Barking Mad

The Re-Birth of My Smile: Part II

You can read Part I here.

When I first leaned back into Dr. Benjamin's chair this morning, I said a little prayer that Gaby would be the wonderful 4 year old that everyone thinks she is, and not talk talk talk talk all the time we were in there, and that she'd not end up being traumatized over what she was watching happen to my mouth.   She was a little concerned that I was getting the rest of the my teeth yanked out.   Much to my relief (and probably Dr. Benjamin and his staff as well), she was a perfect angel!   

When Dr. Benjamin came in with the two small dental appliances in his hand I hadn't realized I was holding my breath, and once again had a death grip on the examination chair. A few minutes, some deep breaths and a couple of minor tweaks here and there and it was time to place the appliances in my mouth.  Once they were in, he handed me a mirror.   I took a deep breath in and then...SMILED!  Really and truly smiled for the first time in over a decade.

All I could say was, "Wow!" over and over again.  I was getting used to the feel of the Essix appliance (I finally remembered what it was called) and amazed at the difference in my smile and mouth.  I couldn't think of anything else to say.  Eventually I shut up long enough to listen to Dr. Benjamin explain to me the next step in the process as the Essix is only temporary.  There will be another, longer term temporary fix that will be in place probably by October and last until May of next year depending on some things I may have going on, and then next summer I will have the permanent dental implants put in place.

So, wanna see the smile...the whole smile?   I kinda thought you would.  Here's the before shot from Part I...

 

Here is the "after" as of 11AM this morning...

 

 

 

I have been smiling for the entire afternoon...probably even when I joined Gaby in an afternoon nap.  Hell, I even smiled while cleaning up multiple piles of cat puke.  Griffy is a pro at retaliatory vomiting and when I didn't get him his food fast enough this afternoon he made several little messes for me to clean up.  Big deal Griffenstein!  You completely annoy me sometimes but not even today can you wipe off the smile on my face.  Don't let all that dry-heaving fool you...you might be a pro at pissing me off, but even your furry, infuriating self will not get me to stop smiling.  Not today anyhow.

Dr. Benjamin, thank you so much for helping me find my smile again.  You've made this such a pleasant process and I am so very pleased with the results!

Here's to lots more smiles!

 

The Re-Birth of My Smile: Part I

Some people are envious of the cars others drive, some are envious of larger more opulent homes with expansive lush green lawns and fantastic views,  while others covet designer shoes and clothing.  With me, it's teeth.  White, straight, shiny teeth.  OK OK, I do covet Volvos.  Older Volvos and a certain small, sleek, absolutely sweet little number that a glittery, glammed up vampire drives in one of those Twilight movies.  But in all seriousness, I am envious of people with nice teeth.  

I love teeth.  Straight, white teeth is where it's at for me.   I have a bad case of teeth-envy. I want one of those smiles where, when I flash it at people, a little shiny star flashes off the corner of a tooth and you hear a slight "dingly tinkling" in the background.  Am I silly?  Maybe.  Do I want beautiful teeth?  YES!

My own teeth would be pretty awesome if it weren't for the huge fact that a few of them are missing.  It's something I go to great lengths to hide and cover up.   Due to some trauma from my past I've had to have three of my upper teeth removed and they are in very visible spots.  I have not really and truly smiled in over ten years.   This is hard for me to admit because, like I said, I go to great lengths to make sure no one notices it.   I've already got a huge strike against me with my weight -  which is impossible to hide, and therefore I worry a great deal over what people think when they notice I have these whacking great gaps in my teeth.

Ironically enough, I'm just getting back to the point where I want to smile again...genuinely smile!  I'm so proud for being able to keep myself from slipping back into the near-suicidal depression I have been suffering from since The Very Bad Thing happened, and while I'm not through the tunnel yet, that light at the end of it it getting bigger and brighter and I can start to feel the warmth from that light on my face!  So it's a little bittersweet that my smile doesn't reflect the inner knowledge that I am indeed surviving my own personal tour of Hell that I've been on.

