I love watching The Biggest Loser, and I've watched it religiously for 3 years. I've just recently had my 3 years anniversary with Weight Watchers, and every time I watch a new season I relive the first time walking in those doors. It's hard for me to remember that girl and how she was. It's hard for me to openly admit how much I hated myself, and how much I hated looking in the mirror. I ate anything sugary I could get my hands on because it kept my brain sedated enough to not let reality sink in. By 27, my dad had congestive heart failure (the 3rd generation on the Piatt side that killed my dad's father), my grandfather had had one heart attack and an aortic aneurism repaired, my grandmother has hardening of the arteries and God knows how many stints, and my other grandmother had had a massive coronary that nearly killed her on the table, plus high blood pressure. Since then, I've lost the only grandfather I ever knew, but grandmothers and my dad are still kicking hard thanks to modern medicine (even though I'd love for my dad to get a clue about his health). No doubt I was pre-diabetic, and it was just a matter of time before the family ailments started to show up.
Watching the new season always sends emotions flooding back through me, and I always end up in a puddle of tears because I take a couple minutes to remind myself of where I came from. I look at that girl in the picture on my fridge, where I see her every time I open it. It's hard to believe that was me. It doesn't even look like me, more like a relative who kind of resembles me. And people who meet me now don't believe me when I tell them about the weight loss; some even go so far as to want to see the picture on my FB page of me as a fatty.
I know that fat girl has been almost been banished from my person. I know this because, walking by Lane Bryant the other night on my way to Aeropostale, Eric said I pranced by the store. I used to live for that store, and now the only thing that fits are the bras, and I have to order them online because they don't carry sizes that small in the stores! But, I finally feel like I don't belong in that store anymore. I don't belong in that world. I can walk into virtually any store and buy clothes off the rack, for the first time in my life. I can wear my mom's running clothes, for Pete sake. I'm finally getting to the point where that fat girl doesn't exist anymore, except in allllll the pictures of what seem like some other person's life.
Come December, I'm going to close a very long, very painful chapter in my life. I'm finally going to graduate with the degree I've been working on since 1999. I'm going to get a divorce, and let go of my 20's and all the craziness that came with them. I'm going to start a whole new chapter. I want to finish losing this weight, and if my goal weight ends up being 175 pounds, then so be it. I'll be 175 pounds of solid, kick your ass and make you muffins female. I'm hoping beyond all hopes that UCF sees enough potential in me to look past my not so stellar test scores and crappy grades from a time in my life when I was utterly unfocused and unhappy, and lets me into their Counselor Ed program. If they don't, I'll focus on becoming a personal trainer, and try again with UCF after taking the GRE again, and doing better.
I think it's so important to never let go completely of my past, good, bad, ugly or otherwise. It's part of what has shaped my life, and made me strong enough to face my future as a whole new young woman. But, while it's good to keep the memories, it's always better to keep them at arms length, in a box on the the shelf at the back of my mind, where I can peek into it occasionally and then duct tape it shut again. Those memories may always be there, but the promise and hope I have for my new chapters is so much better that it makes looking back something I don't need to do except a couple times a year, when the new Biggest Loser season starts.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Losing it is half the battle
I'm insanely busy with teaching and homework, but I feel the need to get some things off my chest that are really bugging me. Let me just start by saying that this is partially a rant and partially me complaining about a few things, so read on if you're interested or not, I don't care.
First off, nobody told me when I decided to lose all this weight what would happen to my life. They said, "Oh, you'll feel and look so good". I though, Ok, sure, let's do this. What they didn't tell me was that, after losing all this weight I'd be left with alien looking skin that's nothing short of appealing and disgusting. What used to be my stomachs(yes, plural for the upper and lower), is now something akin to an empty balloon, complete with wrinkles and all. And when I flex my abs, these little folds show up in the skin. It sweats, it chafes, it looks like muffin top and wearing girdles everyday isn't something I'm into. It sucks to have this shit hanging off the body I've worked so hard sculpting. A trip to the plastic surgeon two days ago revealed that I need no less than an extended tummy tuck(to the tune of $8,500) followed by a breast lift/augmentation to fix all the damage from losing this weight. Luckily, my arms in great shape from playing piano, so at least I don't have to have skin taken off there.
Second, nobody told me I'd lose tolerance for any and everything to do with being fat, or the attitudes and ways I had when I was fat. I find myself being overly judgmental towards fatties these day because I feel like if I can do it, why can't you get off your ass and stop eating at Golden Corral and make a change! I forget that before I started this journey, I was so miserable and addicted to sugar so insanely that I couldn't see past my next stop at the Publix bakery. I know so much of this journey is mental, but I just wanna shake people until they get it. You're eating yourself into the grave! Stop eating that! Go take a walk! Disconnect your cable! Do something! I'm just dying to help people, but I don't know how I'll react to the fatties that come to me and say I can't. I'll probably be the second coming of Jillian Michaels to be honest.
