Goodbye 2021 – Hello 2022

Here is to wishing for a better year.

The last couple of years has been weird. I wonder what people in past pandemics did to relieve stress from what’s going on around them. This year, I tried to erase it by dying – not on purpose of course. So I for one, am glad that the year is over && that we can start over.

But then again, I said that at the end of 2020 also.

I am going to look at it like this – unless I die, 2022 is going to be better for me. I am hoping for a few things:

I’m hoping that I can declutter my mind. The last few years I have felt like my mind is on an episode of Hoarders && I need a dumpster. I have so much going on up there that I am having trouble deciphering what the clutter is. I’m hoping that 2022 will bring me the dumpster I need && hopefully it not turn into a dumpster fire.

I’m hoping to finally either finish, begin another, but start writing again. I have wrote off and on this year, but this nothing compares to what I used to do. I can’t always blame the cluttered mind, but at the same time, if I had that dumpster, would it make any difference with my writing? I enjoy my job that I have right now but it’s not my dream. My dream includes words, pages, books – but at my rate I’m going to end up just thinking about the dream rather than going forward.

I want to get my health on track even better than I have this year. I know it’s a long, hard road but at the same time, I know I can do it. I know it’s possible for me to get ahold of the reins and fix myself. Because I know, if I don’t have my health, I will have nothing else. && I’m not quite ready to give up without a huge fight. Plus, the thought of leaving Boyfriend && The Brother alone in this world – scares me so much.

I’m hoping to find another hobby. I’m know I have writing which I enjoy immensely, but at the same time, I feel like I should have something else to occupy my time other than work – I don’t make enough at work to occupy my time 24/7. So I’m up for finding something else. I have tried sewing, coloring, painting… none of it stuck. Well, I do have cooking to fall back on, I guess, but that’s kind of in the same boat as writing. Unless I’m willing to step out of my comfort zone, that’ll never be a reality either.

I hope this next year turns out to be one of the better ones that people and myself have had in year. I hope that everyone finds what they are looking for. I hope their is laughter, and love, and learning, and exploring – I hope there is so much enlightenment that people think back to 2019, 2020 && 2021 && laugh.

Here is to the next year && the happiness that everyone deserves!

Traditions.

Lately my mind as been extremely negative.

So much that The Boyfriend has been asking me why I’m so negative && I’m not one hundred percent sure why. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t noticed that I’m a little on the extra side right now. I’m trying so hard but at the same time my spirit is just gone.

I wanted to try && cheer myself up by writing about holiday traditions. If I have written about this in the past, I apologize, hopefully I don’t look like a complete idiot && say something that I didn’t the first time, but I don’t think I have, so there’s that.

First, I would like to admit that I don’t remember many of my Christmases. My memory doesn’t work like most, and I have said it before that some things I remember either didn’t happen or didn’t happen the way I remember it. The last Christmas I remember I was around eleven, maybe ten, I’m not sure. But I remember it was the last Christmas I spent with my grandmother.

Other than that, the only things I really remember is that I did celebrate Christmas growing up with my parents, I just don’t remember them. But I do remember the last few I have had. Like the first one with the Boyfriend. Although, that one isn’t as great of a memory as I wish. I had that planned out && knew it was going to be great! But with unforeseen circumstances, that Christmas was a bust because Boyfriend wasn’t at home on Christmas Day. He had to go do something that didn’t involve me, so I stayed at home – like I did for the next couple of Christmases when he had to go do something else. (I feel salty, but I’m not.)

I got over that.

The last few Christmases he has been home with me, so it’s made up for it.

Now, on to traditions. My mom loved Christmas – it was her favorite time of the year. She loved the tree (which she always wanted a solid white fake tree but was never able to get it. After she passed && I got older I began buying solid white fake trees for her, I felt as if it made her closer to me. I eventually stopped, mostly this year, I have a flocked tree, I believe that is what it’s called.) She loved the cooler weather, even if it doesn’t really get cold, she loved the lights, and the music && the food. Oh, she loved to cook for the family (even if I don’t remember it.)

A lot of her traditions I tried to keep going back as the years go on, I realize that I will never be up to par to my mom, but I’m pretty sure a lot of people say that. I remember that she would put the tree up Thanksgiving evening, && begin to buy presents. She would hide the gifts in her closet (which happened to be in my bedroom) && my brother && I would try to guess what was in the boxes – just like normal children. Sometimes, we would attempt to open the present && fix it before she noticed, but I don’t remember if we ever actually got into them or not.