Restorative dental work is prohibitively expensive...mine is going to cost upwards of $10,000 to complete.  So I haven't really pursued having it done because I've yet to discover the money tree that my 4 year old daughter insists is growing right outside our front door.

Most of you know that I have a couple of potentially big things coming up in my life (one thing I will be able to share with you - just as soon as I receive the word from my contact that I can open the flood gates!) and it has been suggested to me by a certain someone that I might want to see about having my teeth "seen to."  Ha!  Easier said than done.   I'll be honest though and tell you that this has been a constant source of worry for me for a couple of months now - more so than usual - simply because of some things I have going on right now.  I confided in some close friends that I was worried that my teeth were going to keep me from realizing certain dreams. 

I have also shared with those who are close to me, my extreme fear and apprehension of dental work in general.  Those of you who avoid seeing your dentist regularly know what I'm talking about.   When I'm lying back against the cool leather (or pleather, or vinyl, or even plastic in some cases) of a dentist's chair, in that prone position, I obsess over what the hygienist and dentist are thinking about me and right about the time I think I'm at the apex of fear, that's when they come at me with that MONSTER hypodermic needle!  Are you breaking out in a cold sweat yet?  I have a huge knot in my stomach just thinking about it!

Unbeknownst to me, a couple of my closest friends got together and searched for an esthetic dental professional in my area and then once they did some research into this dentist, they phoned and made an appointment for me with Dr. Gerald Benjamin, D.D.S, P.C.  I knew very little about it before hand other than that appointment had been made and that come Hell or high water, I would be there!

Because I'm all about being bluntly honest out here, against my better judgment, here is a photo I took of myself before I left for my appointment with Dr. Benjamin on Thursday afternoon.  You can clearly see my teeth...or um, lack thereof.  On your right, there's a huge gap where two teeth should be.  You can't see it in this picture, but on your left, there is another smaller space, further in the back where another tooth has had to be removed.

 

I waffled and wavered and tried to come up with any excuse to not go to the appointment.  For one, I already know that what I need to have done is costly and I am unable to afford so much as a cleaning treatment right now (dental insurance sucks!).  Again, I was sure I was going to be met with judgment and little more than Dr. Benjamin telling me something along the lines of, "Well, yep, you need implants and those are gonna cost you, dearly!"  I had heard of something called a "dental flipper" but wasn't sure that was a good option for me, even only temporarily. 

I hadn't visited his web site before (people, he even has a blog!) my appointment and really didn't know much about him except what I was told by my friends - who, in all honesty, told me little more than, "Get your butt to the appointment, no arguments, no excuses!" 

I walked into the comfortably furnished office of Dr. Benjamin and was immediately greeted by a very lovely receptionist with a warm smile and friendly attitude and nice teeth.  See, I'm always looking at the teeth.  Especially in dental offices. 

Have you ever noticed how dental offices all smell the same?  There is a particular antiseptic/minty/medicinal smell that almost all dental offices have. It's not a bad smell, it's just that smell.  After I sat down, the smell hit me and the butterflies in my stomach immediately started up their three-ring circus!  Right about then, the dental assistant/hygienist came out and told me I could go back into the examination room.   She immediately put me at ease with gentle reassurances and her very comforting nature.

I walked into the examination room and saw the chair.  Looked over at the tray and then up at the light that is always present above the examination chair and was pretty sure I was either going to pass out, or throw up...possibly both! Thankfully the examination chair was right there and I pretty much collapsed into it.   The little dental drape was placed around my neck and then slowly and a little cautiously, Dr. Benjamin appeared in the doorway with a beguiling and comforting smile on his face.  He reassured me that everything was going to be alright and then asked me if he could look inside my mouth.  "Oh, here goes nothing!" I thought to myself as I opened my mouth and he began to look around.

Dr. Benjamin gently probed the inside of my mouth and said, "Oh this isn't bad at all.  Not too bad.  We can fix this permanently, in time, when you're ready, and I'm positive we can help you out with a temporary solution until you're ready to move forward with the implants."

