Procrastination.

What is something you’ve been procrastinating with that you can no longer put off?

I’m a huge procrastinator – so it’s not hard to believe that I have put a lot of things off. But one thing in particular I’ve been thinking about since 2021 – since my health decided to decline, but not too terribly. I’m still living && not dying any time soon.

However. As a reasonable person, I do realize if I don’t do something now, it won’t be like that. I’m staring down the barrel of a 45, not literally, but I am.

I think I’ve talked about it before a couple of times where I was thinking about doing it. I’m done thinking. It’s time to git’r’done.

My procrastination is about weight loss surgery.

I put it off because I’m actually terrified to do it. But most of the fears are dumb – big head little body. Losing too much weight. The surgery not working && I’m back to where I started. Those fears. But the upside to doing it is a lot better than the silly fears I have.

Boyfriend asked me to marry him on my birthday. I said yes. How can I look into the future with him like that if I don’t do something about my health? I refuse to force him to bury another girlfriend before he is 40. I refuse to force my brother to bury me before we’re 40. I refuse to force my friends to bury another person before we are 40 – just because I can’t control my weight.

Even pulling off the weight I do still have health issues. Kidney issues. Heart issues. But I know that if I pull off this weight that a lot of it will get a teeny bit better. I need a better relationship with myself before I can expect everyone else to have it.

So 2024 will be the year of me. I will get back into the groove for the surgery and pull this weight off. That way I can live a bit longer than most expect. Plus. I’m 36 years old && I’ve never seen the world as a thinner person. The smallest I can remember being was in high school – I weighed 205 pounds. Doesn’t sound a lot? I’m 5’2″. 205 pounds would be great if I was 5’7″ or taller. But I’m short. And round.

Here’s to finding out what Barb looks like thin. Hopefully it’s not scary!

Today – I’m sad.

When I was fifteen, I lost my mother.

When I was twenty-four, I lost my father.

I’m now thirty-four && I still have a void inside of I can’t fill. I still ache to the core && it’s really bad around the holidays. I try not to dwell too myself on how I feel && keep it more bottled up than anything.

However, today I’m sad.

I’m sad because lately I have been extra grumpy while trying to get everyone around me in the holiday spirit.

I’m sad, because I can’t let myself be fully happy because then I feel guilty.

I’m said, because I feel…

I have a million things going on inside of me all the time, I can’t seem to collect myself enough to move on. I was told that time heals all wounds, which is true, I guess, but what happens when the wound is on the soul? The heart? When I found out about my heart issue my first thought was “well, I’ve been through so much pain, it’s probably sad.” Who thinks like that?

I bottled up my emotions for so long, pretending to be happier than I am, sometimes I think I forgot how to just be sad. Because when I start going I get irritated because I shouldn’t still be sad? It’s been nearly 20 years. Shouldn’t I be used to this? Shouldn’t I be okay with seeing people with their parents? Shouldn’t I be okay?

Shouldn’t I be okay?

Ruts. What?

I am in a rut.

Whether it’s a life rut, exercise rut, or diet rut. I’m in the rut. A huge rut that I’m sinking into like quicksand. It’s about up to my waist and I am having the hardest time getting out of it.

I try to talk to Boyfriend about it && try to figure out how to get myself out of it, but I cannot seem to find the words to explain to him how I feel. I usually just end up in tears – yes, still. So, I figured instead of driving myself crazier, maybe I just need to sit down && write.

Ugh! Writing. (((Rut.)))

Reading. (((Rut.)))

Maybe it’s a life rut. I mean, don’t get the wrong idea – I’m not thinking about ending my life. Came too close to that earlier this year. As much as I miss my parents, I’m not quite ready to see them again. Know what I mean?

Sometimes, I’ve noticed, people just get in ruts. It’s usually because a change is needed or maybe just a routine shake up. I’m not sure where to go from that theory, though. The last time I felt like this I was twenty, a few weeks away from my twenty-first birthday. The Brother ended up taking me to Amarillo, Texas to my grandfather to stay with him for a little bit. I ended up spending a lot of time with my aunt && uncle and attending their church. (If they read this, know, that it may have been a small thing, but it helped me so much just getting to know great people and find something I think I was missing. That can be for another post. Unless of course, I’ve already written about it.) But sadly, my grandfather passed away in 2018, so I can’t disappear for a little while. But as an adult, is that even possible anymore? can I just take a vacation from work/life and disappear for four months?

Yeah, probably not. That’s basically just hiding away from problems && once I come back, they’ll still be here. Which wasn’t the issue when I was twenty. I didn’t really have “problems”, I just realized that I hadn’t faced and dealt with everything that happened to me growing up and it hit me in the face. Bricks, if you will. Have I dealt with EVERYTHING that I consider trauma? No, probably won’t really face it head on. Ever.