Christmas Eve she’d have us go to bed super early && then would pull out the Santa Gifts, which were never wrapped, and put them out underneath the tree && fill our stockings with a bunch of great things. I can remember one year in my stocking was a ring, a tiny purple butterfly, I loved that ring, but I lost it. Sadly. That ring meant so much to me because I logically knew my mother picked it out. && anything my mother picked out, I loved. But that ring was something special for me.

Then Christmas Morning, my brother would always wake up first. He’d tiptoe into my bedroom && wake me up && we’d sneak into the living room && just sit in front of the tree until our mom && dad woke up. I know my mom enjoyed making a Christmas breakfast, but I don’t know if it was the day of or the day before.

My brother always says that our mom let us open on gift on Christmas Eve, but I don’t remember that. But I think that was him just trying to get me to let him open a gift.

After my mom passed away, I tried everything I could do keep the spirit for Christmas in the house, but I couldn’t, so I eventually just stopped trying. I know we always had a small tree, but it never felt right so that eventually just faded.

When my brother started dating older woman who had children, I attempted to make it feel festive for the kids. I hope I always did a good job, but for me, there’s always been something missing. When I lived alone, I bought a four-foot tree and decorated it && put up a stocking for myself. But I still felt like something was missing.

I am 34 now – I have no children – it’s just Boyfriend && Myself. When him && I first got together he said he came with children. That part perked me up thinking about all the holidays that I could make fantastic for them. I really thought it would help me find my groove && create my own traditions that they’d talk about even after I’m gone. Or tell stories to their friends or family about the nice things I did.

I still don’t have any traditions. I buy gifts for a few people. I put up a tree. I try to decorate outside (we got half the porch done this year.) I used to make a big dinner for Christmas, but I don’t have the spirit for that anymore either. I’m trying so hard – to the point that I wanted to leave for a vacation to a town that is known for Christmas so maybe I could find it.

Christmas has always been my favorite time of the year, but lately, I feel as if I am doing it all wrong && just making everyone’s life around me miserable. I feel like sometimes I force Boyfriend to buy me gifts && I force others around me to enjoy the holiday season because I feel like I should be – but I’m not.

This year has been extremely hard && I was hoping by November && into December that maybe my spirits would be up. But just a few moments ago I was thinking that I probably need to make a will – yes, a will. Just in case I die && there won’t be any issues when it comes to my stuff. Not that I have much. But what I do have I would want to go to specific people. Which this all makes me even sadder && more negative. Because I don’t want to think about death at 34, but it’s a realization I must come to terms with, because I have already tried to die once this year. Then all this talk takes my brain into a whole different topic.

I have been watching a lot of Christmas movies this year. Every year I buy Hallmark Movies Now && try to watch them. Last couple of years I didn’t really, but this year I have watched so many. Boyfriend && I sleep differently (he works nights && I work mornings) so when he is asleep, I’ll watch Christmas/Romantic movies. When I’m asleep he plays video games, lately it’s basically been Diablo 2.

I wanted to start a tradition where for Christmas Dinner Boyfriend && I go have Chinese (my favorite food), then go home && open gifts. Or even just go get the food, take it open, eat && open gifts while a corny Christmas movie plays in the background, like The Santa Claus. We did that last year on December 24th. We went to the next town over && dined in, eating Chinese before going home && opening gifts. it worked out well last year.

This year I have no idea what’s happening.

Untitled.

When I was released from the hospital earlier this year I was told to weigh myself everyday. For the first few months I did. Every morning. Ass soon as I woke up, used the bathroom, I went straight to my scale and weighed myself. I did it for so long that I eventually starting getting irritated and upset everyday because I wasn’t seeing any change.

So I stopped that.

I understand why they want me to watch my weight. I do. Completely. But at the same time, my mental status is something I have to keep up with. That’s a huge thing nowadays. Everyone talks about how crazy and incoherent they are, so I should keep mine up to par too.

Yes, I know I’ve discussed weighing myself before. But I decided that I would weigh myself only on Monday’s. Tuesday if I forgot. I weighed myself today and I gained 0.4 pounds in a week. Now you’re thinking, that’s not terrible. Which it’s not, I agree, but at the same time it drives me a little crazy because I want to keep losing.

&& sometimes, I don’t.

