping
Or any other shopping

Or the nearly nonsense things
like turning the theater downtown into a dollar theater
like volunteering with a senior center or nursing home in town
like babysitting for friends who need/want a night out
like buying or starting any number of random business ventures I've considered over the years.

And an hour and a half just doesn't seem like enough.

When you factor in all those hours on a weekend I spend sleeping in and watching TV shows on DVD.

Not exercising.
Not cleaning.
Not doing the dishes.
Not cleaning the apartment.
Not building a business.
Not writing. anything.
Not learning something.
Not cooking.
Not cultivating my relationships.

It makes me feel a little like a loser.
Like what is wrong with me that I would rather sit here watching 3 episodes of Bones, or more, than getting outside and going for a short walk?
or doing my dishes?
or working on the short story I started a couple weeks ago?
or the novel I started last year?
or the short story that needs revising?
or the script that I started in April that I still think would be VERY funny!
or cleaning?
or reading?
or whatever else might actually show some worthwhile fruit in my life?

Clearly you reap what you sow. And for the last few years ...

my seeds have sucked.

forget the rain, self-pity go away!

No more resolutions.

No more goals.

No more ridiculous nonsense.

As many a friend would tell me (mostly men/husbands) if I posted it on facebook,
in the eternal words of the Oh So Wise One
Yoda
There is no try, there is only do.

Or something like that.

I did WriteCamp today. Was interesting. last session was very informative. Middle session was encouraging. Lovely day spent with friends.

Saw a couple of men who might have had potential. Except that they showed no interest by the end of the day, therefore they get eliminated from my list of possiblities. Plus, I found out at the END of the day that the prime suspect is married with a kid on the way. (Dam!)

and seeing those men reminds me as it always does, that I'm single. I'm (now) 32 and still single. Gawd, that almost physically hurts to actually put in writing, together. I have moments where I wonder if it's actually worth it or not. I am fully aware that I am utterly and completely delusional about what married life would be like. My daydreams and fantasies about it only consist of the very best parts of the very best days.

I've had a roommate for almost 4 months now. Very long story, not worth the telling. But suffice it to say that I have learned I don't enjoy other people in my space. Breathing my air. Using my water. Sitting on my chair. Using my coasters, well moving my coasters really. But I wonder how much love I would have to have for someone before I am able to stop myself from snarling before 9 am.

I come home, unpack (yay for me!! I never unpack everything right away!!), and check into facebook. I must go reopen my restaurant!!! And I am reminded that a young woman I know got married last night. She is, of course, as one would expect, ECSTATIC. And in my heart of hearts, I am happy for her. It's a funny thing. This ability to sincerely be happy for her and her joy and simultaneously feel a knife in my heart for what I still lack. Not just the relationship. Goals. Plans. Dreams. Progress!

And then I come across a reality check. And I am reminded.

Apparently a friend from college will require a "minimally" invasive 5 hour spinal surgery. I know nothing more than that since I haven't seen her or her family in at least 10 years. But I still pray for them. Any surgery carries risks. Spinal surgery carries an extra series of risks.

I am reminded that people are sometimes mean to each other.

That teenagers can't see past next month, ..... if they can even get that far.

And I remember. My mom's best friend passed away over 2 years ago. And I remember thinking after she passed not to sweat the small stuff, cause it's just plain not worth it. I remember my mom's hurt, that she shared last week when it would have been her friend's birthday.

and I try. Try to count my blessings. Try to remind myself of the fullness that is true in my life. Of the excess I have. And I don't mean the 20 pounds of Santa Belly. Of the abundance in my spirit. Of the potential in my bank account. Of the health of my body and mind. Of the typicalness of my upbringing and psyche.

Of how deeply, truly, greatly loved I am. By a Creator. By friends who know my wit and my smile. By closest friends who know the deepest wells of my heart and my faults and frailties. By family who acknowledge and claim me.

Remind myself that I am loved. I am cherished. Cared for. Beloved.

That He chose to sacrifice, die, and love me! In my ridiculous nonsense. My failures. My weaknesses. My idiosyncracies. My cruel, mean soul. ME! Loved!

And I am laughing. Reminded of my best feature. My best side. His favorite sound. My Laughter.