I felt my chest loosen up just a little bit and I relaxed my death grip on the arms of the chair, just a little.   I spoke to both the hygienist and Dr. Benjamin for a few moments, vaguely, about what was going on in my life, and told them how determined I was to make the life-altering changes I so desperately need to make in order to make the life I see in my dreams, a reality, but that I was afraid that my dental situation was holding me back.   Dr. Benjamin asked me if I was really and truly determined and then when I told him I was, he shared with me his own story of sheer determination.  I was blown away by what he told me, and instantly moved but more importantly, was inspired.  I don't have his permission to share this story with you, but I'm hoping that some day I can.

Dr. Benjamin explained to me that while a dental flipper was one temporary solution for the missing teeth it wouldn't be one that I would like or that he thought was suitable.  It would change the way I spoke, potentially be uncomfortable and was not very sturdy.   He told me about another appliance that he felt would be a better option for me and that it could be fitted and in, in less than a week.  We talked a little about the cost of the appliance, while not inexpensive, is was within our very tight budget.   Then he asked me something that almost made my heart stop.  "What is your gag reflex like?"  I wanted to tell him that just hearing the term, "gag reflex" makes me gag, but instead I told him that I have an incredibly sensitive gag reflex.   He explained that he was going to take some molds of my mouth and then his assistant told me she'd help me get through it with some relaxation techniques.

He took two complete molds of my mouth and amazingly enough, I didn't come close to gagging!  I've never had dental impressions taken before and I found the whole thing a little odd, but not unpleasant in the least.  It goes without saying, I didn't gag once, a fact for which I'm extremely grateful for!

As I rinsed a few little bits of the molding mixture out of my mouth, Dr. Benjamin explained to me more about this appliance (and for some reason I can't recall the exact name of it), how it would fit into my mouth and be the best option for me until I can get the implants placed.   I told him that I had been using an at-home whitening system which made my teeth really sensitive but I thought was working.  He told me that my teeth looked pretty good and with a couple of fillings and the implants, I should be good to go.

Do you know how relieved I was to hear that?  I was sure that I was going to be told that my teeth were so far gone that the next stop for me was a seat on the Polident Express to Denturville.  I've had constant nightmares about being a public speaker and then in the middle of saying something, my teeth would come flying out of my mouth and land in someone's lap.   I constantly dream of flossing my teeth and then having my teeth all come out, attached to the floss, like some kind of morbid necklace.

I sat there for a moment, once I was done rinsing and spitting (why can I never manage to spit in the basin, even though it's right there under my chin, without getting half of it all over my face and down my chin?), and took a deep breath and completely relaxed.  I hadn't realized just how tense I was until I did this.  I felt completely at ease around Dr. Benjamin and his staff and at that moment was so grateful for this caring and compassionate professional.

I'm also so very thankful for my close friends that took the time to research dental professionals in my area, make the phone calls and from the looks of it, explain my situation.   This is not something I would have undertaken on my own because I just felt like it was not within my reach and that I was not worth it.  Thank you so much for this push in the right direction. I love you guys!

I've let my fear and apprehension, not to mention - our financial situation, dictate whether or not I even let someone so much as just look at my teeth and tell me whether or not there was something temporary that could be put in place until I was in a better position to have the permanent restoration completed.  It was yet another example of how I've let my feelings of no self-worth rule how I live my life.  Now that I know there is something and that I have a chance to see my smile, my real smile - one that reaches my eyes, not just the corners of my mouth; I can't begin to tell you how ecstatic I am.  The only thing that makes me every more excited than I am right now is that in a few days time, I'll be able to see what I will eventually look like when my dental restoration is complete.   I'm so very happy that in between now and then, there is a temporary solution that will allow me to smile - and really mean it...something I've rarely done in more than a decade, and I'm so appreciative to be under the care of such a compassionate and gifted dental professional; Dr. Benjamin.

Stay tuned for Part II...I'll reveal what my smile looks like with the new appliance in place!

ETA:  I was in no way compensated for this post, nor did I receive treatment in exchange for my opinion of services rendered.  I am just that completely happy with the wonderful care I received from Dr. Benjamin!

