Baby when you cry, is he gonna stand by your side?

Dear Candi,

Why do you always do this to yourself?Some conversing and flirtation with a guy, and you automatically over think, over analyse and over estimate it in your head. When it doesn't live up to your "expectations", you are then disappointed.

Cut yourself some slack and chill the fuck out.

Sincerely,
Me

Like, actually all the time. Ridiculous....

Watch the flames burn auburn on the mountain side

So I have (pretty much) committed myself to another 12 months in this city, and in this job.

I do hate my job. With the fire of a thousand suns. Or maybe not quite. I have worked in worse - supermarket checkout chick and telemarketer extraordinaire spring to mind as infinitely worse than the job I am in now. But still....

Jo has set me a goal of sticking it out for one more year. In that year, I will more time to work with her on goals, and by the end of the year I will be going to Canada for a month or so holiday to see polar bears and aurora borealis'.

We decided that in the list of things I want in life, this is the immediate one (or two) that I want the most. I want to get married and have kids and a house, and I want a job at a zoo, but this is the goal most in my control. And basically it just involves saving money, and this current job is better paid than vet nursing jobs (although if a vet nursing job comes up in this vicinity, I will probs still apply)

We will also work on my getting fitter and un-fatter (pretend it's a word and just roll with it), so that I will be able to get a job in a zoo (not because the whole industry is discriminatory, but it has only taken one zoo with that opinion to shatter my confidence).

The marriage and kids thing - technically I could have a kid now if I wanted, but I'm greedy and I want the whole package. And again with the shattered confidence that requires some building up to believe I can have that, and to attract the right partner to have said goals with.

So despite the horrid job, there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Apparently there will also be adventures along the way. Such as a half marathon (walking I believe, but still not something this fat girl had considered any time soon). I'm also going to do the Tough Guy/Gal challenge in Palmy - on my birthday of all days. A 6km run through swap and mud and army obstacles. Sounds fun (what?).

There's nothing cold as ashes after the fire is gone

So I've had a couple of weeks of highs and lows.

I've lost approx 3kgs in 3 weeks - so that's a bonus. For 2 weeks I was going awesomely with eating healthy, not putting so much shit into my body, and feeling so much better.

The weekend before last, I went down to Wellington for a gig with friends, as well as my Dad and his partner. It was so much fun and I had a couple of drinks, and hung out with my friend and her hot single male friend, and got a bit of a flirt on. At the end of the night, we all hugged and then I drove home again. At this point, I crashed (emotionally, not literally). I just felt like shit. Admittedly I was very tired. But it carried on into the next day. Not feeling good enough or pretty enough or thin enough - hot guys that I lust after will never look at me in that way, etc etc.

By Monday I was marginally better, mostly due to sleep, but the healthy lifestyle definitely slipped.

I was getting my groove back towards the end of the week, and then on this most recent weekend, we went to New Plymouth for a Tattoo and Art festival. It was amazing, the weather was beautiful and it was such a great day. And then I crashed again. There were so many hot guys, but then so many hot girls also, and again I felt like I would never be good enough. There were amazing burlesque dancers, which were both a source of inspiration (imagine being able to do that and getting fit and hot etc) and a source of despair (I will never be like that so why bother even trying). Again I was shattered. And then we went to a friends house and I mildly flirted with a guy, who then wasn't interested, and while it was harmless fun at the time, it became depressing after the fact.

And now I'm back in this "why even bother" state. Its a pointless state to be in, and it's not healthy or helping, but its a hard funk to shake out of.

I have been part of a "Biggest Loser" type competition for 4 weeks now (the only time I've been weighing myself at all in the last couple of months) and it was going well, and now I even feel like I'm letting all of them down because I'm sure I've put on weight this week (PMS isn't helping...)

GAH!

End of sad rant. Will try to make my next post about something a bit more upbeat.

But hearts beat slower in the garden below

I am having a very low day, but I wanted to write. Not about my low day - maybe later. But a general rambling that has recently occurred to me.

Last month I went on a roadtrip where I got to see my bestest friend for the first time all year. I miss her like crazy. She knows me better than I know myself - which is both scary and comforting as all hell. Though I do miss her, one thing I love about our relationship is that whenever we do see each other, no matter if it's been a month or a year, it's as if we have never been apart. Our friendship is like that super soft snuggly favourite pair of slippers.

Anyway, we were having a conversation where she was telling me a story about when a male friend asked her who, if she could choose from anyone in the world, she would want to make fall in love with her. And her answer was me. I forget all the reasoning behind it because it had me in tears. I still am astounded by how much this person loves me, and how much she has my back. It is often more than I feel I deserve, mostly because I am a little crazy like that. Anyway, it was to do with how low I was at that point, and how much she wanted to support me and how I would then love someone who loved me and who wouldn't hurt me. Or similar. I'm sure if I am totally off she will correct me.

And it got me thinking back to my "crush" at the start of the year on a very dear friend of mine. There was a "kiss" that almost doesn't count. And I spent a while thinking I loved him in a different way, and that I wanted more. Yet in all this time, a sexual relationship did not actually enter my mind. My brain did not even go there. And not because I don't find him attractive, but I just do not think of him in that way at all. Kissing and affection sure, but not beyond that.

I think part of the whole crush/attraction thing, was similar to what my friend was talking about with me - in that I was wanting to be there for him. To make him realise that not all girls are cheating whores who care more about themselves than anyone else. To help him realise that he is amazing and that he is truly loved without any of that bullshit. And also because I need that in my life - I want someone to love and to care for, who also loves me back.

I had a friend comment that she thought I had always loved said guy. And it's true - I always have. But not really as anything more than friends or family. And now he has found someone who seems lovely, and for now at least, he has what he has always wanted in that he has a partner and a family and he appears happy, which is awesome and all I could ever want for him, and for all my friends.

I never meant to start a war I just wanted you to let me in

So I am very overdue for doing an update on how my counselling/coaching sessions are going with Jo - it will be quite the post, or series of posts.

In the meantime, part of what we talked about this week is how unattractive I feel, and how I have not even found anyone attractive to look at in ages. I feel like I'm always searching for eye candy but hadn't seen any in a while, which is bizarre given how bad I was just a few months ago. So part of my "homework" for this week was to find at least one attractive guy on my travels.

Enter Tankapalooza. Mission accomplished.

Hot guys everywhere. And despite feeling fat, I felt quite pretty which was a nice change. And mostly I was so focused on the music and enjoying myself that I didn't care that much anyway :)

One of the hot guys was an ex of sorts. More that he was a guy I used to hook up/sleep with a few years back. Actually, about eight years ago, which is crazy in itself.