" I Did It! "

At the beginning of every year, I set goals. I sit down sometime in January and I ponder the things I'd like to accomplish that year. I put it down in writing. I keep those lists. I write things that *I* would like to do. I write things I *believe* God wants me to do or is willing to help/allow me to do. I write things that are within the realm of plausability for me. I do not put things like Learn to play Mozart's something or other whatever concerto in J. I know better. I might have some latent musical ability, but I am certain I will NOT accomplish that particular steepness of goal in 12 months.

for the last two years, at minimum, I have written something about

-budgeting wisely
-losing weight / getting healthy (which is really just a euphemism for Get Skinny!)
- Working on my writing
- working on my photography
- memorizing scripture
- reading more non-fiction, including more of the bible

And each year I look towards the next year and think
"I've barely touched any of those!"

This year is no different. Although I did do some work with the writing there, it will remain on the upcoming list since I have set a new Big Hairy Audacious goal for 2010 in terms of book writing. The rest though .... are a sad statement of the life I choose to live. I am budgeting better than I used to, but I still have very little to my name that I can be proud of. I weigh more now than I have in quite a few years, possibly the all time high, but I quit weighing myself in May, so I'm not certain where that particular number falls right now. I tried to do one thing with my photography and that went nowhere, so, as per my usual, I gave it up and 'watched' for another opportunity, i.e. do NOTHING. I memorized a couple of scriptures just here at the end of the year. I don't read anything but facebook, blogs, and novels. I just don't. I overanalyze and overintellectualize it and just never get anywhere.

Yesterday I got my Self magazine (free with purchase of enough Coke to generate 260ish points on mycokerewards.com.) And the opening editorial is "I Did It" and is talking about making your resolutions for 2010. Not putting things off or simply wallowing or lamenting that you didn't do them this last year. Look Forward! So I started to. And it started dawning on me that the top 3 things on my list remain the same as last year .... and only ONE of them got ANY work at all this year. :(

I pondered a bit and considered what that might mean and I suddenly realized something. Allow me to back up one step. I set Goals for each year because I do not believe in resolutions. resolutions, by definition are something you declare to accomplish, nearly always, in your own power. I believe I'm nearly powerless to accomplish much of anything if left to my own devices. An unhealthy amount of sleep, facebook and food would be the only "accomplishments" I could count on.

So it dawns on me, as I'm pondering Goals For 2010 ... that I'm painting a donkey to look like a zebra. Plain and simple. It's the same thing!!! I'm just 'deciding' that they are goals and therefore can receive God's blessing. But the thing is ...

I've never truly consulted HIM on what HIS goals for my next year are. Yeah, maybe I put in a small bit of effort, but even that primarily consisted of "Well, I'd really like my writing to go somewhere, and I have a gift for that (right?) so on the list it goes cause the gift obviously came from you so .... (scribble scribble scribble)." And, of course, on that list above is scripture memorizing. To just be brutal with myself, and with you, that was another (very transparent) way of trying to get God to approve MY other goals. Sort of a One for You, Two for Me, thing.

Clearly this has worked fantastically for me thus far.

This year, we're going to try something different. I'm going to draw a line down the middle of a page in my journal and I'm going to list the things I, myself, in my own imaginations and desires, want to accomplish in 2010 and on the other side I'm going to list those things that I believe God wishes me to accomplish in 2010. We'll see how dissimilar the lists are, and then I'll (hopefully) start focusing my energies on the things that overlap.

Now .... gotta get working on finishing that NaNo novel .... set a goal to finish it by the end of the year .... I'm like 5% there maybe ....

Balance in the Universe

Tonight is Biggest Loser. I love this show. I watched the first couple of seasons and took a hiatus, and came back a season or two ago. I quit watching it originally because it was depressing. All these people could "Change Their Lives" and I didn't change anything. If I remember correctly, I was living with my parents at the time and only working part-time. Effectively going nowhere. At least that's how it felt. To make matters worse, although I was overweight I was nowhere NEAR a point which would qualify me for the show. So I couldn't even audition to go on to try to Change My Life!! Talk about depressing! I think someone should come up with a show ... Medium Loser. For all of us in the middle.

Already I'm digressing! In the last couple seasons I have developed a new found love of this show. Love I Say! Watching these people Change Their Lives truly is inspiring. It may not inspire me to go work out* or to stop eating the brownies I'll inevitably have in front of me. But it does inspire me to change other things. To believe in the person that I am. To believe that I can have some of the things I dream of. (Michael Buble, I'm talking to you ... he wrote this song for me you know)

*Technically they do inspire me to work out. It's just usually so dang late at night that i can't work out AND sleep at a decent time. And I have enough trouble sleeping right now, I don't need added problems.

