Month: July 2015

Size Matters ~ It’s a Matter of Size

 – SIZE MATTERS                                 IS IT A MATTER OF SIZE? – 

A recent dream discussion led me down this path

I have this dream discussion often

The caricatures characters change

Then again, they really don’t

They are always me, myself, and I female

There are always wailing tears

When I met the man I was to marry – I was in my prime at a svelte size 12

(He rocked a 30″ waist with a rock hard shame on you chest and bulging      stop it arms)

When we married – I was an even svelter size 10

(He maintained his inches in all respects)

When we accidentally made the decision to get pregnant – I rocketed to a “Dayum! Do they even make clothes that big?” size Who Gives a Shit, I’m Pregnant

(Again, he maintained his inches and bulged in all the right places 😯 )

Post first born and Pre second born – I regained my pre-marriage svelteness at size 12 with only a slight shift in distribution

(Somewhere around here, he upsized to 32″ despite developing noassatol syndrome)

Post second born – Let’s just say, svelte was forever in the rearview.  I was proud to have achieved a 14 with zero qualms of how I looked cuzzzzzzzz I looked good and behaved like I believed it!

(This is 6 years in and he’s effortlessly sporting that 32″)

[These were the days of meeting him at the door in one of his t-shirts that went ‘just’ down to there, or one of his dress shirts buttoned ‘just’ up to there.  Ya know?]

Now…fast forward 25 years, 7 states, 16 or more, I’m too tired to count addresses, later – I’m coming in at a fluffier size 18 to his 34″ and questioning a severely intimacy challenged marriage of 30 years

A challenge to my desirability and to his commitment

A challenge we both decided we didn’t want to engage in anymore

A challenge we both walked away from; me leaving, him allowing me to

A challenge that was one stroke of the pen away from no longer being a challenge but a divorce

We each fought our demons

We each made the decision to try again

We each found our way back to the love that was always there but had been taken for granted

We each found our way back to loving each other in all ways and knowing we’d made the right decision

And. It. Was. Good.

Even though were I to have met him at the door in one of his t-shirts then, he’d have asked when I’d bought a new sports bra…we’d have laughed because

We. Were. Good.

Fast forward again…three years later, to the here and now the last place I want to or thought I’d be, again

This time in our lives when we’ve made big decisions to show each other that WE are what’s important

Decisions that took us off one road and put our feet on another, for all the right reasons or so I thought

Decisions that I see now, perhaps only delayed the inevitable

It hurts worse now…after the trying and the changes

It hurts worse now because what is there left to do besides try to become something I’m not, thin, but even if I was or could be again, I’d never trust him for loving that me and not this me

It hurts worse now because there is nothing in the way; nothing to blame…

But myself for becoming something he didn’t bargain for

The honest truth is…it’s harder to live with the fact that he says he loves you, shows you he does in lots of little ways, but can’t in the way he would if you were even close to who or what you used to be, or at least, not what you are today, which is a hefty bag size 20 who’s food intake is far less than the average 10 year old

It’s harder to live with knowing you’re loved so much that he can’t imagine living without you, yet can’t show you that he knows and sees you are still the woman he married somewhere in there under all that life the way you can see him as the man you married under the gray hair, age spots, saggy butt, and not too bulging arms because…

the outside only drew you in…it was the inside that knocked you out

I know we are no longer teenagers

I also know, this is the time we were both working toward and looking forward to

We grow in our lives and in our love

We change our minds and change our outlooks

We transcend some things and put up with others

We shouldn’t have unrealistic expectations

But we shouldn’t settle for less than we deserve need either

So…I find myself at a crossroad once again

I’ve found this way of living and loving leaves me feeling at a loss lost

Self Esteem – Self-esteem is what we think and feel and believe about ourselves

Self Worth – Self-worth is recognizing “I am greater than all of those things”

What does this mean to me?

Well…there’s no question that my self esteem has taken a huge hit through all of this.  As the esteem comes from those things that make us feel good about ourselves

Nothing about the last year adds shit to mine

So…that leaves my feelings of self worth

Self worth is a deep knowing of your worth.  An honest belief that you are valuable, worth loving, and necessary

This has very little, if anything, to do with your self esteem

Surprising to me, is that I KNOW my worth.  Through it all, for the first time ever maybe, I KNOW my self worth

I know I’m valuable – I know I’m lovable – I know I’m necessary

Which leaves me with this…I know I’m worthy of complete love, so why am I accepting less?

