Hello there! It’s been a minute….well three and a half years to be precise. The call to write has been stronger at times than others, but I’ve avoided it as I’ve been protective of my own privacy. It’s hard to have a blog without truly sharing your life. The call to write lately has been a scream – a scream that I’ve been suppressing. I’m re-reading the book, Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert, my favorite author. A friend gave me another copy last Christmas and I’d been drawn to it once again. The book is effectively about utilizing your creativity. This time around, the book has taken me to when I was first told I was creative. Yep, a step back in time from a gal who doesn’t remember a lot of her childhood.
I was in Mrs. Emde’s third grade class. I adored her. I loved her stories. I especially enjoyed her talking about church and God. Look, I’m not sure that it would fly today, but at that time, it touched me deeply. Mrs. Emde went to the Episcopalian church to which my family belonged. I’d heard stories from my Grandma Mona about my grandfather, Father Hall, and Dr. Bangman drinking that 90% alcohol whiskey. She loved to talk about it, because she could then say she only drank 2% Schlitz. Honestly, I spent most of my life believing her, until we moved out to the Midwest, and when a friend came to visit, I insisted we visit this bar that had a Schlitz sign, so I could have one in honor of my grandma. The beer (or shall I say malt liquor) was 5%. I’d bet a nickel that back in the day, it was even much higher. So, what I knew most of the church that we belonged, although nobody from the family regularly attended, was that Father Hall (who had long passed) was a helluva partier.
I’d confided in Mrs. Emde that I would often race with God. I was a child who always needed to be active. I played outside all the time. When I wouldn’t have anyone to play with-I would race against God, who would be next to me, miraculously I would always squeak out the win. There was no judgement from Mrs. Emde as I feared there would be. She’s the only one I ever told about racing with God, until just yesterday – when I told a friend the story and how I felt compelled to write about Mrs. Emde.
In third grade, I decided to go to church. I would get myself ready and walk myself each Sunday. I LOVED it. I became an acolyte and thought it was the highest honor. I looked forward to the wafer (body of Christ) or on holidays, real bread at communion but couldn’t stand the wine. Yes, back then they served real wine. It’s funny how things change over the years. At Christmas Eve Mass this year, I was disappointed at the juice they served in lieu of wine. I don’t go to church regularly anymore and haven’t for years. It’s funny…as a child I wanted to be the first woman Episcopalian bishop. I was at the drug store when I was a young teen, and the pharmacist (a congregationalist) sought me out to tell me the church as just named their first woman bishop. Big sigh. I was so crushed.
Mrs. Emde would always say I was “creative” in my report cards and parent-teach conferences. Every single time. It would take the air out of my balloon. I didn’t want to be creative (I probably didn’t even realize what that meant). I wanted to be smart, a leader, all the things I thought were important back then. It was creativity that was my trademark according to Mrs. Emde. And I’ll say, God bless her for it. I’m having a physical reaction right now just thinking about the third-grade teacher who recognized something in me that I wouldn’t be able to recognize in myself for decades. I know over the years, I could write. I could make up stories. But I would never have defined myself as a creative. As I sit here at fifty-three years old, I feel so blessed to know this about myself and embrace it-and not feel shame. I feel so grateful to have had an influence like Mrs. Emde in my life. She affected my life in so many positive ways. She was my confidant, and a support system to a brain that was always going every which way- and loved me even more for it. She helped to shape the person I am today.
I have many friends who are now teachers. I’m so proud of them for the work they do. I have no doubt, that in their own ways, they are somebody’s Mrs. Emde
Oh boy, where does one start after not writing for – more than half a year? Don’t worry, this won’t be some recap of my everyday life. I just knew, I needed to write. First and foremost, I’m writing because it’s therapeutic to me. Also, I write for you: the person who take the time to read this, likely because you connect to what I say. I’ve always truly appreciated it.
There is so much vulnerability in writing. I’m so thankful for therapy, which has given me the gift of being vulnerable. It’s still not easy, but I’m grateful to those who have reached out because of my writing to let me know I’m not alone in so many ways. I began writing many years ago, after our move to the Midwest (boooooo!), and I’ve always published the link to my social media. I’ve decided to no longer do this. It saddens me in a way, as I’ve developed closer relationships with existing friends and family through writing, but it takes away some of the freedom I’d like in talking about my life. Also, to be completely truthful (if took a long time to admit this to myself), but I think I published to my social media, to try and be seen or recognized in ways I haven’t felt in my life. My writing shouldn’t be about that. It’s a version of taking an antidepressant by getting things out there. In giving my soul to those I know, it also creates anxiety – sometimes I’d need to drink to find the courage to write, and almost always would have to drink after. I’d drink because I’d use writing as my voice to speak to those, I didn’t have the courage to say the words to or I’d worry those who didn’t deserve to read my words, would have access to my life. Here I am, onto a new chapter and unsure if anyone will see these words, but I am okay with that. It’s a calling.
