Love and Lost

Did anybody see "Lost" this week? I'm a huge fan, but I won't waste time with all that I could say about it. There are hundreds of websites that do that already. I'm only bringing it up because a line from one of the characters has been stuck in my brain for 3 days now. I keep picking it apart in my head in that obsessive way that I over-think things. The episode was focused on destiny and the concept of soul mates. One character said something close to, "When I saw her, I felt like I had already loved her for years."

Really? Is this possible? Do soul mates really exist? I once believed in this kind of epic romantic love. Now I have lost faith. Because that's really what this concept requires, faith. But more on that in a minute.

Angus and I were kids when we fell in love. It was that exciting, urgent thing that seems like the whole universe has changed. It lasted for a few years, and we got married while still in that weird/crazy world of first love. Then it wore off. We started to see each other for who we were really going to be as adults. We had a baby, and it was becoming clear that we had different directions in mind. Another baby only widened the divide. I still loved Angus. I had seen him as a young man who was optimistic and full of life. I wanted him to be that guy again. But even though I loved him, I did not like the new Angus, who was miserable and avoiding life. It's hard to be in love with someone that you don't like.

I was 34 when I really fell in love for the first time as an adult. It was exactly like they talked about in "Lost." On our very first date, I felt immediately familiar with him, like we had been friends who could tease each other for a long time. At the end of dinner, he took a phone call and was away from the table for about 20 minutes. I was irritated but not angry. The waitress brought his credit card and the receipt back to sign and left it at the table. But not before she sat down with me and kept me company for a bit talking about how rude men could be. I looked at his signature on the card, added a HUGE tip to the receipt, and signed it. I had never done anything that bold with a stranger before. It was uncharacteristic, but I just felt like it would be ok. I meant it in a "ha ha, teach you to leave me waiting" kind of way. I was sure that he would get it and be good natured about it. He didn't say a word that night, but later confirmed that he was attracted to my spunk.

Within a couple of dates, I felt like I had known this man for years. The one problem? I was only visiting Texas for the summer and would be returning to Oregon. So I kept my feelings to myself as much as possible and tried to be realistic. I kept telling myself I would forget him when I got home. Long, long story short: I didn't. Through a series of wonderful, painful, and sometimes hilarious events, I became convinced that he was my soul mate. I was meant to be with this man. Who else could be this perfect for me?

Unfortunately, Robert is not convinced.

What happens when you find love at first sight with a guy who doesn't want it? I'll tell you what has happened for me... I have stopped believing in romantic love. Now to be fair, Robert is not the only reason I have lost faith. There have been a string of other men that I have dated since the divorce. And there's one weird thing that keeps happening: the men who are most kind and affectionate and long-term are the men who are not in love with me, I'm not in love with them, and due to life circumstances, there's no possibility of romance. We're only "dating," and I use that term loosely, because we fulfill that human need for physical affection.

Which brings me to the reason I wanted to write this post... arranged marriages. But I'm out of time today. I will finish this diatribe tomorrow. :)

Holding Steady

My application for the PhD program at the U of O was rejected. This has turned out to be a huge relief. Although I am sad that I’m not going to be playing at that level, I was terrified by the amount of work it would require. I’m not convinced that I’m talented enough to pull that off.

This news started a long discussion with the other adults in my world about what the hell I should do next. I broached the subject of moving out of Oregon with the kids. Surprisingly, Angus did not freak out. I think he’s starting to accept the reality of the job bind that I’m in. We agreed that it would not happen for the 2010-2011 school year, but that I would look outside of the state for the 2011-2012 year.

My parents have generously asked the kids and me to stay one more school year. I think that they are doing it for themselves as much as for me. We’ve brought life back into the big house. Plus I do laundry and put dinner on the table every night at 6:00.

Meanwhile, my research job has starting rolling. I’m really enjoying it and it looks like it’s going to provide a steady part-time income for me. Once I get rid of my car payment and insurance, that should allow me to continue paying for CrossFit and have a little bit of fun money as well. I’m also reassured that there won’t be a gaping hole in my resume. Working in educational research should only make my job history stronger. Plus, I feel like I'm in the big time working on a University campus. That's helping my ego get over the PhD thing.

So for now, I’m not going anywhere. I’m content to be working part-time, devoting energy to my health, and focusing on the kids more.

Sweatpants Everyday?