Third, if changing my mind was as easy as changing my body, I'd be set. My God, how long does it take before I figure out that my old habits have to die, not just hide or become less prevalent, but die altogether. I know sugar is bad for me, and is like walking down the road to Hell. But, in times of stress, I go right for it. Pisses me off to no end! Granted, I'm getting better at controlling the urges, and I at least recognize my destructive behavior when it's happening. I just wish it would stop happening. I'm not fortunate enough to be able to eat sugar and not be passed out like a junkie 20 minutes later. My body physically rejects sugar to point that it makes me nauseous, yet it's compulsive, and it's everywhere. I just wish my mind could catch up to my body.
Fourth, I wish my family would stop acting like children. I'm being punished by one of my brothers for divorcing my ex because my brother really liked him and blah, blah, blah. So, in spite of my requests to cease all relationships and communication with my ex, my brother and his wife has ceased a relationship with me. How fucked up is that? I don't want to cut off anyone in my family, especially because I have 2 nieces and a nephew that I adore, but I will if it becomes destructive to me. Why can't adults act like adults? Why is that so hard? Why can't you understand that your family is important than anyone else in this world? Why is it so hard to treat each other with respect? I just don't get it. No family is perfect, but I love fiercely and live fiercely, and if you can't respect that, you don't belong in my life.
My 3 year anniversary with WW is coming up, and I've lost almost 110 pounds since I started. Let me just say, that 3 years ago, when I walked into Weight Watchers, I never dreamed all this would happen. My life has changed for the better by 100%, but nobody ever told me about the residual effects. The stuff that isn't so amazing and positive. The stuff that breaks my heart in pieces. Nobody ever talks about it. Hell, I don't talk about it, until it gets to me so much that I need to write it down. People may read this, they may not. But, at least it's out of my head, and I can let some of it go.
First off, nobody told me when I decided to lose all this weight what would happen to my life. They said, "Oh, you'll feel and look so good". I though, Ok, sure, let's do this. What they didn't tell me was that, after losing all this weight I'd be left with alien looking skin that's nothing short of appealing and disgusting. What used to be my stomachs(yes, plural for the upper and lower), is now something akin to an empty balloon, complete with wrinkles and all. And when I flex my abs, these little folds show up in the skin. It sweats, it chafes, it looks like muffin top and wearing girdles everyday isn't something I'm into. It sucks to have this shit hanging off the body I've worked so hard sculpting. A trip to the plastic surgeon two days ago revealed that I need no less than an extended tummy tuck(to the tune of $8,500) followed by a breast lift/augmentation to fix all the damage from losing this weight. Luckily, my arms in great shape from playing piano, so at least I don't have to have skin taken off there.
Second, nobody told me I'd lose tolerance for any and everything to do with being fat, or the attitudes and ways I had when I was fat. I find myself being overly judgmental towards fatties these day because I feel like if I can do it, why can't you get off your ass and stop eating at Golden Corral and make a change! I forget that before I started this journey, I was so miserable and addicted to sugar so insanely that I couldn't see past my next stop at the Publix bakery. I know so much of this journey is mental, but I just wanna shake people until they get it. You're eating yourself into the grave! Stop eating that! Go take a walk! Disconnect your cable! Do something! I'm just dying to help people, but I don't know how I'll react to the fatties that come to me and say I can't. I'll probably be the second coming of Jillian Michaels to be honest.
Third, if changing my mind was as easy as changing my body, I'd be set. My God, how long does it take before I figure out that my old habits have to die, not just hide or become less prevalent, but die altogether. I know sugar is bad for me, and is like walking down the road to Hell. But, in times of stress, I go right for it. Pisses me off to no end! Granted, I'm getting better at controlling the urges, and I at least recognize my destructive behavior when it's happening. I just wish it would stop happening. I'm not fortunate enough to be able to eat sugar and not be passed out like a junkie 20 minutes later. My body physically rejects sugar to point that it makes me nauseous, yet it's compulsive, and it's everywhere. I just wish my mind could catch up to my body.
Fourth, I wish my family would stop acting like children. I'm being punished by one of my brothers for divorcing my ex because my brother really liked him and blah, blah, blah. So, in spite of my requests to cease all relationships and communication with my ex, my brother and his wife has ceased a relationship with me. How fucked up is that? I don't want to cut off anyone in my family, especially because I have 2 nieces and a nephew that I adore, but I will if it becomes destructive to me. Why can't adults act like adults? Why is that so hard? Why can't you understand that your family is important than anyone else in this world? Why is it so hard to treat each other with respect? I just don't get it. No family is perfect, but I love fiercely and live fiercely, and if you can't respect that, you don't belong in my life.
