day 106

a kid (he was in his twenties) yelled at me yesterday, to smile.. he was at the opposite window from me at Dutch Bros. he had been trying to get my attention for a couple of minutes before he yelled, i know, because i spotted him out of the corner of my eye, making silly faces, in an attempt to get my attention. i'm normally pretty easily amused, lately, i've been in a pissy mood. finally he shouted at me: "smile, damn it!" i didn't.. i flipped him off. he laughed. i drove away, i didn't make it out of the parking lot, before i started crying.

i thought to myself: i must actually look miserable, if some random guy is trying to get me to smile.

i thought i'd moved beyond that sort of thing. i've worked pretty  hard over the last 7 months to become who i want to be. i realize, this is all a work in progress.. it will be, till the day i leave this planet. but to think, that i'd come so far and to then realize.. i've only taken a couple of steps and am sooo very close to sliding back in to what i was.. well, it's like a punch to the gut of my psyche.

4.50 miles in 32 minutes

level of sociability...

If i spend a lot of time alone:
I become extremely antisocial. I don't engage in unnecessary conversations, if I do, i'm extremely sarcastic, usually, humorous enough that people don't take it the wrong way. I'm easily pissed off, extremely argumentative, I can and do pick fights with people or just make them feel bad about trivial shit, that may not really bother me at all. (the hurt creature, lashing out and yet, she invites all of that hurt in..) it's meant to harm people, in real ways. Just because those ways may not be physical, doesn't mean they're not harmful.
(I tend not to like myself very much, when i'm like ^that^)

If I spend a lot of time with friends and loved ones:
I am extremely efficient, quick witted and kind. I smile a lot. I hold doors open. I say please and thank you and I'm sorry. I enjoy people for what they are, mysteries, puzzles, each one blessedly unique, but similar enough to invoke emotions from my own experiences, to ultimately share bonds and love. I believe in miracles. I have faith in humanity. I have hope.
(I love ^that^)

I have learned and shall share a secret of life with you young padawan, should you choose to learn yourself, is not up to me.

The lovely and shameful thing about life, the uncomfortable truth is; it is what you make it. The universe may give you gifts of people or things, of love and loss. But it is up to you, how you treat what you are given. Good or bad, your treatment of it, will determine how you feel.. About yourself, about others and life in general.

There are times when I am that sadistic antisocial asshole. I don't like it, however, I have found that it comes around less and less, the more I embrace that it is simply, part of who I am.

When I remember to allow that.
I take a deep breath....................................
I let it out in a long sigh......................................
I have found my oasis in the chaos.
I am a dot, on the world.

day 60

1.18 miles on the bike... working for 2 miles (that's my target for now)

I'm shaking.

I've been kind of in a "state" for the last couple of days. It's been a place where I've not wanted to go. Funny how the places we don't want to go (within ourselves) are the exact places we should be visiting more often. It has been bitter. But I learned something. I am capable of feeling something for men (not speaking friends) other than contempt and lusty abandon (which later turns sour).

I am capable of feeling the joys of love. I haven't felt the glimmer of that possibility in a very long time. I'm also not at all ready to GO there with someone.

Yay growth.

day 45

1 mile walked

i cannot write this post.. and not talk about pain.


so i made the huge blundering mistake yesterday, saying that the walking part isn't difficult.

my left ankle, hurts so bad. they both hurt, but that one.. oh, my walk took 40 minutes.
=( not happy, i felt like an old lady. most old ladies can probably out-walk me anyway.
i'm starting to worry about the MS walk in mid April, if I'll be able to do it.


tonight's walk will be brought to you by Icy Hot.

day 41

1 mile walked (20 minutes)

i've started timing myself.

i've always tried to be a "say what you mean and mean what you say" kind of girl. i was recently told that this is one of the reasons that "everyone likes me". i've been getting a lot of pep talks lately, which is a good thing, i've got amazing people in my life. i need the encouragement. i hear a lot of "everyone loves you", "everyone likes you" and "you're beautiful" and honestly "why don't you love yourself?"

i don't know the answer to that last one, but i do find it statistically hard to believe that everyone likes/loves me. i don't really care if everyone likes me, just as long as some people do.

i'm having mini spastic freak outs with food.

mini spastic freak out (defined): it's like when you throw up and you think you're done, you've got that sense of relief.. but you have this sneaking suspicion in the back of your mind that you're not done puking.. and just as soon as that thought enters your brain, you feel that familiar pulling at the back of your tongue, as it moves the fuck out of the way. you're not done, you keep going.