He has developed this killer beard. I have a beard addiction (fetish is such a dirty sounding word, but it is a bit of a fetish to be fair). He is still the skinniest guy I've ever met, but tall, hot, and just such a beautiful beard.

The sad thing is how awkward things are. I saw him a couple of months ago - we stood next to each other whilst talking to mutual friends - and he avoided making eye contact so I avoided saying a word. This time, the girl I was to catch up with at the gig was hanging out in his corner. Again, we avoided saying a word to each other. It makes me sad because I would like to at least be friends with him. It's my fault - I acted like a bit of a tard. I liked him a lot (and he was the most beautiful guy I had ever had the pleasure of making out with), and I had high expectations (it was also a year after Jeremy died so I was trying to not run away from attachment, and instead went in the complete other direction and got far too attached), which he did not share. The first time this happened I was actually fine. After him telling his cousin (who was flatmates with a good friend of mine) that he really liked me, and wished we were still hanging out, and me hearing this, we started hooking up again. He lost a friend and turned to me for comfort, and as I would be for anyone I care about, I was there for him. And I think that convinced me that there was potential. And so when we went our separate ways, I cracked a little and got a bit sad about it. I wasn't a psycho, and I don't think I made things awkward, but I broke my own heart with it all. Silly girl.

And since then we normally only see each other when we're drunk. In fact, one such time I introduced him to a friend of mine as "this is D..., he broke my heart once" and then laughed it off awkwardly. Aside from that, we just haven't seen each other much. Last time I saw him he looked a little homeless which made things easy - but this beard provides way too much food for thought!!

Men.

I cut my teeth on wedding rings in the movies

There are things that I really enjoy about being single:
- having a whole bed to myself to stretch out
- not having anyone else hog the blankets - mine, all mine!!
- being able to do whatever I want, whenever I want
- not having to answer to anyone or worry about their opinion (that said - never again will I ever let someone dictate the length of my hair based on their preference - I'll cut it off if I damn well want to!!)
- not having to shave my legs every day if I don't want to
- being able to have lazy days at home in track pants and not worrying about turning anyone off (not that that bothers you after a few months anyway....)
- being able to perv on boys, and flirt if the opportunity arises, without pissing anyone off

But then, there's so many things I miss. Aside from the obvious physical aspect likes hugs and kisses, and whatever rhymes with 'hug me', there are the other bits I miss too. The main one lately that's been bugging me is having someone to do stuff with. There's a few gigs coming up that none of my friends want to go to, because the gig/genre is not their scene or whatever, and I just wish I had a person to go to things with. I miss hearing about an event I want to go to and automatically knowing that I have a partner that will come along. I don't mind going to events on my own every so often, but otherwise my life just feels so freaking lonely. Its' dumb.

It's gonna take a Superman to sweep me off my feet

Part of me misses the days when I could drink like a fish and didn't suffer much as a consequence.

Those days are long gone...

I don't understand the overwhelming need for people to encourage others to get drunk. These days I generally choose to have one or two and I'm done, and yet am often subject to pressure to drink more in order to have fun. I think these days I definitely have more fun without drinking. The next day is more fun for sure.

Friday night I did initially intend to just have a few. During the day I was convinced to have more than a few. Then the earthquake hit and I thought "fuck this shit, I'm getting drunk". At some point between then and the start of the evening, I crashed. I got sad and grumpy and I'm still not sure what turned the switch. This was the initiator for the big bottle of whiskey. At 6pm we started. I cheered up and got into drinking games with gusto. I remember yelling at people to de-sex their cat. I remember being sad and having a bit of a cry on the balcony. Then I remember throwing up and crawling into my friend's bed. I think it was about 10pm. At 1.30am-ish I heard everyone leaving, so I managed to miss the majority of the party. And I still feel a bit seedy today.

Not worth it. Not worth feeling like shit for the rest of the weekend, nor being embarrassed about facing a couple of people at work tomorrow. And all for what?

I think the emo-ness was brought about partly by being on edge after the quakes, but also because in 2 weeks time it will be 10 years since Jeremy passed away. I have been thinking about it but I perhaps had underestimated how upset I am about it. Operation Brave Face is not always so effective after all....

And every breath she drew was Hallelujah

A little absent...

A new month, a new job, a new city (well, town...)

I am back working in Palmy, and living at Dads. Being 30 and living with a parent sounds depressing, but it's comfy like a well worn in pair of pyjamas. Living with Dad is not like living with a parent so much, and so I must stop caring about how it sounds, and what other people think, and just do what is right for me. I get to live in a nice (albeit very very cluttered) house, with room to move around, where Diesel is happy, where I can save some money, and with someone who doesn't drive me nuts. It's a pretty sweet deal.

I have started coaching/guidance/"counselling" with Jo, as of last week. In some ways, the fact that she knows me so well will make it easier, but also more difficult since she won't let me get away with stuff. Especially when she already knows most of the answers. And she's so excited about the "journey", which is good, but her enthusiasm also scares me. Our goal is that I will be essentially a "new" person (well, a better and improved, happier version of myself) by this time next year. My "assignment" for this week is to observe myself and my actions from a bystanders point of view. It's a little tricky.

I have essentially said that I will be where I am for the next year, as it is Dad's 60th next July. This could change if an amazing animal job appears or something else pops up, but it's nice to have some semblance of a plan for now.

Back home I have more people - but I am also the only person amongst my friends who is not in a relationship or owning a house or some other grown-up venture. I like being footloose and fancy free and not having anything tying me down, but I also feel a bit meh about it. But then the grass always does appear greener on the other side of the fence. My singledom does have some coupled-up friends envious and potentially re-assessing relationships because they miss that aspect of their lives - so it isn't all it's cracked up to be after all.

I am avoiding thinking too much about guys in general. Obviously I observe them in passing (or follow them with my eyes at car events with Dad - nothing hotter than hot guys that are into hot rods, that also have hot tattoos - heaven!). I am realising that the crushes I have had in the last couple of years have been slightly ridiculous. Guys that I don't stand a chance with, guys I love but can't imagine actually having sex with, guys that I don't even know that well but think that I do (and then realising once I get to know them that I don't really have a crush on them after all). Not to say I will cease developing crushes at any stage, but it's interesting to see how out-of-reach I aim. Guess it's just safer that way - no chance of getting hurt if there is no chance of real involvement in the first place.

What a mish-mash collection of thoughts.

Baby when it's love if it's not rough it isn't fun

I feel in a bit of a state of flux, but am surprisingly rather content.

There are aspects of my life (mainly just myself - the usual) that I am unhappy with, but overall, I am not unhappy. Not happy either I don't think, but content. It's a pleasant feeling....

