Sweet Morsel of Magic

Have you ever had a large meal and after eating it, your stomach protruded and literally hurt from fullness? Did that fullness make you feel so uncomfortable that you couldn’t sit still, you couldn’t lay down, you couldn’t move without feeling miserable and you wouldn’t dare think about putting another bite of food in your mouth. I, too, have felt that sort of fullness but if I wait 2-5 minutes I know I will want more. Especially if the food was pleasing to my senses!

Food gives me satisfaction. It’s the one constant in my life I have all the control over yet no control over at all. Stripping me of that control and having to tell myself I can’t eat this or that just because I have no limits is heart-wrenching to me. I become furious just thinking about driving past the Dairy Queen during the summer and having to see the skinny families standing in line with their skinny kids and their skinny dogs in their skinny cars eating their fat ice creams and chubby parfaits. I just gained 15 pounds writing that. I’m food sensitive. I swear to it. My youngest daughter is 5 foot nothing and 98 pounds. When she got her first tattoo, she asked to hold my hand. Her petite and tiny hand attempting to squeeze my ginormous hand was comical and sad in the same breath. She’s always talking to me about how the double size zeros are too loose. God bless her. The child eats and her body refuses to gain an ounce. Just inhaling the smells of food cause me to gain.

But alas, I have no shame. I’m not a closet eater. I give no real care. I will merrily and happily eat as much as I want in front of whoever I want. If I want to down an entire pie without sharing, I will do so. This could be my curse or blessing. I hate fighting with myself over what I should eat and what I shouldn’t eat because God forbid I eat an apple on Tuesday at 3 pm after consuming caffeine but not before a kale smoothie because Keto enzymes in the blood flood are bad. Seriously, someone punch me in the face. It’s no joke hard work eating healthy. I don’t feel as comforted with “healthier food”. Don’t get me wrong, healthy food makes me feel good in the long run. But the immediate results I get from sugar and the taste from certain fats from fried food is where I find comfort, safety, warmth, and relaxation. I can take out 6 king-sized candy bars in one sitting (evening). And I’m sure the count could be higher, this is just as much as I purchased. It’s impossible to tell myself, “Stop. Listen to your body.” or “How about an apple?” or “Try water.” There’s no way in hell I’m NOT going to allow myself to enjoy this. This is MINE. I’m becoming agitated now just thinking about. So I eat it – bypass everything I feel – and enjoy every single slow moment with the sweet morsel of magic.

Consistent Inconsistencies Part 2 FINAL

Do you ever over-explain yourself because you feel like people don’t get it or get you? It’s true, though. I see the look on some people’s faces and I think to myself, “This person doesn’t get it and if they do they are as blank as an unwritten check.” There are emotions in me I can’t explain and I’m afraid that if I try too, I’ll cause more question but if I don’t, people won’t understand me and I think it’s human nature to want to be understood, right? Then there’s the “real Tonia” that could give two thoughts on if you understood or not. Push. Pull. Who the fuck am I. That’s not really a question.

I’ve tried to think about why I feel this push/pull feeling and I believe it comes from my need to people-please. Right before I started my weight loss journey in 2015, I became the person I felt I truly was deep inside. The real Tonia. Then, I gained back my weight and I trapped her. I shut her up with a burger and milkshake because honesty she scares me a bit. I become afraid that she’s too outrageous, too straightforward, and most times too uncaring. I’ve shocked myself at some of the shit that comes out of that mouth on the fly – without apology. When that fight between the “real Tonia” and “fat Tonia” starts, exhaustion takes over and depression sets in and well, some of you know how that goes. I do believe that depression is the only consistent “thing” in my life.

The one thing I never want to do is to become so consistently inconsistent that I harm those I love the most and cause them to lose faith in me. That they would think what I say and do are excuses to avoid THEM. Now in my 40s, I’ve finally found people that are real and to jeopardize that would be heartbreaking. Perhaps the one consistency is that I continue to work on moving forward. That I find importance in continuing to work on my journey, working towards bettering myself, understanding my depression and simply being okay with being human.

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What is this?

How do you explain to others that you just want to curl up and die but you don’t want to be dead? The thought of death is simply just wanting things to go away without having to explain why. I want to climb down into a hole and be left alone but I don’t want to be lonely. I want to eat until I’m so fat I can’t move but I’m tired of being uncomfortable in my own skin. I want to go out and enjoy the sun but I don’t want to be around people. I want to feel all these feelings I have and I want people to understand them but I don’t want to explain them. I’m a tornado right now. My emotions are a mixture of giving up and being pissed. I’m angry, sad, confused, hungry. This hole smells. It’s damp, dark and musty but I want to live here forever.

Consistent Inconsistencies Part 1

The first thing – well no – perhaps the third thing you would notice about me is my consistent inconsistencies. I feel like I should explain why I’m like this not out of necessity but because it’s the entire reason I decided to write this blog. I’m not alone which means others are not alone either. And in order for me, (and perhaps others), to start healing I must first figure out why I do the things I do and why I feel the way I feel. But who am I?

Truth? I’m a(n) loving, manic depressive, smart, anxious, giving, contradictive, over-the-top, persistent, funny, narcissistic, mostly supportive person. But I’m unpredictable because I can be contradictive making me inconsistent. Ya know? Yeah. It hurts my brain too. I blame it all on depression. Sometimes it makes your brain go in every direction but the right one. Let’s visit that for a moment.

Depression is crippling for some. For me, it’s my lead vest. It feels like it takes away personality and eats away at my soul. It physically takes over and pains my temples and eye lids and parts of my hair. Depression avoids phone calls, text messages, emails, events, visitors and cancels all plans. Depression despises sympathy and looks forward to being alone. There are often times I get sick of hearing myself. It’s much easier to just smile and say, “everything is great”, rather than drag someone down – AGAIN – with my bullshit. But at last, it lifts and I can carry on about my day as if it never existed.

If you follow my Facebook page you will notice that I created a post that said I would be posting blogs every Monday and Friday. In true Tonia fashion, last Friday I did not.

Perhaps the 4th thing you would notice about me – I will reference movies, songs, comedians – whenever someone says something that makes me think of it. You’re welcome.

So yes, what had happened was my son had been released from jail recently. As some readers may know, he was in some trouble but he is out until trial. More on that later. I’ve been spending time with him and to be honest, I’m a bit worried. I mean, what parent wouldn’t be for their child, right? With that worry comes stress and with stress comes depression and well – BINGO! Here we are! I canceled plans, I didn’t write my blog, I became exhausted and once again I found myself apologizing that I wasn’t able to meet goals. So, how do I fix it? Sure, I could eat better and I could exercise but that would require me giving a fuck about that so scooch that to the bottom of the list. I must find my passion. Pleasing others is not working. I have to surround myself with people who understand that it’s okay to flake out. That it’s okay to be me without the excuses and that it’s okay to be consistently inconsistent. But where do I start?