I know for a fact if I would start walking – yes, still in that rut – that I would drop it. I have seen it happened. Year after year. I always do that to myself. I’ll start losing weight && feel so great then something happens. Which I’ve told y’all about before too. Right now, I have nothing to stop me except the fact that I just don’t have oomph. I think about it daily and I tell myself, “I need to go for a walk today.” (I even said it to myself today.) I just… never do. Then I complain because my weight loss is stalled.

It’s quite ineffective if you ask me.

&& until I do it, I’ll never continue doing it.

My job has this thing every year that is called an IDP, which more jobs have it that I didn’t realize. One of the parts is wellness && we can do a walking calendar and I feel like I’m behind. Our 2022 IDP’s started on 10-1 && I have not walked a single day. I’m wasting my walking days.

&&& I still haven’t used my jump rope. It’s still just sitting in my side drawer staring at me when I open it. It screams, “COME ON BARB, LET’S JUMP ROPE!” Where as my body says, “You don’t want to do that, you want to go back to bed.”

I don’t do either, usually just end up in my chair, which I call a fat chair. It’s one of those larger recliners && I made jokes that I can grow to fit in it. Boyfriend didn’t find it quite as funny as I did.

Upside, I’m 8 pounds away from my first goal. Remember me saying I wanted to weigh what my driver license says. I’m 8 pounds away && 8 pounds from being able to say I have lost 100 pounds since January. So there’s that…

Concentration is hard.

I want to write.

Writing is all I think about. I think about writing more than I think about food && when you’re a foodaholic, that’s a lot. But when I sit down to write nothing seems to come out. Nothing seems to make sense && nothing seems to work our properly.

I cannot seem to concentrate when it comes to writing, or editing. My mind start wandering && I begin thinking about something else. Lately, I’ve been thinking about playing Fallout 4 – again. (Side note: I’ve already beat it once, but I have been working on beating it again where I side with a different side of the game. Last time I sided with the Institute && had to murder the Brotherhood. Now, I want to side with the Brotherhood.) Or I start thinking that maybe I just need to read more. Maybe that’s what is clogging up my brain, but at the same time, I can’t concentrate to read either.

I recently bought every book written by Harry Dolan (I really enjoyed his first book). I have them all sitting beside my bed just waiting. I began reading his second book but I cannot seem to concentrate long enough to read through it. When I start reading I begin thinking, maybe I should be writing && not reading. Then I pull out my book && start editing just in time for my brain to start thinking about Fallout 4.

It’s just a big old circle I would love to get out of.

Oh! Let’s not forget. When I’m sitting around doing nothing, writing, reading, or playing video games, my brain is screaming at me that I probably should be exercising. Speaking of, I told Boyfriend on Monday that I wanted to go for a walk. My right foot has been hurting ever since. But what makes it weird, I never went for my walk because just talking about it my foot started hurting && now I can barely walk on it without it hurting. Can someone tell my body to stop so I don’t die at 45?

So here I sit in front of the computer typing words into a white square so I can say I at least write something. I woke up the other day after having a very vivid dream. I went straight to the computer, sat down && pulled up a blog to write. I had decided that I would write something new, once a week, that would be a story that could be read like a television series. Something new every week. It’s still saved in my drafts. I never wrote it – which is the story of my life.

I have some great ideas when it comes to writing && then I just…. can’t. Maybe it’s I don’t. I have figured out that I sabotage myself. Maybe I do that with writing too? All I know for sure, 100% – if I don’t finish something I will never be published. Whether it’s self-published or published through a company, it’ll never happen if I don’t do something now. I feel like I’m running out of time.

Although, that’s not true. Some of the writers I read don’t get published until they are in their 40’s or older. There’s never a stopping point. You’re never too old to do something different. I read a story once about a romance writer (mommy porn) that didn’t write her first book until she was in her 80’s. But then I hear stories about writers who write && publish their first book at 14. I think it just depends on the person && how much time they dedicate to writing.

November will be 9 years of writing/editing this book. I have been writing this book way too long.

I didn’t start one back when I was 19. Then my computer crashed && I lost everything. EVERY. THING. I swore then I’d never write another. But in 2012 (25 years old) I was overcome with the inspiration && just started writing. Like I can remember the whole time line. 2015, January, I finished the rough draft. I can remember because I was at work && I wanted to scream. But I calmly told my supervisor && co-workers which they told me to scream. So I squealed. Three years of writing, finally done. Now, I had to edit. It’s not 2021 && I am still editing that stupid book.

