Via: Medical Billing And Coding

My Reappearance

I have disappeared. That's evident to anyone who has checked the date on my most recent blog post, a whiny, self-indulgent complaint fest dedicated to Valentine's induced self-pity. But I've disappeared in more ways than that. I've dropped out of my life, fallen away from my goals and my interests and stepped outside of myself and into a shadowy apathy.

I have begun to understand why. I have allowed anguish to wash over me and to pull me out of the world. I have struggled with a desperation and longing that made anything else in my life seem banal. I couldn't begin to remember why I had ever cared about weight loss, my education or anything outside of my all encompassing obsession with an imperfect idol. I am only guilty of wanting something I could never have and being unable to let go of that desire. I feel like a ghost today. I have become so different from the woman who went for what she wanted and believed in her power to better her circumstances. She has dissolved in the useless tears she has shed.

Now that those tears have dried, I believe that they have left behind some trace of her that I can gradually gather and reform. I'm so tired of crying. I'm not that person or at least I never used to be. I'm ashamed that I seem to have been waiting to be fixed with the magical belief that if my one supreme prayer should be answered, everything else would fall into place. Nonsense.

I needed a wake up call. And I got it from an unexpected source...my bank. Or at least my former bank. I recently changed banks. I switched my direct deposit but never closed the old account. Apparently, my Paypal was still attached and Weight Watchers was still deducting because they didn't get the memo that I was too full of self pity to follow the program. Naturally, I received a notification when the charge bounced back and suddenly remembered who I used to be and who I still hope to become. It's true that there are things in my life that will never be the way I want them to be, people who will just never be there and things I can't have. There isn't much of which I am actually in control. However, I am in control of the decisions that I make about my body. I am ready to reclaim that power.

Thank you to everyone who has checked in with me. It means a lot that people have cared even when I found it hard to myself. You people rock my socks. Truly.

Single's Awareness Day

It's finally happened. I've finally succumbed to the stereotype. I'm 28; I'm single; I'm embittered. I'm not proud of this reality but I'm starting to feel a little like the Grinch looking down from Mount Krumpit observing and helping my friends make their Valentine's plans but not having any of my own.

It grates against my feminist sensibilities to define my value in terms of my ability to find a man to love me. Similarly, I do not feel like I should feel diminished by my inability to do so. However, I get just a little touchy about it this time of year. It doesn't help that, last week, my professor in my Couple's Therapy course asked all of the people who were part of a couple to identify themselves. An island in a sea of raised hands, it was hard not to feel a little like a pariah and I went to bed wondering, "why not me?"

To make matters worse, this was the first year that I legitimately believed that I might not be alone on V-day! I've been doing the online dating thing and have met some real pervs, but I actually founds someone I really liked. He was kind, dedicated to his teaching career and super smart. We sent long, honest and deeply felt emails to each other every other day for three weeks. As silly as it sounds, I was starting to fall for the man that emerged from those communications. To my surprise, he seemed to reciprocate my feelings. I was delighted to meet him and had an amazing time on our date. I guess he didn't have a good time, though. I was crushed and consequently, I am feeling crabby about romance.

So how do I tie my whining into a blog post? I am trying my hardest not to eat my despair. It has always been a habit of mine to eat when things look grim but at a time when my self-esteem is at an all-time low, stuffing my face will only make me feel more disgusted with life. It's OK to feel like shit when life isn't going the way I planned but it's foolish to make things worse but indulging in an unhealthy pattern. Obviously, I can't choose what happens to me, but I can chose how I react to it.

So how will I react? I have no plans tonight. The rest of the world does. So I am going to the gym. I am making myself a healthy dinner and I am renting a movie. I will do my very best to have a Happy SAD!