 

Will I Ever Fit In?

 

You know you really need to sit down and just write when your four year old tells you that you're annoying her and then asks you to "Please mumma, go write lots of words on your computer!  You don't play Princess and the Frog like I want you to!"  Of course, somehow I always mange to end up being the frog.  Never once have I landed the sweet gig of being the princess.  Heck, I can't even manage to ever be Cinderella when we play that game!  I don't even get to be one of the mean step-sisters, or even the evil step-mother.  Nope!  Who does Gaby deign to let me play?  Gus, one of the mice.  That's right...the rotund (albeit he's very cute, at least I've got that going for me!), less than coordinated, newcomer to Cinderella's merry troupe of vermin mice.

So when I asked Gaby if she wanted to work on our "Kindness Project", (I mentioned this in yesterdays brief post), she just rolled her eyes and very emphatically told me, "Later! Now just move offa my swamp!"  So much for blog fodder...blog fodder which I was really excited about, because she was really excited about doing it.  "Was" being the operative word. 

In a way it's kind of a good thing that we didn't get around to finishing our project today because something has been eating away at me for a few weeks and I wasn't sure if I could find the words to write about it, without sounding like the girl who never gets asked to dance.

I have written a lot about being "that mom", the one who has lost the child and is forced to wear that loss like a huge scarlet A across my chest.   That's not something that will ever go away. I won't ever completely fit in around other mothers who are unbroken and whole.  I've also written a great deal about my life as a morbidly obese woman and how I have struggled with that for more than two decades now.  The weight will go away.  I'm more determined now than ever to become healthy and strong...not only physically but mentally as well.  However, as much as the stigma of belonging to the "That Mom" club will be ever present in my life, I wonder if the shame of being so physically repugnant will ever go away?

Let's be honest, shall we?  Fat people, especially really, horribly  morbidly obese people are overlooked, made fun of, laughed at, belittled, demeaned, and denigrated in almost every way possible.  Not only do we often times not physically fit in (airplane seats anyone?), we also don't socially fit in...regardless of where we are.  Oh sure, there's the funny fat guy at almost every party, but outside of his sense of humor, how much do you really know about him?  Do you know what his passions in life are or what he thinks about anything outside of being funny?  What is the funny guy like outside of the social setting where you're likely to come across him for a few minutes?  Do you even honestly want to know anything more about him?

You probably don't because you see people like him much the same way people view those with leprosy.  Here's the thing though...fat isn't contagious.  If I sneeze near you, or cough in your general direction, you won't automatically sprout love handles, nor will the buttons pop off of your blouse or trousers, and you probably won't end up having to sign up with Jenny Craig after sitting near me on the bus.  The way some people act around us though, you'd think we were no better than a common criminal. 

Simply put, we don't fit in with all the cool kids.

Oh sure, you're probably sitting there going, "But Audrey, some of my closest friends are fat!" And maybe that's true.  Perhaps you're able to see beyond the excess weight, the clothes that don't fit well, the unease this person has when he or she eats around you because they think you're watching everything they put in their mouths...maybe you are in fact able to look behind their eyes and see the human being that lives underneath all that adipose tissue.  The fact remains, you're one of the few that can actually do that.  Most people see us as gross blights on the pretty landscape of the earth.

Of course, at the rate Americans are gaining weight, I suppose many of us don't even realize that we aren't just overweight, we are obese!  Maybe some of us just don't see it.  Don't want to see it.

I see people look at me with disgust every day.  EVERY SINGLE DAY.   That photo (I apologize for the quality, I took it at night on my way home from the store, and it was raining!), I posted above?  That's the sign that greats you as you drive into the small town I live in.   I live in Saratoga Springs, a beautiful, affluent area of upstate New York, situated at the foothills of the Adirondacks...and one of the things this area is famous for is health.  HEALTH!  And then there's me.  I just moved here, I'm having a difficult time adjusting, and everywhere I look there are beautiful people with horses who are proud of their history...oh and their health.  Did I mention the health thing already? 

