May, bahumbug

I just survived. I survived another morning, day, hour or whatever you want to call it. Sometimes I feel like my survival is moment to moment. Am I the only person who feels like this? Don’t get me wrong, over the years I have grown less conscience of the thought, but at least once a day it does cross my mind.

Please don’t misunderstand, I am not in fear of dying. I’m not going the Chicken Little route, I am just very aware of my survival. It all stems back to my mother’s passing in 2005. Losing your mother is a wake up call at any age. It is my opinion that the death of a mother is such a deep wound that it only gets deeper. My experience is, time does not heal all wounds, in this case I only miss her more and it only gets harder. Getting older just means there are more things that she wasn’t physically here for. You don’t even realize some of the things that you will miss until you miss them. I was 26 when she passed away, in a lot of ways I stopped living.

Time measures differently for me now, it’s hard to explain. When she passed away I was living a home, unmarried and I didn’t have any children. I can’t help but think that my thought process would differ a bit if I had my own family to ease the blow.  I didn’t have my own family, I did it all alone.  I mourned alone, I grieved alone, and I survived alone, none of which I did very well.  Since then I did marry, even my marriage has been severely effected by my Mother’s absence.

Holidays don’t matter much anymore, they just don’t feel the same. It isn’t all woe as me, some are easier than others, and it is completely random how it plays out. I remember a Easter Sunday a few years ago, it was a beautiful day and we were attending a large get together at my bosses’ house. As I sat with my plate of ham and watched the kids search for eggs I lost it. I mean full blown lost it. The tears were uncontrollable and I had no idea where the emotion came from. When it does hit me,it is debilitating, it feels as though someone has punched a hole through my chest. The feeling is literal heartache and unless you have experienced it I doubt you can even imagine the pain. This is probably the worst comparison possible but in the Twilight series their is a scene in the movie New Moon that shows Bella physically in pain from the loss of her love. Horrible reference I know but when I watched that movie I could relate to that moment, it was the first time I saw the feeling that I actually feel when it happens. Ugh, I know, I know. Nonetheless, holidays can go either way for me then again so can any random Tuesday while driving home from the grocery store.

Then we have the month of May,screw you May. You would think that being in the Midwest that I would appreciate the month that may bring less bipolar temperatures and vague amounts of sunshine. Ah yes, this is not the case. May 2nd is my mother’s birthday. It just kinda starts the month with a reminder of how old she would have been and how I actually miss the dreaded birthday shopping for her. You see, shopping for her birthday always felt like a kamikaze mission. Mother was someone who didn’t want anything for herself, she took much more joy in providing for others. It wasn’t about material things with her which made it even harder to find direction. She loved plants, so I tried to buy something in that capacity. Unfortunately, Mother’s Day falls just about 10 days later and I used up the plant card. Oh sure, like trying to find one gift wasn’t enough then I needed to find two….right. There’s a part of me that feels like I cheated her a bit, much like people with Christmas birthdays. I know in my heart it wasn’t about things, she just wanted us to care. I am not sure if I cared enough, not as much a she deserved.

I remember the year before she got sick I just kinda through my hands up in the air and decided instead of buying anything, I would cook for her. This was a major deal as my mother was an amazing cook. She always encouraged me to cook but it was almost as if there was no need because she was always there. I decided on an elaborate Mexican themed menu as it was my favorite and she didn’t mind. I prepared several dishes from scratch, I remember being so nervous that she wouldn’t like it. It wasn’t that I thought it was bad, but maybe too spicy, or under seasoned. Mom was never critical in this area so I had no idea where the fear came from but it my eyes it was like serving a meal to an Iron Chef. Much to my delight she looked me dead in the face and said “You should sell these enchiladas on the street, you’d be rich.” That was our last Mother’s Day that I remember, there was one in 2005 but quite honestly, my memories from that time period are blurred a bit. Instead of remembering the good times, my mental block only allows me the bad.

Ugh, obviously I could go on and on. Really, May is a B of a month, I would like it to pass quickly as it is filled with reminders of absence and reflections of  half-assed efforts. Getting through each day seems like an effort at times but I have survived so far. Just recently have I started looking forward instead of standing in the same spot paralyzed by fear. The “why bother?” attitude is slowly dwindling and I am learning to appreciate each day a little more. I can’t say that I will ever love the month of May or the emotion it brings but I can say that this one is a little less about survival and a little more about living.

Chicken Little

Truth in Labeling – the 400hr playhouse

Truth in Labeling – the 400hr playhouse.

 

Oh yes, I don’t even have children and I can completely relate to this. My husband has a knack for turning minor projects in to major 0nes and an even bigger knack for frustrating himself to the point he looks like a slim version of Grape Girl from Willy Wonka.

Unfortunately, it is looking like task of organizing our closets this weekend may fit into the Ibuprofen and beer category. Thanks Crossfit for giving me strength, and making me too sore to use my upper body at all.

