Diary of a Starving Mom: Day 2

Lots of anger today. Exhaustion, and anger. Not even that hungry--just filled with rage. Diet Alicia should be avoided at all costs.

Went to Target with the kids to buy a blender and shaker cup. After checkout, I stood off to the side of the checkout area for a bit, slowly putting on my coat and gloves. The customer behind me, an older gentleman, called out, "Is this yours?" and I turned and noticed I'd left my purse on the counter. Said loudly, "Thanks! I wouldn't have noticed til I got out to my car and realized I didn't have my keys! Ha! Ha!" 

The gentleman and his wife gave me pity laughs and smiles with worry in their eyes. I realized why when, after walking out of the doors, I realized my keys were in fact around my neck, and not in my purse. Diet Alicia has no brain power, it seems. It is all being funneled into just staying upright and not chopping random people in their necks.

Driving home, I yelled at any car that came near mine, just because. How dare they exist? Wtf. Glanced in my rearview mirror at myself and was shocked to see a perma-scowl on my face. Was I just driving around glaring at everyone? Is this my new face now? 

Merisa, my (*sponsor*--again, no one has told me if this is the correct term--come ON, people!), told me this was not actually normal for most people in their program. Apparently, my super fantastic diet of basically-straight sugar for the past few years is worse than most. Good I'm getting a handle on it now, I suppose! 

So, there's my update for today. I hope you weren't expecting anything better, folks. This is alls I got! 

Diary of a Starving Mom: Day 1

Thoughts may be scattered. So hungry.

Okay. Events in chronological order seems like the right way to go here: 

-Few Days Ago: Decided No-Shave November was getting way out of control and decided to tackle that mess. Found new stretch marks on my thighs and debated ending it all right there. (Did not end it all. Clearly.)

-Yesterday: got to Jiu Jitsu way too early and stopped into my fave shake place to chat. Was somehow reeled into a 3 day trial and found myself standing, barefoot (*shudder*), on a scale that told me I was half muscle and half fat. So, you know, winning. Was sent home with enough shakes to cover 2x a day for 3 days and some energy pills. They are not technically called energy pills, but I like to call a spade a spade--let's move on. 

-Today 8am: Armed with texts explaining what to eat and when, I tackled my first do-it-myself shake at 8am. I'm disappointed in my shake making skills for sure, but it was still delicious. Took away my hunger for a bit, so that was a win. 

Randomly texted my sponsor Merisa (is that what they're called? Feels like a sponsor) just because I like the attention. Merisa really should have caught on already, but if she hasn't, I'm going to be super dramatic ("extra," as the youngsters say) through this entire process. It's a good thing I'm hilarious. 

Started to get hungry again, as I've been on a 24/7 eat all you want diet the past 10 years, so made myself take a nap. Woke up mumbling "...frosted blueberry donuts, please" and was surprised that a Dunkin Donuts employee wasn't standing there to greet me.

-Today 12pm: I've been staring at the funyons every time I walk through the kitchen. Promised them I'd be back by snacktime. Checked the time and realized--it IS snacktime! HALLELUJAH! Had to recheck the snack checklist, and was devastated (not an overstatement, folks) to find out that my options were limited to things I don't have in my kitchen. Apparently, these folks aren't on the same page snack-wise as I am. Disappointing. 

Do you want to know what I just "snacked" on? After searching frantically for food that fit within the caloric parameters set before me, I had to finally settle on a CAN OF FRENCH STYLE GREEN BEANS. 

Is this a new low? I mean, how isn't it?! 

So now I have about 2 more hours until my next shake, and I'm starving. STARVING! And I'm daydreaming about ribs. Note: BBQ Ribs, not finally being able to see mine again someday. Although I suppose that's a potential perk? 

Pray for me, friends. 

I'll update in a couple days! Because, you know, as previously stated: I like attention. Duh. 

This amazing life of mine

This one is just for me, and most will find it boring to read this. However, I was struggling this morning, and realized that I am so focused on one small problem that I am missing the greatness of my life surrounding me. I made myself sit down and write out a list of things that I am truly, honestly grateful for, and am going to post it here so that I can come back and read it (and add to it) whenever I want/need to.

I am grateful for my friends:

Kristina <3

Gwen

Carla

Melinda

Tifanie

Karen

Sue

Kay

Jen

Leah

Carrie Rose

Rachel

As well as my online community of friends who like/support me

I am grateful for Levi. He is so awesome. He’s gorgeous, and has the best sense of humor, and is snarky and smart and SO loving. He is such a help at times, and he is a computer whiz.