I’m settled into my recliner, with my foot wrapped. I had surgery a couple of weeks ago on foot and big toe. My joints (except top) in my big toe were fused and my foot is fused as to not flex. This surgery came thirteen months after the last surgery on this foot for a bunion and large bone spur on my ankle. This one came after months of swelling and pain and finding that my big toe was riddled with arthritis which caused me to walk on the outside of my foot. There was no arthritis in the x-rays from a year ago, so this is highly unusual. It’s likely caused by my autoimmune issues. I’ve got another 4-6 of non-weight bearing and on this darn knee scooter. I’m not a fan and starting to go a little crazy. I went into this surgery, knowing that I’ve dealt with depression after each surgery and have approached this one differently in hoping to stave off the depression. I’ve gotten out of the house more and done more than I should. Physically I feel the overdoing of everything. Mentally, I’m grateful to be doing so well. I’ve just come out of a significant depression and weight gain.
Since becoming perimenopausal, I’ve tried different antidepressants with varying degrees of success and side effects. I’ve come to accept, at least while I’m dealing with menopause, that I need to be medicated. Thankfully, I’m on one now that has really helped in these last few months. If you’re going through the stage where you aren’t finding one that works, I understand your frustrations. I would go periods without, as I couldn’t take it anymore. Once you find the right one, though, it is life changing. I’ve had to let go of the stigma of thinking I’m crazy or broken and accept that I’m a human that struggles and accept the help of medication.
2022 is a year of change. Some of the changes, are intentional, while some I have no control over. I only know that I will work hard to make the best of some of these situations, while still being human and going through grief and having doubts about myself. It is scary to be fifty years old and have no idea what the future holds in so many ways. If you’ve stumbled across this blog, I hope you’ll stay with it and hopefully we can figure things out together. I always love hearing from you.
Welcome to the new blog and website! I knew I needed to have a more positive name than, diariesofafatass. I am proud of that blog, but I no longer think of myself in that way. Don’t get me wrong….I have a lot of extra weight, but when I think of myself – my weight is not the first thing that comes to mind and no longer defines me. So, here I am, someone who doesn’t know shit about websites, with a new website, she can’t figure out (it’s not near as user friendly as the other platform). So please bear with me as I try to navigate through this thing.
I think we are all on the same page, as we wave goodbye to 2020 with middle fingers aloft. It is a year that changed us all.
2020 started out good for me. We had just hired a new senior manager. I was excited to have another person on the team and someone who could help with our ever-increasing workload. Right off the bat, you could tell she was not a people person. It was evident, by her telling us the blocks on her desk would be positioned each day to say what type of mood she was in. Oh boy. Even so, not everyone is a social butterfly. I was hopeful that she would bring a fresh energy to the group and happy to have a buffer between our nasty site leader.
At the end of February, I traveled to Costa Rica for my baby sister’s wedding. Brian made the decision not to come, as we were also going to Alaska in July and he couldn’t take two big trips (hindsight is 2020…). My lifelong friend, Caity was my roommate and was so glad she was there. It made our bond even stronger, which I did not know could be possible. It was a trip of a lifetime. Before this, I had only been to the UK on a work trip. All my other travels had been in the continental US. As beautiful and adventurous as it all was, seeing Brooke so happy and being around family was the best feeling in the world. A big group of us had breakfast one morning and I just looked around at everyone, in that moment, and wished I could bottle that feeling of love and contentment.
I was hesitant about traveling internationally because of COVID. My colleagues in China had done a great job of putting the fear of God into me. If it were not for Brooke getting married, I would have canceled my trip. I was only gone five days. In that time, of course I never watched television or checked the news, so was shocked to come home to see what was happening in the states. It was all so fast….now it was here and everywhere. I think it was just two weeks later that Costa Rica shut down travel. Brooke and I have talked about how lucky it all happened the way it did. I am blessed to have seen my family right before travel effectively shut down, everywhere.
Okay, I am going to work hard on condensing because I could talk about this fucking year – for a year.
I was feeling great about my weight and had been following WW quite strictly. My good friend Jan and I would leave the house at 6:45 A.M. every Saturday to weigh in and after the meeting, would go on some great adventure. The adventures always involved food (I mean, I am food addicted) but I would account for it. We spent a few months trying to find the best eggs benedict in Rockford and had a fabulous time. We would hike, grocery shop, run errands. Whatever it was, we had fun and meaningful conversation. Just like everything with the pandemic, it came to an abrupt stop. I did not deal with the anxiety of it all in a healthy manner. Work became a nightmare. It was a work stress I had never known. Trying to buy internationally, with whole countries shut down and a management team that was screaming every stop of the way – yuck. I was worried about everything, of course, the family the most. I drank A LOT of wine and ate up a fucking storm. I put on a good chunk of weight. Big sigh. I wish I could have dealt with it in the way those people who got super fit did or those who learned foreign languages, etc. No, I am me and I just do not cope well. I am a definite work in progress.