My 3 year anniversary with WW is coming up, and I've lost almost 110 pounds since I started. Let me just say, that 3 years ago, when I walked into Weight Watchers, I never dreamed all this would happen. My life has changed for the better by 100%, but nobody ever told me about the residual effects. The stuff that isn't so amazing and positive. The stuff that breaks my heart in pieces. Nobody ever talks about it. Hell, I don't talk about it, until it gets to me so much that I need to write it down. People may read this, they may not. But, at least it's out of my head, and I can let some of it go.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Mind over, well, everything
I feel like the last 3 weeks of my life have gone by in a blur or stress, anxiety, and too much not so great for me foods. The process of getting into school this semester practically had me ready for the mental institution for 2 weeks, trying to get into classes, sending countless faxes to the school for financial aid purposes, getting books, emailing professors. What I thought was only going to be 2 classes, ended up being 4 classes, and all of the sudden, I'm a full time online student! So on top of running a business, just running/cycling/lifting, and general daily life, I have at least 20 hours a week of school stuff to do. Not to mention that I'm taking a math class for the first time in over a decade, and I. HATE. MATH. I also harbor frustration towards many of the people on the discussion boards because, while they mean well, they're idiots!!! How did you make it to college? You have no concept of coherent or grammatically correct thoughts!
Needless to say, I haven't been the most pleasant person to be around. Especially this past week, with school starting and me trying to just get the hang of the classes. I'm not really certain if I really can have it all, and do it all, and stay sane without torching the very few meaningful relationships I have right now. The other factor into all this is, that I'm financially strapped. Last month wasn't so great in terms of business, and this month is right on the edge of the same. I will pick up more students as the Fall moves forward, but right now, I'm totally broke. That said, the student loan fairy will hopefully be showing up sometime next week(fingers crossed), and that will take some of the stress off the business a little. I'm also struggling because I love teaching, but it's not my lifeblood the way it used to be. God is clearly sending me down a different road, far, far from being a music teacher. I'll always do it, but it'll be nice someday when I don't HAVE TO DO IT to be able to eat.
I have a very powerful mind. It's capable of great things. It's the kind of mind that will make me a great counselor someday. But it also makes me a little crazy now, when there are 50 things I'm thinking about all at once. I didn't use to operate at this level, partly because my brain was always cracked out on sugar, but mostly because I wasn't ready to embrace my potential. What I've learned about my life over the last couple years is that I can do anything I set this mind to. I can lose the equivalent of a 10 year old, I can run hundreds of miles through pain and all kinds of weather, I can start my life over again, and I can manage to live by the mantra "mind over matter".
Needless to say, I haven't been the most pleasant person to be around. Especially this past week, with school starting and me trying to just get the hang of the classes. I'm not really certain if I really can have it all, and do it all, and stay sane without torching the very few meaningful relationships I have right now. The other factor into all this is, that I'm financially strapped. Last month wasn't so great in terms of business, and this month is right on the edge of the same. I will pick up more students as the Fall moves forward, but right now, I'm totally broke. That said, the student loan fairy will hopefully be showing up sometime next week(fingers crossed), and that will take some of the stress off the business a little. I'm also struggling because I love teaching, but it's not my lifeblood the way it used to be. God is clearly sending me down a different road, far, far from being a music teacher. I'll always do it, but it'll be nice someday when I don't HAVE TO DO IT to be able to eat.
I have a very powerful mind. It's capable of great things. It's the kind of mind that will make me a great counselor someday. But it also makes me a little crazy now, when there are 50 things I'm thinking about all at once. I didn't use to operate at this level, partly because my brain was always cracked out on sugar, but mostly because I wasn't ready to embrace my potential. What I've learned about my life over the last couple years is that I can do anything I set this mind to. I can lose the equivalent of a 10 year old, I can run hundreds of miles through pain and all kinds of weather, I can start my life over again, and I can manage to live by the mantra "mind over matter".
Thursday, August 11, 2011
This one time at band camp, I almost died......
Yesterday was a very special day in the history of my life, a weird anniversary if you will. Those who know me well, and have known for any length of time, know that I suffered a traumatic injury when I was a teenager that effects my life to this day. If anyone has every had a paradigm shift, especially at a young age, you know that you never forget the day it happened, and you know that the people who were there with you will never forget it either. I'm not telling the story here in detail, because that's hardly the point of this post.
August 10, 1995 was a band camp day. I lived for band camp, and as an incoming freshman, I was so excited to finally be getting to high school. It was also my band director's birthday, one I'm sure she'd love to forget. It started like a normal band camp day, and by the end of the day, I was nearly bleeding to death in a hospital bed after falling though a plate glass window in our high school office. The accident happened around 10:10 in the am, and I laid in an ER bed for almost 8 hours before finally being taken into surgery to repair 3 severed tendons and 2 severed nerves in my right wrist/forearm(requiring over 100 stitches and 75 staples) and numerous flesh wounds on my left forearm.