Part of that is because I wish I had told my mother when she was alive when I was still younger. I think if I had told her what I went through I wouldn’t be questioning whether it happened. && I don’t think I would do that if it wasn’t for people telling me they wouldn’t do that. Although, side note, I have thought about writing letters, with no return address, just to get my feelings out. But… what if it didn’t happen?

My memories are still a blur.

But here I sit in a dark room, alone, listening to a show on Hulu as I listen to myself hit keys forming words. I think I have been needing to do this for a while, but I have been talking myself out of it. A part of me wanted to see if maybe I could do it on my own, without putting anything to words. But as the days pass, my irriation isn’t fading and my lack of… living, isn’t getting better.

Maybe I need a new hobby? No. Stop. I don’t need a new hobby. I don’t even do the “hobbies” I have now. If we consider any of them hobbies. Maybe I need a vacation (not from life) somewhere cold? Head makes me crankier than I usually am. So, I’m cranky times a million right now.

Today it was 104 degrees when we went grocery shopping around noon.

Eh, I don’t know what’s wrong with me, honestly. Upside, I don’t sleep all the time && I’m not finding myself staring at myself from above myself. (Post for another day.)

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.

I still remember…

I can still remember my first panic attack.

I was nineteen and was in the shower. My mind started wandering and I started thinking about events that may or may not happen. It was slow at first. My body started to tingle && then I started having trouble breathing. Even though I was in a cool shower, I got hot – began sweating. That’s when I freaked out && started crying.

I didn’t know what was happening because I had never experienced anything like this before. I lived with depression for many years but this… this was something different. Something I couldn’t explain && I quickly hopped out of the shower and went looking for people. Anyone.

At the time I lived with my brother & his girlfriend. They were home && I knew it, but they were in their room with the door shut. At that point, I normally don’t bother them. I wandered through the house for a few minutes && being as confused as I was I did the only thing I knew. I grabbed a banana and went to my brothers door.

Why did I grab a banana? Because food comforts me. Always has. (Which is what has gotten me into the position I am today.) I stood at his bedroom door saying his name over & over but their television was on && my brother is basically deaf in one ear. No one heard me. The crying got worse – I couldn’t see anymore.

I collapsed in the floor. Alone. I ate the banana.

I sat in the floor for a few minutes before my brother came out of his bedroom. His girlfriend at the time said she thought she had heard something so he went to figure out what it was. All he found was his sister, a complete mess, sitting in the floor in front of his bedroom door.

I ended up sleeping on the floor of his room that night. My Brother is always coming to the rescue when I’m needing someone. Every time I seem to be having a moment, whether it’s something serious or something that I’m making into a mountain – he’s there. He is the one person I know I can count on. But now – I know I have him && the Boyfriend.

My panic attacks still come && go. Not as often as they used to. I think that is mostly because of Boyfriend. He may not realize just how much he is helping my mental health, but he does. Knowing he is there, and won’t laugh at me when I’m having my moments, and knows exactly what to do.

Before him && I started dating I told him I’m complicated. I don’t mean to be, but sometimes my mind takes over and I start thinking && it ruins a lot of stuff. A lot of guys would consider me “crazy” but I’m not. Most girls that are considered crazy aren’t, just like most guys who are considered a loser really aren’t. I told him sometimes I just need someone to be there. Hold my hand. Let me cry. Boyfriend does that && has since we started dating.

I had a panic attack a few nights ago. The first thing I did was find Boyfriend && tell him what was going on. It’s taken me years to finally realize that when I’m having panic attacks I need to talk about it. If I don’t, it’s not going to get any better. I know it’s not that easy for a lot of people who suffer from them, but for me, I have to talk about it. I have to talk through it. The only times I can’t is when I’m alone && those are the ones that scare me the most. The other night once I found him I told him what was happening && he talked me down, for the most part.

It always starts slow, every time. It’s like my mind is trying to calm itself before it completely takes over. My skin tingles, like someone is poking me over && over with something sharp. I’ll rub my arms, trying to get the tingling to stop. Then I get hot. Like sitting in a sauna hot. Once I start getting hot I know there isn’t much turning back && I’m about to go head first into a panic attack. That’s when I start looking for someone so I can talk my way out of it.

It doesn’t always work. But usually does.

The other night it helped. Before dinner I had taken my blood sugar and it was 114. Then I made dinner, ate, and an hour-ish later it was at 113. I’m like, what? So I take it again thinking maybe it wasn’t enough blood. This time it was 95, Panic attack ensued. But after thinking about it I realized that I didn’t eat anything starchy, no bread – it was salmon with spaghetti squash && green beans. So of course my blood sugar isn’t going to go very high. It was a healthy dinner, but did my brain understand that?

No.