I honestly have no idea where I started this at. But this is where I am at today, 10 days in.
I do feel like I have more energy, the stomach cramps have all but stopped. I almost hung up on a customer yesterday because I had to take an emergency run to the little girls room, but no harm no foul on that part. I cannot say I feel any different other than a little bit of metallic taste, and I don’t think I am having to shave my beard as often as I did two weeks ago.
A dear friend of mine said she admired my writing because I am “Unflinchingly honest” about what is happening in my world, I am not sure exactly what that means, I do tweet about my blog, and post about it on face book, but only because I know how reading other people going through the exact same things I am going through made me feel normal. Reading about Jenny Lawson having an anxiety attack by hearing sirens at her daughters school made me realize holy shit I am “normal” in some ways. That the panic attack I had in January, when I literally did not sleep for two days because I could not face what was really happening when I closed my eyes, while not -right- certainly I was not the only one who has ever been through this.
I honestly thought it was just me, who had a closet or a desk they hid under when they got scared and could not breathe, I honestly thought I was the only one who would spiral down into that fucked up state of depression that made me feel fat, useless, ugly and alone. Forever. I honestly thought it was just me. It wasn’t until a random post about a giant metal chicken led me to Jennys blog, and then a few others…that made me realize I was not alone. That is why I started putting it all down on paper. Or text any way, and then started sharing it. BECAUSE IT MIGHT HELP someone see that they are not alone. My family has massively condemned me over this. My sister in law shrieked at me on my blog about how shameful it was I was speaking about this. I am not ashamed.
Am I brave enough yet to put my face on here yet? I honestly don’t know. I hate how I look in pictures, yet I see that in you as well, the images you post of yourselves, are they something you all look at and say “Fuck yeah I’m hot?” no. I can see how you all look at the images of yourselves and say “Well this is me, fuck yeah this is me, and by god I am going to be myself”. How silly it is that I am not brave enough to post a silly picture of myself? Seriously what the h?
Well here is why these are my measurements as of this morning, I am the “People of walmart” you guys…but I am working on changing that. I am. It will happen.
bust (at the nipple line) 45
right thigh 27
left thigh 26
In other news, a man I met once was found dead sunday morning, a friend of mine is getting a mighty accolade this weekend, I have made the confession that I cannot bake, to save my life. Well I can make the hell out of cakes, but I cannot bake cookies, oh hails no. Seriously my dogs wouldn’t even eat them. And they eat their own poop from time to time, how is that for confidence raising?