I am?

Sigh. So much has happened and changed in the last 16 months that I am not even sure I know where to start or if I should even bother starting. I have lost so much that is me that I don't know who I am anymore. And I don't know where to start to rebuild myself.
Tony, my spouse of 20 years, my support, friend and foe died 10/28/13. And along with him a lot of my identity. No longer am I allowed to call myself "wife". I used to fuss because everyone around the AC knew me as "Tony's wife". No name, ever. No separate existence. Just "Tony's wife". Used to make me so mad because dammit, I am a person. I am one-of-a-kind just like the rest of you fuckers. I am Angie. I am. I am. I am "Tony's wife". Damn. Ah, but they don't tell you after your spouse dies that you are no longer allowed to call yourself a wife. You become a widow. I even wrote about it. Now, I am not ashamed because I am a widow. I fulfilled my vows. Till death, bitches. I roll hardcore. But after about a year, I started figuring out, not everyone likes the word widow. It makes them uncomfortable. It makes them look away. Or even worse it makes them look at me with pity. I don't need their pity or your pity or anyone's pity. I do need some understanding, however. See, I haven't been this person before. I haven't been this widow. I have only been "Tony's wife" and I lost that title when he died. Now, when I fill out forms, I am not allowed to choose married. Most forms don't even have the choice widowed, oddly enough. Like it's not a word or a thing. Either you are married or not married or don't fucking exist in this damn world. I usually still choose Mrs. because dammit that is what I am. I am a Mrs. I am too old to be a Ms. and I don't have a ding-a-ling so I am no Mr. I gave up my Ms. at a very young age. I don't identify with a Ms. But even then I think people believe I am mistaken because I have to choose single on the rest of the paper so I end up being Ms. in the end. And I don't even want to talk about emergency contact information. People, the struggle is real. The first time I went to the Dr and had to change my emergency contact I cried. Now, I am usually numb and can save my tears until I am alone. Tony promised me when I got old and had to go the the home he wouldn't let them tuck my feet in or feed me foods I didn't like and make them understand I am a night owl and like to sleep late. I like a fan for noise and all the lights out. He promised me those things. But, well, that's just not how life worked out. He also promised me he wouldn't leave me but I am pretty sure he didn't have much control over leaving.

I had a vertical sleeve gastrectomy in the last part of June. I had decided it was time to do something about my weight. I had gotten so big that I couldn't really do anything. Walking killed me. Sitting killed me and it was time. So, I chose to remove my stomach. Well, I lost that identity too. I no longer can eat and eat and eat until I die. Well, most foods I can't eat and eat and eat. There are those few foods I can hoover up a good amount. But I lost my fat girl status I thought. But then maybe I didn't. I just traded it in. I am an oxymoron. I am a fat girl that can't eat. I am an anomaly. I'm still grossly over-weight and I can't freakin' eat. I snack and graze a lot because I make all the healthy choices. But eating, nope. On a good meal I can eat 1/4-3/4 a taco. Or about 3/4 a hamburger bun with soft meat on it. Hard, heavy meat about 1/2 a burger. Sometimes, I can eat a decent portion of food. I eat more like an average sized girl but I am still fat. I lost the ability to comfort eat. I am 127 lbs down. I lost the oslen twins. It's hard for me not to compare my journy to everyone elses. Today I read about one of the girls that had lost 200 lbs in 7 months. I want that kind of weight loss. 200 lbs and I would be close to my goal. Sigh.

And in Sept my hospital closed. 10 years of work and it closed. 10 years of laughter and tears, gone. Gone in 2.5 hours and I haven't recovered. A lot of my friends haven't either. I mean we have new jobs or other jobs but that feeling, that loss, well. We still struggle. We loved that stupid hospital. Our hospital that was, what we thought, too dumb to die.

