Fack.

Ever since my beloved Deanna died last month of a heart attack, I constantly think I am having a heart attack...seriously...if it can happen to her it surely can happen to me - esp b/c I am genetically predisposed and have a few risk factors...the fact of the matter is I deserve one. It is unfortunate that it took until my 40's to realize through the haze of my generalized/consistent depression that I  pretty much fucked myself. Every hour I spend on the treadmill these days I cannot help but see the simplicity of it all. I hate exercise...truly loathe it...but an hour of it is nothing. Yeah it wrecks my hair and yeah it makes me hot and sweaty...but if I had "gotten it" 20 yrs ago I wouldn't find myself in the state of obese life betrayal that I am in now. I can assure you 20 yrs ago had I had any real incentive or idea about what I should be doing to take care of myself it would not be so hard in my 40's It astounds me how this managed to escape me...I am not stupid...though I certainly feel so at the moment - especially wandering around a gym full of ppl who CLEARLY "got it" long before I did or were somehow programmed to just know it.

I am excessively happy that A. is programmed...like she had a choice really...between watching me waddle through life and me making a concentrated effort to ensure she "got it" early on (to avoid my current state) - she's got it...she does yoga, she runs, danced, sports, she lives life....it is surely my grandest accomplishment...raising a fearless go-getter from the comfort and safety of my couch/desk chair...it is like some sort of miracle really...

Back to my treadmill musings while sweat dribbles down my face and I watch fit people doing what I am doing with little to no effort as I die...watching that clock on the treadmill becomes my life for an hour....at 6:50 mins in - I am calculating the time left before the agony is complete...53:10...I am getting better at math as well as sweating my balls off. Even while hating every minute...every step that my foot is on fire and being crushed there is a voice in my head - ragging at me that if I had started this 20 yrs ago I would be a different person, likely a happier person, would have been a better mother and would not be limping around like a stereotypical fat lady with a fucked up foot. Oh hindsight you cruel mistress of regret...fuck you. All I can do now is go forward...I mean - I am not dead yet...I haven't had my leg amputated...I am not in a wheelchair...and I have no control over dropping dead of a heart attack at this point so...just keep going...

Like Deanna wasn't...I am not done yet...I still have some shit to do...stuff to see...things to see through...so...even though it is easier to crawl into bed and sleep and over-contemplate everything I will go get some sun today, go see some good people with positivity to offer and get out of my head b/c if one thing has become very clear to me...I cannot be trusted in my head.

Sleeping under a red flag...

I am the official IGNORER of RED FLAGS...ok wait...let me explain...I guess I do not ignore them – I am well aware of most of them all the time. In context of my personal health – or lack thereof – I just set them aside and carry on. Every bite of food I put in my mouth those bastard red flags are waving and screaming at me in my head....I just keep chewing...Ok I am an ignorer.

My eye appt yesterday was yet another red flag....my eyeball veins are high blood pressure veins not nice straight pretty regular veins so that pissed me off b/c I don’t want my eyes screaming at me too now but – it is what it is so this means it is time to get down to business and join the Y and get on a fucking treadmill and treadmill to nowhere...it will be better on my dying feet...and it is just 2 blocks up from my work so after work I can go there 3x a week I am thinking and treadmill to nowhere...I will eventually do more walking again once I lose a bit and my feet become accustomed to being crushed excessively on a regular basis...Having managed to lose 70 lbs in a good way in the past it is not an unattainable thing in my mind it just requires dedication and diligence and constant self awareness to squash my self-defeating tendencies...I am my own worst enemy – always have been. I am the harbinger (not quite the right word but I like it anyhow) of my own misery and defeat.

I will say last time I was on a fantastic roll (before my Achilles/foot exploded and ruined my life – so dramatic) and the catalyst had something to do with hot, awesome sex so...being catalyst-less this time will probably be a little less dramatic but a better way to get going so there isn’t that crash once the hot sex thing goes sideways (and you know it always does)...

It is really nice having my sister at my house...not just because she vacuums and does dishes and cooks sometimes either....there is a sense of comfort with her presence...I like it. I can keep an eye on her...and she is fun too...I like it...as per usual with job shit in Victoria it is a slow process so even having applied for 84783759837589379405 jobs it takes eons to hear back from places which is annoying! But she will get something...and until then I am quite happy having her and making sure she eats and is warm and safe.

Lisa L. @ work is someone I have liked since before we moved up to this new location....I recently discovered she is a Rick Springfield lunatic...so for the 1^st time in my life I have an adult to talk to about all things Springfield. I am still grossed out by recent revelations his book and such uncovered for me but I seem to be able to take myself back to my 11/12 year old brain – before internet, plastic surgery and gossip marred him for me...and just relive the musical obsession. Guy thinks it is disturbing and fucked up that ppl encourage young girls to fantasize and swoon over grown men when it is clearly socially unacceptable for a man that old to show any interest in girls that age. Fair statement...I get it...it is...no argument...it is all so contrived and it is like we girls are being played like fiddles so a bunch of assholes can make a shit ton of money for what...? Most of the time these performers don’t even possess any real talent...it is the ultimate con. But when I think back to being 10+...and recall how music was the ONE thing I relied upon for happiness – the ONE thing that distracted me from the crap that was my life at the time...is it any wonder my brain has the music of that era burned into it? That decade from 1980-1990 was an amazing musical wonderland for me....all the music I loved is etched into my soul...the good and bad haha

I guess from rereading that last paragraph it is not hard to see how I ended up as a 42 yr old IGNORER of RED FLAGS...I have been ignoring un-pleasantries my whole life...and using music to aid in that. Huh...