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!

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?

The Scariest Day of my Life!

I do not like being diabetic.

I’m pretty sure there isn’t a single person on the planet who is diabetic who will say “Oh, I love being diabetic! It’s the best thing about me.” But to understand this post, I feel as if I need to begin with the obvious.

I’d also like to begin with when it comes to being diabetic, I’m not sure I have any idea what I am doing. This even comes from someone who has been around people with diabetes all her life. Something that I watch kill and destroy lives. Something that once you achieve getting, it’s pretty much harder than getting into Heaven after going on a murder spree to get rid of. Although, I’m still optimistic that one day, sooner than later I’m hoping, I’ll be able to achieve that. (Not the murder spree then getting into heaven.)

Everyone knows by now that I have had issues keeping my numbers under 250. Lately, however, in the last couple months, I have been doing a dang good job at it. I finally got it where I have been 150 or lower all the time. Which compared to my old numbers, that’s good. By dinner my numbers were hovering around 100 to 125. (The morning, to be honest, was usually nearly 200 && no one can tell me why they are so high in the morning when I wake up, but whatever. By 11 AM, it’s usually around 150 or lower.

Monday – November 1st, shot that all to hades in a hand basket.

I began my Monday like any other day. But my Dexcom said the sensor was expiring in less than six hours. Okay, that’s fine. It does that. Every 10 days. && for anyone who doesn’t know what a Dexcom is. It’s a little machine that tells me my blood sugar throughout the day. I don’t have to prick my finger when I’m wearing it and it takes my sugars every five minutes. My endocrinologist wanted me to have one so I can see what makes my blood sugar rise versus what doesn’t. Basically, everything I eat, including water, makes my blood sugar rise, quickly. However, some of the foods make it worse. Like anything to do with flour.

Anyway… When the sensor expired we put in another one. After two hours the sensor warmed up and was ready to go. && it beeped. Okay, that’s fine, it does that when it’s below 100. That way I know to keep my eye on it. It read 90 – which I found weird, because for dinner I had rice. So I put it to the side && waited. I thought maybe the rice didn’t kick in yet. Because sometimes, okay, not sometimes, all the time, it takes my body nearly two to three hours AFTER eating to show the rise. Which isn’t what I have read or even been told. So the whole “check your sugars after two hours they should be decent” don’t apply to me. It takes nearly two to three && sometimes four hours for my blood sugar to lift. Two hours after I eat, it’s perfectly fine, then BAM! It starts it’s climb. (This is probably something I should probably talk to my doctor about. If I remember, I will do that.)

As I ignore this beeping I am laying in bed. Trying to go to sleep because I”m tired && that’s what you do when you’re tired. After a few dozes here && there it beeps again. I grab the little machine && now it says 54. I’m confused. But I think, maybe, before dinner I took too much insulin. It’s possible since I wasn’t able to actually check my sugar level. You’re now thinking, what? When my Dexcom sensor expired I figured I would just use my finger poker (that’s what I call it) and check my sugars the old fashioned way. I pulled it out to discover that it was dead too. Everything needs batteries! So I just went off what it last said which was around 150 – I figured it couldn’t be much lower than that. So I took insulin that worked with 150. I’m now thinking that I took too much && I need to get some sugar in me. Which is fine, I had some ice cream in my bedroom freezer so I ate one. Sugar, for me, is the quickest way to raise my sugar levels. Even just a couple gulps of Dr. Pepper does it. I knew this would work.

I eat the ice cream && wait. Fifteen – twenty minutes – my Dexcom goes off again, this time it reads that my sugar level is so low that it just says LOW. I’m start panicking. Now I’m too the point of giving myself panic attacks, which in turn makes me lightheaded. Now, I have no idea if my lightheadedness is from my panic attacks or from low blood sugar.

I’m scared.