I have a lot of good things in my life. In July, I started seeing someone and eventually it turned into tender feelings and from there love. So, now I am a girlfriend. Haven't been one of those in a long time, really, never, ever. It's a learning experience for sure. Tony took the lead when we dated. He had dated a lot prior to me and knew what he was doing. So, I just followed his lead. Now, well, Robbie and I just kind of fumble along and hope for the best.
I am a new employee with a nice new job but I haven't been new in a long time. It's hard to be new and not be new at the same time. When I was new at my hospital I was still young and eager. Now I am sad and have my own ways of doing things. My confidence is shaken and I am having growing pains. I don't know the inside jokes and who works well with who. Mostly, my new job has been a blessing. I needed a job and it's basically a place that I am used to working. It's small and I already know some of the staff and patients but it is still new. And I am trying hard to find myself.

So, now I struggle with who I am. Who is this Angie person. What does she like, dislike and want to do with her life? No clue. None. Do I like skulls and metal-ish type music? Am I really a gamer and a nerd or just a poser? I have no clue really. None. Am I still a nurse now that my hospital closed? Am I still a fat girl if I can't eat? Who am I?

Chuck it in the bucket

Well, life has been so weird right now that I would need a huge fuck it bucket to chuck all that is fuck-it worthy. It's not terrible awful like things have been in the past just annoying as shit awful and I just love to be annoyed.


I finally took a huge leap and decided to do something about my weight besides letting it slowly kill me. Now I am flipping out because well, slow suicide by fat was the only real plan I have ever had in life. Stuffing down my feelings with food has been my way of life since I was old enough to start saying I'm hungry and want more. My depression and my fat are best of friends. My weight keeps life at a short, fat, arm length. Not letting anyone or anything close enough to hurt me. Well, at least that is what I think happens. But in fact I still get very hurt and still don't understand humans or life or anything but hurt.


What will I do without fat to hide behind? I don't fucking know. I really don't know. I am really good at avoiding life and being overly passive so I will probably lose some weight, figure out how to cheat the system and cling to my old habits because change is so painful. Being fat is the only thing I know, my only coping mechanism. And there are times that I think it is my only choice.


I have such a huge support system of family and friends that really do love me and want me to be successful no matter what it is I choose to do. They want me to choose happiness and love and health. Even when it is not what I want to choose. If I had my choice I would stay in bed with the covers up over my head to keep out the monsters and just let what happens, happen. 


But I don't. You know people always say "don't give a shit what others think or what they say" or some crap like that. It's true, I am not going to argue it's validity but if it wasn't for people and their thinking and their feelings I wouldn't go on. I wouldn't be. I don't want to put anymore hurt out there in the world than there already is. I might not feel worthy of love or life but I don't want to purposely hurt those that love me.


And it's time like this that I miss Tony so damned much. He loved me, fat, crazy, sad and mean. He loved me in spite of me. It might not have been the healthiest marriage or love but it was always there. I took advantage of it. I ignored it. I didn't let it blossom because of the hurt or maybe it was the hurt that wouldn't let the love blossom. What kills me the most is we were working on things and the last month I had with him was one of the happiest I had in a long time. He seemed more at peace and I was more in tune to his needs. Even when he was in the hospital and I couldn't make any noise or turn on the light because he felt so bad and I was annoyed for a second it would go away and I would touch him, rub his legs or his back or just lay my hand on him. He loved gentle touches like that and I was stingy with them because of the hurt. Maybe the touches would have healed some of the hurt? I don't fucking know. All I know is now, right now at this second, I would stuff my fat ass on his lap and wrap my arms around his body and kiss his fuzzy head and I would never, ever let go.

I'm so sick...

