madermouse's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Heavy Stones Good ol' George. She e-mailed me and said something like, "Are you still blogging? Whether you know it or not, a lot of people really cared about you and loved your writing". And she got me to thinking...about all sorts of things. Mostly about memory and what a tricky thing it is. Three hundred and fourty seven pounds. 347lbs. I sit here at this weight and remember what it was like < to be thinner>. But I don't really remember. Time has blurred the lines that were once crystal. And I don't take the time to read old journals anymore. They make me feel strange. They make me feel awkward, as if that person I knew isn't me and why was I pretending it was? And if it really was me all those pounds ago, then who am I now? Who have I become? And most importantly, why don't I feel ashamed? I should feel ashamed, and outraged and ready to do anything to be that person again. There is a part of me that feels like I should be sad to be faced with all the limitations that being heavy places on my existance. Yes, there is the not-fitting-into-booths-thing and the movie theatre seats thing and the awkward moments when friends ask me to do things and I know I can't. There are the 5X's and the stares and the downright rudeness of strangers and yes, I am embarrassed again sometimes. But see - all these good things are happening right now. Somewhere, between a nervous breakdown and a life-changing move across country, I've let myself dream again. It happened slowly. I've let myself imagine that I could be whatever I wanted to be, the way other people do. And so I dreamt I could be a chef and I was. Then I dreamt of having my own little business, where I could cook for people in their homes and be my own boss....and I did! http://www.blackradish.net And I'm scarily allowing myself these little moments of complete and true happiness. And even when I catch myself being happy and try to smother it with some reality-check, I put that little feeling in my pocket for another day. It's like a secret stone you find on the beach that's been washed smooth and revealed and it's yours, and it's from the earth, and for some reason you were meant to find it. My pockets are heavy with stones, and the weight of them remind me I'm alive. 11:58 p.m. - November 18, 2005 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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