I am grateful for Natalie. She is wonderful. She cracks me up daily, and has such a fiery spirit. She has the funniest sense of humor (Mah butt!!) and is the cuddliest girl I know.

I am grateful for John. He is such a hard worker, and goes after his dreams and visions with single minded focus. He is so incredibly supportive of me, whether it be in business, with family, or just in day to day life. He always takes my side. He is a great father, and very clearly loves his kids.

I am grateful for my families--both "adopted" and biological. My mom loves me unconditionally, and my grandparents are a great support system who cheer me on enthusiastically. Cindy is the best bonus mom a person could ever be blessed with, and Al is a pretty awesome bonus dad as well :). Jessica and Mackenzie may not be my blood sisters, but they are the sisters God blessed me with and I love them so much! I've got some pretty awesome brothers as well, both bonus and blood. I am so incredibly blessed. 

I am grateful for my business. I am able to do something that I absolutely love and am passionate about, and it is supporting our family. God has given me a great gift and I am so glad that I get to use it daily.

I am grateful for this home. It feels so secure. I have nice neighbors and live in a good spot where I feel protected. I am able to turn it into something I love.

I am grateful for Levi’s school. We are so lucky that Hamilton is our magnet school, and that he has a wonderful teacher this year. I am lucky to have made friends with some of the parents, and look forward to seeing them this year.

I am grateful for my church. It is what led me to my bible study/support group. They are incredible, and have helped me so much. I am a much better person thanks to them, and I look forward to getting to know them better through the years. I am excited about the change in pastors, and hope the new one will be as amazing as Sam.

That's all--for now. I'm sure I'll be back to add more.

*PS* If I missed you in the friends list, it wasn't intentional. It's early morning and I was mainly focused on the friends I see/speak to regularly.

Choices [Always a work in progress]

I am learning so much lately.

I like to have these set goals in mind for who I want to become, but I’m realizing—I won’t ever “BE” a certain way. I need to keep making choices, and it will never end.

This sounds so simple—so “duh!,” but I don’t think it’s something I’ve actually realized until now.

There are so many facets of life that fall under this concept. It’s true for those of us who have chemical imbalances and struggle with things like depression and anxiety. It is so hard to accept that we won’t one day be magically better, and that we may feel good for weeks, months, even possibly a year or more, but will inevitably fall back into those same bad feelings.

I hate that I can’t look to the future and have a set answer for how things will be. I like being reassured that one day, things will be better. I will have enough money. I will be in shape. I will be happy. I will be a good person. I will have good friends. I will have a wonderful family, and a nice home.

But life doesn’t work like that. So much is based on choices that we make constantly, and it will never end. We will have things thrown at us that are not by our own choice, but we will have to choose how to respond to them. It’s not fair, it sucks, but it is life.

And I am learning. I have been working to make myself a better person this past year. For the past ten years, I struggled with severe depression and anxiety, and allowed myself to be defined by it, adopting a victim mentality with the vague hope that someday, things would be better. But I had to start making tough choices. I had to stop allowing myself to be a victim. I had to do things completely out of my comfort zone to start getting better.

And I did get better! I was doing so well, and I thought—I’m making it! Just a bit more—just a few more changes, and I will be who I so desperately have wanted to become!

But then this past week happened. Things happened that were out of my control, and they hurt me. It was unfair. It was untrue. But it didn’t matter—it happened, and I have been forced to realize that I am not as set in the ‘new me’ as I’d thought. I felt crushed, and my anxiety washed back over me like it had never been gone. My old thought patterns returned so quickly that I questioned if I had changed at all. I wanted to fight back—to lash out. I wanted to protect myself. I had to grieve over the fact that this ‘new me’ I’d been working towards isn’t actually who I am, but who I am becoming, and I must keep making tough choices and keep moving towards being that person, and it will always be a work in progress.

I really dislike that. I want it to be simple to feel happy. I want to let things just easily roll off my shoulders. I don’t want to feel crushed for days over other people’s actions. I don’t want it to be so easy to slide back into depression. 

And I want others to hurt for making me hurt. I don’t want them to get away with being a horrible person. Why do they get to be this way? It’s unfair. It is bullshit.