I know I talk about this a lot. As much as I talk about it you’d like I would just finish it. How hard is that for me to understand && grasp?

JUST. FINISH. THE. BOOK.

Something Simple.

I am writing/editing.

It’s been a while since I spoke about my writing journey. Lately, it’s been about my health and that journey. But last week, while I was off from work for a few days, I found myself finally pulling it back out && working on Frost. Did I finish it? Of course not. But I did finally get chapter ten finished, and retyped on my USB. Then I followed that up with chapters 11, 12, 13, 14, 15 && 16. I am now working on chapter 17, which is… a lot longer than I thought it was. However, most of it will be taken out.

When I began writing Frost, I was going for numbers versus content. Well, I recently read a self-published book and it was HARD to get through. In fact, I never finished it. I bought it, so I did help the author, I just didn’t enjoy it. After reading that one I realized that going for numbers versus content isn’t going to work. So I have a lot of “junk” in my writing that I need to take out. Which is where I’m at right now. Trying to get the “junk” out but keeping what I need for the book to make sense.

I know I’m going to be my hardest critic, like, there isn’t another person on this planet who is going to hate my writing as much as I hate it. So me trying to edit what I wrote is hard. I’m hard myself because of my word phrasing or my tenses, or spelling errors. I am hard on myself because I think it’s crap && no one is going to want to read it. Or the ones who want to read it hates it because it’s crap.

That’s what I feel when I look at it. That it’s pure crap. Nothing but && needs to be flushed with the rest of the crap. But I’m trying. I am, I’m honestly trying to finish it without throwing it in the trash. Although, if I did throw it away maybe it’ll be like Stephen Kings book, Carrie, that his wife dug out. I mean, he did throw that away. Hah! who am I kidding? I will NEVER have a career in writing like Stephen King. I will be lucky if this book even gets published. Hopefully, if it does, I’m not dead && someone in my family is going through my stuff and find the book && read it and then publish it. Dude! It would suck for the book to be popular, when I’m dead.

But that’s how it usually is, right? Most great writers aren’t found until they are dead. Eh, but with social media, I don’t think that would be the issue. The issue is that I haven’t completely finished the book and I began it in November 2012. But I’m sure I’ve stated that before && I’ve also stated that I finished the rough draft in January of 2015. So, since then, I’ve been trying to edit it, which I have rewritten the first five chapters approximately 500 times. Like, if I were to rewrite those chapters anymore, I’m pretty sure I’d have to rewrite the whole book. Every time I go to edit another chapter my mind starts reeling && I ended up wanting to change something else. But alas, I keep having to tell myself that I cannot keep rewriting the book.

Telling myself something is a lot easier than actually doing it. I want to find someone that will edit it for me. A professional editor, if you will. But at the same time I don’t want to ask one because it’s their job so they’ll want money && I don’t have any to give them. So then I thought maybe I could get a friend of two to read it && see if it’s even worth finishing. But I still have the option of complete strangers. Strangers will tell you the truth. Friends && family, not usually. Because in their heart of hearts they don’t want to hurt my feelings. So they’d read as much as they could, then tell me it’s great to finish it, but in reality it’s crap and I end up putting it in the back of my closet && never writing again.

That’s my writing rut, by the way. I have been in this position for years. It’s not something that just popped up all of a sudden. When I read articles about how to get out of the rut it always says to read more. Read often – read all of the time. Reading is supposed to help a writer get out of the funk. But, up until just recently, I haven’t been able to read a full book. I’ll begin a book, get bored, and never pick it back up. Even from my favorite author. I have read all of his books except one – because of the reading rut. I don’t want to start the book, then get bored, && never pick it back up. So I just never did. However, I was scanning through Amazon the other week and found a set of books. I bought the first one to check it out and ended up reading the whole book in one day. Went back && bought the other two. They aren’t long books, but the way I have been lately, a novella is a great way to start back up. Which, is I think, half of the reason I have been able to edit my book. Do I know that for sure? No – I could have actually just been really bored last week and thought hey, my book is there.

But I will say if you get the chance to read the three book series I’m a Therapist && My Patient is… by Dr. Harper, read them. Apparently they began on /reddit and after a lot of asking for them in a book, he finally wrote them. I have enjoyed them, but some people say they are stupid. So I guess it just depends on your taste in books. My taste ranges it just depends on how it’s written.