Seeing so many contestants show their Truest Colors (I'm looking at you Married Couple from last season who paired up with Other Married Couple and dominated in spite of having no REAL desire to change your life, only to make money!) for the good and for the bad inevitably results in at least the shallowest layer of self-reflection.

This season I'm watching it with my neighbor. We were acquaintances before they moved in and now we are becoming friends. She too is a bit overweight. Although hers is more pronounced and acceptable since she is Growing a Kid! However, we say, every single week, while watching Jillian scream at someone or Bob 'kill' someone in the gym

"That is why I'd never make it on BL. I have no drive or desire to work that hard at much of anything."

And we eat another brownie and laugh with each other. Ahhhh, the beauty of camaraderie.

The true beauty, though, is that I do have a strong desire to write. To do this. For a living, somehow. And enough drive to plug away at it. Right now I'm half-ass-ing my way through NaNoWriMo. I'm handwriting a novel. In a spiral notebook. I'm probably not even to a word count for day 2 or 3 ... But I am thoroughly enjoying the ride. and I'm convincing myself that if/when I do make it big in writing, I won't have to work 8-5 and THEN I will work out every day and get more fit and healthy and enjoy my world. And become The Medium Loser!

For today, my goals are few. 3 to be exact.
1) Learn a little better every day how to appreciate and enjoy the body I am in, no matter it's size or mass.
2) Write a little more every day to hone my craft and share my thoughts.
and
3) Add Balance to The Universe.

Balance the Universe??? You say?? Well ... of course, if all those contestants on BL aren't eating the calories, then someone has to! There must be Balance in The Universe!! My neighbor and I will be Balancing Out the Universe with Peanut Butter Cup Brownies for the next hour or so. If you don't feel the earth tilt on it's axis, that was my doing. ;)

Internal Motivation

I'm just not. I'm not internally motivated. I never have been. I, effectively, require the external motivation of punishment or discipline in order to do much of anything in life. Even the promise of reward seldom motivates me to do something.

I only tidy up all the corners of my apartment when I am expecting multiple people. And even then it has to be more than one person and typically from more than one sphere of my worlds. And even inside those requirements I still seldom tidy every single solitary corner of my apartment. Usually my office area is what is left untidy-ed.

I only clean my area once something about the dirtiness starts bothering me. I won't go into details here mostly because it would gross most of you out.

I go to work because I need to pay my bills.

I walk or cycle only when one of two things occurs. 1) I desperately need to connect with God on a
deeper level or 2) I get jittery from the lack of movement.

There was a time I wouldn't balance my checkbook until I had bounced something or had to figure out if something was about to bounce. Now I balance my checkbook only when I need to pay bills and I need to figure out how much I can pay on debt. and this month, I got an extra paycheck so I haven't balanced it yet. In fact between facebook and this post I am effectively putting that task off for at least another 5 days.

I want to write a book. 3 books, maybe more, to be honest. I have the ideas in my head. I have a manuscript started for the novel. I have an outline started for my memoir. I have an idea in my head for a 3rd, a couple of titles I'd like to use somehow somewhere, and the novel? That could be the start of a whole series of books. What did I do today? Facebook mostly, while listening to Season 1 of CSI.

Recently I started doing some volunteer work with InterVarsity Christian Fellowship at my old Alma Mater. One of the few things I do without threat of punishment. I do it solely because I so incredibly and deeply enjoy it. College was an incredible time for me and I love sharing that time with students who are experiencing their own incredible time right now. This is very likely one of the only things I have done in years that I chose to do, set out to do, pursued and achieved, solely for the personal fulfillment and 'giving back' of it.

I am absolutely full of dreams. I have set goals for nearly every thing imaginable. I am not sure I have ever achieved a single one of the goals I have ever set in my entire life. This little fact is like a splinter in my mind. It niggles at me. It pokes at me.

It does not motivate me.

I have a side business. A direct sales company that I absolutely love. I can potentially help a lot of people change their lives on a few different levels. I haven't touched this business in a month, maybe two. I set goals. I take notes. I make plans. I have dreams. I look at our newsletters. I get motivational emails and follow motivational blogs.