With a cast from fingertips to elbow on my right arm, and some heavy duty bandages on my left arm, my parents were told by the surgeon that I might not ever play the piano again, I might not regain full function of my right hand, and that I'd definitely have permanent nerve damage in my right hand. So, after 3 days in the hospital, my mom took me home. I couldn't do anything on my own.....anything. I couldn't eat, pee, put on clothes, brush my teeth(clad in brand new braces), nothing. Imagine how mortifying that must be for a 14 year old. Not to mention getting a bath from my mom, in the kitchen. HA! It's funny now to look back on it, but it sucked so much then. People would come and go to visit me, and I loved seeing my friends and kids from church. I looked forward to our daily outings to Wendy's for lunch and the video store for fresh movies. Mind you, this was the ONLY time I was allowed outside. And because it was the dead heat of summer, infection from sweat was a very serious risk, given the severity of my wounds.
In 7 weeks, the cast came off and the stitches came out, and what was left was pretty gruesome. It looked like someone has slit my wrist(and still does). I couldn't even make a fist with my hand, the muscles had atrophied so badly. I had to relearn how to write, hold a fork, brush my hair, brush my teeth, button buttons(which I still can't do), and relearn how to play piano, all at a very slow pace. It took months for me regain enough strength to do many of the mundane activities we take for granted everyday.
Stay with me, I'm getting to the point right now.
Flash forward 16 years.
Yesterday, I had $5 to my name(I have $10 to my name today, so I'm better off today than yesterday), my bank account is in the negative, and I got a shut off notice on my electric because I'm having a really tough time right now financially. The upside? God decided to remind just how freaking lucky I am to be here, able to play piano EVERYDAY OF MY LIFE better than ever, how I have 10 fingers that function( even though 3 have no feeling in them), and mostly that I'm alive. I could've bled to death from my injuries in front of my classmates 16 years ago. I didn't, and thank God for that. As frustrated as I was with my life yesterday, today I got the point. Sometimes he doesn't make easy to understand why life is what it is. But yesterday, on my anniversary of the one time at band camp I almost died, I was just happy it's 16 years later, and that I'm here.
August 10, 1995 was a band camp day. I lived for band camp, and as an incoming freshman, I was so excited to finally be getting to high school. It was also my band director's birthday, one I'm sure she'd love to forget. It started like a normal band camp day, and by the end of the day, I was nearly bleeding to death in a hospital bed after falling though a plate glass window in our high school office. The accident happened around 10:10 in the am, and I laid in an ER bed for almost 8 hours before finally being taken into surgery to repair 3 severed tendons and 2 severed nerves in my right wrist/forearm(requiring over 100 stitches and 75 staples) and numerous flesh wounds on my left forearm.
With a cast from fingertips to elbow on my right arm, and some heavy duty bandages on my left arm, my parents were told by the surgeon that I might not ever play the piano again, I might not regain full function of my right hand, and that I'd definitely have permanent nerve damage in my right hand. So, after 3 days in the hospital, my mom took me home. I couldn't do anything on my own.....anything. I couldn't eat, pee, put on clothes, brush my teeth(clad in brand new braces), nothing. Imagine how mortifying that must be for a 14 year old. Not to mention getting a bath from my mom, in the kitchen. HA! It's funny now to look back on it, but it sucked so much then. People would come and go to visit me, and I loved seeing my friends and kids from church. I looked forward to our daily outings to Wendy's for lunch and the video store for fresh movies. Mind you, this was the ONLY time I was allowed outside. And because it was the dead heat of summer, infection from sweat was a very serious risk, given the severity of my wounds.
In 7 weeks, the cast came off and the stitches came out, and what was left was pretty gruesome. It looked like someone has slit my wrist(and still does). I couldn't even make a fist with my hand, the muscles had atrophied so badly. I had to relearn how to write, hold a fork, brush my hair, brush my teeth, button buttons(which I still can't do), and relearn how to play piano, all at a very slow pace. It took months for me regain enough strength to do many of the mundane activities we take for granted everyday.
Stay with me, I'm getting to the point right now.
Flash forward 16 years.
Yesterday, I had $5 to my name(I have $10 to my name today, so I'm better off today than yesterday), my bank account is in the negative, and I got a shut off notice on my electric because I'm having a really tough time right now financially. The upside? God decided to remind just how freaking lucky I am to be here, able to play piano EVERYDAY OF MY LIFE better than ever, how I have 10 fingers that function( even though 3 have no feeling in them), and mostly that I'm alive. I could've bled to death from my injuries in front of my classmates 16 years ago. I didn't, and thank God for that. As frustrated as I was with my life yesterday, today I got the point. Sometimes he doesn't make easy to understand why life is what it is. But yesterday, on my anniversary of the one time at band camp I almost died, I was just happy it's 16 years later, and that I'm here.