I’m honestly hoping to have my book completely edited by the end of the year, but I realize we are only a few days away from August so the year is almost over – it might not happen this year. But I don’t plan on not being able to finish it, so I will eventually. Maybe one day I’ll look up an Author and it’ll say that it took them ten years to write their first book. Doubt it. But maybe…

I’m keeping faith, though, that if I ever actually finish this one, get it published, that if I choose to write another one that it won’t be this hard or take THIS long. Wow. The ten year thing was a joke until I just counted the years. Dude! November of 2022…. will be ten years. That’s crazy!

I guess if it does take me until next November I can call it the Ten Year Book. It’d go along with calling Boyfriend the Seven Year Dude (Syd).

Do Dreams Come True?

I wonder how many people actually say their dreams did, in fact, come true. I have a dream. Other than finishing the book that I really need to finish but I’m too lazy to actually do it… I want to own && operate a food truck.

I have two loves in my life. Writing, of course, && cooking, which I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned a few times. I also do believe I said my dream job would be a food writer. Combine the best of both worlds. Travel all over the globe while trying different foods, cooked by different people and just write about it.

But I’m trying not to span too far into the atmosphere. But as I sit here and write this I find myself wondering is wanting to own, run && operate a food truck too far out the scope of reality for me? I get it. It takes money && a lot of it. I can save; I know how to do that. But lets say I did save the money, would I actually ever get to the point where I can do it before I die?

I think that’s half of my issue. A part of me is scared that I won’t see the part of my life where most people do find && achieve their dreams. Sometimes, it takes people into their 40’s & 50’s to actually get it. So I wonder – do I have that long to keep hoping that maybe I can get what I truly desire out of life.

Lately I haven’t felt well. I mean, I don’t feel like I’m knocking at deaths door, I just haven’t felt well. I have been sluggish, and still depressed. Angry, and annoyed. My medicine makes it where I don’t have an appetite so I’m not hungry half of the time. They’ve put me on insulin which I’m pretty sure is half of the depression. I thought I was moving forward, day by day, but I feel sometimes that them putting me on insulin is back tracking. But in reality, I’m pretty sure it’s not.

So that’s me. I’m scared, worried, and freaking out that I don’t have time to do what I want with my life. I want to leave a mark on the world. I want people in the future when I’m no longer here talking about something I achieved. Something I did. Something that makes people remember me. Will it be in the food world, writing world, or both worlds?

Do I think I’m going to write the next literary masterpiece? No, I don’t.
Do I think I’m going to open a food truck that eventually turns into a million dollar business that has restaurants in different countries? No, I do not.
I am realistic.
But at the same time, I don’t feel like I’m achieving anything && I know part of that is because I’m not trying to achieve anything.

I was talking about my food truck dream at work the other night && someone said it’ll never happen while the others either didn’t say anything or said food trucks make bank && if I apply myself I can achieve it. But… where do I apply myself at? I told Boyfriend that I’m working on it && my first step is that I ordered a credit card reader that goes into your phones charging port. It’s something silly and small, but at the same time I feel like I’m heading into the right direction.

What I need is a million people to give me one dollar. That’s it. Spare one dollar for me. If anyone is interested please let me know && I’ll set up the account. In the mean time, I’ll either keep thinking about my dreams, dreaming about my dreams, or trying to crawl out of this round of depression.

Either way, I seem to be doing something, right?

Drifting Off.

Today I sat in a closet && cried while talking to a cat who just had babies.

We call her Momma Bean.

When I got of work today I had so many plans. I was going to come home and play on my new computer. So I did. I walked in, changed, && sat down in front of it. I turned it on && pulled up the internet && stared at the screen. I didn’t know what to do. I locked the computer && wandered into my bedroom pulling out my Switch, thinking maybe a little bit of Animal Crossing would help. Instead I went to the closet, I actually just wanted to check on Mama Bean, && noticed her water bowl was empty so I filled it up. Once I took it back I just sat down in the closet && loved on her for a couple minutes. Then the water works started.

I wish I could say why I cried. I wish I could say why I feel horrible. I wish I had the words inside of me that explained why I feel like I do most of the time – but I don’t. I never have. I have suffered from depression, undiagnosed, since I was 15 && possibly before. It just got worse once I buried my mother. Then I lost my father before I was even 30. Then I buried my grandfather (mom’s dad). That was my people. Those three. They wanted the best for me && before I was 32.

Before fifteen I think I felt a little out of it – lost, but don’t most teenagers feel like that? I’m not saying my life was perfect before my mom died, but I feel like a part of me died with her. I have been lost for so many years that trying to find my way has taken me a lot longer than I want to admit. I can’t remember a time that my mind was solid.