But here I am—this is life. And I’m going to make those tough choices. And I know it won’t be a permanent thing, and I will need to make these choices again in the future. I guess it’s good that I’m realizing this now, as it is better to learn late than never. That old me will always be there, those old choices are always an option...but hopefully, I will keep making the better choices. And it’s kind of nice to know I’m not alone in this, as I have friends who I see are constantly working to make themselves better too. We will all experience set backs. We will get defeated occasionally. But we are not our defeats, and we can rest in the knowledge that we aren’t alone in pushing past the set backs to be our best selves.

I can do this <3 

My Mountain

"You have been assigned this mountain to show others it can be moved." [Dru H]

A close friend posted this quote this morning, and I stumbled across it while inhaling my morning coffee. Usually quotes don't tend to move me, but this one hit deep. I know the truth of this statement, and this fact is what makes me able to look at my past and some of the things that have hurt me the most and know that through it all, God was and is good. This story is long, but it is my testimony, and one of the biggest truths in my life that points me to the fact that God is real. 

I do want to mention that I know the arguments against what I just stated. I know the events in my past weren't good. However, I also know that I cannot use the pain in my life as a quantifier of the goodness of God. If you know God--if you know what the Bible teaches--then you know that God does not want OR cause the pain in our lives. He does allow it. But free will--the thing everyone claims they so desperately want--comes with consequences, and He will stand in the way of neither, but walk with us through both. 

I did not always see it that way, however. I have a hard time writing anything (publicly) about my past with my family, because I know that they can read what I write, and they can be hurt by it. I also don't want to tell too much of their story. I can only share what I feel is mine to share. 

My mother was my mountain growing up. I was obsessed with her; she was at the forefront of every thought, every action, every emotion. My earliest memories up to my early teenage years were wrapped in dense layers, and when you peeled them back, she was at the core of them all. 

She didn't choose me. 

She did choose other things. Other people. Other vices. 

And I watched it all, and wanted her to choose me so badly that I ignored her faults and blamed God for feeling abandoned, as well as my grandparents, who were physically abusive until kindergarten (when a cop threatened my grandmother against further abuse), and verbally abusive until I moved out. My grandmother, steeped in bitterness from her own horrible past, regularly swore at me and called me names. She ripped out my hair, smashed my head into walls, tried to shove me down two flights of stairs, and once tried to drown me, but was stopped by one of my aunts. My grandfather, who quoted bible verses constantly, would wrap his hands around my throat or hit me with his belt when I'd talk back. I thought my mother was my only chance at a savior, and I desperately waited for her to take me away from it all. 

I thought the only way to get noticed was to act out, both in school and at home. I was suspended and expelled from multiple schools, and my grandmother kept trying to find me new schools that might work better for me. I went to 6 different grade schools. The problem wasn't any of the schools: it was me. I sat in class and daydreamed about my mom; daydreams that ran from typical--her coming and rescuing me and we'd run away together--to more disturbing--she'd attempt to visit me, or take me away, but she'd be killed in front of me. I'd daydream about being adopted by famous or rich families, and then feel guilt that I was betraying my mom. 

Because of this, my emotions were all over the place constantly. I could stare at the teacher, but not hear a word that came out of their mouth because I was dying inside. I cried in class regularly, but kept it hidden. I overshared with classmates about my family's past and reveled in the attention, despite the fact that most of the responses came from shock, disgust and/or pity. One teacher told my entire 5th grade class that my home life could be a soap opera titled "As The Stomach Churns." 

In time, I started acting in ways that I believed tied me to my mother. She did poorly in school, so I stopped caring about grades. She only cared about her boyfriend(s), so I was obsessed with finding one for myself. (Luckily, I was a giant nerd, so my attempts were wildly unsuccessful until junior high!) 

 I remember crying myself to sleep every night, and, rubbing my own arm, I'd pretend an angel was sitting on my bed soothing me to sleep, telling me she would be my mother. Instead of helping me, this just made me feel more sorry for myself, and at the age of nine, I couldn't take it anymore and I attempted suicide for the first time. Terrified of the pain of cutting my wrists, I chose suffocation instead--it seemed extremely easy considering all of the warnings on plastic bags. 

It wasn't. 

I passed out and woke up an undetermined amount of time later, sweating profusely but still very much alive. Disappointed, I hid my suicide note underneath my mattress and determined I'd try some other time. It wasn't until a couple of years later that my grandmother found the suicide note, showed it to my caseworker, and I was placed in a children's hospital psych ward in Chicago for several weeks. I LOVED it there--I had a best friend, a personal chef, and a favorite nurse--a young african american man who jokingly called me "grandma" because I had so much grey hair, and would poke fun at me to distract me from the multiple shots I received daily. 