We have a bag of single packets of chips – I eat two. Still nothing. I eat a oatmeal crème pie, which, by the way, I do not like them, at all. But I eat it because I know it’s full of sugar. My Decom is still reading low – I’m freaking out. I guzzle some sweet tea (I’m from the South so when I say sweet tea, I’m talking sweat tea) that I made Boyfriend and guzzle milk. NOTHING!

My sugar is still low. How can this be happening? At least point I’m scared to death. I start getting dressed && Boyfriend asks what I’m doing. I tell him I’m getting dressed. He knew exactly what it meant. I want to go to the E.R. Because something isn’t right && I need help. So I grab shoes, my pill bag (it is a little ADIDAS bag that holds my pills, my glucose book, my doctors names, etc.), my phone && Decom – he grabs keys, his shoes and out the house we go. He needed cigarettes so I think, maybe what I have isn’t enough sugar. (Yes, it sounded as dumb to me as it does to you right now.) So I tell him let’s stop at the store first, this was, by the way, at 3:30 in the morning. Grab you some cigarettes, and a bottle of orange juice. I tell him we will get that, I will sit in the parking lot && drink the orange juice, wait 15 minutes &&& then we’ll go to the E.R. if it doesn’t help.

So by 4:00 in the morning, it’s still below 40.

Boyfriend wanted to try one more thing. He wanted to try my finger poker, but I explain to him it’s dead && he said let me try && fix it. We head home and he gets it working – thankfully, I guess. He takes my sugar && after looking at the machine he says, “You aren’t going to like this.” My heart sinks, crap! That’s all I was thinking. Even it was reading low, what am I going to do if this didn’t work. What will the E.R. be able to do? He turns the machine around me && I look at the reading.

I HAVE NEVER, IN MY LIFE, BEEN SO HAPPY TO SEE MY BLOOD SUGAR READ 367!

Because that means what I consumed did work. That means that my blood sugar was never low. That means – my Dexcom is broken. Yippee right? We figured out the problem.

Here is the new problem. For the last two days it was been in the high 200’s, because my body is still trying to process all of that sugar. Which, if you recall, I don’t eat like that on a normal basis. I never have. My stomach was so upset that day, I think it was freaking out. I’m drinking water attempting to flush it out, but sadly, nothing in my body works properly so I feel like I am fighting a battle that is going to take weeks to fix.

Man I’m so angry! I wish I knew ahead of time that the Dexcom could break && do that. Even Tuesday, when I woke up, I was still feeling the effects of the lightheadedness (as we all know now was from my panic attacks), and the food I ate. I was miserable. But today, Wednesday, I’m still miserable because I feel like that when my sugars are high. It makes me tired, and sluggish. So – upside, I’m glad I’m off of work for the next two days – hopefully by Saturday I’ll get this crap back under control and feel better. I won’t bet on it, but I can still hope.

You know, when I was hospitalized this year was a scary moment in my life. But Monday night – was scarier than that. Because at least I knew in the hospital I had people that knew what they were doing that were helping me. I felt… clueless, helpless… I felt so many things on Monday that I can’t think of all of the words to express it. It was probably the scariest day of my life. && I don’t want to feel like that again.

I’m mad at the Dexcom. I went && purchased a new batter for my finger poker && took the Decom out. Turned it off. I’m just going to poke my finger for a little while until I feel ready to put it back in. I think it was the transmitter, which I have replaced, but… I’m not ready for that again.

Upside! Good news for the bad news! I am 4 pounds away from being able to say I lost 100 pounds since January. Now if only I can get that four freaking pounds off!

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…

Just tired.

I’m always so tired but at the same time I have trouble sleeping.

I don’t know if it is just a part of everything that is wrong with me or I’m lacking something that most people have that I just don’t seem to. Last night I laid down around 9 o’clock because I was tired. I laid in bed, staring at the wall until around midnight. When I finally dozed off. This morning I woke up around 8 – by 11, I was asleep in my chair. I feel like I’m in my 90’s sometimes having to nap throughout the day or I can’t make it.