I am planning my next tattoo. At the end of next month it will be 10 years since Jeremy passed away (not technically, but since I found out and the grieving began). And I intend to commemorate this.

When I was telling someone of the whole situation, they seemed to think I was a little bit nuts. Something along the lines of "but you didn't know him that long, and you weren't actually a real couple, etc etc". I think this resonated with me because I often think that too. And yet there is no mistaking the impact he had on me, both in life and death.

He had this giant spider on his leg (took up his whole thigh). (Actually, I apologise if I have already shared this story, but it's my blog so too bad). The first time he took his pants off, I swear I almost cried. At that point in my life I was quite arachnophobic and to say the tattoo frightened me would be a fair comment (I was the girl who panicked over the "huge" spider which was actually less than the size of a 5 cent coin). I got used to it (it was so big that it couldn't possibly be real so that helped whenever I caught an unexpected glimpse of it under the bed covers or anything - the spider that is....). Since his death, I have had multiple encounters with similar species of spider that have surprisingly left me quite calm. No squealing or panicking at all. Bizarre. The first one perved on me in the shower. It made perfect sense that if he was to come back at all, that would be his style. And since then, with the exception of white tails (devil spawn), I cope very well with spiders and am even sometimes fascinated by them.

So if for no other reason, that is why I am getting the tattoo. Jeremy also taught me a bit about myself, what I want, the type of person I am. And I'm grateful for getting to know him, even if it for much too brief a time.

Remember today I've no respect for you...

I just read a story on FB by a young woman who was told by her crush, several years ago, that nothing could happen between them because she was too fat; the primary problem being "what would his friends think?". Now that she's lost a considerable amount of weight she sent him a pic of her in a bikini and pointed out that he was, is and forever will be a jerk.

And good on her.

It got my mind ticking over, and here comes the babbling...

Regular readers, and real life friends (I'm pretty sure that everyone who reads this probably falls into both categories), will know that for the most of the beginning of this year I had a bit of a crush on a good friend of mine. When I daydreamed in my head that something might come of this, there were a few problems that arose as to why it wouldn't work out (a bit unfair considering that surely my imagination should be problem-free!). One was that I didn't want to ruin our friendship or cause any awkwardness. Two, is that I'm not hot enough to be his usual type (he usually goes out with girls with bangin' bodies, whereas I've been told numerous times that I have a pretty face, or would be gorgeous if I was skinnier). But the biggest obstacle I had would be what everyone else would think. While I may not be his type, I feel that could be overcome because I am awesome. However, I feel like everyone else (both his friends and just the general population) would think that I wasn't hot enough for him. Mostly because I'm pretty, but short and fat. Whereas he is tall and beautiful/handsome/all of the above.

This comes from a combination of things. One if just a hard dose of reality. People are judgemental as fuck. I know because I can be at times too, as well as learning this lesson in high school and from generally listening to people.

It also comes from an ex-boyfriend who tells you that it took him a while to introduce you to his friends because he knew they would judge me, and didn't want them to be disappointed when they met me, since I am a bigger girl. This is while we were still together, and about to spend an evening with said friends (when people wonder why I broke up with him (and make comments about how great he seemed), this is part of the reason).

I know I'm a bigger girl. I think I will always be to some degree (even if I managed to lose weight, I'm never going to be a stick thin girl, and I don't want to be). There are some guys out there who prefer bigger girls. The aforementioned ex was one of these, which seems like a good thing, except he did also once tell me that if I lost a decent amount of weight (to get into a healthier range - nothing too drastic) that he would find me considerably less attractive (what a champ...).

I read this article the other day (the writer also has an awesome blog that is definitely worth checking out). The first part of it really resonates with me. I've put up with that shit for most of my life (ever since my early teens). I admire this woman for the fact that she feels comfortable in her own skin. I like myself a lot more than I used to, but I still dislike my physical form. Not a deep hatred like I used to have, and I'm embracing it more, but even a 'like' is still a distance away.

Not sure if there is a point to this post, rather than just a general ramble...

Could I be read if I was see through or would you just read my spine?

I talked to my "adopted" mum the day before my birthday, for a long overdue, but very quick, catch-up. She asked how I was doing and I said I was okay, which I was, and am. But it was a nice realisation to discover that I actually was ok. Sure I still have down days (as everyone does), and very down days, but it was a nice surprise to realise I haven't felt depressed in a wee while.

A few months back I did consider going back on anti-depressants because I felt like a failure at life (happens every so often), but I hate how they make me feel after a while. Band-aids can be helpful, but don't heal the wound underneath so efficiently.

At the moment, I do feel lost. I love the city I live in, but it is lonely and I don't really know anyone down here anymore outside of the work friends I have. My other friends that I had last time have either left the city, had a family (babies are cute but they tend to monopolise their parents' time somewhat), or it turns out they were all my exes friends who aren't so stoked that I broke up with him and whatnot. I am very comfortable with my own company, and often prefer it, but I end up just getting wrapped up inside my own head if I'm alone too long, which isn't generally a good thing for me.

I want to travel and see the world. But I also want to be around the people I love, and who love me, and to kind of settle myself down a bit.

I said in my last post that I wasn't stressing about it - and I'm still not. I'm going to apply for a job I used to have back in my "home" town. And while I'm aware that Palmy won't always be as fun as it was on my birthday, it still gives me more options of people to hang out with. And Wellington is still nice and close. If nothing else, this job will give me some more breathing room, and probably a chance to save a bit more money since it is generally cheaper to live there than Wellington. It does feel a little bit like going backwards, but it's not the worst job in the world. It's not even in the worst 3 jobs I've ever worked so that's something!

I'm falling for your eyes but they don't know me yet

So this time last week, I turned 30. It happened, I survived, I'm moving on.

I didn't freak out as much as I thought I would. The day before, I filled in a form at the tattooist and I had to write my age - I had a minor freak out that that was the last time I would write an age that started with a 2, but considering both guys that work there are in their 30s, it wasn't so painful.

30 does sound older. It sounds like I should have my shit sorted, be, at least, on the path to marriage and children and being sure of what I want career wise.

I have none of that.

Admittedly, I have my shit more sorted than I did 10 years ago. But that might not be saying a whole lot.

I think my biggest problem at the moment is too many options - which is kind of a nice thing to have as a problem. Canada? Japan? Aussie? Palmy? Wellington? Who knows where I will go next? And for once, I'm not really stressing about it (I mean, it's me so I am stressing a little, but much less than I would've been even just a year ago). The last few years have had a few changes - changing jobs/cities/study paths. And before each decision occurring, I have had mini panics. And it has all worked out (just like Jo always tells me it will - I do hate when she's always right!). So this time, I'm going to try to just go with the flow and see what happens and where life will take me. Amor Fati after all.

