Dreams and Confessions

Things have been weird lately. I don't know what's going on in my body or in my head but it is starting to mess with me. I am normally not one to complain, but in the words of Michael Stipe "somethin's goin' on here that's not quite right".

I have been having crazy, strange dreams lately. But stranger than that is the fact that I actually remember them when I wake up. I have rarely ever been able to do that. Two nights ago I dreamed about some old friends of ours who we haven't seen in years. Which is criminal since we've been moved back to the south for a year now and are now less than an hour away from their house. It was a wonderful dream in which the husband (a talented singer/songwriter) was playing guitar and singing and we were all at some kind of outdoor party, sitting in the grass, their beautiful daughters were there and my sweet friend Kimberly was being her sweet self. It made me miss them so much that when I woke up I had to send her a message about it and to say how much I missed her.

Last night I had a really strange dream about being interviewed by a panel of doctors. They were interviewing me to go into a detox program. But it wasn't just a detox program, it was a food detox program. Yep, you heard me. I sat there in a windowed office answering truthfully about the way I ate, how much I ate, when I exercised or if at all, on and on and on. Finally they decided that I was a tragic enough case and yes, I could pay for the pleasure of being detoxed and cured of my food addiction. Then one of the doctors took me to the fitness center where I stood, Bambi-like in the midst of a bunch of neanderthal-like muscle heads.

Why on earth would I dream such a thing? Well, the answer is pretty simple. In 2010 I lost a huge (number remains undisclosed, but somewhere north of 40lbs. and south of 100) amount of weight. I went on a medically supervised eating program and lost it in a relatively quick amount of time. As of right now,  I have been off that eating plan for the longest period of time since last June. The reason is that I decided to take a break after my last 6 week, willpower challenging, friend amazing, eat next-to-nothing round of weight loss. After my initial 6 weeks of maintenance, I decided that I would eat normally through the holidays. Problem with this?

I DON'T EAT NORMALLY!!!!!!! LIKE, EVER!!!!!! 

Hel-loooo? That's why I had to lose weight in the first damn place. When it comes to food, I am not normal. I know there are both people who believe this and people who scoff at it, but I? have. a food addiction. I KNOW it. What I can't get a grip on is exactly how to deal with it. So, the minute I came off my diet, did maintenance for 6 weeks as instructed, what is the first thing I do? Well, it was the week of my birthday, back in October. I had been off sugar entirely for 12 weeks and I ate 1/2 of an entire pecan pie. Now y'all. That's not normal. And why did I eat 1/2 of a pecan pie? In one day? Because it was sitting there. Taunting me. I wasn't hungry. I was stressed, and it looked good. And made me feel better.  If that doesn't sound like an addict I don't know what does.

So I think to myself, "OK, that won't happen again. It's over." And I get right back to healthy food, lose that 5 pound gain and try to move on. I told my friends and husband that I would take a weight loss break and eat normal over the holidays. (they were slightly concerned about the speed of my loss and the small amounts I had been eating) And I did. If you call a break eating anything and everything in sight including all kinds of sugar, candy, cake or cookies as if it's my last day on earth. I need help, y'all seriously. Now, I have gained back 10 pounds of my loss. If you knew what I had eaten in the last 3 months you'd be shocked it wasn't more than that. So now, I have to face not only getting off the rest of my weight, but 10 pounds I already lost. Suck!

Add to this the fact that I had gotten into a great routine of visiting the gym on a daily basis for yoga, water aerobics, or treadmill at least 5 days/week. Now? It has been hmm....2 months as well since I have darkened the door. I know if I could give up sugar and get back to the gym, I wouldn't even have to diet. How could I have that much willpower for 12 weeks to eat next to nothing, pack my lunch, watch other people eat, and now I can't even do those 2 things? I try not to be hard on myself, y'all. I try to practice moderation, but it just isn't as easy as all that. Not for me.

Perspective

My NaNo Writing Spot

This month I am working on a novel. No, I don't have a publisher, agent, or any clue yet what the H-E-doublehockeysticks I am doing. I am just writing. And trying to finish. Later I will worry about rewriting, editing, paring down, plot lines, continuity, and the like. I don't KNOW how to be a writer. I don't have the first clue. I just sit and write what I dream up in my head. I don't have outlines, I don't have structure, like I said I don't know what I am doing. Just recording the thoughts that come into my head.

All my life, at least since I can remember, I have wanted to write books. I took the practical route in college and rather than getting the English degree that I had always wanted I studied business instead. Which provided well for me during the first 20 years of my career, but I never knew a day of work that was pleasurable. I loved people that I worked with but never enjoyed going to work much.  Only in my late 30's when I indulged my passion for the arts, returning to school to study graphic design, did I begin to recognize what truly being happy, fulfilled and passionate about your profession could be like. I had a design job and I actually looked forward to going to work every day for the first time in my life. I loved what I was doing. Only a year later would I allow myself to say "I am a graphic designer" because I felt like an impostor. 

This year I have realized something about myself. I am a writer. I have always been a writer, and I always will be a writer. Whether I ever have anything published, whether my novel someday becomes a best seller or languishes in the $3.99 bin at Big Lots, at heart I am a writer and I always have been. I don't need classes or a degree to make me that. All my life, I have written. From elementary school stories about pigs and a rooster who are BFF's to a horrendous 8th grade story about a blonde girl, a candy apple red camaro and a lifeguard that my teacher embarrassed the heck out of me with by reading aloud in front of the class. From bad teen angst poetry to lyrical research papers on photographers, designers, and pieces of art.

I remember in high school we had an English class one year in which we had to write an original short story every week. I always knew exactly what to write every single week. My best friend was always freaking out and saying she had no idea what to write about and I would help her brainstorm. Later in our lives, imagine my surprise when she became a photojournalist, and eventually received her own weekly column in our hometown's paper in which she had to come up with something to write every week. See, when I was younger, I wanted to have a weekly column in the paper. Like Dave Barry. A column where I could write about life, co-workers, my thoughts and whatnot with introspection and humor and a common touch to which people would relate. I wanted to be Dave Barry. A nationally syndicated writer with a weekly humor page.

And this, my friends, is the irony of the internet. Here I sit today, having just been struck by the lightning bolt of realization that this blog? Is. My. Column. This is the chance I give myself, and that is why I have been doing this all these months. In the world that is now ours I, and millions like me, don't have to wait for someone to notice, don't have to beg for editor approval, don't have to sit around and wish for creative outlet. This is my weekly column. (Of course I also don't get paid, but...)

I do have the desire to learn more, how to be skilled in the fine art of story crafting, dialogue and exposition. I will soon take classes to help me fine tune my writing, and I do still dream of being published some day. But I just want to mention here that back in May I posted a that I had made a list of things to accomplish this year, and last week one of them came true. I wrote a freelance piece that was published in the local paper and I have another to write this week. Do NOT discount the power of writing down your goals. Even when they seem to be out of reach. They are out there, for the taking.