I haven't written in quite some time and I have missed it. Writing is therapeutic for me. It's a chance to give voice to the random inner monologue that swirls around in my head. Writing is safe. Safer than sitting down with a live body and having a chat at any rate. There's generally instant feedback and vulnerability when in person communication occurs. Yuck. I have anxiety at the very thought. Relationships that matter scare me silly. I can hold my own in conversation but to actually share the oddities that make me the woman that I am seems far too risky. If you really knew what craziness resides in me, you'd run for the hills. Well, maybe not run but you'd likely wonder if I had a few kinks in my slinky.
I am good-natured about some of my quirks, even though they have been exploited by friends and family as a source of amusement. Take my inability to drink the entire contents of a glass. I used to drive my mother crazy because I would have an inch of milk in my glass and I would add another inch to it then drink it back down to the inch mark- throwing what remained in the glass away. She would get furious with me. Of course my explanation was logical to me. I was afraid to see what might be in the bottom of the glass. What if I could see where the bottom hadn't been properly cleaned? What if remnants of some food were down there? I could probably die if my throat expected milk and got something semi-solid or crumbly! My sister, Linda, was the one most likely to sneak something into my glass in the hopes of provoking a reaction. Slices of cucumber, pieces of iceberg lettuce, a hunk of banana.... anything she could casually slip into the glass. I freaked out and gagged on multiple occasions to the amusement of my sister or friends. I get that it's funny. It didn't make me feel picked on but I suppose that had a lot to do with the innocuous nature of what was slipped into my glass.
I've had to put my big girl pants on and deal with a lot of my quirks and anxieties. For instance, I am afraid of mail. I don't know why and I know it's not reasonable so I make myself deal with it. I freak out at bugs and snakes. Once my ability to think returns after happening upon either of those creepy things, I can appreciate the way they are made and how they look but initially I scream like the dumb girl that's about to be eaten by the shark or killed by the monster in some low budget horror flick. The older I get the more anxious I become. I used to love to explore caves and crawl into tight places. Now? I am claustrophobic to the point of full blown panic attacks. A while back I had to beg my way out of an MRI (Make Rosemarie Insane). I was in the machine for perhaps 30 seconds.
My current anxiety is the surgery I need on my neck and my back. First they want to do injections between my vertebrae. They really expect me to be OK with them sticking a needle and administering some sort of therapeutic chemicals between my vertebrae and right next to my spinal cord. Oh heck no! I'll let them amputate at the neck for my pain reduction before I will let them do that!
If I am to be honest, the majority of my problem with having surgery or injections stems from my being overweight. My body has broken down to the point that I can no longer ignore the extra poundage. I can't afford to play ignorant nor pretend that I am OK with myself at whatever size. I have developed type two diabetes and high blood pressure. My back, neck and knees are shot. I really need to get about the business of shedding pounds. Even if the degenerative disc disease won't be altered at least if I have to be dependent on others they will be able to move me about with more ease.
So, my faithful 7 readers, I will be getting honest in my blog about what I am doing to get healthier. It will require being more honest about, dare I say it, the emotions that drive me to eat things I know I shouldn't and / or more than I need. It may mean that I lose all 7 of you and that will be sad, but if writing my way through this helps me lose the weight and shake free of the things that drive me to eat more than my body needs, it's a price I am willing to pay. I am waging war on myself. I could use some allies.
Prayers and encouragement appreciated.
I am good-natured about some of my quirks, even though they have been exploited by friends and family as a source of amusement. Take my inability to drink the entire contents of a glass. I used to drive my mother crazy because I would have an inch of milk in my glass and I would add another inch to it then drink it back down to the inch mark- throwing what remained in the glass away. She would get furious with me. Of course my explanation was logical to me. I was afraid to see what might be in the bottom of the glass. What if I could see where the bottom hadn't been properly cleaned? What if remnants of some food were down there? I could probably die if my throat expected milk and got something semi-solid or crumbly! My sister, Linda, was the one most likely to sneak something into my glass in the hopes of provoking a reaction. Slices of cucumber, pieces of iceberg lettuce, a hunk of banana.... anything she could casually slip into the glass. I freaked out and gagged on multiple occasions to the amusement of my sister or friends. I get that it's funny. It didn't make me feel picked on but I suppose that had a lot to do with the innocuous nature of what was slipped into my glass.
I've had to put my big girl pants on and deal with a lot of my quirks and anxieties. For instance, I am afraid of mail. I don't know why and I know it's not reasonable so I make myself deal with it. I freak out at bugs and snakes. Once my ability to think returns after happening upon either of those creepy things, I can appreciate the way they are made and how they look but initially I scream like the dumb girl that's about to be eaten by the shark or killed by the monster in some low budget horror flick. The older I get the more anxious I become. I used to love to explore caves and crawl into tight places. Now? I am claustrophobic to the point of full blown panic attacks. A while back I had to beg my way out of an MRI (Make Rosemarie Insane). I was in the machine for perhaps 30 seconds.
My current anxiety is the surgery I need on my neck and my back. First they want to do injections between my vertebrae. They really expect me to be OK with them sticking a needle and administering some sort of therapeutic chemicals between my vertebrae and right next to my spinal cord. Oh heck no! I'll let them amputate at the neck for my pain reduction before I will let them do that!
If I am to be honest, the majority of my problem with having surgery or injections stems from my being overweight. My body has broken down to the point that I can no longer ignore the extra poundage. I can't afford to play ignorant nor pretend that I am OK with myself at whatever size. I have developed type two diabetes and high blood pressure. My back, neck and knees are shot. I really need to get about the business of shedding pounds. Even if the degenerative disc disease won't be altered at least if I have to be dependent on others they will be able to move me about with more ease.
So, my faithful 7 readers, I will be getting honest in my blog about what I am doing to get healthier. It will require being more honest about, dare I say it, the emotions that drive me to eat things I know I shouldn't and / or more than I need. It may mean that I lose all 7 of you and that will be sad, but if writing my way through this helps me lose the weight and shake free of the things that drive me to eat more than my body needs, it's a price I am willing to pay. I am waging war on myself. I could use some allies.
Prayers and encouragement appreciated.
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