I tend to go on and on when typing here, so I’ll try to keep this short, but that doesn’t always work, so…you know, bear with me.
FIRST, and most importantly (for my whole situation): I have an interview on Monday for a temp-to-perm job. It’s at a Macintosh repair place here in Memphis (lulz), and I would work the front desk. They wanted more of a techie, but apparently techies don’t have a lot of personality when dealing with strangers or something (my hand to god, that’s what my placement agent told me), so they called Office Team and asked for resumes. I’m the only one from the group going in for this interview. Wish me luck…if I get through whatever waiting period they have as a temp, and go on permanently, this could mean much more money coming in, and me being able to get some more independence and, you know, move out of my dad’s house and pay my bills.
SECOND, I’m attending two types of counseling starting this coming week: I’m going to group counseling (divorce) on Thursday nights for 10-12 weeks, and I’m going to set up an individual counseling schedule to get over some of the issues that have been cropping up. It’s at a church, they know I’m Agnostic, they’re cool with it (the point of the group is to help get through stages of divorce, not for conversion…it’s like AA, but it’s actually run by the church itself), and…well, that’s that, I guess, as far as that’s concerned.
I’m nervous, but I need the perspective. I need to know that I’m not the only one in the world who was duped into marriage after resisting and running away from it for so long.
I also have figured out why I’ve been resistant to the idea of marriage, but that’s a subject for another entry. A hint, though: I like variety, and this fact will probably cause problems in individual therapy.
THIRD, I’m going in for my lab work to get tested for everything that could possibly cause long-term fatigue…probably Tuesday or Wednesday of this coming week. Lyme, Lupus…everything. I can’t accept my fibromyalgia diagnosis until I rule everything else out. I have found a recurring rash on my upper abdomen, that shrinks to a small red spot and then flares out into what looks like contact dermatitis, but without the itching. I wouldn’t rule out a tick bite there, unless my gallbladder just likes to occasionally bleed out…heh.
FOURTH, I’m starting to get a social life going here. I’ve been hanging out with a male friend I haven’t seen or talked to in a long time. We went bowling, he accompanied me to karaoke last night, etc. I think he’d be good for my older sister, but when I asked him point-blank how he felt (uh, alcohol was involved), he was evasive. So that was awkward. He likes me, I know it, but not only am I not ready for a relationship right now, but I don’t want to fuck up our friendship.
Anyway, there’s a place here who does karaoke every 1st and 3rd Friday of the month, it’s less than 10 minutes from my house, and it’s within a bowling alley that does cosmic bowling every Friday. So I will have a routine for my Friday nights, it seems. Bowling is exercise, too, which I need. I’m going to try to get more local folks interested in coming with, so that it won’t just be me and my male friend (Griz), which seems to be giving people who don’t know me very well the wrong idea.
Yeah, I just got divorced, but I’m no longer in rebound mode. I got over that BEFORE the papers were signed, but just barely. Griz is a good friend…and, well…he’s a good friend. I’ve been flirting with people and having fun, but it’s not “Nice shoes, wanna fuck?” fun. It’s just normal, healthy, “OMG I’M FREEEEEE” fun. It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten to socialize. I like it.
FIFTH, for some reason, even though I’ve eaten some nasty, huge plates of crap over the past week (Chili’s and CK’s), I’m still losing weight. I’m down to 228, which is approximately how much I weighed when Wasband and I moved into our house in July. I’m losing this weight at the same rate I gained it. I expect a horrible gallbladder attack any time now, but damn, it feels good to look at yourself and SEE the difference. This loss is approximately 10 pounds per month…2.5 pounds per week…just above the healthy amount. And my BODY is doing it. I mean, I’m not stress-eating, and I’m eating more than I was the last time I talked at length about weight loss, but still…I’m not meant to be this big. My body’s like, “step aside, bitch, I got this.”
Also? I can wear mens’ size L tee shirts again without looking like I’d been receiving subcutaneous fluids for 24 hours beforehand.
I have a pair of “goal jeans” that are Target’s idea of a size 18. They fit me everywhere except my lower belly, so I get muffin top when I wear them. I don’t mind a smaller muffin top (in this weather? sweatshirt, stat), but most of my weight is in my belly (from stress, naturally), so I have to wait a bit before I can start wearing new and exciting pants…that I’ve owned for years…heh.
One thing that’s bothering me, a lot. My right hip keeps freezing, popping out of socket, or hurting like it needs to pop at random times throughout the day, regardless of my activities. My left leg is hurting because I’m favoring the right. I might need to start looking at canes, just in case. But we’ll see. Losing more weight and moving around more should work. I’m just thinking about sitting at a desk for 40 hours per week…the worst pain is when my hip’s been in the same position for more than a few minutes. I’d have to shift around like had hemorrhoids or something to keep it at bay.
It’s just me thinking too much. But lately…yeah, it’s been kind of bad.
Anyway, I’m moving forward and taking care of things. I’ll hopefully have a job, I’ll be in some much-needed therapy, I’m in a singing group (concert in March! eeeeek!), I have a regular Friday routine, and I have some reasons to go out and do things.
I’m also getting a little closer to who I really am, instead of what others around expect of me. Even here, at “home,” I’m supposed to fit a certain mold. Parts of me don’t fit, and it’s okay, but there are other parts that, were I to begin to express them, I wouldn’t be surprised if I’d be kicked out.
But…it’s me. If I’m not myself, then who am I?