I’m starting to come to the realization that if only is no solution to anything at all.
The easiest trap I allow myself to fall into is the ‘if only I were thin’ trap. If only I were thin, I would be happy. If only I were thin, I would look good, and if I looked good, I’d feel good, because I wouldn’t have any reason not to like myself, so, I’d be happy. And besides that, if I were thin, others (say, significant others) would love me more. Because nobody likes fat people.
I conveniently forget that there was a time when I was smokin’ hot (never thin, but I was a cutie), and even then, I still found fault with my looks and wished I could be thin. I’ve always had something to hang ‘if only’ on. If only I could get through school. If only I had a reliable car. If only I had my own house. If only I were out of debt. If only I had somebody who loved me. If only I had kids.
If only.
It’s nothing but a trap. An excuse. A crook that distracts me from the beauty of this moment that I will never get back. Robbing me of my very life. Tricking me, disarming me, incapacitating me, making me not like myself, making me think I’m not worth liking. What’s not to like? I’m nice. I’m caring. I’m friendly. I’m even half-smart about some things, and can hold a reasonable conversation (depending on the subject, that is). So I’m not thin. WHO CARES? Seriously. Who? And if anyone besides me, then why? Why would anyone care what I look like? Do I care if someone is tall or short or large or small? No. NO! Well, I do have a little trouble with over-cologned people in close proximity, but I have chemical sensitivity and it’s nothing personal. I’d love it if I could wear cologne myself. And I don’t particularly like to be around loud people, because I have noise issues. Loud pleasant people are okay. I just don’t stand too close so that my head doesn’t ring.
It may be time to break out the zoloft. But first I will try some more small changes, and give them a chance. I’ve been going to the gym four days a week. I need to make that a part of my day, so that there’s no questioning whether or not it will happen. It just needs to be part of my life. And I plan to revamp the menu towards more whole foods, and less cheese and meat. Definitely less cookies. I’m a cookie fanatic. And somehow, more sleep. I put the kids to bed an hour ago, and struggled between grabbing a little bit of me time, or just joining them.
I wish I had a little more time to blog. It’s so good to take time to collect some thoughts. But now I hear the baby crying, so off I go.
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Being the stellar mother that I am, I took just long enough to reread my post that the baby soothed himself back to sleep. So I have a little more time.
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Part of me struggles with taking any time to blog because of Gadget’s accusation that I spend all my time on the computer. When we argue, it invariably comes up. To which I say, I WAS PUMPING. Because I did spend 4 hours a day strapped to the breast pump (and hence, on the computer), back when the dairy was in operation. Since weaning, I’ve spent very little time on the computer. (Or so I claim.) I shouldn’t allow false accusations to make me feel guilty. So here I am, blogging. (He’s not here, though, otherwise, I’d have stopped at ‘If only I had kids’.)
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Well hell. I might as well come out with it. I mustered the courage to tell Gadget that even though he was back, I realized that I wasn’t happy with ‘us’, whatever ‘we’ are, and don’t want to try to patch things together any more, because all we’ve ever done is sweep things under the carpet and not one thing between us has ever, ever been resolved. We’re more like oil and vinegar than yin and yang.
So, he left immediately, a week ago Saturday. And I’ve not seen or heard from him since.
I’m not letting myself manufacture any assumptions about what he’s thinking or feeling. How can I have any real idea what’s in his head?
I will just feel more peaceful when all the turmoil is a thing of the past and we’ve settled into whatever our new lives will be. If only this were all behind us…
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A coworker’s son was died yesterday. He was killed by a hit-and-run drunk driver. He, the son, had been in a coma for the last few weeks, and there was much hope and things were looking promising, but when he finally came out of the coma, there was no neural response. He drifted away yesterday. He was 29. It rips me up, that my friend and her family have lost a child who could have had so much life ahead of him. It’s so, so wrong. The order of the universe is all messed up when we lose our children. We are supposed to go first.
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It’s tragic that someone with so much potential for a beautiful life has no choice; his life was taken from him, and here I am, alive, and wasting precious moments making excuses for myself. I’m making changes, and change is hard. Oh GOD, change is hard. But I owe it to myself, and it would be criminal for me not to. It’s time to wake up and do what I can to love each and every moment that I get the privilege of living.
