I can gauge the success of my day based on the amount of over-eating i did or did not do.
Yesterday, I received a request for a job interview and felt confident on 2 others I applied to, the kids all played together nicely with relatively no fighting AND, when I put my toddler to bed, it only felt like I was wrestling a small honey badger into bed instead of the usual grizzly bear.
This means I only ate 1 taco for dinner instead of my usual 4, a small handful of candies (really very small. seriously!) and a (chocolate covered) granola bar as a treat! Not great but whateves, this isn’t Jenny Craig up in here.
Today, I found out the job I was contacted about has already been filled so an interview isn’t required, received another “you’re not what we’re looking for” application response and my toddler would NOT go to bed until 10:30pm due to an accidental time-out turned nap.
So, I went to Timmy’s (Tim Hortons for you unlucky souls who haven’t been blessed with the Timbit) and I bought myself 3 donuts and 2 cookies. I shoved one donut in my mouth then another, crumbs and tears falling down my face. I was seriously a glorious sight, singing along to LL Cool J with a mouth full of Apple Pie Fritter.
I was on that 3rd donut, sitting in the parking lot of the drug store waiting for my Attivan prescription to be filled (yup, it’s been that kind of day) and I started to think about why I’m bummed.
I’m bummed because I didn’t get the job I really didn’t want in the first place. I’m stressed because I’m working at a job I never wanted and don’t enjoy. I’m overwhelmed because I want to take a risk and do something else and try living for life and not for work.
When I came home, instead of wallowing in self-pity (Pity Party for 1 Please!), I joined a business conference call at the request of a friend. And I’m so glad I did. I ended today feeling something I haven’t felt. Maybe it’s that inspiration that I’m not familiar with?! I’ll have to keep an eye on it, might just be gas…
I think I needed today to happen. I needed a little bit of light on the path, to show me it’s the right one. Or at the very least, I needed these jobs that I don’t want to reject me. To push me towards the realization of what will make me happiest. And what won’t.
And hey, maybe I didn’t need that 3rd donut. At least that 3rd donut let me know that I definitely did not need those cookies (and I should not eat those cookies if i want the donuts to stay down).
Tomorrow I’m going to work on Apples and Oranges instead. Out with the old, right?
But today is still today and there are chips in the cupboard and i would hate for them to go to waste…..i’ll pair them with a banana.
Another loss. Although it’s my body, it’s not my choice. They tell me it wasn’t meant to be, that it’s for the best. This baby is in heaven with the others I’ve lost, safe with God, or whoever it is you believe in. I know that it’s true, a life here on earth wasn’t destined to be, this child might have suffered too greatly if he or she could have made it.
The attempts at comfort and compassion can’t take away the ache I have for a baby, to carry, to hold and to love. But they help. They remind me to be gentle with myself, take time, find focus and recharge. Because this isn’t where my journey ends.
Everyone talks about balance. Balance in their lives, balance between work and home – as my doctor says “weight management is all about balance”. Okay Doc.
That’s a skill I haven’t mastered and I doubt I ever will. I mean, sure, I manage to get it done (Get ‘er Done for my east coast peeps), but I’m too driven by emotion. I like to live my days out according to feeling. Do I feel like going for a walk? Do I feel like writing? Do I feel like putting on pants? Do I feel like eating donuts? HAH. I always feel like eating donuts.
How does this factor in with a 9-5 life? What if your9-5 stifles your creative need to feel. What do you do? How do you achieve and maintain balance?
Briana skulked around the corner of the student campus building, feeling defeated and elated at the same time. She just finished writing the MCAT after a gruelling year of studying, a secret she kept from her mother and father. She combed her fingers through her hair mindlessly, playing with each tiny curl (as she often did), and she thought of them and how proud they would be if she made it into med school. She also thought how disappointed they would be if she didn’t. Cringing at the thought, she gave her head a shake as if her brain was an etch-a-sketch and she could easily remove “that look” from her brain. It was a look that said “I cannot believe I raised you/I know I raised you better than this” simultaneously. Briana was on the receiving end of that look many, many times.
She took a look down at the pile of heavy books in her hands, the practice tests, the study guides, and the “dummies guide to the MCAT”. Briana knew she should hold on to them, just in case. Just in case she needed them again. In case she needed another shot at that exam.
As she reached the far end of the building where the grass meets the student parking lot, she tossed the books into the garbage and flinched when she heard the thump as they hit the bottom of the can.