If people don't look at me with disgust, they just don't see me.  They see right past me, like I'm not even there.  I go into stores where men will open the door for every attractive and fit woman that walks in, but when I walk in, it's as if they don't see me.  Don't get me wrong, I can open the door myself.  It's just a common courtesy that I notice is not extended to me...even when I have Gaby with me.  I can't even begin to count the number of times I have seen this happen before, not just with me, but with other obese women.   They are not offered the same courtesy as those who are fit and attractive.  It's not just doors that aren't opened (I can't even begin to count the number of "career" doors that have been slammed in my face because of my weight.  Yes radio Program Directors, I'm talking about YOU!  Yes employment agencies, I'm talking about YOU!) for the obese, it's the level of service we don't receive, the niceties that people neglect to give us, the smiles that go un-returned because of what we look like.

What happens when I lose the weight?  Are you still going to see me as the woman who used to be fatally obese?  Will you worry that I'll gain it all back and therefore be unattractive again? Will I fit into your world once I fit into normal size clothes? Are you all of a sudden going to open the door at Macy's for me?  Run out to grab my cart at the grocery store on your way in with the rest of the carts?  Smile back at me when I smile at you?

More than wondering if you'll all finally accept me for the person I am, I wonder if I'll ever see myself as acceptable?  I know, within every cell of my being, that I'm worthy of the changes I'm making, but I wonder how I'll ever wash off the stigma that's been so very long associated with who I am?

One of these days I'm going to stop hiding behind my family and my kids when we take pictures together.  I won't feel like I have to hide the horribleness of myself behind others...

 

   

Will you finally notice me then?

 

My Pregnant Brain!

 

So much has been going on lately, but not much of it is physical - nope, most of it is mental. In fact, at times, I've got so much mental noise going on, that I feel as if my brain is surely going to ooze out of my nose, ears and mouth.

I can't even count the number of posts where I've said I was either going to let loose out here, or had this, that or another subject I really wanted to write about, or that I wanted to post photos from some adventure we went on and...well, it never materializes.   I can't get anything out of my head and onto paper - so to speak because there's so much stuff cramped up in there and it's all jockeying for a spot at the front...to be let out that it causes a huge snarl-up of brainy traffic, if that makes any sense. 

Often times it's quite literally as if my brain itself is pregnant...11 months along and labor is no where in sight.   Hence the title of this post. 

What?  You thought I was actually PREGNANT?  Nope, sorry about that.

The Move to New York

Everyone keeps asking me how I like it here.   I don't know.  It's white, and gray, naked and frozen. The people move fast but seem nice enough.  I am numb to everything around me right now.  I'm still unpacking and worrying about the house back in Maine.  Maybe when the spring thaw hits I'll be able to feel a bit more of the "soul" of this place we now call home.  Until then I'm just kind of treading water I guess.

Oh, but there is this little tidbit...the lake that sits directly in front of the house, in all it's frozen mass, is actually pretty damned creepy late at night.   It makes these God-awful sounds and half time time, if I find myself outside after darkfall and I hear this huge almost space-like groaning and heaving sound, I haul ass back into the house.  I don't know what the hell the sound is, or where exactly it's coming from but it genuinely creeps me out.   Gareth thinks it might be the noise of the ice moving around...or something like that.  Whatever it is, it's very chilling.

Gaby

My little ray of sunshine in the form of a curly headed, bedimpled imp, has not adjusted well to the move.  She has had such a difficult time getting settled and liking this place.  I have tried earnestly to not vocalize or even show how homesick I am for Maine, and I think I've done a pretty good job...but my darling girl says her "heart hurts and wants to go home to the old house, to Maine." 

I know we've not even been here six weeks yet and in that short frame of time so much has happened.  Immediately before that she had a fairly stable routine and then her daddy lost his job, there was a lot of stress about our home, Meg left for the USAF, her daddy got a new job, he moved, then we moved, Matt went back to Seattle (I wish I could elaborate on that, but I can't...just know that what led to it was extremely traumatic for all of us, but most especially Gaby),  then we went on a quick trip to Texas to see Meg, and then back to the house to the continued monotony of days spent inside, unpacking, reading, playing games with mommy and generally being bored out of her little mind. 