In May, Brian’s grandma passed away. In the age of COVID, nobody could be in the hospital with her (until the very end and then only one person). It was traumatizing thinking of what she was going through and the family – as well as our own. We could not be there. Brian wanted to jump on a plane, but he could not see her and would have had to quarantine from his mother. I lost my grandma when I was nineteen. I did not have grandparents when I met Brian at twenty. From the first moment we met, Gram treated me like family. I was blessed to have Brian’s grandparents in my life.
During all the craziness of the year, we found a new family member in Hunter. He went from being a coworker to part of our family. He is one of the most positive, empathetic people I have ever met. In the storm, he brought a light to our family.
Through most of the pandemic, I have had weekly virtual happy hours with my two great friends, Kim and Le Ann. I met the girls fourteen years ago or so at an Autism support group, led by Kim. We bonded over what our sons were going through and trying to find the latest/greatest thing that would lead to improving their lives – to just being great friends. We have had a lot of great travel adventures together and have an unshakeable bond. With this, none of us have been great at keeping in touch (since I no longer live in the state) and would chat every couple months or so. The pandemic got us face to face (via screen) every week and we talk in between. We continue this to this day. I would trust these women with my life.
A few months ago, Jan and I finally got out together (we were separated by pandemic, then she had surgeries on both of her feet). I had just given my notice and she needed out of the house. She was a trooper, going through Costco on a knee scooter. She craved normalcy. We were so happy to be out and about like old times. On our way back, we passed a cat in the middle of the highway. You could tell he could not move his back legs. We both freaked out and I turned around. I was terrified because it is a two-lane highway along the river with a lot of twists and turns. I was afraid I would get hit running into the road, or the Jeep would get hit with Jan in it. We knew we had to get the cat, though. We pulled over as far as we could and then an older couple turned around and pulled behind me in middle of road with their hazards, so I could get the cat. I took of my sweatshirt (with only tank top underneath) and ran out to get him. The cat was pissed and scared and in pain. I do not know a thing about cats but instantly thought, What the fuck am I doing? He was vocal and with his two front paws was lashing out at me. I held my arms out straight to try and avoid the blows. A car coming the opposite direction, saw us, thank God and stopped and put on their hazards. By the time I got him back to the car, he had calmed down. I thought he was grateful to be rescued but he was probably in shock. The older man got out and asked me what I was going to do – I said I will take him to my vet. He reached in his wallet, saying I know this is not much, but I want to help and gave me twenty dollars. What a sweet gesture. We were lucky enough to get to my vet just before they closed. I showed up, bleeding from my chest with a tank top on, in the cold…quite the sight I am sure. The vet tech took him from Jan and left. In that moment, I completely broke down. The adrenaline just stopped and I felt the weight of the moment, the worry for the cat. I felt it all. Jan was also moved and we drove in silence to her house, where I could drop her off.
The vet called me after he was able to examine and take x-rays. It did not look good for our Tom Cat as Jan referred to him. However, the vet explained sometimes good things do happen after a night of rest and fluids. He promised to keep him comfortable and would give IV and explained what would be ahead if the kitty made it. That day, I told two friends about the cat and without talk of expense, they both offered to help pay the vet bill. Jan had also offered to pay half. I knew I would not be able to accept their gracious offer but was so touched they even thought of it. I am blessed to be surrounded by good souls.
Late, the following morning, the vet called to say the cat had not made it. My heart broke. We tried out best but could not save him. It was hard to find the lesson in this. I just hope he died in peace and did not feel pain from the time he got to the vet.
When the bill arrived, the vet picked up most of the cost. He did this on his own. I was responsible for everything, yet out of the kindness of this heart – he covered all but the cremation (which is done through another company). He will forever be our vet. I once again, gracefully declined Jan’s offer to help, but she sent it on Venmo anyway. Her gesture, the older man’s contribution, was truly heartwarming.
It started with the cat and it felt like that set things in motion. It feels like I keep getting run over by a truck only to get up, dust myself off and get run over again. The next week, Brian got COVID. It was wicked and scary. Three months later, he still is not back to where his workouts were. There is still a slight cough but thank God he is okay. Caleb got COVID from the only person in his bubble at the time. He began to get sick on Thanksgiving. With Brian, I felt so helpless because we did our best to keep him away from the family. With Caleb, I was by his side, trying to do anything to help him. He got most of the things you read about (minus loss of taste or smell). He had been run over by the COVID buss. Even now, he has terrible fatigue. It is hard to see. They returned to school this week and he must nap once or twice after. He looks tired all the time and it has taken a toll on him. Yesterday was an extremely tough day for him and it breaks my heart. I fucking hate this virus. It has not only struck my family but close friends (one right now going through it and another off quarantine from it just days ago).
