A lot of the time I try not to complain about things, because it seems to create negative energy and I don’t like being responsible for that. (However this strategy has tended to result in random outbursts when everything wells up and I can no longer maintain control.) Things are getting better– that is I’ve found my way out and I’m working on it, but I’m still where I am and I still am dealing with the consequences of my situation, so I’m gonna share some of that now, here on my personal corner of the internet.
I’m quite sick of this feeling of being famished. I’ve gone through several stages of eating on a ‘as needed’ basis. Originally a combination of financial strategy and an actual desire to lose weight. I figured, with the two motivations together I could actually get somewhere. I staid balanced on a very delicate point, getting just exactly as much as I needed to feel pretty much healthy through the day, and dealing with hunger at night and responding to it by limiting myself to low level physical activity and sleeping early, then waking up and rewarding myself with a big healthy breakfast. That part has staid stable through almost this entire phase– breakfast. I keep on telling my body not to hoard energy. Good morning body, here’s a fat lump of protein and vitamins! Eat up! I did that for a while and honestly it didn’t really bother me. Every now and then through the generosity of others or a rare moment of personal indulgence I’d get some real satisfaction. Quite honestly, I don’t even think this part was bad, it just made what came next harder to deal with.
After I quit [insert former cool restaurant now turned standard fast food chain with higher than average food quality] and then was left hanging in limbo for the next job prospect I’d been betting on, the financial imperative became even tighter, and I went from just barely maintaining a healthy diet to just barely maintaining a subsistence diet. Breakfast of course lives on because it’s cheap and pretty nutritious, but continuing this ritual makes it even more painful when later on the day I don’t meet my body’s requirements for satisfaction, even for the later afternoon to say nothing of the evening. I’ve been to this place before, in terms of food allotment, but it was always coming from the old standard for bodily comfort– gorging myself on as much carb-rich, low-protein, chemically enhanced, fatty fatty food as I want with a completely inverted metabolism, never eating breakfast. So in the past it was usually a lot easier. I was already used to feeling like shit and being constantly over-satisfied, so trimming down my eating habits would be quite bearable for quite some time, usually long enough to get me through whatever financial rift I was going through. This time my body finds itself totally betrayed and in shock. I’m still recovering from it though things and undoubtedly better, largely due to the fact that I’ve reached the point where I can ask for as much help as I actually need, since it’s only a matter of time until the paychecks start coming in.
What made me decide to share this now, is the changing of the season. In the past couple of years I’ve become an absolute fanatic when it comes to being outside, active, enjoying the weather when I can. There are parts of the year when I tend to only go out at certain times of the day, or only on days when the weather is a little more to the less extreme side, but there’s a constant imperative to BE OUT THERE, especially when things are changing. It’s not something I think about, and decide ‘being outside is nice, I like nice things, therefore I should go ride my bike’. No, it just happens. Like, I’m sitting there and BOOM I’m suddenly motivated to get my ass up and go enjoy the world, feel the seasons bleed together, experience the thrill of weather characteristics changing and knowing it’s a unique time of year, and it will be gone before you know it. This year, it’s just… not like that. There’s no energy, no impetus to get out and see what’s happening, to be active. My body is a sullen child, eyes downcast, plodding along with its toys, passively seated on the floor.
I know I’ll get better. I have not even an ounce of doubt about that. I have so many tricks and tools at my disposal once I have the means to seriously devote effort to taking care of myself for its own sake, even assuming eating alone doesn’t perk me up in time. It’s just that though– time. I have to let some time pass. I have to accept the passing of this season into the next, with me stuck inside still a little hungry, grabbing out not for the activity to invigorate my senses but for the comfort of regular nourishment yet to be had. The magic of this fall will come under the blind of malady. I’m still aware of it, I still enjoy it. Just the fact of an open window vs a running air conditioner makes a HUGE difference to me, but there’s so much more out there, and this time it’s not for me to experience. I know the world will go on, the season will change again, but I can’t help but think about how I’ll most likely end up, dead in the middle of winter, ready to spring into action. Not that the winter lacks possibility for fun, not at all. Walking becomes incredibly fulfilling, especially if you can get yourself up and about at the right time, in the middle of the afternoon on a clear day, oh it can be glorious. Walking around with the world as your personal air conditioner and the sun keeping you just as warm as you’d like to be. It’s the fact of being dropped into the middle of it without the transition. Last winter was very, very long for me, and the summer has been cut short by these circumstances. I miss the world, in all its splendor and richness. That very richness is what has motivated me to take this course, I thought I could feed myself with that. I never saw myself poor and holed up in my apartment, conserving physical energy. It just didn’t occur to me how expensive it actually is to have the energy to go wherever you want whenever you want just for fun. That richness is locked away from me and I’ve just been suffering and deprived.
I know I’ll be okay, I know I’ll reach for what I want, I’ve got the pieces to the puzzle and I’m onto how to fit them together. It’s just the damned waiting that’s getting to me. When I can conceive of how I want to live my life before I’m able to do it, it’s like being caught in a rift. I worry too much about spoiling my fun before I get to have it by trying too hard too soon. I will have my peace, but for now there is no way to get the needle out of my eye. I’ve lost some weight, which I can do without; some muscle, which I can enjoy rebuilding, but I haven’t lost faith or hope. On the inside, I’m running screaming with painted face into battle, and I’m not going to stop until I get my peace. What am I battling? Probably my own insecurity, mostly. It’s there, lurking, whispering lies. Tells me to give up, stop trying, that it’s too hard. I’m crawling through the desert and I will not stop believing that what I see is NOT a mirage. I can keep crawling for that much longer, and it’s better than that because there are people helping me along the way. I know I can get there, and I know that I will. And when I do, it WILL be sweet. Oh, so very sweet.