A lot of women do it....

So what's the problem? I'm really p'oed right now - and I can't quite put my finger on it. My hubby's got a contract that he starts on Monday the 8th of June (thank GOD), my boys are healthy, my hubby and I are healthy... it's summer. So WTF? Please excuse my expletives, I'd like to keep this a safe place to post, to chat - if it ever gets that big - and a good place for mom's that are trying to find themselves after their children have returned to school. I guess that's what my biggest gripe is right now - me. I let myself get fat folks. There's no and, ifs, or buts about it - I let myself get fat. My mother was fat, my youngest son is fat - he's only 4 so I'm starting now by teaching them both how to take care of themselves, like my mother never did. She used to fry up shrimp, pork chops, and steaks at 2 o'clock in the morning. That was normal to me. That was what I grew up to know as normal. And that is so far off of the freaking mark, it's disgusting.

Now, yes, my beginnings weren't optimum, they could've been better no doubt. However, I was much loved. And I miss that love - and that's where the food came in - to fill that hole that my mother left when she died. My mom was adopted and abused from the age of 6 years old. She was born in Chicago to immigrants, my grandpa was from Hamburg, Germany, and my grandmother was from County Cork, Ireland. Their names were Theodore Kraack and Margaret Morton; there was 28 years difference in their ages. Grandpa died July 4, 1949 on Mozart Street in Chicago, IL at the age of 69. Prior to immigrating to America he worked for Ringling Brothers Barnum & Bailey Circus before the Barnum & Bailey Circus was added on. He was an acrobat. Much less is known of my grandmother, except that she was eccentric and had a break down after my grandfather died, she left all of the children, 5 in all, to fend for themselves and disappeared for a time. My mom never saw her mother past the age of 6, and that left a deep scar with her, which led to her life of yo-yo dieting and she eventually killed herself with obesity.

I know this sounds harsh, but here's the thing: I am still hurting. I am still yearning for my mom. As time progressed and I grew into a woman, I never left home; I took care of my mother until the age of 28, when I transferred to a job in Colorado Springs, CO. I then moved back home because a minimum wage job really sucks if you know no one in the town that you're living in - especially such a transient town as Colorado Springs - quite a lot of military coming and going, deployment and relocating. It was difficult making friends that lasted. So, I came home. And found my mom much worse off, she'd really let herself go, and something inside me knew it wasn't long that she'd be gone. She did get to see Mike and I married, she met Denny, her first grandchild, but she died 2 weeks after her 57th birthday, and her 41st wedding anniversary. For 13 years I'd become the mother, and that day I lost my mother, my best friend, my child, and the only person on this planet that actually knew me, really knew me. And as time progressed I became more and more angry, more resentful. I didn't experience college like a lot of people get to do; I was taking care of my mom. I didn't experience normal dating, because I was taking care of my mom. I didn't experience a lot "firsts" because I was taking care of my mom. Ever see the movie "The Haunting" with Liam Neeson, Catherine Zeta-Jones, and Lili Taylor? Do you remember seeing the scenes with Eleanor, played by Lili, where she would hear her mother banging on the wall, even when her mother was dead? They did a good job of recreating what tricks your mind can play on you. You really do not know who you are. Where you begin and the other person ends. And you feel like a 5th wheel your entire life. Imagine that. Just close your eyes and imagine not knowing how to interact with others because you never really had the chance to figure out who you were.

So there's the back story. It's not a pity party, believe you me, it is not an invite to my waaaa party! I am furious, absolutely freaking furious that I have turned into my mother. It ends. It ends now, and it will not continue. If I have to order a freaking exorcism, I will! I am frankly quite sick and tired of lugging this fat ass around. Do you know how much work this takes to maintain?!! Here's what I have got to do, and it's going to be a bi*%$ of a time: I quit smoking 2 and half years ago, I started when I was 15, so I smoked for 23 odd years. I had to quit because my youngest son cannot be around smoke - my husband still smokes around him and it infuriates me - but we'll conquer that in another therapy session we're calling a blog. When I craved a cigarette, and I cannot tell you how painful a cigarette craving is, unless you've also quit smoking. You literally feel like an animal. You feel your heart beat speed up, you break out with a sweat on your upper lip, and your breath comes in shallow inhalations and exhalations. Whatever these companies put into cigarettes, it is not just plain old fashioned nicotine - you are tweaking, and you are tweaking badly for a cigarette. I survived that. I survived giving up something I loved - because as disgusting a habit it is now to me, it was something I adored and looked forward to doing every single day. I was never a heavy smoker, my average was anywhere from 12 to 15 cigarettes a day, I cut back to 5 to 10 cigarettes when I was pregnant with my boys. Yes, I know - absolutely awful, there's nothing I can do about it now. So no comments from the peanut gallery!

I will approach food in exactly the same fashion. I tried explaining this at an end of year birthday party last Friday, but, alas, as I said, I often feel the 5th wheel; I never got to explain my grand plan, even though I was asked what it was. When I crave food, and in particular after 7 pm, I will breathe through the pain of the craving. If you can make it for 5 minutes, you are golden! Absolutely golden! Did you know that? It only takes 5 freaking minutes to breathe through a craving! I can and will survive my weight gain as well.

Some of the weight gain has been small marital problems, nothing really worth sharing, it's more personal in nature anyway - growing pains, unemployment, and the fear of losing everything you've worked for will stress anyone out. I just turn to food at every stinking opportunity.

OK. I feel better. Must have wanted to get that off of my shoulders and off of my chest. I feel the anger dissipating, and that's a very good feeling. I really do not have anyone that I speak with. My husband tries, but he, like my father, often start giving advice, start lecturing me. And that's just tiresome. I already know what I want and need to do; now I need someone to share this information with. I wish I had a good friend, I have a few nice women that I know, but the history is not there, you know? That long standing girl friend history that you just know this person gets you, understands you before you even finish your sentence. Maybe some day, perhaps a daughter-in-law, the daughter I never had. However, I want to be careful, because I never want to rely on someone, or make that person feel obligated. That starts a chain reaction of resentment and regret. A healthy, happy, honest and well rounded friendship. And guess what, I just got it! Don't you love epiphanies? I need to be my own best friend before I can be a really wonderful friend to another. Well DUH! SHEESH! I'm glad I started this blog! :)

My hubby starts his new contract in Orlando, FL tomorrow morning. He couldn't find work here in Chicago. Chicago's pretty messed up right now, the financial stability is simply not there. It will take years to get it cleaned up, and mainly because Chicago's so darned corrupt from the inside out, that the inside will not turn on their counterparts, because their counterparts have dirt on them, and vice versa. I wouldn't at all mind leaving the state of Illinois, but you have to ask yourself, where is there a large city that is not corrupt? And the answer's nowhere.

Alas, another discussion to pick up on another day... because, blessedly, I am exhausted now. And I cannot tell you how good that feels to write, feel, and know without a doubt; I am tired.

Thank you for "listening." :)

God Bless, Angie