I THINK part of it is these last few months. I literally almost died in January and every time I talk to a doctor about it I always hear the same thing, “I’m surprised you didn’t have a heart attack,” or “I’m surprised you’re not dead.”

Death.

It’s a frightening thought. The thought that at 33 I was a step away from death. I didn’t do it on purpose. I didn’t want to do it. I still don’t.

I can’t focus my brain right now. I…

…will write again later.

Beat Myself Up!

(Originally wrote 5/21/2021 – finally was able to upload it.)

I have eater’s remorse. It’s kind of like buyer’s remorse (which sometimes I have that also), but instead it’s when I eat something. Food is something that has always given me comfort, whether I was happy/sad/mad/disgusted – I knew I had food and it wouldn’t let me down. The last few years I have been attempting to get over my struggle and fight with food and my bad eating habits, which probably isn’t as bad as a lot of people, for me, it’s bad. But all I’ve noticed is that it has turned even uglier because now when I eat I feel bad for hours afterwards && start trying to think of a way to get rid of it. (No, I don’t make myself puke.)

I told Boyfriend once, && it’s hard to explain to someone who doesn’t feel it, that I feel bad after eating. Not “feel bad” like in a sick way, but like, I feel terrible because I ate it. I told him I wanted to be the type of person who can go into a convenience store and buy a corn dog, eat it with some good ol’ mustard, and not hate myself for three hours afterwards. But I can’t.

There is a store here in my town that has the best corn dogs. They are always crispy on the outside and juicy yummy on the inside. I would stop by there sometimes && grab a couple and go home. Then afterwards, I was trying to make sense in my head why I was so mad at myself for eating two corndogs when I barely eat them as it is.

Since all of these doctor appointments my eater’s remorse has gotten worse. Today for lunch at work, I wanted to treat my people so I told them if they wanted something from Taco Casa that I would pay for it. (They work really hard && sometimes you just need to show that you care && appreciate them.) So I took everyone’s orders && my manager went && picked it up. I paid. I decided that I would get something from there, nothing huge, not a lot, just something. I really like their nachos – well, okay, I like their chips && cheese which I add the crumbled meat and just dip my chips in it. It’s not even a large set of nachos.

I sat here && ate it. Got full && stopped, tossing whatever was left. Then I sat here && thought about what I had just eaten. Thinking to myself, ‘why did I eat that? Why didn’t I just eat what I brought?’ (A healthy choice frozen dinner with some veggies.) But now, it’s even worse, because I also ordered a tea because it sounded delicious. I mean, who doesn’t like a good glass of tea? That was also on my mind. I kept thinking I didn’t need to drink that especially since it wasn’t unsweet (which is what I wanted but that’s fine). Why did I eat it? Drink the tea?

Sometimes I feel if I eat certain things that I’m basically saying my life isn’t good enough to keep going && that I am wasting what I do have left. Then I start feeling like crap, this time I feel like my heart is going to jump out of my chest.

But I don’t feel like this with all food – last night for dinner I made salmon && creamy rice. I didn’t feel bad after eating that. I felt great! I wasn’t overly full && I didn’t feel horrible afterwards.

Before the hospital stay I ate how I wanted knowing that I can lose weight without changing a lot of what I eat. But now, I feel like everything I put in my mouth is a death sentence. Nothing is good, nothing should be consumed, when the logical part of my brain knows that isn’t right.

My relationship with food has always been complicated && now I feel like I should be breaking up with food all together. That it && me just can’t go on like this && I have no idea how to fix my issue.

&& yes, I do have buyer’s remorse. The only two things in my life I do not regret buying was my first car when I was 18 && my house when I was 31ish. Well, I say I don’t have it with the house. I didn’t. Until this year when I found out everything in my is trying to shut down && stop working that in 30 years (the note length) I may not even be here to finish paying for it.

This may not be completely about food && more about possibly not being here for as long as I had planned. I feel like I need to start doing everything that I wanted to in life so I can be remembered as the girl who did it all. I want to finish my book, open a restaurant, help people – be known for something. If I died tomorrow – what would people remember me as? The girl who showed up for work every day that didn’t help anyone anywhere. I don’t want this to define me but I’m in a spot where this is what it is. This is me. This is my life. I will be dead && no one will remember me. I will have left no mark whatsoever on anyone.