(weird, random, left field, why did i just write that?)

i think that i'm done with my weird relationship with food.. but in the back of my mind, i know better. i know that i'm not and i have weird pig out moments.. keep in mind, "typical" eating behavior (pre-getting healthy Sarah) = me not giving a shit and just eating whatever. since i've started walking however, i have this desire to make my physical efforts more fruitful and i'ves tarted eating better. until i have a mini spastic freak out and eat 2 king size candy bars.. no, i'm not upset while i do this. i'm not crying and eating, give me a break, who does that? if i cry too much, i vomit.. eating is the last thing on my mind.

i define it this way.. and i hope that by defining it, i can come up with some sort of answer.

i eat, to fill a void. i feel empty. hollow. i do the same thing with sex (not lately) but it's all to fill that void that is within me.. the void isn't truly empty, it has all these mean things squirrelled away in hidey holes, just waiting for the right vulnerable moment to pop up.. i have a lot of vulnerable moments (always by myself) i think if i were better at being vulnerable with people, i wouldn't have half the problems that i do. there's always a fine line here, to be walked. i've trusted the wrong people before. that sucks.

i freak out and i feel that void. it's like a panic button gets pressed. i panic at the thought of people genuinely liking me, having to be human again. being human is a messy business.

lately, i'm struggling with this daunting task i've started. i'm 41 days in and i was feeling pretty relaxed about my progress but then, i've started *thinking* about what i still have yet to do. it's a lot. maybe i need to start looking at it like a recovering addict does, one day at a time.

i just want to be "good enough", for myself especially.

day 40

.7 of a mile walked

lazy today. i was so tired, that i opted to sleep in (which was a laugh, i just laid there, thinking about how lazy i was being, until my alarm went off an hour later than normal)

i failed yesterday.. when i said "being fat and ugly, has made me paranoid." see, there was a point that i was trying to convey.. except, i got side-tracked and ended up word vomiting a bunch of other stuff instead.

i'm changing. i'm beginning to see myself as something. i'm probably not where i need to be self-esteem wise (fuck, i know i'm not) but i'm getting there. through all this self-work though, comes a lot of "ah-ha" moments.. that's what the "being fat and ugly" comment was all about. it has made me paranoid... to this day, i still have a hard time believing people, when they: tell me they like me, say they want to hang out, be friends.. get in my pants* (that not so much, getting in pants, has little to do with "looks" anyway) and i certainly have major difficulty believing anyone has feelings for me, beyond friendly ones.

(being fat and ugly, has made me paranoid because i doubt like hell, i'd be having this discussion if i didn't feel that way about myself)

i get paranoid.. suspicious.. and i worry.. a lot. i over-analyze to the point of being obsessive. why am i admitting to all of this? because it's something about myself, that has ALWAYS driven me completely nuts. it's all about the stuff i can't control. it's outside of my realm of influence, seriously.. well, not the way i represent myself (which may or may not result in said attention) but.. you get my drift..

i cannot control if someone likes/dislikes/loathes/loves me..

they'll do it, whether i want them to or not.

day 39

2 miles walked

being fat and ugly, has made me paranoid.

we spend the first 18 years (probably the most impressionable ones) of our lives, learning standards: maths. language. "history". manners. looks. preferences. basic, human stuff. this time is spent, trying to make us "functional" members of society.

i've spent the last 10+ years trying to unlearn some of the shit that i learned there... well, i should say, i've spent the last 2 years. the first few were spent with me thinking there is actually something wrong with me. then making exceptions and lowering standards. the bargaining begins. "i'm fat, so i can't have high standards" came into play a lot. i won't lie, i married a man that i didn't love, because, i was afraid to be alone. i divorced that man, because, i was afraid to spend the rest of my life with him. that, really, was the first step in all of this. shedding the stigma that i can't have standards and preferences like everyone else on the planet does.