It’s frustrating.

I shouldn’t be as tired as I am all the time. I even have trouble staying awake at work WHILE WORKING. I find myself sometimes moving to the other side of the room so I can talk to people to keep myself awake && it’s worse on Sunday mornings.

It’s almost 9:30 PM right now && I’m so tired. But I know I will go to bed && never go to sleep. That’s more frustrating than just being tired all the time. I get mad at the Boyfriend sometimes. We’ll go to bed and he’ll lay down, once his head hits the pillow he’s out. Snoring. Me? Naw, I’m just laying there staring at him fuming because I can’t sleep.

The days I work I drink Zzzquil to go to sleep && it doesn’t always work. I try to be in bed by seven the nights I work because I have to wake up at 4 AM (which, by the way, I don’t like), but there are times I’m still awake at 10:30 PM just laying there. No yawning, nothing. Just laying in the dark.

The tiredness in turn makes living life really complicated. I’m always telling myself things I need to accomplish throughout the day, but I’m just so tired I don’t want to. Today has been the coolest, weather wise, in a few months && I wanted to start walking again. I have the want to do it. I don’t have the oomph to do it. I try but when it comes to actually doing it my body is just so tired I don’t even want to put on shoes. Lately, it takes me a lot to just go to the store. The thought of having to wake up Thursday at four in the morning to go to work is driving me crazy. && it’s only Tuesday night.

I love to cook && my tiredness makes that a very hard chore to do. I wanted to clean the bedroom but instead of actually helping, I sat on the bed && watched the Boyfriend clean it. I have heard that heart disease will make you tired, but should it make me THIS tired? Especially if my function is getting better? At the same time, I have read that kidney disease will make you tired. I just can’t catch a break when it comes to being tired.

I have already given up on the keto lifestyle. Why you ask? Because nothing I read before I started that type of eating told me that I wouldn’t be able to use the bathroom. && after two weeks of nothing happening, pain, and crying on the toilet – I stopped. Now you’re saying “you can take supplements”. If I could afford that kind of lifestyle I would. I will just have to do it on my own way. Although, after stopping the keto style, I have still dropped weight. Downside, my blood sugar is in the 200’s again. Yeah, not eating a lot of carbs my blood sugar was staying below 200 – in fact, it was staying around 130 to 150, which is really good for someone who is usually in the 300’s. My Dexcom beeped this morning. I went above 300. I figured after dinner it would have beeped again, but so far it hasn’t, but the night isn’t over yet.

Sabotage.

I sabotage myself.

I’ve had many years to think about why I do this to myself. Normally, I would say I don’t – I mean, why would someone purposely sabotage themselves? What would be the point? But as I’ve gotten older, && have had more time to think about it I have realized that I do. && the reason behind it is ridiculous.

I think I’m too old to be thin.

I told you it was stupid. A part of my brain believes that I am too old to lose weight because everyone says that when people get older their supposed to gain weight. So I have had years of believing that thin only applies to young people. That part of me feels that I have missed out on the thin part of life && since I’ve been overweight for so long that what’s the point?

But I am trying to have a different mindset. I’m trying to make that part of my brain realize that it’s not about being thin, or hot, or sexy. It’s about being alive. I know that if I keep going the direction I’m going, even with all of the good news this last doctor round, that I’m not going to live to see the end of my 40’s. && to be honest, I don’t want to die in my 40’s or 50’s. I want to be able to grow old && be the cranky lady with blue hair. I want to personally pay off my house. I want to know that my brother won’t have to bury me way too soon && live the rest of his life without any family around him. (We basically only have each other. && before my cousins/aunts/uncles get angry, I know we have y’all. I meant – like… here-here. I know if I need you all I have to do is call you. Same way with me with ya’ll.)

