Been around the World

Nothing is better than coming home to my bed, my jammies, in my pet free home after a week away. I like pets, I just don't have any, so staying with friends and family ends up being like this:
"Oh, look, (small child, animal with or without claws) likes you!" Usually pet or small child is drooling on me, or rubbing up against me, shedding hair all over my black clothes. I understand, I both drool and shed too.

But coming home to quiet and peace and my couch and my bed and my alarm and my shampoo and not having to drag my life around with me in a bag is really very fucking nice.

Auntie had wls and I went down to make sure she was okay. She totally was. Such a trooper. I forgot how scary the emotional stuff is, because really when someone slices you open, all that emotionally energy escapes, even for a second, and then hangs around outside and wow, it has no idea where to go. So it lingers. Eventually it floats away, but it is the act of banishing it that makes it go away for good. Talking out fears, anger, depression. Talking out bad moods. Being excited for new good moods, good experiences. You know, feeling your feelings. It's hard doing when you are not used to doing it.

One of the things I think we forget as we lose weight and ultimately deal with keeping it off is that we have it (the weight) as if it is an intruder to us. When actually it was a friend, a confidant, and sometimes a psychic vampire. It's like when a new friend turns into a best friend, or an old friend, and then that friend starts having issues of her own. And then she becomes needy, or takes up too much of our time-- we exclude her from outings just so that we can spend alone time with her later, because it's easier. We hide her from other people, until she pops out at totally the wrong time and someone out in reality notices her "have you gained weight?" to which we sheepishly agree to (with the nod that we will soothe her later) or get indignant about (and will punish her later). We don't want people to notice, but she's right there in awkward silences, in missing buttons, in too tight shirts, in surprised looks. Right there, she's recognized and not entirely called out.

So we get on the journey of weight loss, and have military like discipline about grams and fat and calories and protein and water water water, and we advance a little. Then we add reinforcements of military drills-- climbing stairs and walking on treadmills, riding bikes and moving all the time. And our friend goes "wait, what about me? I didn't hold you back on purpose, I thought you liked me, my comfort, my warmth. I'm not giving up without a fight!" And then the game is on.

What if, we invited her in for tea. And talked about the relationship that we had, and how it didn't work for either of us. And then talked about the relationship we could have. "You have a lot of energy to burn, and I want to burn a lot of energy. Let's do this together." So that the weight isn't a thing or an intruder, but instead becomes a partner in the process. Because I know I need that weight to remind me that I have goals, that I am different than I was before. I need that weight to be a marker that physically I am not the same. I need that weight to shed itself as I become a person who is comforting, warm, fun. To a certain extent, it is the cocoon, but really it is a partnership, me and my weight in a three legged race. We have to work together to come out of the race victorious.

Otherwise it's just me wrestling with myself.