When I was discharged, I was finally given the option of choosing where I wanted to live: with my mom or with my aunt. My mom had come to visit me while in the hospital, and told me that she was moving far away--to New Hampshire with her new boyfriend. While I still desperately wanted to be with her, I knew--deep down--that I couldn't go with her. I was terrified of moving far from my family and everyone I knew, and I didn't like her boyfriend. I made one of the hardest choices of my life, and chose my aunt instead. My mother left, and didn't come back until I was in my late twenties. The pain of her abandonment was the catalyst that dissolved my obsession with her, as I finally realized that the loving, wonderful person I idolized as a child wasn't actually a reality. I've still not come to terms with our relationship, or the lack of a desire to have one on my behalf mixed with guilt that I should want one, but that's something I think I'll always be working through. 

Now that is a LOT of backstory--I know! But that was my mountain, and I thought I was on that mountain alone. 

Until college. I went to Word of Life Bible College in Florida, and part of the college experience there is working as a counselor during the summer camp. I loved it so much! I loved the kids, I loved doing the activities with them, and I loved Florida in general--it was gorgeous! But one week, we had a group of preteens, and there was one who just completely got under my skin. She was sullen, obnoxious, and rebelled constantly. She refused to participate in any of the activities, and would randomly disappear, making one of the counselors have to leave an activity to find her repeatedly. 

One of the times she disappeared, I was the only one who noticed, and I determined that I was going to find her and put her in her place. Storming off, I finally found her sleeping in her top bunk, and I shook her awake and, while she groggily stared at me, I launched into a tirade about how her actions weren't going to be accepted. Once finished, I demanded to know why she was acting out, and she told me. 

I can't even write about it now without getting shaky and teary eyed. 

She was a younger me: EXACTLY. Her mother had gone through the same exact thing my mother had, causing her mother to turn to the same vices as mine had, and she was left with her grandparents who were physically and verbally abusive. She had tried to commit suicide numerous times, but had been unsuccessful and had been hospitalized at one point. I can't emphasize this enough when I say that I'm telling the truth--her story was literally the same as mine, down to the smallest detail. I FELT GOD THERE in that moment, more than I ever had in my entire life. He was a palpable presence, and I shook as I told her about my past, which suddenly meant so much more to me. I told her that her mother's choices didn't have to dictate her life, and that her actions and her grandparents abuse was not approved by God; that He despised their choices and what had happened to her, and that He wanted something better for her. These things did not happen because of God, but because of free will--her mother and grandparents chose their own actions. I told her she could choose a different path, and God would be there with her every step of the way. AND SHE CHOSE IT! We prayed, she accepted God--!!--and she changed before my eyes. She was laughing, running around, and acting like a typical child--and it was incredible! 

We kept in contact for multiple years after, sending letters and keeping each other updated on our lives. We lost contact eventually, but she was on a clearly better path and I have hope that she is still on that path today. 

I can't think of a really great way to end this, or add anything that is more profound than that story itself. I'm not even sure why I don't share it more often, because it's one of the most amazing stories in my life and I feel so humbled and blessed when I think about the fact that God chose me in such an obvious way. It doesn't matter that there was so much pain leading up to it, or that it was only one person (so far). That is enough for me. I do forget sometimes, and I do mourn my past occasionally, but I am so glad that that pain was not the end of my story. 

That's all for now.

(Man, this unloading is cathartic!)

Better. [Friends] [Family] [Me]

Last year, I was thankful for my business doing better.

This year, I am so incredibly grateful because I'm doing better, myself!

I had such a hard time taking the necessary steps to leave behind toxic friendships, or friendships that were very one sided this past year (or two).

I struggled with thoughts of loneliness, and my anxiety grew to an all time high level.

But in losing those friends, I started focusing on the good friends I still had. I also made myself get out and join a ladies' bible study so I'd have consistent interaction with other adults.

And things started to change.

Instead of anxiety before our Monday morning meetings, I felt exhilarated and couldn't wait to sit and talk with the amazing women in my group. I went in vowing I'd not be the crier of the group, and found that, not only was that basically a standard practice for everyone involved, but it was encouraged, and apologizing for tears wasn't allowed.

