Yes, he does. But the siblings, like your husband's were raised to be unified and to care for the common good. It seems like this sister did not get the memo. It is so triggering to me. I feel very heavy today. Like plodding heavy. Like wheezing heavy. Like life is over, heavy.
If I thought about it, I might think it had something to do with yesterday's post. That I remembered what it felt like to feel good by looking good, to feel envied or to want to be envied, perhaps.
If I look at it this way, the weight is something to keep me down, to hold me down, to keep me less than.
I was always so light footed. I work fast. I walk fast. No more.
I looked for my son again today. I deliberately drove up and down a few streets, and watched for him as I did my few errands.
Life seems so blah. Not much of anything animates me here. Nowhere I can go. Nothing I do, here, gives me energy or feeds me.
The couple of people who I delight in seeing, I do not want to see or I do not want to be seen by them. Which, I am not sure. Probably it is more this: I avoid anybody I want to be with. It is like I am keeping myself from wanting anything that is readily in reach.
What a worthy goal. I want myself for my own too. I do not know where to start. Tomorrow I will go for two long walks. Heat or no heat. Maybe I will find myself there.
How much of this ennui is because I cannot find my son. Who does not, it seems, want to be with me. How do other mothers at the point I am at, come to want themselves? What are the beginning steps? Leave town?
I hope that this is not what the weight is. Overwhelming, impossible to ignore and wordless contempt. It sure does sound like it. Physically embodied, impossible to ignore and overwhelming contempt for myself.
.
I think each of us did. And continue to do so.
I think a little bit of both. Some of the weight I put on when I went back to work. It was stressful and when I work, I do that. And do not do the things I need to do to keep trim.
I love to move. It is really who I am. When I move I feel alive and hopeful. Vital and young.
Looked at that way, I better get going. Except it is so hot here now. Really hot.
I am a body type that thrives on exercise and movement. When I do not move, I mean, 6 or 7 or more hours a day of vigorous movement, my weight goes up, slowly, but it adds up.
So, by the time my Mom got sick I was already up almost 40 pounds. I had started off lean so I was not that overweight.
After she died, I went to bed, and I could care less. I never eat a lot. And should not gain weight from what I eat. But I think the lack of movement is what did it. So, I gained another 25 pounds. And my frame is light. All of the weight is pure blubber. I disgust myself.
A moment's taste means a thicker waist.
My Mother.
Sharp. Critical. Unsympathetic.
It is so hard when I am this unhappy with myself, to not have it spill over onto M. To feel that it is his fault. That if I were alone again, that I could find my bearings. In a relationship you carry stuff for the other person too. And I have hinted about some of the burden I carry with him.
On the other hand, not many men, in my experience, will share your burdens with you. And he does. He is a very good man. Mostly. And when it comes close to his leaving I get frantic.
Is it that I do not want to be alone again or that I do not want to lose him? That is a vital distinction. Because I never thought I was a woman who settled or would settle.
I trusted him. And I trust him. To a point. I never trusted anybody before.
There is a lady who works in my bank. We seem both to like talking to each other. I feel happy just being with her. Except when I figured that out, I stopped going to the bank. I have not been back for 6 or 8 months. How dumb is that? Her name is Molly. She is honest and present and real and sweet and strong. At least she seems that to me, and to her co-workers who miss her when she is not there. I miss her too. Somebody you can tell the truth to, and she doesn't fog over. I love it how she doesn't smile. She loves her animals and cried when her dog died. She makes paper. She has a Macaw. I really like her. I wish she was my friend.
I don't want to be vulnerable. To want to be her friend made me feel exposed. What if she doesn't want to be mine? I would feel ashamed.
I have had so many "friends." For what it is worth, I was known (I wrote I am known, present tense. Obviously that cannot stand, because I have no family anymore) in my family as the one who always had "friends."
I am not that person anymore. Whether it is because I am raw, without skin, or whether it is the bloat, or something else, I do not feel I can risk right now, or anymore. I do not want to risk.
From that way of thinking the weight is a protection, a barrier. Weighing me down so I do not reach out. Cannot touch or be touched. Keeping me from being close to others.
It is not only that. I think I only eat 1000 kcals a day. Thank you for asking, Cedar. am grateful. My Mother said that to me a few weeks before she died. For a long time I wish she had said, Thank You. There is a difference. The latter implies a relationship. A gift. My mother could not do that. She could not go that far.
I know your book club went well, Cedar. What did you bake? I love to bake, too. All of the men in my family were professional bakers and my Dad was a pastry chef on ocean liners.
When I can get to a Walmart that had Phyllo dough I will make Granddaughter's Baklava. I will only eat 2 bites.
SWOT, I missed you today. I went to look for you, but did not know what to say about Bart and Junior. Love and gratitude. That's all.
