This… this blog! It’s alive! IT’S ALIIIIIIIIIIIIVE!
Sooooooo, as you may have guessed, it’s been a wretched several months. Work? Bad. Love life? Bad. Family situation? Bad. Friendships? Bad. World events? Bad. Things have been varying degrees of bad at different times since (and during) the last time I updated this dusty old thing, but the general trend has been just bad.
Some of that will probably come out in greater detail over the next span of entries, but the bottom line is, I haven’t been handling any of it like the baller I was around this time last year. It’s been uber stressful and I’ve been letting it get to me. I regained a fuck-ton of weight and I feel like shit about it: I’m disappointed in myself and ashamed of what I’ve done to negate all my hard work. Also, man, what a luxury it was to have been so much lighter. I had forgotten how sucky and embarrassing it is to get winded from walking up a flight and a half of steps.
But ya know, as much as losing weight is secretly a community effort when it’s all going right — you know what I’m talking about if you’re a fellow fatty who gets life from the affirming compliments, helpful online (or even in-person) communities, and essential readings/watchings along the way — it’s equally so when it’s all going wrong.
In the midst of a series of crises at work a couple of weeks ago, I was having a conversation with a colleague about what a mess we were dealing with. This particular colleague and I typically have conversations that remind me of what it looks like if you draw a flower in the air with your finger: they start at a central point, then they swing far out from what we were discussing before making their way back to the central issue, only to curve out to something totally different again before veering sharply back to center, and so on and so on until all the petals are drawn. They’re unpredictable discussions that are simultaneously about 14 different things that somehow all relate in some delicate way. The conversation we had a few weeks back was no exception. My colleague had just finished verbally drawing a petal about what she likes to do on weekends before unexpectedly bringing it back to our work situation thusly: “I say this to you as a woman who has struggled with her own weight: your face is looking fuller. That’s stress. No, darlin’.”
Her delivery was gentle, yet direct, and her message was clear: Don’t let this place take any more from you.
Those words have been ringing in the back of my head since that conversation, and even though I didn’t successfully put a course correction into place until several weeks later, what she said to me has been helping to stoke the embers of my fading mission back into a fire ever since.
I have wanted to make a new blog post for the longest time, but I couldn’t imagine seeing my failure splashed across a webpage that I wrote with my own hands. I didn’t want to accept how bad things have gotten. All the while, I was knowingly avoiding this space to my detriment, because I know that not expressing upsetting things doesn’t make them untrue, and I also know that writing about this whole experience — the good and the bad — is part of what was helping me succeed before. So, enough time has now passed, and enough healthy weeks have gone by that I feel less-ashamed enough to make a post.
I still care. I still want to live my best life. I still have goals, and I still want to achieve them.
I will not let anyone stand in my way. Including me.