And one of the biggest things stressing me out for the last 6 months - the kiss with a very good friend of mine - I discovered the weekend that he does not even remember the majority of that night at all. All of the weirdness that I had been noticing, was actually just in my head and all of my own creation. Ridiculous how we can create something so real out of nothing. And now things are back to normal with someone who is among the handful of super important people in my life, which is awesome.

I have my current job for the next 6 weeks until my contract is up. A previous job I held in Palmy is being advertised, so deciding whether or not to apply, based on if I think I could actually handle the job again. It would be nice to be 'home' again with my friends and family though. As much as I do love Wellington - there does not appear to be a whole lot holding me here at the moment, but I may still apply for jobs here as well. If I do go overseas, it won't be until next year so in the meantime I will focus on getting healthy and trying to save up some money and just staying positive. I'm going to rock the thirties.

Come and lay your bones down with me

Using my blog, to link to a blog, that I was led to by a different blog. It's Blog-ception....

http://m.xojane.com/issues/dont-kill-yourself-your-dentist-will-miss-you

It's an awesome article/blog/thing. And sums things up nicely. If you've ever felt suicidal or wondered what the freaking point is, and thought it would be easier than to burn out rather than fade away, this might resonate with you. 

For now, I stay behind the yellow line at all times*

* metaphorically speaking, seeing as I almost never catch the train....

You've been raised in limitation but that glove never fit quite right

This is something I've been thinking about the last little while, so thought I'd write it out to see if it makes any more sense....

One thing I've noticed, especially in the last few years ('few' being subjective, and could possibly mean anything from 1 - 10 years), is how I react to interactions with guys.

I think that I spent a lot of my life, more so after I started high school, being teased by boys. I started gaining weight around this time, and high school is not a very forgiving time for someone who's chubby. I did have a strong male influence in my life in the form of my Dad, but that was pretty much it. My male cousins are pretty awesome, but we didn't spend a lot of time around them either.

At school, I was teased. Not by everyone, but by enough that it made quite the impact. And when I got home, I had my brother's taunting to deal with. In fact, I also recently re-met a guy from high school who partook in this - and I'm glad to report he is still a total douchebag...

Anyway. What's happened from this is that now, if a guy is nice to me or engages in friendly conversation or some such thing, I automatically start to read into it a little bit more. Only if they are single mind you, or I have no idea of their status (I've no intention of being a home wrecker). I'm just used to guys only talking to me in order to be horrible to me (even if it is from over 10 years ago), that anyone lovely takes me by surprise. And then my 'what-if?' kicks in and thinks that more could be going on, and that maybe they're interested. Experience tells me that 99% of the time, this is not the case, but apparently that doesn't mean much to my wayward imagination. My low self-confidence does eventually kick in and tell me not to be so silly, but for that day (or so) I have a lovely time in my head wondering about what could happen.

I really must remember that I'm now a grown up (debatable, but technically it's true since I'm almost 30), that inter-gender friendships are possible without any other agenda, and that people generally aren't as arsehole-ish as they were in high school (and it wasn't all of them after all).

If I hadn't assembled myself I'd have fallen apart by now

So this morning I did something for the very first time. Cross Fit.

From websites such as Nerd Fitness, and some blogs I follow, I've been hearing/reading loads about it for the last year. In my mind, its one of those things that I will give a go once I've lost a considerable amount of weight. That why, Ill be more likely to actually be able to do the workouts, and not feel totally out of place.

I've never been an overly fit or sporty person. As a kid I played netball, but I never really went out of my way to do exercise, and I've never felt at ease with any kind of physical activity - less so as I've gotten older.

I heard about a local cross fit gym from some people in a meetup group - they went to an intro day and loved it and ended up joining. And every time they've had intro classes since, it has been a weekend where I have been away up at Dads. So this time, I knew I was going to be in town, and decided to sign up.

In the last week leading up to it, I have almost emailed to cancel approximately 10 times. So nervous. Worried that I won't be able to do it, and worried that people will judge me or laugh at me I suppose to. (Admittedly, I don't think I've had anyone actually laugh at me at a gym before, but I do often feel judged - though surely the fact that I am a fat girl who does go to the gym should give me some credit!!).

What actually happened was quite something else.

Yes the workout was hard. They did help me out with options so that I wouldn't die, and mostly so that I could actually complete the workout (i.e. instead of doing box jumps onto a box that's knee height, which I could have maybe done 1 or 2 of, I had a stack of two large weight plates). We did some warm ups, and a 200m jog to the corner and back. And then the WOD (workout of the day). We did three sets of exercises ("box" jumps, push ups and lunges, with a different (decreasing) number of reps each time, and at the end of each set was the 200m jog. By the end of the first set, I was fucked. I jogged maybe 1/3 of the way, and had to walk to the rest of my 200m, and the other two times I had to just walk it. I was knackered. But I did finish it. And this is where it gets awesome. During my 2nd, and definitely my 3rd set, the few regulars from the gym were clapping and cheering us on. I heard my name being called out a few times. On my last walk, one of the ladies came out and walked it with me. When I came back in (lucky last), people were clapping and cheering. It was a pretty awesome feeling. Another woman pulled me aside and told me how proud she was of me, and how impressed she was that I had come along and done it - she had started in a similar state at the beginning of the year. She had me tearing up (admittedly, that can be pretty easy to do but not usually with complete strangers).

They were amazing. The most encouraging group of people. I have never felt so accepted before in a sport/fitness setting.

Unfortunately, it costs a lot and I still have a gym membership to see out already. But if I am staying in Wellington, then I will definitely be going back there. And at the very least, I know what I can do, and this should give me the drive to push myself harder at my regular gym classes.

Imagine, a fat kid like me, feeling at home in a gym setting. WTF?!

Well I've got wisdom but I still don't got a clue

I made some big claims last week. Am I keeping them? Uh, not so much.

I've been to the gym twice. I've brought lunch to work twice. I've played the guitar zilch times. I've turned my computer off by 10pm a few times.

On the flip side - I was a bit sick last week, and I've had a wee bit of a life. I had a seminar at the zoo. I went to a couple of gigs. I spent a lot of time perving at sexy men at said gigs.

I'm struggling to get to the gym - despite how much I usually enjoy it. I'm not sure if Pump is just not as fun (and that's the class that's on at the most convenient times, and the one I feel like I SHOULD be going to in terms of how much I will get out of it).