But I keep watching people older than me get the stomach surgery because they want to live the rest of their life healthier and happier. That’s what I want. I just want to know that I don’t need to be scared everyday and hate myself for eating something. Plus, I would really LOVE to get off of most of this medication. Will losing weight get me off all of it? Probably not – but most of it. I don’t think I would have high blood pressure or diabetes anymore. Because they are here because of my weight && my body getting tired. So I just need to give my body a boost and losing weight is the way to do that.

So I need to get my brain to stop thinking otherwise.

Good News && Bad News.

I think I am staring to realize why people with diabetes don’t live very long.

I probably shouldn’t say that, especially when words where people can find them forever. Because now, if I pass away everyone is going to think it’s because of the diabetes. It won’t be. I’m trucking along with it. I’m just mad. So, very, mad.

I agreed to start seeing a endocrinologist to fix my issues with my high sugar levels so my other issues with start getting better. So they put me on insulin, which I’ve told y’all before – nothing new there. This last week I had an appointment with them to check up on my progress. I had to tell them that my nu8mbers are still between 250 && 300 every day, every single time I take it. && of course they tell me that they shouldn’t be.

I know this.

So they go through the normal questions: are you taking the insulin like you’re supposed to? Are you snacking between meals? Do you consume a lot of sugar? Are you telling us the complete truth? Then of course, with each question, their look basically says I am lying about it all.

Yes. I take my insulin like they asked me to.
No. I do not snack in between meals. Ask Boyfriend, I’m not lying.
No. I do not eat sugar, whether it’s in drinks, or foods.
Yes, I’m telling the complete truth.

But the looks. You know the looks. If you’re overweight, and you’re asked these questions, you know the looks. I’m pretty sure they asked me if I snack four times, within five minutes, with smaller questions in between.

Let’s break The Barb down. When I was younger && still drinking out of bottles, my mother would put watered down Diet Coke in them. That’s what I grew up drinking, guess what? I still drink diet beverages. My tea, at home, is fake sugar. I don’t eat cakes, or pies, or sugary treats. I don’t eat chips, ice cream, or candy. I barely drink soda, && when I do buy one, I can make a 20 ounce last a week, if not longer. Chips, if I happen to buy a bag, I eat approximately five chips, Boyfriend finishes the bag. I don’t eat bread, even on sandwiches, I tend to just eat the inside of it. Tuna salad sandwich, I make this on weekends when I don’t have much time to cook, && I get a bowl, no bread, and eat it with a spoon.

So here I am. Blood sugar ranging, all the time, between 250 && 300. So I tell Boyfriend, maybe I need to cut more carbs out. I’ve stopped eating pasta as much as I did, bread is out, and I rarely eat potatoes. Which is leaving rice – lately, it’s all I want. So I told him, maybe – I need to stop eating rice for a little while && see if I can get my sugars down. But what happens when I put it back in my diet? I don’t plan to not eat it forever. My blood sugar is going to spike, yet again.

They also preach on my weight. Which is where the looks come in when asking about my “snacking habits”. Yes, I have moments where I have the “munchies” && eat and eat and eat. && sometimes, I ignore then munchies. The last two days my munchies have been horrible. But I have had pig skins, which I’ve munched on. They have no carbs – full of calories, but… one or the other, right?

I’m usually a calorie counter because I know it works for me. Count those, exercise, my weight drops. That’s even not cutting out carbs. Now I’m looking at cutting out carbs so I can’t really count calories? Can I? Wouldn’t that be too much?

I tried the “low carb” diet once. I was so angry through the whole experience that it lasted two weeks before the anger took over and I just didn’t want to deal with it anymore. Now you’re wondering, what made me angry? Everyone preaches about how good the low to no carb diet is and that it’s the bomb-diggity. But when you actually Google the carb amount in foods you’ll realize that EVERYTHING has carbs. EVERYTHING! A freaking pickle. I love pickles and they are great to munch on when you’re counting calories. Yes, don’t get me wrong, they only have one carb (((PER PICKLE))), but still!