I'm not afraid of the typical things consultants in direct sales are. I'm not truly afraid of the phone. I'm not afraid of approaching strangers. I'm not technically afraid of failure nor of success.

I'm afraid that I won't be able to maintain it. I think the maintenance idea is what's at the core of why NONE of my goals has ever been achieved.

I can't even tell you how many Januarys I have declared that this year is the year I'm going to lose this weight and be the healthier happier more active and hopefully more in love person that I think I am supposed to be. But it feels hypocritical to lose 40-50-60 pounds in order to attract a man when I'm convinced on this side of the relationship that I won't want to maintain that weight loss for the duration of my life. It's equivalent to bleaching my hair out to be a blond until after the honeymoon and going back to my natural nearly-black brunette. It's disingenuous. And I think rude and ignorant, not to mention stupid and immature. All things I despise!

My current life. This I can maintain. 40+ hours a week at a somewhat challenging job that brings me home a paycheck to pay my apartment, car, insurance, internet, cell phone, food and gas. A couple nights a week catching up with friends and family over TV shows or whatever excuse we want. Saturdays spent "Doing as Little as Possible, for as Long as Possible." Sundays typically up to go to church and be loved and show love. A night or two a week investing in college students who need a glimpse of life beyond campus once in awhile, and sometimes need that glimpse to just give them a hug and love on them a bit. These things I can maintain.

This life, I can keep up with.

But if I choose to "Work my business" and get bored in 3 months, then what? If I choose to work my ass off in workouts for 6 months and lose 40 pounds, and still don't meet a great guy who loves my sparkling personality, then what? If I spend months writing my fingers to the bone (figuratively and possibly literally) and pump out both manuscripts, and no publishing house will even talk to me about publishing them, then what?

I realized more deeply than ever recently that I 'process' through ideas and problems and situations out loud. Verbally. Sometimes i can't figure out what I'm thinking or what decision I want to make until I'm actually saying it out loud to someone else. Apparently I can 'process' a little bit in writing. I just had a small revelation.

tiny.

All my goals are always set with the end in mind. Which, I believe, is typical goal-setting-theory. The problem is that I'm not convinced those ends are possible or sustainable. And I forget entirely The Process.

What might I find out about myself if I Worked my Business every single day for two weeks? Much less for Two months? How many people might I be able to help? How much debt might I be able to pay off?? How much savings might I be able to stockpile?????

What revelations would I see if I worked out, consistently, hard, effectively, for 3 months? What strength of character might I uncover? What focus of energy might I find? What euphoria might I be able to maintain??

What skills could I hone if I wrote, something, somewhere for any of my books, every single day for 365 days? if i wrote in a single book for 365 days I would have 365 pages at the end of a year. What if it never gets 'published' but I share it with my own circles and impact lives I personally know? What lives could I effectively influence by my written words if I improved my craft every day for 365 days??

I tend to see black and white. All or Nothing. I don't see 'and' nor 'or'. I see the beginning and I see the end. I don't see the journey in the middle. Rather, I don't see the value in that journey. I assume failure at the end so I don't see the purpose for the beginning.

And I stay mired in my messes, crying in my nachos, and filling up my days so I don't have to acknowledge how unfulfilled my soul truly is. I'll be pondering this journey idea. You?

Big Loser - support

Watching Biggest Loser tonight. Inspired as always.

I saw Abby talking to her mom about how much support they are getting for her at home since she was America's choice at the last season finale. She was crying because she was so touched at how much support is coming in. Not only does she have the support of her friends and family, she has the support of America.

And I thought to myself

"I wouldn't have that much support if I did something like that"

And pretty much IMMEDIATELY caught myself up short. Reminded myself I would have EXACTLY that much support. And the support of my Maker. If I told everyone I knew that I was going to do any version of the Biggest Loser (because I'm actually not even HEAVY enough right now to make it on the show!) I would have so much support.

I told my mom early on this year that my goal, well, one of many goals was to lose 45% of my body weight. It was mid-low level for my height on the official chart. An incredibly lofty goal, but attainable. IF ... IF I had been working at this already this entire year and had already lost around 50-60ish pounds. I have not. at all. In fact, I haven't even been on a scale in 3-5 months, so I can't even tell you what I weight right now.

And I think about all the things these contestants have to say. All their reasons for being there. The families, the kids, the lives they want to have.