Ok, this is it. I can see rock bottom from here. My unemployment insurance has run out and I can no longer afford to keep my baby, the best car that I've ever had, Silvia the Grand Prix. She is so cool and powerful and I've maintained her so well... But alas, I fear that practical must trump cool. My mom has offered to give me her (shudder) minivan. I feel nauseous thinking about it. It appears that at the ripe age of 36, I must finally lay to rest my last grip on being hip and having any personality. What is next for me but to throw in the towel completely and start wearing sweatpants everyday...

We Are Family

I grew up in a big extended family. Lots of people around all the time. Aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, and more cousins at every gathering, especially the holidays. When I was 13, my parents moved us to Oregon. About 2 years later my sister started starving herself, so my parents disappeared. I went from always being in a crowd to basically being alone all the time. Of course I dreamed of recreating that wonderful chaos of a big family for myself someday. I was sure that I would marry somebody fun, have at least 4 kids, and we'd be a big happy family, doing all kinds of fun things together. In my rush to fulfill this fantasy, I didn't pay very close attention to minor details, like make sure you pick a husband who wants what you want.

When the divorce happened, which really was a good thing since we didn't want the same things, I was sure that was the end of my dreams of a happy family. There would be no family vacations, no big Christmas dinners, and certainly no more children. Add to that crushing reality check all the other stresses of divorce and I was deep in depression for a few years. I've only recently really been finding my way out.

As the fog is clearing and I've had some space to look around, I've discovered a couple of things. And maybe the biggest surprise of all? I do have a family. Sure, it looks like there are not going to be any more babies. And it also looks like I'm doomed to be single for quite some time, but in the meanwhile I am having the big family that I always wanted. It just isn't exactly like I fantasized.

First of all, I've gotta say how cool my kids are. Now that I'm not exhausted from working and trying to keep things together as a single mom, I really have time to hang out with them and appreciate them. They're funny and smart and ridiculously well-behaved. Everywhere we go people tell me how awesome they are. And I see it too. I really like them. I know this should be "duh" but it hasn't always been for me.

Secondly, living with my mom and dad has provided that house full of energy. We have family nights with a ton of people all the time now. We invited friends over for Christmas dinner. We invited friends over to watch the Civil War game. Just last night my sister came by and all 6 of us watched "The Amazing Race" together. It was loud and boisterous. Go cowboys!

Third, I'm not afraid to do stuff with Griffin and Molly on my own any more. I used to avoid going anywhere with them for fear of how much work it would be. This trip to California proved those fears to be absurd. They are totally easy going and we had a fantastic time. It was no more work than driving down there alone. But having them along to do stuff with is way better.

Yes, I still have a reoccurring dream about that fantasy husband. He's always wearing white linen pants and cradling sleeping baby number 3 (4?) against his bare pecs. He looks strangely like a young Jason Patrick with that curly black hair... ;) But I'm not holding my breath waiting for him to arrive. I've got a great family right now. I just need to open my eyes and appreciate them.

I CrossFit

A couple of weeks ago I dragged myself to CrossFit in an angry mood. I had been going for 2 months and I just wasn't losing weight fast enough. Kelsi, one of the coaches, cornered me and asked about my attitude problem. I started crying about being fat and not fit enough. She reminded me that in 8 short weeks I had made some great progress. "I know, I know!" I sobbed. "But I'm still so fat! I can't do things that the other girls can do!" She started laughing at me, in a kind way, and suggested that maybe I needed to be a bit more patient. Then she gave me the standard litany of weight-loss truths: you're gaining muscle at the same time, so you won't see big drops on the scale, losing weight in a safe and sustainable manner means only 1-2 lbs. a week, and I could achieve more rapid weight loss if I was willing to eat an extreme diet. Yeah, yeah. I know all those things. I'm doing it the right way, but it's the slow way. If I'm working this hard, I want some big results. Anyway, I wiped my face and went in for the WOD (workout of the day).

Unfortunately it was a series of heavy lifts. I am super competitive with the lifts. I don't try to keep up with anyone when we run, but if it's dead lifts, watch out. Well Cheryl was in my group. Cheryl is my height, half my weight, and it's all muscle. I did my best to keep up with her and in the process truly hurt myself. I wasn't able to workout for the rest of the week. Brilliant.

Well, that was 2 weeks ago. In the interim, I've been going regularly, doing the WODs, and trying to have a good attitude. Of course, I only lost 2 lbs. in those 2 weeks, and that's not good enough for me. Then yesterday, a miracle occurred. "Karen" came up in the rotation. Karen is 150 wall balls for time. Brutal, but a workout that I had done before. It was the first opportunity to actually measure myself against an earlier version of myself. I was ecstatic.