I always imagined great things for myself && that by now, I thought I would have already achieved most of it. The ONLY thing I have gotten was a house && found the love of my life.

I know what you’re thinking – if my dream is to finish the book && open a restaurant – then what’s stopping me? The book – I hate reading it to edit it because I hate my writing. Always have (story for another day unless I’ve already wrote about it). I am trying to finish editing the book so I can get the junk out of it that I know exists within the walls of it, but I can’t seem to read enough of it to finish the editing process. I know – I could just let someone read it && edit it for me. Problem! I don’t want anyone to read it right now because of the junk inside of it. I know it can be better than it is && before I offer to let people read it I want to fix it. But to fix it, I have to read it. To read it I have to get over my insecurities that I have about my writing.

Restaurant? I found a building I want. It’s in the perfect location in the town I life in. In fact, it’s on the end of my road – I could walk there. I know with a little tender love && care, a little bit of renovation, that it could be the greatest little restaurant anyone has seen in my town, population of 483 in 2018. Sounds great, right? A little too great, of course. The building is 178,000$ && unfortunately, I do not have 178,000$ to drop on a building that I would need more money to renovate (it wasn’t a restaurant to start with.) Actually, I do believe it started out as a bank then it was turned into the water department, which just recently moved down the street to a building they built just for it. Now it’s empty. It even still has the window when it was a bank that I could turn into a drive thru. Yes! I have given it THAT much thought.

I think I’m rambling now.

The other night I got sick. Wednesday night. After I got done filling my trash can, I laid there alone && wondered if this is a new symptom. Is this something new telling me that I’m slowly deteriorating and that soon there will be no more of me? It’s a scary thought when you’re only 33 years old that tomorrow my heart could just stop working. I mean, it’s barely working as it is.

I am pretty sure my depression is sparked back up && last time it nearly drove me crazy. But last time I didn’t have Boyfriend. I have him now. Hopefully he has enough mental stamina for the both of us. But even in that sense, that’s a lot of worry to put on a man that could still decide to leave.

I think what bothers me is that I don’t feel bad. I don’t feel like…. I should feel… for someone that has heart && kidney issues. I feel like… I should feel worse. Don’t get me wrong, I do have my days. But on those days do I feel bad because of my heart && kidneys or do I just feel bad? Like Wednesday – people puke. People eat stuff that doesn’t agree with their stomach && the puke. Maybe I just got sick. Boyfriend said he didn’t feel good either. He can’t get sick because of MY heart && kidney issues.

I’m trying..

I bought a jump rope.

It’s something small and insignificant. But I did. I bought a jump rope approximately 3 weeks ago. I was excited. When I was younger, I enjoyed jumping rope – I didn’t very often because one: I didn’t have one at home, two: because when I would at school people would make ::fat:: jokes. You know the ones: screaming earthquake when I landed, or stating when I jumped my fat moved.

So I just eventually stopped jumping rope.

I’ve been trying to find small things I can purchase that can help me lose weight && remembering how much I enjoyed jumping rope, I figured, why not? So I found one on Amazon && bought it. A couple days pass && I receive it in the mail. I’m excited! I open it && Boyfriend && I start messing with it.

I got it on a Thursday evening.

By Saturday morning it was as if my body saw the jump rope && thought ‘nope, not this time’. Because I woke up that morning with a pain in my left food so bad I wanted to cry. I’m talking worse than gallstones && kidney stones. When I first stood up I nearly fell, having to grab the bed for stability. I was unable to wear my work shoes && instead having to wear the shoes I use for walking – which isn’t in dress code. (We are supposed to wear black where my exercise shoes are grey).

I figured the pain would stop, because it eventually has to, right? That weekend at work was horrible. I could barely walk, couldn’t keep my shoe on and I wanted to cry. Saturday night into Sunday morning I cried. All night – until I eventually fell asleep. It hurt so bad I couldn’t get comfortable, no matter how I laid my foot it hurt. The fan blowing across it hurt.

I figured it was gout – nothing else made sense.

Everything said untreated gout systems last about 14 days. Okay – that’s wonderful in a nonwonderful way. I wait 14 days. My foot, big toe to be exact, still hurt. I make a doctors appointment telling her my thoughts and where, why, what hurt. She does blood work && x-ray’s – coming to the conclusion that she doesn’t think it’s gout. She said my acid levels aren’t high enough and there’s nothing on the x-ray. Okay, that’s fine – so what’s wrong with my foot?