My closest friend called regularly, occasionally just wanting to vent or cry, and I started to realize that, unlike what I had always worried, she wasn't annoyed with me or being my friend out of pity: she genuinely enjoyed my friendship and needed me as much as I needed her.

She is good for me, too, because she's inspired me to better myself in areas I've lacked that she's strong in. She is really an incredible friend, and I am so blessed to have her in my life.

I've grown closer with my youngest (foster) sister, who married and moved about 10 minutes away from me. Family is everything to me, and our continued conversations, plans and get togethers this past year have meant more than I could express through writing. She has always been such an encouragement to me with my business, and we're much nicer to each other now that we're adults . I loved being close with Jessica, and am so happy that we are becoming closer now, too.

Another friend that I really adore opened up to me about her similar anxiety and the medication she was on, and I talked my doctor into letting me try it (after a disastrous failed attempt at a different antidepressant). This medication started working immediately, and I learned that not only had I been dealing with anxiety, but an extreme level of depression. I can't imagine how long it would've taken me to find something that worked, and had almost talked myself out of trying. I am so grateful for her advice and friendship!

Now? Now I feel better than normal, because my normal has always been tied in with some form of anxiety. I feel normal sadness and anger, and then get over it quickly, instead of spiraling and ending up immobile on the couch, feeling like I can't breath. I can make a plan and work on it without having to take numerous breaks from loss of motivation, and I usually end up doing more than planned.

I'm not eating constantly, or obsessed with food anymore. I can fall asleep before 2am, too. Sometimes even as early as 9pm!

I don't cry over everything anymore, and I'm making changes to my home, my appearance, and everything I see daily so that it all embodies a look I find comfort in. I'm not worried about what other people think. I am comfortable and happy!

I still have normal anxiety, of course. This medication isn't a magical cure all. But I'm SO. MUCH. BETTER. And I'm so, so grateful!

I guess I should've started this saying that what I was really grateful for this year is my friends! Thank you for sticking through my down times and encouraging me to be a better person! I'm sure I've missed some people but those mentioned here have had the biggest impact. I appreciate all of you

Cutting out toxic relationships, making new mom friends, and the intricacies involved in both

I haven't written in a long time! Once Levi hit the magical age of three, his disposition underwent a radical change and, while he still has his moments like any child, he has blossomed into an extremely independent, smart, hilarious kid whose witty comebacks rival his parents' and whose artwork puts mine to shame. While his growing up so awesomely is...well, super awesome, it also took away that *spark* I used to fuel my writing.

Of course, there's still Natalie. MY GOSH. This girl is INSANE! But in a good way...mostly. One of the not-so-good ways reared its ugly head when we attempted eating out in public for the first time since the last disaster. Nope...she's still not ready for that. And yet, I don't feel that compulsion to write about her like I did with Levi... however, I largely believe the absence of post partum depression this time around is the real reason for that. I don't have the constant underlying pressure, frustration, and anger that needs an outlet. I'm so glad that's passed!

Overall, I feel like I've had writer's block the past few years. It appears I need to have some sort of underlying angst in order to feel that urge to write. Makes sense... I'm sure writing is therapeutic for me and has helped me in the past. Usually I keep it private, however. Maybe I just need attention? (Prob.)

So here I am. Which means I have some uncomfortable underlying feelings about something and need to get it out. But it's not about the kids anymore...(is that okay?) It's just about me, as a mom. So, still in the same ballpark, just a different game.

This year, my struggle is with friends. Close friendships, specifically. I'd been coasting along the past few years with a very select few close friends, maybe only two or three who I actually interacted with regularly, and it was enough for me, then. I felt very secure in my self-defined introverted world. Introverts were suddenly *a thing* a few years ago, and there were so many articles about our uniqueness and overall awesomeness splashed across social media that I suddenly didn't feel so alone. I simultaneously exulted in the feeling of overall comfort and the sweet, unexpected relief from anxiety that came from knowing that it was okay for me to be alone, and that I could, in fact, enjoy it. (Of course I have my little family--John, Levi and Natalie. But I've learned that being married and having kids doesn't change feeling lonely overall).

The side effects were amazing while they lasted. My social anxiety disappeared (or at least greatly diminished). I stopped worrying about the fact that I had no friends at church and sat alone every Sunday. I made a goal to meet one new person each Sunday and, if I failed, to not let it bother me. I didn't mind shopping alone anymore, but instead enjoyed not having to compromise any of my time for someone else's schedule. I didn't mind rotating through my two to three close friends occasionally, seeing them maybe once a month each but conversing with them daily on the phone. I felt like I had a nice network of support from my facebook friends and family, knowing everyone's family lives so completely thanks to photos and online updates.