10 weeks ago, my very first workout on my very first day with CrossFit, I did Karen. I think I wrote about it here. It took me 19 minutes and I was blubbering through it. I was so angry and sad that I had let my body get so out of shape. Yesterday, I did Karen again. My time was 10 minutes! In 10 weeks I had shaved off 47%! Holy shit! That's unbelievable! Suddenly, being fat doesn't matter. I can do 150 wall balls in 10 minutes. My skinny-ass sister could not do that.

I am strong. I am getting stronger. I will reach my appearance goals eventually, but they are not so important to me today. I am getting fit. I am changing my body. I don't need to be patient for results, I just need to change what I am measuring. Monday, I ran a 5k. The last one was in January. I improved my time by 2 minutes. That's real progress that I can see and feel.

BINGO!

I'm gonna start with this story because it's lighthearted. I used to play bingo sorta regularly... maybe 3-4 times a year? Ok, I wasn't one of the diehard, blue-haired ladies who are there every Friday night, but I knew what I was doing. I keep daubers in my glove box. I think that makes me a bingo player. I typically go alone because I don't know anybody else who enjoys it. I have a whole routine: the number of cards that I play, what food I'm going to order at which intermission, which special games I'll splurge on. It's like an entertainment ritual.

A couple of weeks ago I was bored on a Saturday night and decided to go drop $40 on a night of bingo. First of all, I didn't order my pre-game appetizer of goopy nachos and Pepsi. This time I just brought my bottle of water. Everything else was typical though... alone, 18 cards, and some specials. The first set had me feeling a little weird. I chalked it up to being out of practice cause it's been a while. At the first intermission, I skipped my typical meal of crispy, deep-friend corn dog, fries, and another Pepsi. (I'm going to leave that typo because I think it was a Freudian slip.) I stuck with the water. During the second part I found my mind wandering all over the place. I couldn't focus and I was having a hard time keeping up with my cards. I was bored! In the second intermission, I went without the usual hot fudge sundae. And it began to dawn on me that something was definitely wrong. I was not having fun.

Here are my conclusions... First of all, I actually think the lack of sugar, coupled with it being late at night, slowed down my brain. I think the carbs usually give me that jittery energy that lets me play 18 cards at once. So I was stressed that I couldn't keep up. Secondly, I'm not sure it's the bingo that I enjoyed in the first place. I think it was just an excuse to eat what I call "carnival food." And I don't mean that in a nasty way. Carnival food is my particular kryptonite. Real deep-fried foods like corn dogs, french fries, funnel cake, elephant ears, on and on, washed down by the sweet nectar of Pepsi (which I was drinking before water) is my idea of manna from Heaven. I seriously will go to any event where there will be fried-food vendors: home shows, auto shows, the county fair, the flea market, any sporting event, and, apparently, bingo.

This is probably going to get a big "duh" from all of you, but this night of bingo was the moment I realized that food is fun! And I don't mean enjoyable. It's a form of entertainment for me. Yes, food brings pleasure such as satisfaction, comfort, indulgence, memories, and more. But I mean food as literal entertainment: a thing that diverts or amuses or stimulates. And without the food, sitting there, stamping a sheet of numbers over and over, all alone, was really depressing.

Life Is Not A Sprint

Alright, I'm ready to get back to this project. Lots of things have happened in the past month. I guess I was feeling stagnant before because I was examining each individual day. When you step back for a few weeks and look at the big picture, there is momentum. I have a long list of blog posts that I want to write in the next week or so. Here's the list as it stands right now:

First, I did go to Texas for 10 days to work on my friendship with Robert. I had a weirdly self-revelatory experience playing bingo recently. Crossfit is going well even though I had a meltdown last week and accidently splattered Kelsi with a crying fit. My grad school application was rejected, which lead to a series of "what-do-I-want-to-be-when-I-grow-up" internal conversations. I'm reading a new book that has me questioning all of the food politics that I thought I clearly understood. I got another tattoo. I've lost 3.5 more pounds since I last posted (Texas kinda slowed my progress for February).

So there's lots to talk about. I just need to get down to it...

I will tell you right now that I'm good, I'm happy, and I'm healthier every day. This is a slow journey that is pushing me to new levels of patience and acceptance of my own strengths and weaknesses. I know it's corny, and I'm the first one to roll my eyes, but I really do feel like I'm transforming into a better, more centered, stronger woman.