Monday, August 8, 2011
Stress
So it's been a while since I've posted, mostly because I haven't that I could write much without being super negative. But I'm feeling the need to get some things off my chest. Be forewarned, this isn't a posting all about rainbows and butterflies. I've decided that financial stress is the root of all evil. Couple money problems on top of soon to be exes and a university who isn't really interested in helping students graduate, and I've got a mess on my hands.
I pride myself on running a friendly small business where people can learn in a fun environment and I can have some fun while working. The problem with a small business is sometimes life happens, and when other people can't pay me, I can't pay the people I owe. It's a really nasty trickle down effect that I don't care for so much. Anyway, the summer has always been a tough time to get through teaching privately, and I thought I'd pretty much made it unless this month. 4 people couldn't pay me on time, and couple people had to drop, and I lost a couple more students to college. It's the typical ebb and flow, but I still haven't paid my power bill, and the cable just might get shut off. That's life, though. At least my rent is paid. And I HATE asking people for money. It's my least favorite part of running my business because I feel like one of the bill collectors I despise so rabidly.
I'm also trying to tie up some of the loose ends in my life. One of those would be getting divorced. It's not that I haven't wanted a divorce, I do more than anything, but it's a process. We had zero assets, in fact, we had only debt. That's not surprising for anyone who knew us. And as much as I'd love to sue his ass for all the money he owes me, I know that he'd never pay it, because he's never paid for anything else in his life. Why would I be any different? But, somehow my mom found his address, which he's refused to give me up to this point, so I can get started on the filing process. The $495 court fees won't be fun to pay, but it'll be a relief to get it done, and finally be free of the past.
Academic struggles are a whole different type of stress, and at this point, I'm simply dealing with a bureaucracy that really doesn't care about helping people succeed. I have to have patience with the process, and hope that luck and mercy are on my side. I'm almost at the finish line; and I have faith it will all work out, God is just testing my staying power.
Being in a relationship brings its own unique brand of stress to the table. How to deal with my partner's stress without making it my own is a struggle for me. I want to help, but some days, I'm so deep in my own pile of poo that I can't help him. But, for his own sake, he has to be able to deal with his life independently of me. That's what makes a strong pair of people, is being strong individually then combining those strengths so that they compliment each other. For the most part, we succeed in that, but some days we falter, just like everyone else.
There is no upside to having stress in my life, except to try to make tomorrow better than today. I try to chip away at the stresses one at a time, and hope that at some point, they will start to go away one by one, just as they came. It's all so exhausting, but it will end at some point. I refuse to live my life like this. I did it for 11 years while I was living married, and left because I didn't want that life anymore. I still don't want it, but I'm working on it, and that's all that matters.
I pride myself on running a friendly small business where people can learn in a fun environment and I can have some fun while working. The problem with a small business is sometimes life happens, and when other people can't pay me, I can't pay the people I owe. It's a really nasty trickle down effect that I don't care for so much. Anyway, the summer has always been a tough time to get through teaching privately, and I thought I'd pretty much made it unless this month. 4 people couldn't pay me on time, and couple people had to drop, and I lost a couple more students to college. It's the typical ebb and flow, but I still haven't paid my power bill, and the cable just might get shut off. That's life, though. At least my rent is paid. And I HATE asking people for money. It's my least favorite part of running my business because I feel like one of the bill collectors I despise so rabidly.
I'm also trying to tie up some of the loose ends in my life. One of those would be getting divorced. It's not that I haven't wanted a divorce, I do more than anything, but it's a process. We had zero assets, in fact, we had only debt. That's not surprising for anyone who knew us. And as much as I'd love to sue his ass for all the money he owes me, I know that he'd never pay it, because he's never paid for anything else in his life. Why would I be any different? But, somehow my mom found his address, which he's refused to give me up to this point, so I can get started on the filing process. The $495 court fees won't be fun to pay, but it'll be a relief to get it done, and finally be free of the past.
Academic struggles are a whole different type of stress, and at this point, I'm simply dealing with a bureaucracy that really doesn't care about helping people succeed. I have to have patience with the process, and hope that luck and mercy are on my side. I'm almost at the finish line; and I have faith it will all work out, God is just testing my staying power.
Being in a relationship brings its own unique brand of stress to the table. How to deal with my partner's stress without making it my own is a struggle for me. I want to help, but some days, I'm so deep in my own pile of poo that I can't help him. But, for his own sake, he has to be able to deal with his life independently of me. That's what makes a strong pair of people, is being strong individually then combining those strengths so that they compliment each other. For the most part, we succeed in that, but some days we falter, just like everyone else.