Fruit. Veggies. Cheese (which is the number one thing people preach you can eat) – all. have. carbs.

Heck, the frozen Atkins meals that you can buy in most grocery stores – have at least 15 carbs in each box. So people tell me to stick with meats. Okay, that’s fine, but guess what? Remember? I have gout. Yeah! It’s like anything && everything that can be wrong with me right now, is wrong.

Today’s numbers weren’t horrible. This morning I took it && it was 199, it’s high, but at least it wasn’t 250. Last night for dinner I had a sandwich, with no bread, pickles && pig skins. This morning I ate a sandwich with no bread, pickles and pig skins. So I stuck with meat – although, the meats I chose aren’t heart healthy. I took my numbers before dinner and it was 159. Had pork chops, sautéed onions, and cauliflower bites (cauliflower covered in cheese, bacon bits, and green onions.) I haven’t retaken the numbers yet, but I’m hoping they aren’t extremely high. But you know.

On good notes: the doctors are saying that my heart && kidney function are getting better. My A1C went from 9.6 to 8.4, but my weight is staying around the same. So I’m not gaining, but I’m not losing. && that’s because of the exercise rut I’m in. I cannot find any motivation to exercise. I don’t know if it’s only because it’s hot outside or because I just don’t want to. Maybe a mix of both? I was told that my magnesium is low so I was told to take a supplement/eat foods high in magnesium && we’ll check that again in October.

Basically, I have two months – August && September – to lose some weight && try to get my A1C even lower. So here is to that.

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?

Once upon a time…

Once upon a time there lived a boy who had way too high of hopes for his deranged girlfriend. This boy, who most people refer to as Potato Foot, was a handsome fella, and played a lot of video games. His girlfriend liked to sit behind him and watch as he played Players Unknown Battleground like a crazed maniac. His girlfriend like to attempt to know what she was talking about, but usually he had to correct her because she is a bit of a ditz.

The Boy was superhuman and could pick up a house and toss it feet, if not miles. The Boy has never tossed a house, but the Girlfriend is pretty sure he could if he wanted to. She has noticed that when the Boy puts his mind to something, he usually achieves it.

The Girlfriend, however, cannot seem to even write a sentence anymore. In the past, she could write && write &&& write, but now, when she opens her laptop, all she finds that she does is stare at a blank Word document. Sometimes she thinks that her ability to write, has gone down the toilet. Just flushed, swirled down and now is in the sewer with all the rest of the crap.

The boy, being his loving boy self, tries to tell the Girlfriend that her writing isn’t crap. But she cannot believe him since he has never read anything she has written. But in his defense, The Girlfriend doesn’t usually share her writing – with him, or the neighbor, or the best friend, or even the cats… especially the cats – those mean little I’m going to judge you animals.

The Girlfriend had so many dreams && sometimes she feels like they were washed into a gutter and now the rats are chewing them. This made her sad – not because her dreams are trash and unrealistic, but because – rats.

The Boy laughs sometimes at how silly the Girlfriend is and thinks and talks and walks and chews and…. Okay, maybe not – it’s not the point. He just seems so perfect, being able to shoot fish in a barrel, but her – nothing. She cannot even fail properly.

The Girlfriend tries to accomplish new things but in the end trashes it to the floor in a small pile of crinkled paper. It’s not that she doesn’t want to achieve greatness, she just doesn’t think she is worthy of it. What makes her better than the next person who wants wonderful things to happen? Her dream is to be a writer of books. She wants to be that person that has a book that touches a soul – even if it is just one.

The Boy is always telling her she can do anything if she puts her mind to it. But the Girlfriend knows you’re supposed to use personal experience and likes and loves and feelings and relationships to build stories off – but what happens when the writer hasn’t done anything to build from? What if the things the writer has been through, they are tired of writing about?