Is it really such a bad thing that I have all but become a hermit…not leaving the house unless I absolutely have to, because if someone who LOVES me sees me this way, how the hell does the rest of the world see me?

Does it really matter in the grand scheme of things that the best I can hope for is an “I love you” as he rolls over to go to sleep?

Am I over reacting when he reaches to hold my hand and I pull it away because my thoughts immediately go to “I don’t want to give you the impression that I’ll settle for that” so I’ll give you nothing instead?

The worst part is…

I love kissing hello and kissing goodbye

I have always loved walking hand in hand, knowing the hand I’m holding wants to hold mine and let the world know I’m his and he’s mine

But I find I no longer want to be offered those things, as I see them as a consollation prize to the big show

The worst part is…how fucked up is that?

The worst part is…I deny the simple things I truly love because I can’t have it all.

AND it confuses me

Am I crazy?

Am I, at 54, supposed to let all of that go?

Did I go through Menopause for this?

Should I be telling myself that all people our age are giving it up without a fight?

Should I be content with what I have and piss off what I don’t?  There’s nothing wrong with companionship if companionship is what you want.

Even though I take the blame because I’m not a size 10 or 12 anymore?

I don’t know

I. Just. Don’t. Know.

Sorry…this was a shit filled ass post

An exercise in self pity if there ever was one and yes, it’s disgusting

I didn’t have to write this here, but it’s my page so I did

I just want to know…why can’t I let it go?

I want to let it go

I want to

I want

Shit…how selfish is that?

No Comments Needed…I’ll figure it out.

xo

North and South

Growing up in the far northern climes of Vermont, summer could be summed up in one word, which, oddly enough, is the same word attributed to its winters, only for different reasons.

L O N G E R

There is only one question to ask when living with and through a northern winter…”When will it end???”

No one I’ve ever known would dare ask that same question from the 4th of July through Labor Day, which in the best of years, is a Long Vermont summer.

A better question for summer is “When will it begin????”

But the Longer that lives in the northern summertime, isn’t for how many months, or weeks, or days, it lasts…it is for those Longer days, Longer bike rides, and Longer games in one backyard or another.  Longer moments of peace among the winter weary, battle fatigued, cohabitants that are brothers, sisters, mothers and fathers.  Longer trips looking for warmer weather, with Longer hellos, and even Longer goodbyes.

Summer is a Long way from Long in the north.

At the same time, there is also only one question I know to ask as a northerner living with and through, a southern summer… “When will it end???”

My slow melt begins in April, with signs of ripples in May.  Then I start to bubble in June, and by July, I’m roiling out of the proverbial ‘melted pot’.  By August, when coincidentally enough, the homicide rate begins to increase, I’m ready, willing, and able to add to the statistic of “Heat induced insanity killings”

It’s only the 9th of July here in Virginia and I’m ready for it to end.  I’m Longing for cool days and cold nights.  I want to put on a hoodie and go out by the campfire, watch the lightning bugs, and gaze at the stars in the crystal clear, cold cleansed sky.

I’m tired of the inside of my house.  I’m heart-sick at the number of times I say no to ‘Grammy, can we go out so I can run through the sprinklers?” because that would mean I’d have to go O U T there to supervise.

I’m disgusted that the longest walk I take all day is from the front door to the mailbox and even then, if I knew someone else I could ask to do it for me, I’d PAY them to do it!

I am glared at by my four legged pal who wants nothing more than to run around the yard, chasing something…anything…as long as she can runl.  NO, No, and no, because that means I’d have to go O U T there and participate!  Ugh

I Long for shorter days.

I Long for cloudy or rainy days.

I Long for someone to pick up on the fact that I wear a “Let It Snow” night shirt EVERY night hoping it’ll happen.

If you haven’t noticed…I hate the heat.  But even if I didn’t…I’d hate T H I S heat!

When. Will. It. End?