Going to gigs both makes me want to pick up the guitar to learn it, and discourages me by making me think I will never be as good as the guys I saw playing on stage... I definitely do want to attempt it anyway :)

I knew I would spend the shows lusting after sexy men - at least one in particular. It did leave me feeling somewhat disheartened though. Mostly because, they are my type. Sexy musicians are probably most peoples' type to be fair, but there really is something about them. And these ones have beards and were a bit alternative, which was even more appealing. The disheartening think is the realisation that I am not their type. I guess even more so since they can have whatever girls they want. Personality wise, I could fit them really well. But appearances wise, they don't tend to look twice at me. Meh.

At times, I feel like I'm not any ones type. My best friend will point out that I've been people's types plenty of times before and they have been my type at some point. But in hindsight, only 2 of the guys I've been with, have been people I was actually initially attracted to. A couple of been people that I've been with because I was feeling lonely and had no better prospects. It's a bit sad really.....

Sick and uninspired by the diamonds in your fire

Headachesville. Population: me.

Since ending up in hospital last year, headaches freak me out a lot more than they used to. Hate them with a hateness. It does mean that when I get one, I automatically drink more water, and I do take tablets to make it go away instead of trying to tough it out. This one isn't leaving though - had it since yesterday.

Now if it could just disappear so that I can go watch hot bearded men make music tonight, I would be very grateful.

Must I dream and always see your face

You know when you stay at someone else's house, in their lounge or their spare room. And there's one of those clocks that's all unassuming by day but by night, it takes over some amplification superpower and all you can hear is the sound of it's ticking? That may accurately describe my biological clock at the moment. Except this one I can't just hide in a drawer or a wardrobe.

That's what I'm blaming my current obsession to men on anyway.

I do love men usually, don't get me wrong. But lately, it's like a ninja focus. I can't think about much else, and it appears I don't talk about much else either.

Walking down the street with a friend a few weeks back, telling her a story, and there was a very attractive man on the side of the road waiting to cross, who appeared to have just left the gym, still wearing a singlet, and arms that could belong to Thor (ok not really that big, but you get the point). At this point, I was so busy looking at him that I fell silent and then could not even see my train of thought, let alone retrieve it. I almost stopped in the street, my head doing near 180 so I could keep looking at him.

Another friend, who works in the cafe downstairs at work. I talk to her every few days. I have been watching a fair amount of movies lately, and it appears the only review that I give on them is whether or not the actors in it are hot. I don't know if I even describe anything about the movie other than 'it was alright, and "insert hot actors name here" is in it which is a good enough reason to see it. Pretty much every time I talk to her. When I went to see Evil Dead, my review was based on the large amount of pierced and tattooed men in the audience (A LOT - it was like heaven, with a horror movie thrown in).

Watching the X Factor - I focus on how hot the contestants are. Surely that's more important than their talent? 30 is the right age to officially be a cougar right?

I did take comfort in the fact that at the Danny Bhoy show the other night (who, incidentally, is very attractive), that my cousin was the first to scour the crowd for the most attractive man to perve at while waiting for the show to start (and I am very grateful that she pointed him out to me. Again, he was of muscly arms...).

I am going to the Gunslinger's Ball tomorrow night - partly because I love the music and the vibe. Partly for the attractive men in the bands. In fact, it's probably a 50/50 ratio...

It is ridiculous. I have always loved men. I have always enjoyed looking at them (and once took a friend's class during an entire semester of Uni, rather than attending my own classes, due to the shoulders of a guy that sat in front of her/us). But this is almost getting to be a bit much.

Admittedly, my current dry spell is lasting a lot longer than a regular NZ summer drought - it's been a year. That's a long time. But I've been longer before without falling weak at the mere sight of a man. It's getting difficult to even function (ok that's an exaggeration, but it is definitely very distracting!).

I love to feel love but I can't stand the rejection

I realised this morning that by setting myself a goal of writing a little something every day, these are going to end up being somewhat boring posts. Don't get me wrong, I'm still going to do it. I'm just apologising in advance...

Last night I got to hang out with my extended family (on my Dad's side), along with my Dad. We had dinner and then went to a comedy show (Danny Bhoy - he is hilarious. And hot).

When I was growing up we spent less time with Dad's side of the family, and more time with Mum's. And now (thanks partly to the magic of Facebook), it's this side of the family I am closest to. It could also be because Mum is batshit crazy, and my Uncle, who we visited most often, crashed and burned and exited this world. I still talk to those cousins on FB, and see them every so often, but it's not as cosy. On the flip side, Dad's family is awesome, and his siblings themselves are still close (with the exception of everyone's least favourite), which helps knit it all together. My cousins are simply hilarious. They (the two families) are all so close that I sometimes feel a bit like the black sheep, or the outsider. But I am slowly overcoming this the more time we actually get to spend together.

To get up and walk away would be too easy

At the beginning of this year, I set myself a vague goal of being in the 80s by the time I turned 30.
As each month has passed and I have drifted further from this goal, it reduced to 'being in the early 90s' to now 'just being in the 90s'.

Now that it is just 5 1/2 weeks, I realise that I weigh 5kgs more than I did at the start of this year when I was making that goal. I made a goal, but not a plan. And in the true definition of insanity, I have expected a different outcome from essentially carrying out the same actions.

While I have tried cooking more and eating real food, I have still been eating crap. As much as I have wanted to be more active and re-joined the gym, I have still spent a lot of time sitting around (more so, because for the first time in 3 years I have an inactive job as well).

I did a Whole30 last year in July, where for 30 days I had no sugar, grains, or processed food of any kind. With just that, and no extra exercise (although working in a vet clinic, and at the zoo once a week), I lost almost 5kgs in that month. So I know I CAN do this. And I know the benefits of doing it. A close friend of mine is doing it at the moment and absolutely hulk-smashing it.

So what is holding me back. I CAN do this.

May is going to be a month of prioritising myself and the things that I want. I WILL go to the gym at least every second day. I WILL set aside time to play (well, learn to play) the guitar at least every second day (I got it for Christmas and think I have only picked it up twice). I WILL turn off the computer at 10pm each day (at the absolute latest - 9pm will be even better and I will aim for this most days) and go to bed (it is acceptable to read for a while to fully wind down). I WILL take lunch to work each day. I WILL cut out the crap I have been eating and drinking. I do have a few events on during May which will involve some off-roading, but these can be isolated and do not have to run over into other days. I WILL stop spending money on frivolous things (mostly the aforementioned crap food) and put more effort into saving. I WILL put some effort into my hair and makeup each morning before work (it is ok to get to work half an hour later for the sake of feeling better about myself, considering I have a flexible start time). I will also blog a little every day, because I enjoy writing (even if it is technically typing) and it's a great way to reflect, and keep myself accountable as well.

