Over the past few days I’ve thought about writing a post a few different times for a variety of reasons. I guess I got to the point that I’m saturated with posting ideas/word vomit and need to put it in writing so here we go!
*super grover picture*
First of all I’m starting to actually feel somewhat secure with my body. I’m toeing closer and closer to a normal psyche when it comes to diet and exercise and I’m really excited about it. Buzzfeed took stories about “how you started your weight loss journey” the other day for a story and I responded, maybe giving them a little more than they asked for. Maybe it’s because it’s mental health month (it’s a whole month right?) and I’ve just seen more articles on people overcoming their ‘demons’ but I really feel like I’m in a significantly better personal space than I have been in over 5 years. I box and I love it. I box to make myself strong, and when I get tired in class I box because I’m angry at what I put myself through- though now I’m taking it out in a constructive way. No longer am I depriving myself and punishing my body for things it had no control of, I’m fueling it and making it the best I know how. I will indefinitely be terrified that I effed myself up so badly that I can’t get pregnant though and I think about it daily…especially when people say “you’re still young” when I mention I want kids (like really really want kids). I want to be the girl that is in shape, but not grossly so. The girl that doesn’t eat junk, but when cupcakes are offered will try one without getting incredibly nervous and guilty- my mind immediately starts to convert into what meal I have to skip, how much more active I have to be to burn it off. I refuse to sit down/be still for the rest of the day in hopes the cupcake calories are negated. It’s dumb and I know it, but I go into some kind of tunnel vision.
Secondly I wanted to post about work. I started my new job on August 12. I was in training for about 2 weeks, at which point the lead tech/only rehab employee until I came along, hurt herself doing a field exercise with her search and rescue dogs on Labor Day weekend. From then on I’ve been running the rehab show, working dumb hours with no lunch breaks, no holidays and the knowledge that the building is never closed. More than once I’ve requested to come in on a weekend just to learn more, since the place is apparently a never-ending pit of information. I’m tired, I’m sore and in pain, I feel like a terrible pet parent but I’m happy. I make just enough money to survive on, I won’t eat out or buy unnecessary things since I’m aware I can’t afford it- I buy cheaper than store brand food and I’m a huge fan of the $3 shirt sales at Walmart. Sure I wish I had money to be able to buy myself the new water heater I’ve been price shopping for two months, to be able to go out to lunch without checking my bank statement and to be able to take a day off at some point…but I see those people frequently as clients, and many of them are miserable. They’re stressed and sad, they’re pets are their release from the people they hate at their job…but their pets ARE my job and no matter how annoying they can be, how much they bite and scratch, pee and poop on me I enjoy working with them. My pets are my loves of course, don’t get me wrong- I adore them just a little more than I adore yours. *sorrynotsorry*
sooo in summary, I’m a cluster of emotions and Christmas cheer. hug me.