Gaby misses her big sister in the worst way and sometimes it breaks my heart to hear her talk about her.  When she got off the phone after talking to her last night and wishing her big sister a happy 20th birthday, she collapsed into a heap of tears on my bed and the sounds that came out of that tiny body were almost mournful and brought me to my knees with sympathy for her. 

Added to all this is Gaby's desire to go back to school again.  It was out of necessity that we even had her in the Montessori in Maine.  I was still in outpatient treatment and in other therapy twice a week.  Truth be told, I should be there again, but that's a story for another day...She misses the routine, the friends, and the fun.  I've tried building a routine similar to what she had back in Maine, but she's tiring of it and I can't say I blame her.  We just don't know if school, even another part time Montessori is in our budget right now. 

Unfortunately because her birthday falls so late in the year, she won't begin kindergarten until the fall of 2011.  I'm trying to decide how important a pre-k program really is.  All of my other children were in preschool for 3 days out of the week by the time they were 4.  But that wasn't my choice...my former in-laws impressed upon me the importance of it.  Right now, I don't know if I'm smart enough to try and replicate that in my own home...plus, the big thing that's lacking...friends. Plus...and I'm not bragging (although show me a parent who never says that when speaking about their children and I'll show you a parent who is lying!) or being vain, but she's smart.  I mean, really quite bright and loves challenges and LOVES to learn.  She loved the structure to her days back at the Montessori in Maine and fell in love with learning French and she had just started tumbling classes within the school itself.   Her mommy doesn't "tumble" unless it's going down the stairs outside after a good snowfall.  

What's a mom to do?   All of this makes me feel quite inept at being a good parent to her.  I've been thinking about putting her either into dance or gymnastics but as our budget is still quite tight and New York is not the cheapest state to live in, that might have to wait. 

I'm hoping with the spring thaw will come my own thawing towards this place and a renewed sense of wanting to explore and see what's around here.  And then with the blooming summer and warmer weather, we'll have the lake literally at our door step and a chance to swim and float our days away...of course, I say that now but the thought of anyone looking at me in a swim suit or even shorts and the ridicule that often accompanies it, makes me fearful that people will pity Gaby for being stuck with a mom like me.  It's not all about me,  yet at times, it still is.  So um yeah, I'm still pretty fucked up.  Sadly, it's my kid that's paying for it.

Not all is lost though...

I am working through my issues and battling my demons.  Sometimes they win the occasional battle and sometimes I manage to pull out a victory.  The war is not lost though and I'll keep fighting because really, what other choice is there?

Along those lines and dealing with demons, a lot changed inside my head after I published this post, about forgiving the man who hit and killed my son, all those many years ago.   It was cathartic and opened up so many other possibilities of things I might be capable of.  One of those is reaching out to the girl (and she was merely that, a girl), who was watching Josh the night he was killed.  I have never spoken to her.  We talked to her before we left that evening...we kissed Josh goodbye and told her to call us immediately if she needed us.  The phone did ring but...well, you all can surmise what happened from there.

I want to talk to her.  I've ached and longed to talk to her for almost 20 years.  Immediately after Josh's death her parents refused to let us talk to her.  Their fear was that it might traumatize her, or that we'd be angry and she'd slip back into the catatonic state she was in immediately after his death.  You see...she saw the small pickup truck hit him.  When she realized what direction he had run and looked that way, that's when the impact occurred.   I can't even begin to imagine how awful that must have been for someone so young.  She was 18 when it happened.  I was only 20.  Both of us children still.

I need to talk to her.  I've needed to all these years.  She was the last person to be with my son before he died.  My last memory of Josh is of him standing at her front door, screaming for his mommy.  She has other memories of him I will never have.  I'd love to hear her account of what happened...we really never even got the full story.

Please know I don't want to point the finger in blame.  I no longer hold any acrimony towards her.  I want to talk to her and hear her voice and have her hear mine...I want my words to be loving and thoughtful and careful.  Most of all I want to release her from the burden of blaming herself for his death.  I know that burden has been heavy these long years and I think that Joshua's mother is one of the only people that can help her unencumber herself of that heavy weight.