I am committing to this for a month. This should will help me to set up better habits going forward, and make it easier to carry on. I shall set it up so that I can start my 30s with a bang and be the best person I can be.

When a heart breaks no it don't break even

Tomorrow, it will be 10 years since Jeremy passed away.

I didn't find out until August (the day before Daffodil Day actually - which always tends to be my 'Jeremy' day - also previously known as the day I used to go and get ridiculously drunk, for a few years in a row....). We had a very on-off kind of 'thing' (not technically a relationship, but an exclusive casual situation) for just over a year. At the time, we were off. In fact, I would've just seen him a few weeks before the accident (motorbike crash), but we had a habit of not being in touch for a month or two - it worked for us. Being what we were, we hadn't met each other's families, or a wide range of each others friends. So it wasn't until August when his Mum went through his phone and contacted everyone on it that I found out. And then, it was through a mutual friend. Can't blame her for not wanting to ring someone named Candi I suppose (plus I could've still been in his phone as Candi-ass, in which case, probably not a call you want to make...). Luckily when his Mum asked said friend if he knew anyone named Candi, he said yes and that he would let me know.

I still remember that phone call as if it was yesterday.

The next day, I met up with that friend, and another mutual friend, for a drink and our own chance to process what had happened. And then I went off to a Shihad concert with a group of other friends. I didn't tell them what had happened, because I knew I would lose it, and I was finding it hard to keep a grip as it was. I sat in tears through the opening acts (admittedly, it was Fur Patrol which is not a favourite anyway), and then managed to get up and enjoy the mighty Shihad. It wasn't until I was dropped off home that I finally texted my bestie to tell her what had happened. I couldn't bring myself to say it out loud. I actually could not get the words out of my mouth.

The next few days were a blur. I think I existed on a moro bar and a small bottle of coke each day and that was it. I don't remember much else. And then I went down to Dad's for the semester break because I couldn't sleep in my bed, and when I did, I woke with horrible nightmares.

Some would look on it and wonder why it affected me so badly, when we weren't a full on relationship. We were never madly in love or committed to each other. We knew each other less than a year. And you know what, I couldn't tell you for sure.

He was my first "love", or something similar. Hell, he was my first everything. At times he drove me mental, including wanting to suffocate him in his sleep when he was snoring loudly (best friend kindly offering to help get rid of the body if required). On the outside he could be a macho little shit, but he was also kind, funny, sweet and generous. He told me I was beautiful, and made me feel like it could be true. He used to tell me that when I moved back to Palmy he'd come and visit. I remember feeling ridiculously giddy the day he told he how much he liked me, because it was such a big declaration for us. He was great for me, and even now it helps me realise what I need in a future partner. He didn't tolerate my shit. If I hit him, he hit me back, and properly. He was assertive, but not aggressive (and I need someone like that to stop me from being a brat I guess).

It could be that what I grieve for most is the "what-ifs". What would've happened if we had sorted our shit out, or if he had stuck around.

Despite searching for his death notice in the paper that year, and multiple times over the years, it wasn't until last year that I finally found an article regarding in the accident. Perhaps I wasn't supposed to find it until then. It was when I had moved back up to Auckland, which already brought the memories flooding back. I couldn't go and visit him, as he was cremated, but I still went to where the service and the ceremony had been held to try and get some kind of connection. It hit me hard, and maybe because it was finally real. It wasn't some Shortland Street plot where he could come back, or that maybe it had all been faked or some horrible mistake and that I'd get to see him again. He was really truly gone, and I would never see him again.

Since he has been gone, I have become much more accepting (sometimes even welcoming) of spiders. I no longer scream and kill them on site (unless it's a whitetail of course). Jeremy had this tattoo on his left thigh, that took up the whole front of his upper leg, of a spider (similar to a grey house spider). The first time I saw it, I almost cried. It gave me such a fright, especially considering how arachnophobic I was. Poor guy - not really the best reaction to have when you see a guy in his underwear for the first time..... But since then, there have been spider visits. The first was when I moved back to Dad's, and a fairly large grey house spider moved into the bathroom. Dad didn't see it for ages. It lived in the window surround, and seemed to appear only when I was in the shower. I had to get out mid-shower and find Dad one time just so he knew I wasn't making up this 'phantom spider' that no one else ever saw. At the point, it occurred to me that if Jeremy was to come back as anything, it would be as some sort of pervert spider that spied on me in the shower. I named him Bob, and he remained living in the bathroom window until Dad moved out of the house a year later.
The next spider was in Wellington. When I moved into my first flat, a grey house spider moved into the bathroom window there. My flatmate assured me she hadn't seen it until then, and he was large enough that you couldn't really have missed him. I managed to convince her (I think?) to leave him there, and nicknamed him Van (part Outrageous Fortune, part name of our street). Another day, I was in the shower in that same house when a spider fell out of nowhere onto my arm. It gave me a fright and I shook him off. And then turned off the shower and tried to rescue him.
And then when my ex moved out of our flat at the end of 2011, another of the same spiders moved in outside my bedroom window, visible when I closed the curtains each night before going to bed.

I plan to commemorate the 10 year anniversary this Daffodil day by getting a spider tattoo on my thigh (on a much smaller scale!). And tomorrow I am going to a comedy show with some family so that will help me get through the day. Perhaps with a drink or two as well.

There's no need to apologise, I've got no time for feeling sorry

For all my talk about finding the gym easier than eating right, I haven't been in a week. It should be fairly easy to get back into though, so I'm not too worried.

Although, I had a lazy indoors weekend, and spent far too much of it sitting down, for now my right hip is very sore. It did not enjoy being inactive after all...

In terms of food, I am slowly getting there. Last week, for 3 days out of 4 (I had 1 day off work due to feeling rather icky), I made and took my lunch. A couple of days of thai green chicken curry with cauliflower rice (delicious, and filling, though I did make wayyy too much "rice"), and then one day of rice-less sushi. Yummo. Carrying on again this week - today (and tomorrow) I had kumara, zucchini and lamb salad. So good. Lamb is so tasty. Breakfasts are not great, but I am getting food in the morning so that's a start. Dinners are improving - though I definitely do need to increase my veggie intake at these meals because it is lacking somewhat at the moment.

People around me are currently meeting their goals. My initial thought is one of a bit of jealousy. But then I realise that they've earned it, and I have not put in the work. And then I get disappointed and frustrated. My next step is to realise I can do this too. It is inspiring. And nice to have real people do it, that I actually know, rather than just people online (e.g. NF - although their stories are amazing inspirating too), because I can relate more to them.