Ok, so maybe I am not so sick but seriously just blue. Not a deep, dark blue where I go on auto-pilot but a light blue that at least allows me to continue to function in some sort of way, even if I cry inappropriately. Logically, I know what is causing me to be blue. It's part grief mixed with a lot of self-pity right now. Not really a very attractive quality huh? But I can't help and really don't plan on changing it anytime soon so get over it. Attempting to lose weight has made me look at my relationship with food and various other things, things being people I suppose...anyway I digress. While I would love to say I have some sort of medical issue that has made me fat it just wouldn't be true, I made me fat and dammit it is a hard thing to swallow (pun intended). I put these layers of fat on me so I could keep people away. People can't hurt you if they can't get close, right?Right? RIGHT?! No, not right, not true. No matter how big I get people are still going to hurt me. Life hurts. Living life hurts even worse then just cruising through life on auto-pilot. Being in the moment and feelings things for what they are, that is the most painful. Being present kills me. It scares me so bad that my heart flutters and I feel the acid rise in my stomach. I like having my fingers in my ears and going la-la-la I can't hear you! At least I think I like it. Or maybe I used to like it. Well, at least it works for me. Yeah, that is it, it works great for me! It doesn't ever lead to guilt or sorrow. It never makes me regret not being involved or being present. It makes me happy! Hell yeah, thrilled.

Ya'll are believing this right? Because I have made such great, healthy choices in my life things are going swimmingly well for me. Sure. God love a liar. Who the hell am I kidding? Because it ain't me anymore, I am on to myself and my bullshit habits. And I am not so happy with them right now. But here comes the hard part. I know what doesn't work but I don't what does work. Hell, I don't even know where to start. I feel scared, confused and lost. I tried leaving bread-crumbs behind me on my journey but I keep going back and eating them. And you know what? They don't even taste good. And really, I never was lost because I was too afraid to get started.

Fat

I have started and stopped this blog several times now. I am not sure what it is exactly that bothers me about this subject that I can't seem to speak about it but it is time I say a few things that are on my mind. I am fat, now I know this isn't a big surprise to some of you, but it was a surprise to me. Not that I am fat, duh, but that I am FAT. *sigh* Here I where I want to say all this shit about size acceptance and how beauty is what is on the inside and other blah, blah, blah bullshit that may or may not be true but I won't, I can't anymore. No more excuses. I am fat and I have a problem with food. There I said it, it's out there. Judge me, it is what is it is. I don't just eat to fuel my body, I eat to dull the pain. I eat to fill this big empty hole that is inside of me. I eat because I don't like myself, my life, my house, my whatever. I don't deal with my problems I just stuff them down with food. I cover my problems in syrup, chips, burgers, ice cream and then cry because I can no longer buy clothing from the store. I never change because I have food to keep me safe and happy. It is my comfort, it is my friend.

People want to lose weight for a multitude of reasons, some because they don't feel "good" fat or some because they aren't healthy. Me, I want to lose weight because my weight is seriously putting a damper on my life. I miss out on so much because I am heavy and I am tired. I can't do a lot of things because well, I just can't. Steps are my mortal enemy. I worry about sitting, is this chair going to hold my fat-ass or break and humiliate me? I am going to a play next week for my birthday and I worry about sitting in the seat because I know my fat will extend over onto the other persons side. I will be miserable all night worried that the person next to me will be freaking out about how big I am. I want to travel but unless I want to pay for two seats flying isn't really an option. I want to be free of this burden.

I feel that being fat has hurt my career, I know that people judge me and think me stupid because of my size. I hate that more than anything. I am fat, not stupid thanks. I am sure that I haven't gotten jobs because of my size and I worry about applying for jobs because I don't want to be turned down because of my size. Fat is a terrible burden sometimes.

What now? Well, I am working on it. I am struggling along with weight watchers. I have lost 22 lbs and probably gained 5 lbs back this week as poorly as I have eaten. But dammit I was so cross I was afraid I was going to get written up at work for my piss poor attitude and scared Tony was either going to leave me or kill me. I had to eat food, fattening food in large quantities. I feel off the wagon and I'll be damned it ran over me. But I am sorta back on the wagon. Attempting to be good. Please bear with me while I try and change.