Oh, Those Sticky Mindfucks

There’s an oppressive pall out there today. Low, bland clouds, void of distinction, interest, or drama. Ominous for us Vancouverites who are seasonally affected, as daylight hours have already quickly ebbed away by four hours in just the last two months. There’s another 6 or so to lose, and countless certain dreary days that loom.
Winter and I aren’t on the best of terms. It’s safe to say I loathe it. When I’m older and in the money, I’ll certainly be a in-Mexico-from-January-to-March type. I dread the depressive grey. My hydro bill for December and January could be a teaser for any marathon horror movie session. HOW MUCH? EEK! Fuck Climate Change; if it lights up, I’m plugging it in.
As if it’s not a moody enough day, I might add that I’m not entirely thrilled that I started therapy yesterday, by the way. Oh, that.
I’m a little nervous. And the dude’s sneaky. He’s an ADD shrink. Hops and jumps around on topics to keep me on my toes. Bit of a sticky-mindfuck-lite. Uht-oh. Eek.
Interesting week for it, too.
Last week was spent mostly beating myself up in the post-wallet-loss debacle. Something woke me up there, that my situation’s too precarious and hinges on, you know, a positive existential tailwind and all the cosmos lining up in a none-too-offensive manner.
I’ve taken most of the summer off from the intensely regimented life I’ve lived since October 2007. I’ve had more slack with eating, exercise, and pace, and I bonded very affectionately with copious alcohol on pretty much a daily basis for eight or so weeks.
But that’s all done. (This is NOT me saying I’m NOT drinking anymore. Are you NUTS? This is me saying DAILY can’t happen. But… there are weekends!) I know what needs to happen, and I’m prepared, and even keen, to get right back at it.
As much as I loathe winter, I am ecstatic that its dull routine and boring predictability rotation of “shitty,” “dreary,” “pray for your life,” and “BLAH” weather that it brings here in Vancouver. If it IS sunny, it’ll be sunny between 9-5 and most of us will never see it.
In that routine, however, is where I find my stride. I’ll be exercising all the time at home when watching TV, since it’s the main kind of entertainment I can afford. I’ll be walking everywhere this winter, presumably without a seriously blown back this time. I’m excited to see how well I can do the weight-loss this winter. I’ll be happy if it’s like last — I lost some 25+ pounds last winter, including Christmas. (I gained 10 but took that off, so, technically, lost 35. Ha!) I never even had a gym pass.
This winter, I’m facing my reality of having lived too close to the bone financially for far too long. I want my power back; I need to start saving and feeling secure, not so vulnerable as I have been. To that end, this winter’s challenge will be having to eat home cooking all the time; I can’t afford a large entertainment bill and I’d rather spend my wad on concerts and movies, ‘cos my cooking beats the shit out of what’s available in MY budget in “restaurants”.
Ironically, my budget will cause me to lose weight. Why? Because eating in restaurants is what’ll kill your diet and give you the big bouncy ass.
Funny enough, what’s caused me to be in this tight-and-no-safety-net financial pickle this year is having been so social earlier this year — I really made some stupid spending decisions when I was eating out all the time. It was fat, unhealthy food fairly often, too, but it was a profound realization that, HEY, I can have a life, eat out, yet maintain my weight. And I did. I had thought I would GAIN weight moving out of the hermit-like diet I’d had of home cooking in all my weightloss, so to have maintained and even lost, well!
I’ve probably only lost about 10 pounds since April, give or take. But I’ve lost about four inches since March. So, we’ll see where this all leads this winter, now that I’m having to accept where I’m at, prepare for the financial humdinger that is Christmas, and get into a physical routine. I suspect this will be awesome for my body, actually, and I look forward to feeling that.
But, joy of joys, into that challenging mix of life I’m also throwing therapy. Oh, and a new pursuing-writing professional plan, that’s for me to know. Well. This’ll be interesting.
The weight/eating/money thing I’ve already sorta been on, so I’m daunted only in that I know how much determination and dedication it will require. I’m comforted to know that I have that, and then some. Doesn’t mean I don’t respect the obstacles ahead or feel a little dread as I plant my feet firmly in the ground before I accept the weight of the burden, you know? I’m confident, I’m guardedly optimistic, but I don’t have that bubbly enthusiasm about facing it I know other people can manage. That’s just me. Still… let’s do this, bitch. Right?
Therapy will be good for writing. It’ll be good for the diet, too, given I tend to be an “emotional” eater. Being aware of myself, though, and owning what I’m experiencing, I tend to revert to eating-for-comfort a whole lot less; writing less this summer, I’ve found myself doing just that and eating more questionably. I think a lot of success I’ve had in the weightloss, too, comes from being willing to explore that emotional link with food and how it started. I’ve been avoiding a lot of that this summer, given what I’ve waded into with all the total-home-purge and sorting-through-my-past stuff I did the last two months, but I HAVE done the work, and I’m content to get back at that, as well.
Yes, it’s a weighty, oppressive pall out there, today. The kind of day that turns one inside and forces all sorts of thoughts. The kind of day that forces me to accept the changing of seasons is upon us, and the time for buckling down and getting back into my groove is here. Dread accompanies that knowledge, but so too does determination. To me, the changing around me is an opportunity to use that to fuel change ABOUT me, too.
What more can I tell ya? Knowing’s half the battle, right?

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