Friday, July 21, 2006
If we were in a movie, there'd be a sappy love song playing now
Rob and I did something last night we said we'd never do. We didn't plan for it to happen... it just did. Looking back now, I don't even know how it happened but it did and there's no going back now. We are changed forever because of it. Was it worth it? oh yeah. Will we do it again? oh yeah. Last night, Rob & I ran a whole mile together. There we were on the bike path, running... together. Wheezing, nauseous, muscles screaming, yes, but running together! It was a landmark event for us. And, my compartment syndrome didn't flare up at all! I guess what I've been doing at PT has been helping. How good it is for couples to exercise together! I'm looking forward already to our next time... just not for a few days...
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Pictures
July 10, 2006, 10:44 p.m. I am crying. It's been a long time since I've cried. I used to cry. I used to overflow often. Now I've become a controlled shutdown women and I do not like that. I know that is not who I am, down where the deep waters flow. But at 10:45 p.m., my throat is burning and aching from trying to hold it all together and hold it all in. The tears are seeping out now and letting go, even for the few minutes I allow myself, feels good.
I had been looking at pictures. You could call them before and after pictures but I don't have any "after" pictures yet. I'm still stuck in the "before" pictures. They were pictures from Maine - award-winning pictures, if I may say so, of the rocky coast and local hot spots we visited. Plus, many shots taken of Rob and of me and of his parents who we were vacationing with. We had just purchased a digital camera before the trip so we took lots of pictures. I think we ended up with 200 some pictures when we downloaded them to our computer! I have a love-hate relationship with the camera. I love taking pictures; I don't like pictures taken of me.
Looking through the pictures, I wanted to delete all the pictures of me. I'm mad at those pictures. Those pictures betray me. Those pictures reveal a truth I can no longer deny by taking down all full length mirrors in our home. Quick! Delete them! Shred them! As if those pictures were proof of some dark and sinful deed; as if they were taken by a private investigator catching me in the arms of a man other than my husband. How ashamed and embarrased I felt looking at those pictures. If anyone were to see them, my dark secret would be exposed.
And here's my dark secret: I've gained 50 pounds in the last 4 years. It's hard to even write that. Alot of things have contributed to my weight gain - mainly not being able to run anymore, emotional eating, losing my dad. I saw a woman in those pictures I did not recognize... a woman I did not like. And a woman I'm glad my dad doesn't have to see. But in every one of those pictures I hate, if I look closely, far off in the distance I see a lone shadowy figure. Zooming in, I see my dad in every one of those pictures. I see a large me and a tiny blurry figure of my dad.
Would you be disappointed by my weight gain, Dad? Would you feel like I had failed? I feel disappointed; I feel like a failure. And I feel sad that I feel those things about myself and that in my heart I believe my dad would feel those things about me. And while I'm crying about my weight, I know I'm crying about so much more than that. My weight is where my focus and my anger and my grief go until I'm willing to dive into the deep blue waters below. I see my dad in those pictures and yet I know he'll never be in another picture ever again. He'll never be in our wedding pictures; he'll never be in pictures holding our future babies. Why does my grief over losing my dad cause me to hate my body so much?
I had been looking at pictures. You could call them before and after pictures but I don't have any "after" pictures yet. I'm still stuck in the "before" pictures. They were pictures from Maine - award-winning pictures, if I may say so, of the rocky coast and local hot spots we visited. Plus, many shots taken of Rob and of me and of his parents who we were vacationing with. We had just purchased a digital camera before the trip so we took lots of pictures. I think we ended up with 200 some pictures when we downloaded them to our computer! I have a love-hate relationship with the camera. I love taking pictures; I don't like pictures taken of me.
Looking through the pictures, I wanted to delete all the pictures of me. I'm mad at those pictures. Those pictures betray me. Those pictures reveal a truth I can no longer deny by taking down all full length mirrors in our home. Quick! Delete them! Shred them! As if those pictures were proof of some dark and sinful deed; as if they were taken by a private investigator catching me in the arms of a man other than my husband. How ashamed and embarrased I felt looking at those pictures. If anyone were to see them, my dark secret would be exposed.
And here's my dark secret: I've gained 50 pounds in the last 4 years. It's hard to even write that. Alot of things have contributed to my weight gain - mainly not being able to run anymore, emotional eating, losing my dad. I saw a woman in those pictures I did not recognize... a woman I did not like. And a woman I'm glad my dad doesn't have to see. But in every one of those pictures I hate, if I look closely, far off in the distance I see a lone shadowy figure. Zooming in, I see my dad in every one of those pictures. I see a large me and a tiny blurry figure of my dad.
Would you be disappointed by my weight gain, Dad? Would you feel like I had failed? I feel disappointed; I feel like a failure. And I feel sad that I feel those things about myself and that in my heart I believe my dad would feel those things about me. And while I'm crying about my weight, I know I'm crying about so much more than that. My weight is where my focus and my anger and my grief go until I'm willing to dive into the deep blue waters below. I see my dad in those pictures and yet I know he'll never be in another picture ever again. He'll never be in our wedding pictures; he'll never be in pictures holding our future babies. Why does my grief over losing my dad cause me to hate my body so much?
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