Although you do get those people, that once they reach goals or lose weight and get healthier, think they have the right to tell you everything you're doing wrong, and seem to think they are better than you. I hope I never become one of those people. And if I do, I give you permission to call me out on it, or slap me in the face - whichever works better for you.

I'm also re-realising my need for fun. I used to be fun. I used to want to actually do stuff. It doesn't help that I'm living in a city where I don't know many people, but I need to make more of an effort to put myself out there. I've joined a few groups on Meetup, but to be honest, cost is the main thing that stops me from actually going to events. I have a pretty tight budget at the moment, and I would rather save my spare money for the 'Canadian Cause' (future travels), than spend it on brunch or lunch or movies....

I also need to set aside time, preferably every day to actually learn to play the guitar (I got one for Christmas and I think I have got it out to try to play twice...). I want to become a more interesting person. I want to be someone who plays an instrument, and who has adventures.

I awoke only to find my lungs empty

On Monday, I was woken up by a particularly horrible dream. My dad's colleague had come to my house to tell my that Dad had had a heart attack. In the dream, I actually fell down in tears. The colleague told me that he wouldn't carry on telling me anything unless I blew my nose and calmed down (WTF?), and then said it was a result of Dad not looking after himself properly, and that that was easier for him than dealing with everything.

Amazingly, when I woke up, I wasn't in tears, nor did I cry, which is usual for me and how I've woken up every time I've had a similarly themed dream in the past. Instead, I felt physically nauseous. And this lasted for most of the day.

It's taken until today for me to conclude that this dream was a lot more about myself than him. I mean, part of me recognised that if this actually happened, I'd be lost. I rely on my Dad a lot, as well as him being the most important person in the world to me.

But this morning, I realised that this could be me. I'm not really looking after myself (possibly because it's just easier not to - at least in my current frame of mind), and if I carry on something bad will happen to me. After witnessing a friend/colleague after she lost her (21 yr old) daughter a few years ago, and how awful that was for her, I would never wish for a parent to have to bury their child. It's too horrible to even contemplate. Aside from anything else, I don't want to cause my Dad that much pain.

All my life I've been searching for something

So I had a thought earlier this week after going to a rodeo on the weekend. There was a kid sitting next to me, who might have been about 10(ish) years old (I'm pretty crap at determining ages). He went off to get some food, and came big with a giant can of energy drink. My initial thought was "What the hell is a kid doing drinking that?" (caffeine, sugar, etc), and then I thought "What kind of parent lets their kid drink that?". Is it really any different than drinking an ordinary soft drink (except these kids were already super annoying, so I can't imagine that much extra energy would help...).

When I think back to being a teenager, there was always coke (the cola, not the white powder) in the fridge, and pies in the freezer. These were kind of my default 'after-school' snacks. I don't remember if I used to eat breakfast (if I did, it was probably just toast and marmite or peanut butter, or a muesli bar on the way to school). Growing up (primary school), Dad used to make us sandwiches to take to school, along with the little bags of potato chips and a muesli bar or similar. Once at high school, it was the chippies, muesli bars, sometimes sandwiches (making them ourselves now though I think), or else just having cash and buying a cookie time cookie, or a pie, or a lasagne square at the school cafe was the norm. Dinner was usually home cooked - meat and 2 veg kind of meals - and eaten at the table, and almost always followed up by eating chocolate biscuits on the couch while watching TV. Maybe some more coke. Friday nights were takeaways - fish and chips and then sometimes McDonald's when that arrived in our little town.

Mum attempted suicide when I was 14, so in my 2nd year of high school. At this point, Dad spent less time at home, coming home later (don't blame him, I tried staying away from home longer after school too to avoid going home to mum). I remember turning to food for comfort when I got home, and then locking myself away in my room and reading or creating an imaginary life in my head that didn't suck as much as the real thing. This is around the time I started to put on weight I think. I was a bit chubby, and got teased already (the joy of teenagers' cruelty).

Anyway, so I was thinking the other day that maybe I need to try to 'mother' myself a bit.  I need to treat myself as I plan on treating my kids when/if I have any. Cook them (me) breakfast, pack lunches, good dinners, no junk food, active lifestyle, etc. The things i would like to have in place, and have as a good example for any children. This is easier thought/said than done, but I think this could work. I missed this growing up (I mean, Dad was great but he wasn't the 'at-home' parent, and even now he still has his own issues - like eating a whole block of chocolate in one sitting). Before I eat something, or when buying food, thinking about whether I would like to let my kids eat that, or drink that, or whatever.

Still I'm convinced that wondering 'what if?' is the worst thing there is

My goal for this week is not to consume any soft drinks, and to drink primarily only water. I have done well so far, although I have had one hot chocolate (the lovely ladies at work are impossible to resist).
Next week's goal is not to consume any processed sugar, which should include hot chocolates sadly. If it wasn't for my friends in the cafe I would find this much easier to give up. If I just get them onside to not allow me to get one for a while, we should be okay.

The more I think about it, the more I realise that a lot of my weight is guy related. I mean, I know its a self-esteem issue most of all. And I think if I lose weight I'll have more luck with the opposite sex (has definitely been true in the past, although this could be due to increased confidence rather than just physical appeal, etc). But I think this is also what is stopping me subconsciously from following through with my good intentions (the road to hell is paved with them don't you know?). Because of the low self-esteem, I don't think I'm good enough as a person, and its just more convenient to blame this on weight, or something like that. It makes more sense in my head, but I still feel the need to type out some ramble as well to try to process it a little more.

In the meantime, I'm still a little in love with a friend of mine who loves me as a friend. To the point that even without thinking about him at all recently, I managed to have a bit of a steamy dream about him last night. This does not help. And I think that I could never be with him because I'm not his type. And even if he went 'off-type', I would always be thinking that I'm not his type, unless I got fitter and lost some weight. And while I think this is a good reason to do so, the fact that it might not work out, or be amazing and be just what I wanted - both these options scare me into doing nothing at all.

My hormones are in overdrive at the moment too. To the point that while walking down the street with a friend last week, I got so distracted by a hot guy (mmm, the arms on this guy) that I lost my train of thought and actually stopped talking altogether. One of those moments where I kept on walking but my head was contorted with trying to still remain looking at him. Crikey! It was fairly hilarious, and luckily my friend just laughed at me. Slightly embarrassing though....

Found a box of sharp objects, what a beautiful day

I am currently reading this book.

A friend's mum recommended it to me several years ago, and my Dads partner bought it for me for Christmas one year (I had asked for it, it wasn't intended as an insult - though I think his ex would've bought it for me too but out of spite.....)