i don't have high standards, i have MY standards.

recently, i've come to terms with.. my face.. it is my face. it's the only one i have.

and i have very very recently, started to view my (made up face) as mildly attractive. not pretty or beautiful, maybe cute. but pleasing. (hey, babies like it.)

as i apply various layers of cosmetics, i take note of the lines under my eyes, that weren't there 5 years ago. i know where they came from. they came from grief.

the laugh lines look different..

i'm working on those now.

day 34

2.1 miles

we'll see if 2.1 is my new number. my goal "by the end of February, walk 1 mile per day. i started walking 1.4 pretty consistently starting February 20th. here it is, the 1st of March and i've walked 2 miles a day, for the last two days. i've not only met my goal.. i've doubled it.

instead of feeling proud, which, i suppose i should. i feel like i'm playing catch up. i remember being the last one, always. last one chosen.. last one to climb the hill.. last one to the party.. everyone waiting on me (not always patiently) last.. last.. last.. so please, excuse me, if i only allow myself (a tiny amount of pride) for something that i should have been doing all along. this, like so many things, has been last. it's a last resort.. a last ditch effort.

(now i'm weeping)

all of this beautiful effort i am putting forth and instead of feeling happy, that i'm doing it, i feel like a failure, because i've waited so long. i've missed so much.

on the flip side of that, i'm not dead, yet.
and

i feel like i'm fighting for my very life
and

i AM putting forth the effort. I AM.

i think.. would i be a different person, if i wouldn't have tortured myself into a state of walking death? would i be a completely self-absorbed cunt (one of my worst fears, actually) if i had a body like a goddess? i think i would. i do. i think i'd have turned into a wretched human being.

i don't think i'd appreciate those people who make me feel better, just by throwing a smile my way.. or kind words of reassurance. that weird is interesting (yes, it is) and that it will get better. i am blessed to know so many wonderful people. but would i think they're wonderful if i were not me? would i treasure them? would they treasure me?

would i be so damned lovable, if i hadn't suffered?

everything happens for a reason. my accepting that, is what is going to get me through THIS. there is a light.. a pin point of light at the end of a very dark tunnel and i see it. it gives me hope that one day, i'll be there. in the light. basking in the warmth of an improved life. it's work work work and enjoying the journey right now, that's my job.

and playing a fuckload of catch up, i OWE this to myself.

day 32

.7 of a mile today

that's all i had in me. i will walk again (tonight) but it will be after midnight by that time and it will be day 33.. another day.. another post.. another mile walked.

i wrote some stuff... and i meant some stuff. no one knows who or what i'm talking about most days, so i don't suppose it matters and i'm not ashamed or embarrassed of what i wrote. it's not a case of "oh, Sarah's drunk again.. what will she write to embarrass herself.."

i need to work on sentence structure, grammar and punctuation. my writing is sad and i know that it bothers more than a few people that i don't capitalize anything. (as it should, it's not proper)

back to the stuff, i'm writing it here, because i think it's worth saying/writing again:

blame the alcohol. i think you've got to figure out if i'm worth the risk of potentially humiliating yourself for. i might say "what the fuck?" or worse, you don't know, because you don't know me. (i'm not like that) and i can say with all sincerity and with a pretty humble opinion, that yes, i am worth the risk.

i say humble, because it's true. as i write that, as i think it..
there's a nasty little voice, hissing at me "you're not good enough for anyone."

yes, i am. (i whisper)

"no one wants you."

*sigh*

day 8

2 days away from double digits. YES!