I never wanted to write about this openly because I didn't want my former husband, Josh's father, or my former in-laws, who I bear a great deal of anger towards, to read this and judge me.  I also, very selfishly wanted to reach out to this woman on my own...without any competition from my former husband.  I know that's incredibly selfish. 

This weighs on my mind greatly.  So much so that I've begun to search for her.  No easy task, that. I only know where her parents were located as of 2001.  So far, based on that, my search has netted me nothing useful.  But I'm going to keep trying.  It's important to me.  

Not Quite Darwin Award-Worthy, but Close Enough!

I continue to live up to my nick-name, "Trauma Magnet."

Last month in an attempt to repair the wings on one of Gaby's mini Tinker Bell dolls, I super-glued myself to Disney's beloved muse.

 

Considering that I have a fairly volatile history with superglue, upon learning of my latest dumbass stunt, Gareth has hidden the superglue and written to the company (as well as many of my other well meaning friends and family members) and asked them to put a small picture of me on all superglue containers alerting sales people to the fact that I should NOT be sold the product.  

Another case in point...lately I've taken to eating flax seed right out of the bag.  I love the stuff!  Too much is a bad thing though, I can unfortunately tell you.  Also, chasing several handfuls of flax seed with low carb beer right before bed is a REALLY REALLY INCREDIBLY BAD THING!  Take my word for it.  Just don't do it.  Otherwise you'll be up all night with hallucinatory dreams so real you'll think there's a damned Nazi in your bedroom about to eat your cat. 

So there you have it...just a few of the things currently plaguing me. 

 

Being Quiet in the Midst of a Storm

  

I spent a lot of this past week thinking about my life and where I want it to go and how I want to get there.  This is the first time I've just taken the time to sit back, despite the flurry of activity going on around me, to really sit down and consider what I want the rest of my life to look like and more importantly, what I want me to look like and trying to convince myself that the person I desperately want to be; I deserve to be.

Amidst the chaos of unpacking (I started to dig back into all of the boxes again, after spending more than two weeks simply not giving a damn about not being able to find my mixer, measuring cups or the rest of my bras and Gareth's boxers!), trying to help Gaby deal with the difficult process of adjusting to a new home, (this hasn't been easy - she's outwardly expressing what I'm feeling inwardly but don't share...ever!), and start a project I've been wanting to start forever, I sat back on Thursday afternoon and was absolutely still, inside and out.  A wicked wind storm was blowing outside with winds in excess of 55mph blasting the house and blowing snow off the frozen lake which sits in front of the house, directly onto our deck.

As I sat and watched the sun set over the lake and turn all that ice into so much gold crystal, I was awed by how intensely beautiful it was, despite temps hovering around -10F and the wind uprooting trees, scattering trash bins everywhere, and causing power snaps here and there.  Despite the natural violence, it was still beautiful and I was struck with the question of whether or not, in my search to figure out my place in life, if I will be able to resurrect any sort of beauty out of what has been an emotionally violent two years. 

I've destroyed my body by adding an additional 125lbs to an already obese frame, and then made matters worse by trying to control everything with bulimia.  I have no idea what sort of damage I've done to my heart but I'm certain that it hasn't escaped my abuse, unscathed.

With another particularly hard gust of wind that hit the house, I sighed and finally realized that whilst I've hit rock bottom, I know that this isn't where I want to remain.  From a purely physical standpoint, I can't stay here.  Simply put, I'll die.  Sooner rather than later.

  

Every once in while it takes something as powerful as a wind storm to clean the slate of today and make room for tomorrow.   I sat back and watched the winds blow the clouds from the previous storm, out to the west and wondered if I'm at the point in my life where the clouds are clearing and I can start to see the rough beauty of my own life and start to make something of it?  Is there enough of the foundation left to rebuild something stronger, more resilient, and beautiful?

I'm going to be quiet more often, especially in the midst of a storm...sometimes it's when I hear things the clearest.