There is no upside to having stress in my life, except to try to make tomorrow better than today. I try to chip away at the stresses one at a time, and hope that at some point, they will start to go away one by one, just as they came. It's all so exhausting, but it will end at some point. I refuse to live my life like this. I did it for 11 years while I was living married, and left because I didn't want that life anymore. I still don't want it, but I'm working on it, and that's all that matters.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
An act of kindness
It's not everyday that I get my heart broken. It's even rarer that it breaks in public with strangers just passing by watching it happen and not bothering to even care. Yesterday, I realized just how self involved we, as a culture, truly are. We feel that whatever task is at hand is the single most important thing in the universe and can't possibly be bothered to stop and help someone in need, even when she's bent over a tiny animal in the middle of the road, sobbing almost uncontrollably.
I went to the gym yesterday, like I always do on Mondays, to lift weights, and was riding my bike home, when I noticed a lady's dog stopped staring intently at an animal lying in the grass. I assumed this animal was dead, and that someone would pick it up. As I rode by, I waved to the lady, but then kept looking back to see that she was examining the little animal closer. And that she lingered there for quite some time with her dog. I did a couple mile loop, and decided that I had to go back and see what the fuss was about. On my way back down the street, I noticed a dark thing in the road, and my heart sank. The little animal on the side of the road in the grass hadn't been dead, and it had managed to drag it's body out into the street.
Regardless of traffic, I hopped off my bike and parked it in the middle of the lane. Much to my dismay, a little black tabby cat lay in the road, barely alive, and badly broken. He had gnats flying around his face, and his little body was sunken in and emaciated. He had been this way for quite some time, and nobody had bothered to notice him. I was in tears the moment I saw him, and positive I could hear my heart breaking audibly. I talked to him, mostly to make myself feel better, but to let him know that someone cared and that he didn't have to be alone any longer. His little tail started to twitch and I knew that he knew I was there for him.
Cars passed by. Even a cyclist passed by, stopped to make sure that I was ok, and then went on his way. A man in a SUV stopped and handed me some paper towels, so I could at least move the kitty out of the road, and then told me he couldn't help me because he was late. The image of the white rabbit from "Alice in Wonderland" popped into my head, and I wanted to cuss at him, but resisted the urge. A kid in a minivan stopped, and I asked him if he lived nearby and could he get a towel for me to wrap up the kitty. His response? I have to pick up my prescription, but I'll see if you're still here when I get back. I unrolled several layers of paper towels and laid them out near the kitty, and as gingerly as I could moved him onto them. I could tell when I moved him that his little back was broken and that just the act of breathing must be excruciating. Not sure what to do next, and with a line of cars just going by one at a time, all staring mind you, but none stopping, I got ready to move him out of the road. My next move was going to be to call Eric, who was on his way to my house for our canoeing adventure. Before I could, a young man in a pickup truck came out of a side street and pulled off to the side to help me.
By the time he got there, I was nearly hysterical, and pissed beyond belief at the humans around me. He opened the back of his truck, put on his Winter Park firefighter coat, and came over to talk to me. It turns out, his mom has been out walking, gone home and told him he needed to go get the cat off the side of the road. I told him the kitty needed to be taken to an animal hospital to be put to sleep because his back was broken. We discussed which vet to take him to, and agreed on the same Dr., my vet, and he called them to apprise them of the situation. He picked up the kitty and put him the back of the truck. And I tried my best to comfort him, but he was so scared. As the guy closed the top on his truck bed, I had to really talk myself out of climbing in there and riding along to comfort him. I walked back to my bike, and really just let it out, which apparently worried the man. He came over to make sure I was gonna be ok, and that I wasn't hopping back on my bike immediately. I calmed myself down, and tried to really grasp what was going on. When I hopped back on my bike to head home, I called Eric to let him know why I wasn't home when I said I'd be there. I was over 20 minutes late getting back, but I didn't really care.
Nothing was more important than stopping to help a creature in need. We've all experienced pain, and we all know what it's like to be in need. We've all asked for help at one point in life, and been grateful to have received it. What makes one life more important than another? What makes a stray kitty lying in the road less important than the pampered kitty who's asleep on a pillow in my bed right now? NOTHING. All God's creatures deserve our love and respect, no matter what species they are. Why was I the ONLY ONE who stopped to help that poor soul? Why didn't the person who hit him stop? Did they even care?
The act of kindness here has two meanings: 1, is simply that I took the time to stop and help him and 2, is that to help him meant ending his suffering by getting to the vet and not leaving him to die alone and in pain. I couldn't save him, but in the end of his life, he knew there was someone there who cared enough to take care of him. So I gave up 15 minutes of my day, big deal. Look up from what you're doing. Take a minute to slow down. Don't forget that outside of your existence, a huge world of swirling life is happening, and that yours is but a speck in the universe. Life is bigger than you, what you do today to help another can effect everything else you do. We should all be so lucky as to commit an act of kindness, least you should need one at some point.
