Remember those ridiculous fingerless gloves that were popular in the 80s? The hand part of the glove was in tact but the fingers only came up to about your first knuckle. Remember those? Remember how useless they were for keeping your fingertips warm - the part of your hand that usually gets the coldest; The part they are known to amputate if your frostbite is severe enough?
Remember those gloves?
Why are they back?
Despite eating a ridiculous amount of chocolate and very little vegetable matter over the last several weeks, I seem to be losing weight. Not huge amounts, mind you, but a half a pound here and there (which Weight Watchers is very happy about).
So either I'm dying or I've discovered a whole new way to diet.
I'll keep you posted.
The Duggar family had another baby. That's 18, if you're counting.
And I'd prefer not to.
My eyes flew open a little before 4:00am this morning, and haven't shut since.
My therapist gave me a foolproof way to lull myself back to sleep for occasions just such as these (and it has proven 100% effective in the past), but this morning I couldn't be bothered.
Seriously, how lazy do you have to be to find yourself unwilling to work at going back to sleep?
You'd think, being that lazy, that I'd be all over her method. But I just. couldn't. be. bothered.
And now I'm stupid tired.
Speaking of Therapist Lady, after a full year of talking, I recently discovered that I'm no closer to resolving my guilt issues.
I feel better about everything, in general, but that specifically? The poor woman hasn't even made a dent.
The other day after My Beloved and I had a very minor argument about something small, I found myself alone and sobbing my heart out.
He had said, "Don't you know that you can love someone and still be angry with them?"
My response was, "Of course I do". Of course. But then my mind drifted to the dark side and I thought, "But how can he love me when I am responsible for Thomas' death? I blame myself - how is it that he doesn't? And what's going to happen when he finally realizes that he DOES?"
And on, and on, and on.
Luckily he was at work and I was here. No one needs to witness that kind of unattractive neediness first-hand.
But yeah, Therapist Lady and I need to work on this.
I think the grieving and infertile, in all our varied forms, need to work on cutting ourselves some slack over the next few days.
Because maybe it won't quite feel like Christmas. Maybe it won't be happy. Maybe we'll be angry. Maybe we'll be quieter than we used to be. Maybe we'll cry. Maybe we'll need reassurance. Maybe we'll need to be alone. Maybe we'll hurt more than we have in a long time.
And maybe we won't.
But people, if we do, it's okay.
One of the odd side effects of grief is that I now look forward to January. I used to see it as a bleak, cold, empty month. But now I see it as a time when the nothingness spreads out in front of me like an exciting blank canvas. No expectations, no commitments, no additional responsibilities. Just time and endless, beautiful space.
I can breathe in January. I inhale and exhale without thought; without trying to remember how.
I'm looking forward to jumping back on the Weight Watcher's bandwagon (all the chocolate, cheese and cookies should be gone by then) and starting in on a regular exercise routine (although the specific details of said routine are TBD).
As much as I do enjoy Christmas, the fact remains that I still have work at it. I spend a lot of time taking care of my mind during the holidays, sometimes at the expense of my chocolate and Bailey's laden body.
And so the easiness of the January emptiness is endlessly comforting. And very, very healthy.