Another conversation with myself.

Fear is what we make it. Oh, what a subject. Let’s talk about what everybody doesn’t want to ever talk about. Let’s dissect it, and make it not real. But even when it’s dissected, it still has a way of worming into your psyche and moving in permanently like tenants from hell.

What am I afraid of? Everything. Most people think, I’m afraid of nothing. Most people want what I’m afraid of wanting. I want a better life. I want to be free. I want to live as though tomorrow may never come. Why? It might never come. Anyone who looks past the surface, the façade I play, knows that I play a good game, talk the good talk, and walk the good walk. But they also know that inside me, is a boiling cauldron of fear.

The insecurities overwhelm me quite often. They make me question every decision I’ve ever made. I’m not smart enough. I’m not good enough. I’m not pretty enough. Those alone would paralyze most people. I go a few steps further though, I am too fat. I am too bitchy, I am nothing. I am nobody.

I, however, don’t want to talk about WHY I feel this way…let’s just say that now that I’m an adult, I own how I feel. How can I make them go away? How can I become a better person? How can I become healthy of the mind, while I’m struggling to become healthy of the body? I’m afraid of everything. I’m even afraid of reaching my goals.

My goals are simple. I want to lose 4,522 pounds. LOL…honestly I still want to lose more weight. I, at one point in my life, weighed 393 pounds. On a five foot two frame. Now THAT is unhealthy. I watched a doctor write down on my chart that I was “grotesquely obese!” I was, no doubt about it. But DAMN! To see that written on your medical chart…to know that was only a clinical term…it broke my heart. But it motivated me to get healthy. To stop the denial and DO something about it.

My next goal is to get divorced. I am married to an alcoholic. It’s a disease. Bull crap. It’s a weakness and it’s a self inflicted problem. I put up with his abuse, physical for a time, now just emotional and mental and verbal. I didn’t like myself enough to say ENOUGH. Now, I feel guilty about saying enough. I feel guilty for changing HIS life. For not being “strong” enough to stay. I stayed 13 years and so far 1 month and 3 days. He quit drinking. Hurrah for him. I can’t stand him. The thought of laying next to him for the rest of my life, makes me hope for a very short life. So now I have to get out. I have to be strong enough to say, I can do better. I have to be strong enough to believe that too. Wish me luck.

My last goal is to like who I am. Is it possible? No. Not now, anyway. It is just a dream of mine. To be happy, is something from a whimsical fairy tale. To be content…to be…anything but what I am. I wish I could figure out why I hate myself so. But to do that would be too much. Let’s hope I can do these goals and then someday write about happy things and pleasure and love. That would be a nice goal…maybe I should add to my list…nah…let’s start small!