1/4 mile done

i found myself thinking about my walk, on and off all day today. i went to see my mom on dinner break and i kind of wanted to ask her to walk around the park with me, but i didn't. i think her knee was bothering her anyway. my legs hurt, from the hips down. i do a lot of sitting at work. i look forward to the walk, because it gets the circulation going in my legs and they feel better. even if the grinding that my joints take doesn't feel exceptionally good, i know that will improve as weight goes away. where does it go anyway? does it evaporate? do you pee it out? what's up with that? i never have understood the concept of where it goes exactly, it's got to GO somewhere, doesn't it? it's not like e-mail, it doesn't just vanish when you delete it.

tonight a co-worker of mine (that wasn't aware of what i'm up to at night) asked me what i had planned, since i was in kind of a rush to get out. i told him that i'm walking at night. his first words "at night?! i hope you're walking with a dog or carrying pepper spray!!"

let me address this issue.. i'm weird this way, but i honestly believe our way of thinking brings stuff about. i know that you cannot control the actions of others, but i think if you're sending out that vibe, that you expect bad shit to happen.. well, it's going to find you. THAT said.. statistically, you are more likely to get attacked by someone you KNOW than a complete stranger. i don't know a lot of shady mother fuckers. actually.. i don't think i know any. a few creeps, maybe.. but people that are all bad ass violent? eh.. i did at one point, i've disassociated myself from him (years ago) and he doesn't know where i am.

if i truly felt in fear for my well-being. i wouldn't be doing this. OR i'd be packing heat. (not just a knife and a big flashlight)

the short of it. everyone that knows me and of this project, knows where i live. everyone that knows me through facebook and this project, doesn't know where i live (other than Eugene and in the burbs) that could be a lot of places in Eugene.. good luck.

i think that staying inactive and fat is more of a danger to my health than walking after midnight.

day 5

1/4 mile walk - this is apparently my new distance.

you know what's frustrating, the fact that i think i have my shit together and i feel centered and focused and good about myself and what i'm doing and then.. it's like i'm in a silent room and i can hear this really thin piece of glass break, it's an emotional thread, a bit of sanity and when it goes.. i mourn it's passing. there went another piece of me, for whatever reason why. i just can't put my finger on it. all of the stress and shit that i thought i let go and pass just comes slamming into me like a brick wall and i feel insignificant and there's a figure looming over me, telling me i'm not good enough, i have no business being happy, trying to make myself better. i have no business being here. in the land of the living. the cool kids table of life. i don't belong. i think there's a gremlin in there.. throwing wrenches in the cogs of my brain.

i have no idea where i'm going with this. life is such a mixed bag of emotions.

does anyone know how to let go?

day 4

i missed walking Saturday. blame the headache and emotional break down that i had at work. i'm not going to beat myself up about it, nor am i going to say "fuck it" i already fucked it up.. i might as well quit. no.

i just got back from 1/4 mile walk =)

i feel pretty good, my right hip is constantly griping at me. it will get better. my head still hurts. i decided that my body deserved "fresh" air. i don't know how fresh it is...

the beautiful thing about living in the burbs is this: ticky tacky houses, very close, so if someone is going to attack you, there are lots of people to hear you scream. the bad thing about living in the burbs: zombies. that's right, i said it. and no matter how much you tell me zombies are fictitious and cannot harm me, i'm still paranoid. i have zombie nightmares on a constant basis. my eldest sister looked it up and sent me a message with something to the effect of, if you dream about zombies (i.e. being a zombie) your life is too boring and you need to mix it up. i sent a message back saying "ha! i wish! i'm never the zombie, they are trying to GET ME!" i have woken up screaming from zombie dreams. my weapon of choice is always a shotgun and i never have more than 4 shells for it. yes, 4. i count them. why 4? i own a shotgun in real life, so i thought maybe, if i bought a couple of boxes of shells that that part of the dream would go away. it didn't. still only get the 4. and let's not even talk about the .22 rifle. yes i'm a good shot, but the whole zombie concept is to have their head separated from the body.. anyone who has ever target practiced with a two-two knows, that ain't happening. i'm considering purchasing a baseball bat or possibly a machete.

now you all know how utterly and ridiculously paranoid i am. not about my well-being when i'm out walking after midnight.. oh no.. i'm worried about the shit that doesn't even really happen.

i may go for another walk. it's early.