My only, truest, deepest reason is in the hopes of catching a husband. The hope of getting svelte and sleek and sexy enough to catch someone's eye. The paradox is that my personality is such that I won't put up with someone shallow nor someone who would only stay interested in me for exactly that svelteness. I want to be in a relationship for the long haul, and at my age, 30 years together ... and anything shallow will have LOOOONG died.

I always come back around to the other half of that problem. Even IF, if I could lose that weight and catch someone's eye. I truly don't want to live a life where I have to work that hard for that long that much in order to keep that look up for him. Of all the ridiculous things I consider and ponder and think about, the idea of nabbing a man with a sleek svelte body only to let it go completely after I get him to marry me, that is one of the rudest and meanest ridiculous things I've noodled.

So that leaves me here. Middle of the road. Uncommitted. Wishing. Single in Paradox. Maybe someday I'll have a rock bottom moment and decide to get healthy for mySELF. I'll let ya know.

Big Loser

I have a few shows that I love. Thoroughly. A couple of them ashamedly, and a couple UNashamedly. I do not love all reality shows like some people I know. I love Survivor, Amazing Race and ... The Biggest Loser. I saw a preview last night for TBL and actually interrupted my friend talking to be sure I could see the couple of contestants they were showcasing. I also got an email and read to see that one of my favorites from last season is coming back! I am so totally rooting for him. He is so incredibly sweet and kind and just seems like such an all around great kid. He had a sucky partner last season and ended up not being able to stay on the ranch, but he still did great at home.

Technically i'm digressing, but it's early so you don't know that yet.

One of my favorite things about TBL is the trainers. Bob and Jillian are great. Actually, my most favorite thing is watching the last chance workouts. The sad thing is that usually doesn't come on til a little after 8 and it is too late for me to take that motivation and try to do anything. And it never lasts. But, back to the trainers. I'm kind of with most people in thinking that if I, personally, had to choose between the two I'd choose Bob. He seems so much kinder and gentler. But, I think the reality would be that I'd be like that slacker girl that he ended up screaming and swearing at last season. I'd be figuring out ways to slough off on the workouts and do a little less than everyone else and try to get away with it. I don't think Jill would let me even begin. Not that Bob lets you ... i guess that's the wrong way to say it. I don't think with Jill you're even tempted to try it.

I watch the show religiously. I see all their ads for their dvds and equipment and nutritional stuff and I am one of the few who is not tempted. why? Because I know that the trick is not in buying the protein powder or in getting the right DVD. The trick is in actually using those tools.

I've never been good at that.

Ever.

The only thing I've ever been consistent at, aside from providing from my basic needs, is my inconsistency. I feed and bathe and clothe myself daily. I breathe and I move around minimally. But I buy dvds and I even got a few vhs tapes at goodwill the other day. I got weights and a pilates set for my birthday that didn't get opened until today. (my birthday was in may). I bought a recumbent exercise bike in February/March. I bought a fundraiser summer membership to our local athletic club. Do I use any of it? Sometimes. Once in awhile. I made it to the athletic club a sum total of 3 times. I've used the bike maybe a couple more times. I did the vhs tape I got from goodwill once, maybe twice. I don't think i've ever done any of those things more than five times sum grand total before giving up.

It doesn't appeal to me. The level of tired and twitchy I feel right now, doesn't appeal to me. Nor does the level of sheen I am currently carrying. I enjoy my cycling. I enjoy the fantasy of being thin and incredibly attractive. I do not enjoy the work of getting there. I never have.

I've never enjoy much of any work in any form actually.

But then I started hearing about Jillian Michael's 30 day Shred. And I thought 'hmmm.' Then a friend tweeted about it. And after 11 days she said (me paraphrasing how I remember it)

"On day 11 of the 30 day shred. I now have the body of a supermodel. But I'm too tired to bury it so it's just rolling around in my trunk."

Then i saw another friend post something about it on twitter or facebook. So i asked about it. And on 4th of July my friend lent it to me. It has been sitting on top of my tv in my living room, on top of the workout poster from Fitness magazine, since then.