There was only one hiccup. One small thing--but it turned out that it wasn't small--it was major. One of my close friendships was extremely toxic. I overlooked it because I was so at peace with the way my life was, and I knew the act of cutting this person out of my life would shake the foundation of everything, as she had been one of the most solid things in my life since my childhood, and she was family. It is extremely hard to take one of the pillars you've used as a stabilizer through most of your life and remove it because it has started to decay and crumble. It was like a form of denial, the past year or so, where I tried to convince myself that the good parts were good enough and the bad parts could keep being forgiven and forgotten. Eventually, I found I couldn't forget, and I couldn't forgive, and I forced myself to let go.

And now? Now it feels like my foundation has crumbled. I didn't realize I had each part of my life separated into these exact puzzle pieces that were keeping me secure, and that losing one would so drastically change the picture. At first, I tried to convince myself that I was proud of myself for doing what needed to be done, but I couldn't move past the feeling of devastation and regret. Finally, I allowed myself to cry and be upset about it--to admit that it was horrible, and that I was sorry, but even more than sorry I was still angry. Angry that this wasn't even really a choice, and that despite how I was treated, that I still felt guilty. Angry that I lost more than she did. She always knew exactly what to say in a fight to cut me down, as she knew all of my weaknesses, and I walked away with her words burrowing into my skin, despite telling myself that she only said those things out of her own twisted sense of self preservation. But  that wasn't even the worst part-- the final jab came when the rest of our family, the ones who had only recently started accepting me back into the family, shut me out again, because she wouldn't allow any of them to keep contact with me without suffering. I never thought, at this age in my life, that I'd have to deal with my family disowning me twice. It took me until I was an adult to forgive them the first time--over 15 years. Never again.  

So now it's a fight within myself. I couldn't maintain that peace anymore, and now I feel like I'm trying to find my way through thick fog, find my way back to inner calm. My anxiety is back, and it's so much stronger than it was before. I had my first panic attack sitting alone at church weeks ago, and while it led me to meeting my only friend there, I have had to fight to go back every Sunday since, and I never know until Sunday arrives if I'll be going or not. So far, it's a losing battle-I had to leave the service this past Sunday and wait outside while my closest friend called and talked me through the hurt of being surrounded by people and yet still being so utterly alone. I deactivated my facebook account, upset that I had convinced myself that knowing so much about people meant that they were actually my friends or that they offered any real support. I came back, however, and culled my list and left only those that I plan to actively include in my life (as well as long distance friends and family that I still care about). I am pursuing closer relationships with the family God blessed me with-- I have always been thankful for them, but the magnitude of what I've been given is exemplified when going through rejection from my biological family. I am forcing myself to be more outgoing, and to call friends and make actual plans. I'm being blatantly overt about making *new* friends, introducing myself to other moms and asking them to be my friend. (That's still a work in progress, however. While I'm sure I probably appear ridiculously self confident, I can't make myself actually set up real plans to hang out. Making new friends is HARD!)

Well, I've stopped and read over what I've written, and-my gosh-does this sound like something that should be a private journal entry! But it's part of my process, I think. I can't just live with this anxiety--I need to get past it. I feel like I'm in AA and these are the steps I need to take to recovery (ha!). I want to be closer with my friends. I'd like more involvement than just 'liking' facebook posts. It's hard, of course, with two kids (one who despises being in public) and my business *finally* taking off this year (crazy random schedule). But I can do lunch dates if you're willing to put up with my psycho toddler. Did you know that DQ has $5 lunches? They include a DRINK even, and dessert! WHAT? And in the fall, I love going to pumpkin patches and other such activities, OVER and OVER. John hates them, and would appreciate me finding others to go with instead. I'm a hermit in the winter (fear of driving on ice) but I'm a great conversationalist over text! Just sayin'.

So...I think that's it. I feel a bit better now, like I said what I needed to say. I'll feel awkward about it for a week or so, and reread this a million times and pinpoint all the things I could've said differently/better...but it is what it is. I'd like to think only my good friends would read what I write anyway, and maybe some of them can relate.

Now to awkwardly end this. Oh look! It's 1am! I must to bed go!