I went to the gym yesterday, like I always do on Mondays, to lift weights, and was riding my bike home, when I noticed a lady's dog stopped staring intently at an animal lying in the grass. I assumed this animal was dead, and that someone would pick it up. As I rode by, I waved to the lady, but then kept looking back to see that she was examining the little animal closer. And that she lingered there for quite some time with her dog. I did a couple mile loop, and decided that I had to go back and see what the fuss was about. On my way back down the street, I noticed a dark thing in the road, and my heart sank. The little animal on the side of the road in the grass hadn't been dead, and it had managed to drag it's body out into the street.
Regardless of traffic, I hopped off my bike and parked it in the middle of the lane. Much to my dismay, a little black tabby cat lay in the road, barely alive, and badly broken. He had gnats flying around his face, and his little body was sunken in and emaciated. He had been this way for quite some time, and nobody had bothered to notice him. I was in tears the moment I saw him, and positive I could hear my heart breaking audibly. I talked to him, mostly to make myself feel better, but to let him know that someone cared and that he didn't have to be alone any longer. His little tail started to twitch and I knew that he knew I was there for him.
Cars passed by. Even a cyclist passed by, stopped to make sure that I was ok, and then went on his way. A man in a SUV stopped and handed me some paper towels, so I could at least move the kitty out of the road, and then told me he couldn't help me because he was late. The image of the white rabbit from "Alice in Wonderland" popped into my head, and I wanted to cuss at him, but resisted the urge. A kid in a minivan stopped, and I asked him if he lived nearby and could he get a towel for me to wrap up the kitty. His response? I have to pick up my prescription, but I'll see if you're still here when I get back. I unrolled several layers of paper towels and laid them out near the kitty, and as gingerly as I could moved him onto them. I could tell when I moved him that his little back was broken and that just the act of breathing must be excruciating. Not sure what to do next, and with a line of cars just going by one at a time, all staring mind you, but none stopping, I got ready to move him out of the road. My next move was going to be to call Eric, who was on his way to my house for our canoeing adventure. Before I could, a young man in a pickup truck came out of a side street and pulled off to the side to help me.
By the time he got there, I was nearly hysterical, and pissed beyond belief at the humans around me. He opened the back of his truck, put on his Winter Park firefighter coat, and came over to talk to me. It turns out, his mom has been out walking, gone home and told him he needed to go get the cat off the side of the road. I told him the kitty needed to be taken to an animal hospital to be put to sleep because his back was broken. We discussed which vet to take him to, and agreed on the same Dr., my vet, and he called them to apprise them of the situation. He picked up the kitty and put him the back of the truck. And I tried my best to comfort him, but he was so scared. As the guy closed the top on his truck bed, I had to really talk myself out of climbing in there and riding along to comfort him. I walked back to my bike, and really just let it out, which apparently worried the man. He came over to make sure I was gonna be ok, and that I wasn't hopping back on my bike immediately. I calmed myself down, and tried to really grasp what was going on. When I hopped back on my bike to head home, I called Eric to let him know why I wasn't home when I said I'd be there. I was over 20 minutes late getting back, but I didn't really care.
Nothing was more important than stopping to help a creature in need. We've all experienced pain, and we all know what it's like to be in need. We've all asked for help at one point in life, and been grateful to have received it. What makes one life more important than another? What makes a stray kitty lying in the road less important than the pampered kitty who's asleep on a pillow in my bed right now? NOTHING. All God's creatures deserve our love and respect, no matter what species they are. Why was I the ONLY ONE who stopped to help that poor soul? Why didn't the person who hit him stop? Did they even care?
The act of kindness here has two meanings: 1, is simply that I took the time to stop and help him and 2, is that to help him meant ending his suffering by getting to the vet and not leaving him to die alone and in pain. I couldn't save him, but in the end of his life, he knew there was someone there who cared enough to take care of him. So I gave up 15 minutes of my day, big deal. Look up from what you're doing. Take a minute to slow down. Don't forget that outside of your existence, a huge world of swirling life is happening, and that yours is but a speck in the universe. Life is bigger than you, what you do today to help another can effect everything else you do. We should all be so lucky as to commit an act of kindness, least you should need one at some point.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
The Price I pay
The other day, I was having a seriously shitty day, and was gonna do a post, but decided it best to wait for the anger to subside. I don't want my blog to be negative, and I don't want people to think I'm negative, even though I do have my days from time to time when I'm just not happy with anything or anyone. That said, today's blog is about the price I pay for having the life I want.
I live a mostly great life. I run my own business, which pays my bills (and not much else), I decide when and for how long I want to work, I don't work 40 hours a week, and my commute involves walking down the steps from my bedroom and around the corner into the living room to the piano. I have free time most mornings that I can use to work out 2 hours a day. All in all, that's pretty f'n sweet. Except for the fact that I'm the paycheck. I don't get paid by someone else every two weeks, and I don't get vacation time or sick time. I get paid once a month. If I don't work, I don't get paid. And, if people decide to be disrespectful and give me short notice on discontinuing lessons, it puts me in a serious bind.