I survived week 1

crossfit photo: crossfit chix crossfit_t.jpgWell, that’s what I am hoping.

See, in a land far far away I once was a “really hot girl”, now not so much. The last few years have been hellatious on my body, on my mind, on my health in general. To this day it still amazes me that in just 4 years I managed to gain 70lbs, lose 20lbs, go through 3 months of knee therapy, 2 months of ankle therapy, 6 weeks on crutches, an autoimmune diagnosis, a 4 month round of inter-dermal allergy tests and countless attempts at trying to turn it all around.

In 2010 I started P90X…that lasted 3 weeks. The excuse was I lived in too small of a space, could not find a door frame to do pull ups from and had to modify too many things. I didn’t have to  modify because of my weight, just because I am that broken and out of shape. Since then it has been a variety of attempts to become fit. I am one of those anti-athletic people. I made it all the way  to about 29 smoking 2 packs a day, relying on awesome genetics to keep me at my perfect size 4 and the extent of my physical activity was dancing on a bar sloshed at 4am. Ah yes, good times.

Unfortunately, my body had other plans. I started to feel as if I was slowly dying, fully realizing that sounds overly dramatic, let me explain. You see, its funny when body decides to give, it is gradual and very abrupt at the same time. I will go in to detail later but I had no idea how many people were in the same position as me until I started talking to people in similar positions. It has been a long process, numerous specialists, crazy testing, a lot of dietary changes and attempts at following all sorts of wacky protocols.

I won’t bombard you all the gory details just yet, I will start with something a little easier to digest….Crossfit. You may have heard of it if not, you are more of a recluse than even me.  Crossfit is an elite form of fitness training. Now love it or hate t, you can’t deny that the people who do it are accomplishing things your lazy ass only dreamed of. I have never been athletic, not even close, in fact, I have never even participated in a gym class while in school. Plagued by injury, I managed to avoid most physical activity that I didn’t feel like participating in. Saying this, I chose the most intimidating form of sport possible to test the waters.

Tonight was the final Crossfit class of the week. I survived 3 this week, barely. This was my first week and I was intimidated as all hell. I had to talk my self into showing up, I am  guessing this is the same feeling one gets before a Colonoscopy. Even though I was looking forward to it, I was dreading it. I never like to be vulnerable, I mean who does? Really, I take it to extremes avoiding all activities in which I may seem foolish, may possibly fail or can’t hold my own in, in any respect. My motto: “I don’t play  if I can’t win”. If my husband didn’t agree to participate I would have bailed after day 1. It only took about 20 minutes for me to realize that I was about to get a major ass whipping….and boy did I. As I sit here doped up on Ibuprofin, ice and pumpkin seeds I am realizing that even if I want to hate it, I kinda love it.

Skinny isn’t good enough. There is something more to my goal now, maybe it’s the 30 something adult trapped inside my twenty something memories but I think I can be great. Crossfit is my means to an end…my vehicle to the land of phenomenal asses, a land where women that can get pregnant and not look like they need a orange triangle on their ass and where women can out run, jump and lift most men.  For  now it’s all about vanity but I already know as time progresses it will be about so much more.

World of Darkness

How did I end up here?

It’s a question I ask myself often…How did I get here? In full disclosure, I don’t even know where here is anymore. Part of here is my need to write. Writing and I used to be in love, back in the day we had quite the romance. I blogged before there was internet, not knowing what either was just filling up disk space with mindless banter. Somewhere, somewhere in between life, death and booze Writing and I parted ways, until now. In all honesty, I feel like I have completely lost my edge if it isn’t completely obvious already. For someone who used to pride themselves on perfect grammar and my vast vocabulary I feel as though my growth has not only been stunted but has regressed dramatically. This is my apology in advance, at some point I promise to catch my rhythm and get my act together. In the mean time, bare with me.

Recently I discovered I had plenty to write about. For years I have been suppressing thoughts and ideas in fear of not being able to articulate them in a manner that would make sense. Fortunately, I have discovered that blogging, doesn’t require me to be good at anything, at least not now. My head spins daily, religion, politics, Monsanto, Rottweilers, you name it. I am hoping that I will pick a direction, or four to go in sometime soon. For now I will warn you, this blog headed to be an adventure in sarcasm, Crossfit, animals and life in general.

So, I guess to answer the question ‘How did I get here?” I could say that a few wild years, a new adventure in Crossfit, a WordPress class and way to much pent up whatnot led me here. For future reference “Whatnot” will always be code for strippers except in this one instance. Example……”Um, yeah, we’re just going out for beer and Whatnot”. Now that we got that cleared up, let’s see where we end up.

In closing…..I would just like to say that I am a little concerned with WordPress’ suggestions for tags: Crossfit, Monsanto, WordPress, Blog, Gym, Arts, Misogyny and South Brooklyn. Um, ok…