I'm so busy. I run run run. I know that's an excuse, blah on you, whatever. I can't do this workout and get all sweaty and gross if I have a business appointment at 6. And if my appointment is at 6 then I can't do it when I get home at 730 or 8 because that's too close to bed and I won't sleep. And I have enough problems sleeping as it is. Apparently, I can't do it before doing business calls either, because I had planned to do a few calls tonight ... well, honestly, I had planned to do a BUNCH of calls tonight. But, that ain't gonna happen. My arms are seriously so weak from that workout it's hard to keep typing. Yes, conceivably I could make the time. But, like I said above, it's never been much of a priority for me.

Then I had a thought today at work. (and, please don't skewer me or attack me for this, i'm gonna bare a bit of my soul here, be gentle with it) My deepest, hidden desire is to marry someone rich or incredibly ambitious to get rich. Not like nice house in nice neighborhood and good cars 'rich' here in my hometown. Like Rich enough to be qualified to get on a Real Housewives tv show. not that I want to be on that tv show necessarily, but I want to be that rich. I know money doesn't buy happiness or contentment or love. I know that the love of money is the root of all evil. (love there, not the money itself, the love of it) But, there it is. When I dream, like truly crazy dream about what I wish my life could be like, it always involves some form of filthy rich. Plus, I've dated lazy guys with little or no ambition and i'm not really interested in that so much. I'm a dreamer, I'm an ideas person. And, I'd like a partner who can take some of those ideas and make us some crazy bank from it.

And my crazy thought was that no guy who is that ambitious and/or that rich is going to be interested in a woman as lazy as I clearly am. My outward appearance screams at you how lazy I truly am. And how inconsistent. Since even writing that makes me remind myself that not only do I not want to do the work to lose the weight, I absoultely do not want to do the work to keep it off indefinitely. blech.

But as I pondered this today I thought, if that's what it takes, why can't I give it a shot? I really felt bad reading that Matchmaker's book and was turning the bend to throwing in the towel on ever getting married altogether. But I read further and she does have some good tips and ideas. And, part of why I felt so bad was that I didn't disagree with her! The average guy in a bar or at a hockey game or at the movie store is not going to look twice at me. I used to tell myself that he'd have to get to know me first, because no man would be attracted to this package. I know some of you are disagreeing with me, and some of you feel bad for me and some of you probably want to come through the computer and shake me. But I sincerely feel like that is the reality that I live in. Attempting to date as a 30 something in 2009. It's a whole different world out here.

So, if that is what it takes to get what I truly dream of, can't I at least try to put in a little effort to make that happen? What would it hurt? I'd like to be svelte and saucy and utterly confident about the package I present to the world. Why not give it another try.

To that end, tonight I decided to work out as soon as I got home. I got home and put on workout clothes. And opened up the pilates set I got for my birthday. And checked into facebook. And put in the pilates dvd and within 20 seconds decided that the soothing sound of ocean waves and that lovely beach background combined with that ridiculous british/indian accented woman's voice telling me what to do was not going to work for me. At least not tonight. Maybe another day, and on that day I will take copius notes so I can put on some super upbeat music and do it to my own drummer. But as i was putting in the pilates dvd I noticed Jillian staring at me from on top of my tv. After I decided that ridiculous woman on the beach was NOT going to push me to work out and actually achieve anything, I put in Jillian.

I fear Jillian. But I also love Jillian. She is incredibly tough on her contestants, but if you actually watch you can see that she really does care for them. Way deep down she has a reasonably soft heart, I think. Her intro on the dvd says how much she wants us to see results. She wants us to be healthy and fit. And I believe her.

Tonight, Jillian tried to kill me. I have two tender muscles, one of which I still have absolutely no clue how I tweaked it. Every muscle in my body wants me to just go to bed and sleep or at least stop trying to make them continue to function. I was so tired when i finished that I swear I could have crawled into bed and slept til morning. If not for the dishes I already started and the supper I have yet to eat. Not to mention the two movies I have that are due back tonight. Hmm, how important is it to get them back tonight. We'll see.

But it feels good. And it's only 20 minutes. I can do 20 minutes. Right? I can. I'm an adult. I'm motivated, or close enough. I'm hopeful. I am certainly strong enough. I can do this, right?

Ya wanna know the truly sucky part of this? I'm going to spend the weekend with friends again, so I probably won't be able to work out at all while I'm gone. so, whatever muscle memory I might have started today, will be TOTALLY ERASED by the time I get back to it. Maybe sunday. I'll let ya know. Here we go Jillian!!! I'm a big loser ... or at least I wanna be!