My anger the other day was directed at one person. He knew that money was due the last week of the month, and gave me the runaround about paying me for days. Finally, on the 5th of the month, after I had paid rent and bills, and was basically broke, but still trying to go to New Orleans for the weekend, he decided to tell me via text message that he was discontinuing lessons. Really? This, compounded with someone else who dropped and someone else who couldn't pay me til mid month, really meant that the trip away that I so very desperately needed, would be cancelled at the last minute. So, in a matter of a couple hours, I was broke and not going anywhere this weekend, and not going to get a chance to see my friend. This, of course, pissed me off even more.
I went to the gym, and really tried to run it out. Then, I tried to lift it out by killing my legs on the weight machines. Really, I felt more like throwing the weights AT people, instead of lifting them. But, knowing that I had worked off some of that aggression meant that I felt a tiny smidge better. A good cry whilst sitting on the floor when I got home went a long way in helping me feel better, too. But the reality was/is I'm mentally exhausted and badly need a break from my life to go on an adventure or do something new.
The bottom line here is this: I love teaching. I HATE running the business. I take it too personally when people treat me badly as a teacher, and it's exhausting my mind. Running and lifting and cycling only go so far in helping me clear my mind of all the shit that swirls around in it. I'm a sensitive person, even though I look like a died in the wool athlete who could kick your ass for looking at me wrong.
Everyone makes a choice at some point about how they want to live life. What kind of life you want, what job, car, house, diamond, dog, or clothing you want. There's a price we all pay for those decisions. I had to give up my vacation so I could make sure there was food in my fridge until August 1, but everything happens for a reason. And my hardship pales in comparison to others'. Some prices are higher than others, like the people in this month's issue of Runner's World who have battled or are battling cancer. I've realized that my decision to live like this will cause casualties in my life(in the form of friends, trips, and sometimes family), but I'm certain the payoff in the long run(pun intended) will be worth all the crap I have to put up with right now. This is the life I chose, and so I'll pay the price, even if it hurts sometimes.
I live a mostly great life. I run my own business, which pays my bills (and not much else), I decide when and for how long I want to work, I don't work 40 hours a week, and my commute involves walking down the steps from my bedroom and around the corner into the living room to the piano. I have free time most mornings that I can use to work out 2 hours a day. All in all, that's pretty f'n sweet. Except for the fact that I'm the paycheck. I don't get paid by someone else every two weeks, and I don't get vacation time or sick time. I get paid once a month. If I don't work, I don't get paid. And, if people decide to be disrespectful and give me short notice on discontinuing lessons, it puts me in a serious bind.
My anger the other day was directed at one person. He knew that money was due the last week of the month, and gave me the runaround about paying me for days. Finally, on the 5th of the month, after I had paid rent and bills, and was basically broke, but still trying to go to New Orleans for the weekend, he decided to tell me via text message that he was discontinuing lessons. Really? This, compounded with someone else who dropped and someone else who couldn't pay me til mid month, really meant that the trip away that I so very desperately needed, would be cancelled at the last minute. So, in a matter of a couple hours, I was broke and not going anywhere this weekend, and not going to get a chance to see my friend. This, of course, pissed me off even more.
I went to the gym, and really tried to run it out. Then, I tried to lift it out by killing my legs on the weight machines. Really, I felt more like throwing the weights AT people, instead of lifting them. But, knowing that I had worked off some of that aggression meant that I felt a tiny smidge better. A good cry whilst sitting on the floor when I got home went a long way in helping me feel better, too. But the reality was/is I'm mentally exhausted and badly need a break from my life to go on an adventure or do something new.
The bottom line here is this: I love teaching. I HATE running the business. I take it too personally when people treat me badly as a teacher, and it's exhausting my mind. Running and lifting and cycling only go so far in helping me clear my mind of all the shit that swirls around in it. I'm a sensitive person, even though I look like a died in the wool athlete who could kick your ass for looking at me wrong.
Everyone makes a choice at some point about how they want to live life. What kind of life you want, what job, car, house, diamond, dog, or clothing you want. There's a price we all pay for those decisions. I had to give up my vacation so I could make sure there was food in my fridge until August 1, but everything happens for a reason. And my hardship pales in comparison to others'. Some prices are higher than others, like the people in this month's issue of Runner's World who have battled or are battling cancer. I've realized that my decision to live like this will cause casualties in my life(in the form of friends, trips, and sometimes family), but I'm certain the payoff in the long run(pun intended) will be worth all the crap I have to put up with right now. This is the life I chose, and so I'll pay the price, even if it hurts sometimes.
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