The truck hit me again when Brian’s job was suddenly outsourced to India. We both went to a place of fear. I had left my job on Oct 30th because we thought we were so secure with his. Weeks after I left my job, they fired the managers I left over, and then I regretted my decision to leave. Now, we were without any paychecks and I was hard on myself.
At the beginning of this new year, I was hit by another truck. A truck that showed no mercy. It is not my story to tell but it shattered me. I felt helpless. I felt fear. Thankfully, with this truck, there is only love and I see more of the greatness that will come from this – every day.
2020 brought a lot of anxiety, fear, loss, sadness, but it brought a lot of gifts that I am forever thankful for. Brian’s schedule has been a nightmare for many years. We would only see him about half the time. He was able to work from home since March or so and it was great to see him so much. I know the quarantine was hard on a lot of relationships. I am happy to say, that after being together twenty-eight years, ours continued to blossom. He sleeps best when his arm is around me. I am a light sleeper and hard for me to get comfortable. Often, I cannot wait for him to go to sleep, so I can slide his arm off me so I can sleep. Now, I look forward to his snuggles and have even learned to fall asleep this way. I am a lucky woman to be married to Brian. We have also been fortunate to spend a lot more time with the boys. I am the one that tells them no or asks that they help out, etc. I am definitely not their favorite person. But the love is deep, and we all feel it. I thank God every single morning and night for us all (including) Jesse being under one roof.
A couple days after we found out Brian was losing his job; I text the happy hour girls to let them know I would not be joining our call as I would not be good company. I let them know what happened, and immediately Kim text, “If you guys move back to Vancouver. You can live with me.” She followed up with, “I am totally serious.” Her generous offer brought me to tears. We have committed to staying here for the boys, but that was such an act of selflessness. In this stressful time, friends and family have done so many nice, unexpected things. There was a time, I may have refused some of the gifts, but I have learned from poor behavior from someone I helped in their time of need, the grace in accepting the generosity of those who love us. I know it makes me feel good to help people I love and know it makes them feel good, too. I have refused, with as much love and explanation as I could, one nice offer but promised to let them know if we ever were in a place where we would need it. I do feel terrible in that one friend sent a generous gift, but some asshole at the postal service decided to steal it and never arrived.
2020 also brough Ryne his first job and it was so great to see him thrive. He also remained healthy in the sick-house as Briand and I call it. Cal also got his driver’s license. The boys had a lot of wonderful things happen in this crazy ass year. The relationships with their friends have become even more solid.
This new year may have started with getting hit by another truck, but in its infancy, this is a good year. Brian and I both accepted new jobs this week. I was fortunate enough to have two offers and was able to take the job closest to home, as Brian has a long commute.
I noticed the other day, that the small scars left behind from the cat, have faded away. They were a reminder of seeing that pain but like all scars, the trauma is fading away.
With Christmas money, we found a great deal on a used Bowflex. Our little workout area is coming together. Neither Brian or I had eaten meat this year (until I pigged out on chicken fried steak this morning, because I knew I was getting on track tomorrow – as I have 1,000,000 time prior). I am not beating myself up over it. I have been doing fairly well with my diet since leaving my job. My blood pressure is way down from when I left my job. I had lab work done a few weeks ago and everything looked great. My cholesterol is, “outstanding,” as the nurse put it. I feel great going into this year. I My bp is still an issue I need to continue working on but I am going in the right direction.
On Friday, I received a sweet email from the first editor on my book. She said she was thinking of one of my characters and asked if I ever published the book. She had such nice things to say. This meant so much, as she has edited a ton of books and now also works on a magazine. For her, to think of me, gives me a lot of confidence in myself and the book.
This new year, also brings this new website and blog. Starting tomorrow, I will chronicle my journey and commitments. I am still trying to iron out what I will be doing but will have it all figured out tonight. I will write a lot more often, and thankfully for you, the posts will be much shorter. I would love you to follow along. My journey is complicated by a lot of things, including depression but I continue to win the battles. If you would like to be there through this and/or need an accountability partner – please subscribe to the blog (on this home page). It will email you when there are new entries. You can even have the emails sent to a folder if you are someone who likes to keep emails to a minimum. It would mean a lot to me. The dream is to grow this blog. The blog has made me feel like I am not alone. My hope is we all know – that we are not alone.
Happy 2021 my friends,
Jenn (new year – same spelling from when I was young)
diaryofherjourney 