She is on the case of an infection in my toe. She gave me antibiotics and I took them saying that she wanted to see me after I finished. The pain hadn’t stopped, so she done another blood test && x-ray’s. This time around she saw the ‘infection’ in my toe, my acids still weren’t high enough && my white blood cells were still high. I’m on my second round of antibiotics and my foot still hurts.

I am on day 18.

I’m frustrated beyond anything I thought could be possible. I have been trying to lose some weight by walking daily and since my foot has started I haven’t been able to. If I walk on my foot too long or wear a shoe, by the end of the night, I’m in so much pain that I just want to cry.

The only upside for all of this – I haven’t put on a lot of weight. I lost some and only put back on 4 pounds of what I took off. I’m staying steady. So it’s basically saying that I don’t eat horribly, but at the same time, I don’t eat too well. But I’m glad I haven’t put on too much weight since the foot started hurting.

Merry Christmas!

I really do love Christmas. I love the lights, songs, movies, attitudes, and stores. Yeah, really, I love going to the store during Christmas time – maybe not anywhere close to the 25th (I had to go buy groceries today – the 23rd). But I love watching people smile, and shop – I even like watching people frown while shopping because it makes me wonder what has popped their holiday bubble. Are they having trouble shopping for the seven year old nephew that they haven’t seen in three years? Did their spouse ask for something that they really cannot afford, but they really want to see the smile on their face Christmas morning so they buy it anyway and hope for the best? Or are they deliberating whether or not they want to propose to their significant other on Christmas, or wait until a chiller day?

I remember growing up and walking around our small town looking at all of the Christmas lights. It was one of the things I looked forward to. As I’ve gotten older I’ve realized people don’t decorate much anymore. I understand that prices have gone up, and it can be a pain to put them up, just to have to take them down a couple months later. But during – everyone has to admit how beautiful they are. I also understand that a lot of people stop decorating the outside once their children move out. But what does that say for the people who have no children that like to decorate outside – like me? But before you ask, no, I didn’t decorate outside. But my reason is simple. I bought a house this year, and with the house came two large pot bellied pigs, who will eat any and everything they can find. I refuse to decorate my yard to get upset when they are destroyed. So I just didn’t.

A lot of people… no… everyone is always telling me how they hate the music and cringe every time they hear it on the radio. I used to sing it at work, for the fun of it, during July. Christmas in July! It’s a thing – not at my job – but somewhere. I’m always told the same thing: I have to wait until AFTER Thanksgiving before I can start in on Christmas music. So every year, I wait. The day after Thanksgiving, you better believe I’m listening to Jingle Bells and Rudolf The Red Nosed Reindeer.

Movies – I don’t wait. I’m watching Christmas movies throughout the year. It’s my secret addiction, but DUDE! When Christmas time rolls around they quadruple the movies and I’m set for a month. I ALMOST purchased the Hallmark channel app. I didn’t, but almost. I may still do it – who knows, maybe their movies will stay on there after Christmas and into July &&& I can feed my addiction.

Attitudes change a lot during the holiday season. I don’t know if it’s because it’s the holiday season, or if it’s because it’s cooler outside. All I know is people seem happier. Except the Grinches, bah hum bug-er’s, and people who just can’t find reasons to smile. (You know the ones. You smile at them and they give you a look like you’re about to steal their wallet. You say good morning to them and they grind their teeth like you just told them to go to hell. Those people! Nothing you can do will make them smile, be jolly, or even happy – So I have given up. No cracker crumbs on my Gucci jacket just because you’re a miserable old coot. Wait. Does Gucci make jackets?)

Christmas is my season. My part of the year. My comfort zone. I’m the MVP and I’m not passing the award. However, even with that in mind, the most Christmassy people can be in a bah hum bug bubble and right now – that’s where I reside. It’s normally called a funk, but that word is gross, so I passed on it. I have been trying all month to get out of this mood, I just haven’t been able to. However, for the family and the boyfriend I will put on my cheery smile, cook dinner, and watch them open their gifts.

I supposed that is better than canceling Christmas all together, taking the gifts back to the store, and burning my Christmas tree to the ground.

On that note, I want to wish everyone a wonderful Christmas and a prosperous New Year. I may or may not write again before then so that needs to be said. Don’t forget to eat, rub, dance with, polish, hug, or scream to your good luck charm. (Black Eyed Peas Here) Enjoy your days and your families. Enjoy the laughter, and love. Enjoy life and I’ll be back.