Monday, December 21, 2009

Back in the saddle again...

I am wondering why I am feeling so tired that it hurts today! Oy… We had a huge snow storm this weekend. Remember when snow was fun? Remember when you looked forward to it? Yeah, looks as though those days are gone for me. New York City is a great place to live. I wouldn’t live any where else. We have exact 12 hours of the beautiful stuff. It’s gorgeous coming down, and makes the city seem like a magical place. The NEXT day, it’s a hot mess. The beautiful snow is trudged on, and turns into a dirty slushy mess!

I am reporting that I went BACK to WW this Saturday. Why would I do this so close to the Christmas? Why not just wait for the New Year and make that my resolution? Here is the thing, I just decided that I could not, once again, do that same clich├ęd act and make loosing weight my new year’s resolution. I can’t be in the crowded room again. I know that I might not loose a whole lot of weight, but I can promise myself that I will be more aware of what I am eating this week.

How successful I am this time around depends on me. I have to be super dedicated to this. I’m not quite ready to share how much I weigh, but it’s up there and its scary. Its hard to not think of the big (ha!) picture. That is, how many lbs I have to lose. It’s so overwhelming. I am actually in place where I have to loose half my body weight. God help me.

Like I said the other day, I shared my little blog with my Shrink. I wondered what he would think. Did he even read it? Did he think it was well written? Did he read all the entries? That’s my main thing with this blog. While yes, I started this and am doing this for myself, I am concerned about what people think of it. I struggle a lot with worrying about what people think. When I was writing on myspace, I feel like my blogs were funnier, more interesting somehow. I’m a little frustrated, that I am not feeling so inspired to write. Along that same thought, I’m thinking that I would like very much to take some kind of creative writing class. I’m trying to find something to cultivate or at least determine if there is any talent there. Anyway, when I saw him for our latest session, he thanked me for sharing it with him. He said it was painful. Painful. Painful? So now I’m wondering, what’s painful? Was it painful to read? (Cause it sucks?) I write what I write (when I write) as an outlet. Just to get it out. I’m not trying to be deep or express any kind of pain. I wonder if it’s coming across as whiney. I have to ask him.

The Truth about Mom and Dad

Remember when your parents knew everything? Remember when they were the strongest, the smartest and the most handsome or beautiful? I remember that. The long and short of it is that my parents are getting old. Them’s be the facts baby.

I look at my father, my charming, life of the party Papi. Now with white hair, white beard, old man stoop, arthritic hands and a satchel full of heart medicine. Case in point, I had to zip up my dad’s jacket the other day. Talk about full circle. He used to zip up my jacket. We were in Target recently and I saw my dad shuffling ahead me. I went over and gave me him a push. Papi stand up straight, Papi pick up your feet. My ferocious father is slowing down. It makes me sad.

I look at my mother, my beautiful, oh so glamorous Mom. Who is developing fat pockets under her eyes, hopelessly; obviously dyed hair and random age spots. And just between you and me, she is become unbelievably annoying. Constantly asking me questions… April can you? April did you? April you should. April you shouldn’t. April why do you always… blah blah blah. The other day I swear I wanted to not only tell her to shut up…but I wanted to tell her to shut the fuck up. That’s never good.

I’ve taken to having to tell them how to dress. Papi- Why are you wearing the house slippers with socks OUTSIDE? Ummmm Mom? You are not, you know, Paris Hilton… you can’t wear the slip dress with no bra.

My parents used to go to Studio 54 and Copacabana. Now, it’s early bird specials and the matinee. Unbelievable.

I took my father to the doctor about a year ago, that was something.
Doctor: so Joel how long have you had this problem with your hands?
Dad: Oh about 6 months?
Me: Um excuse me? No… about 2 years now… at least
Dad: Yeah?
Me: Yes.
This went on and on for the entire visit. The Doctor asking him questions, him giving this fictious answer and me jumping in. My consensus is that now, someone has to go with him everytime he had a doctor’s visit. He can’t be trusted.

Forget about asking them for advice. I look at the way they have lived their lives and feel like they need just as much help as I do. They no longer have all the answers, I realized long ago that probably never did. Our parents are human, and therefore fallible. But it’s always such a let down to really realize it for the truth that it is.

I love my parents. And when the time comes I will take care of them, no doubt about it, and no questions asked. The issue is more that I don’t ever want them to need me to have to do it for them, because they can no longer do it for themselves.

I suppose it is inevitable.

Monday, December 14, 2009

I'm back... I guess

Well kids, April’s back. For how long I’m not sure. I won’t make promises I can’t keep.

Absolutely nothing new has been happening. Actually less than nothing has been going on. Went off my meds and back on again. I did start seeing a new therapist. Good looking out to a good new friend who turned me on to him. Therapy is important I think, and seems quite the New York thing to do. I’ve been in and out of therapy for years now, with varying degrees of success. Like most things in my life, I start and stop with an alarming regularity. That is, I usually stop when it gets to hard or uncomfortable. I’m hoping that I keep it up this time, because I know that I am in desperate need of help. And want nothing more than to stop living in the dark, bumping into things. [That’s what my life seems like to me] What I am hoping for this time is to come up with a plan of action. I want to find out why I do the things I do, and what I can do to change them.

This weekend I was supposed to go back to WW then spend the day at the library finishing up on some papers that are due this week. Epic, epic fail. What did I do instead? Well I met up with TG (That Guy) and spent the day in bed with him. As usual, it was great till it was awful. One day, I will get it in my head that this man is not the man for me and that spending days with him in bed, will never be the answer. It WAS nice though.

So why am I back? Not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing, but I told my therapist about my blog. Why? Well, it stated off by me recounting a story about my cousin/sister who was a big track star while she was in HS and how it still bothered her that they never when to any of her games or meets. Which brought up for me that my parents never read anything I wrote when I was in HS. (I wrote for the paper and the yearbook) I then went on to tell him that I keep a half hearted blog under a pseudonym and that back when people had myspace pages, I kept one on myspace. I further explained that I started a new one, so that I my friends and family wouldn’t be able to follow. He then asked the address of my little blog. All of this propelled me to re read my entries and post this one.

There it is.