Once in a world she could write and write and write and write about feelings, and experiences and death, but now with her Rainbow and Butterfly mind she wants to write love and happiness and finding a way to smile. She wants to make someone feel as if they’re floating in thin air from just the words she chooses.

But words – what if her words aren’t perfect and her paragraphs are dirty, and her sentences are thirsty? How can a writer have issues with wording and grammar and still write a book that pleases all the senses?

She will ask people, a lot, about ways to write more and their answer is always the same – to write more you need to read more. What happens if you’re in a reading slump and every time you pick up a book you begin yawning and fall asleep? Not because the book is boring but because you just don’t feel like it. Kind of like when people tell you to drink more water, but the more water you drink the more boring the taste is. Then you wonder how people can drink the water because it doesn’t actually have a taste and when they give you some line like it’s refreshing, and you think ‘so is Dr. Pepper if you drink enough of it’.

The Boy, however, doesn’t seem to have these kinds of problems – at least the Girlfriend doesn’t notice this. He laughs things off and carries on his merry way. He grabs controllers and plays video games forgetting troubles for a few. The Girlfriend used to use writing for that – just jump in headfirst and live through characters a life worth living. But does that mean her life isn’t worth living?

She is happy and enjoys life. How many people can say they have fallen in love twice in a lifetime with the same person and finds themselves falling more and more every day? She can. How many people can say that by thirty she would realize that she has lived longer without parents than she did with them? She can. But how many people can say that by nineteen they had figured out exactly what they wanted to do with their life and just needed to put it into action? She can.

Putting it to action is her problem. She has a memory card with thousands of writings – beginnings – no middle and no end. She finds herself sometimes going back and opening her old writings and trying to finish them, but she can’t. There is no ending. Her writing seems to go on forever, but the forever isn’t a good thing, because it turns into crap. Then when she finally does write a full story, whether it is short, middle or long, she shreds it to pieces before she can stop herself and ends up with the dog ate my homework writing that makes no sense at all.

The Boy tries to help her the best way he can by supporting and telling her to start writing and saying how their future could be great – if she would only write more. Finish what she has started and do something great! Greatness, she wonders, was it ever in her future to begin with? People her age seem to have already gotten what they want out of life, family, career, but she sits on her throne staring off into the distance of an unwritten world of greys and whites covering a rainbow that was once thousands of colors.

Where did her colors go? Where can she find the colors to pull them back into her life so the rainbows, and unicorns, and cotton candy comes back into her eyes?

But even in the bleakness of rainbow-less worlds of soggy sandwiches and stale potato chips, she can still find a small hole in the fence and write something. Maybe nothing touching or excellent but something – small and ordinary. She finds her wording sometimes to be dramatic and wholesome and perky. But parts, in the same writing, would be swollen and contemporarily empty.

She blinks back the thoughts of quitting and moves on down the wet pavement to the stop sign and stares emotionless for a while before she turns back around and goes home. Home, a place of solitude and happiness. Home, a place where she can put her feet up and know that no one is judging her, except for maybe her cats. Home, a place she can close doors off to people and things and other worldly beings and pretend she isn’t home. They can knock and ring the doorbell and peak into the windows but all they’ll see is empty space. Home, a place where dreams and aspirations live in the air where they’ll be plucked and hidden in a box deep into the abyss of what is known to her as a closet. The closet holds secrets that sometimes need to be spread around, so people know what they are up to. Cleaning out the closet is a real thing and maybe she needs to open hers wide open so the world can swallow her whole.

She doesn’t know where life will take her if she is barefooted all the time, but she does know wherever it leads, the Boy will follow on the back of a fedora wearing horse with a cape yelling “GO GIRLFRIEND!” She knows out of the whole world that he will be her cheerleader, the one person that she can count on, and know that when it rains, it’ll pour – but he’ll be holding the umbrella getting soaked because his ball cap that he wears backwards doesn’t block the rain.