Anyway!

It is a good read so far (and quite humorous which I like), although nothing new yet. Having been through a few counsellors means that I've done this stuff already. Hopefully it still has something to offer in terms of my very damaged psyche.

I was reading it this morning on the bus, and it managed to make me mad. There was a comment about how even if you switch to healthy eating, you will still need to reduce your intake, rather than just eating as much healthy food as you like. Grrr.

Why so angry? Well, while I admit this advice probably does help for a lot of people, I'm not one of them. Even if I do binge eat, it's normally the type of food rather than huge quantities of it. I currently am not eating enough food (although the small amounts I do eat are high in calories, but it still comes in short of my daily recommended total). When I was at Uni doing my VN Diploma, I went through a few months where I would eat 1 or 2 muesli bars a day, and water, and maybe a barley sugar or two (so that I didn't faint in the clinic), and that was about it. Sometimes, a sandwich. On top of this I was doing a lot of practical time in the clinics, on my feet for 6 hours at a time, and going to the gym a few times a week. I was also having down-there issues with unexpected bleeding and whatnot, so I went to the doctor. Who proceeded to tell me the only problem I had was that I was obese and that I needed to eat less, and move more. And that was it. I know now that the restricted eating meant my body was in starvation mode and rather than losing weight, it was clinging on to what I did have for dear life. But if I had followed her advice I would've stopped eating mostly altogether while still gymming it, and I would have been in for a big crash
(And when I went for my next smear it turned out that my cervix was very unhappy and ended in a biopsy or two and a lot of pain - which may not have been avoided if she had done her job properly, but I would've been able to get it sorted and be in less pain sooner than I did - bitch. This is also why I do not trust a lot of doctors).

Just needed to get that rant out.

An ominous landscape of never ending calamity

I am 30 in just over 2 months. In fact, 2 months and 4 days left of my 20s.

At the beginning of this year, I set a goal of being in the 80s by the time I hit this new decade. That has not happened. I am now planning to just be in double digits by then, and to leave any triple digit weights in my 20s - that is when it started and when it shall finish. I CAN do this.

My plan for April is to sort my head out. Make an inspiration board, listen to myself, get some affirmations going, try to figure out who I am and then, more importantly, who I want to be, and start becoming that person. Read a few books, gather some intel, re-read It Starts with Food. And then for May, I may do a Whole30 again. Cut out crap processed foods, sugar and grains, and focus on real food. Junk food will become a deviation, and not the norm like it is now.

I also want to do THIS. The website tells me it is currently 79 days away. I will need to pay by the 9th June to get a decent price. I can do a 6km option. I have 79 days to train myself to be fitter and stronger - and that starts today.

Just need to remember - you can't outrun your fork.

She's just a girl and she's on fiyah

I'm starting to enjoy exercise. I've been doing a few different classes at the gym, and even though they kill me, I'm loving it. Sweaty, puffed, sore, exhausted. It's great.

I have been doing Pump, and then I did Combat and Attack the last few days. With a day off in between for recovery. I will start doing cardio or something lighter on the in between days when I'm a bit more adjusted.

Combat is so fun. I love punching and kicking. It's non-contact, which is a good starting point. But when I'm fitter and leaner I think I would love to take it further. Maybe I have anger/violence issues, but I do love it, and at least it's a constructive outlet.

Attack is just what it says. Jeebus. Running, jumping, squats, lunges, push ups, planks, some more running and jumping. I've done it before, years ago when a friend used to instruct the class in Palmy. But I had forgotten just how hard it is. Will definitely do it again though - although at a less busy time of day. There wasn't a lot of room to move yesterday. I almost didn't go at all because I was still sore from Sunday's class, but my cousin posted on FB that he had gone despite being sick and sunburned and I realised I should toughen up and stop making excuses. Now, if I can just do that with food as well...

I have also been watching and reading things with better female role models. The 'In Death' series by JD Robb - the main character is a cop and she is strong and tough and takes no shit. And then I have started re-watching the whole series of Buffy (thanks to a friend lending me the discs). It's funny how bad the early seasons are, but she does certainly kick arse. Any other recommendations of things to watch/read with similar characters would be very much appreciated :)

Thrust the candle to the dark of your disease

I remember, when I broke up with my ex, that part of me was really pissed off that he didn't fight for me.
I mean, it's probably a very good indicator that breaking up was the best decision for both of us, but at the time it bugged me.

Makes perfect sense though considering that I don't seem to care enough to fight for me either.

I need to put myself first. I need to fight for myself because no one else will do it for me. For Happy to win more often than Misery. It makes me think of this:

An old Cherokee
Is teaching his grandson about life.

“A fight is going on inside me, ” he said to the boy,
“It is a terrible fight between two wolves,
One is evil – he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret,
Greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment,
Integrant, lies false pride, superiority, and ego, ”

He continued, “The other is good – he is joy, peace,
Love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence,
Empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith,
The same fight is going on inside you –
And inside every other person, too, ”

The grandson then asked his grandfather,
“Which wolf will win? ”

The old Cherokee simply replied,
“The one you feed”

Sean Hurrell

I've got 99 problems but a bitch ain't one

There's obviously a part of my brain that wants to stay as I am - fat, unhealthy and unhappy. That part that sabotages all my efforts. That convinces myself that I must have a burger, or coke, or chips.

Overcoming my internal bitch is hard. I'm getting better at going to the gym despite all her excuses, but it's the food side that I really struggle with. Which, unfortunately, is 80% of the battle.

Logically, it doesn't make sense. I have even made a couple of pro/con lists for losing weight, so that I have evidence of it being the best thing to do. And yet that side of me wants to hold on to it. Maybe there's a safety in being overweight. I know it puts guys off, and despite wanting a relationship, at least this way I don't get hurt because no one gets close enough in the first place. Same with attempting new things - I can blame being shit at an activity on my size, and as a good reason not to try it in the first place.

But in every other way, it hurts. Physically, mentally, emotionally. So I have to work on proving to myself that life will be so much better, and knocking my internal demon off her high horse...

My heart is under arrest again but I'll break loose

Last night, I went and saw the latest Die Hard movie with my Dad. It wasn't great. Some might even call it awful. But I loved it. I loved the ridiculousness and the unrealistic action sequences, and the aging Bruce Willis. I just love that franchise and though this is by far the worst of the series, I still enjoyed it.

And there was a stand out character, played by Jai Courtenay. Mostly because, well, he's hot. And built, and buff and just drool-worthy.

There is a point to this, I swear.

It got me thinking. I have gone out with (and lusted after, drooled over, whatever you want to class it as) a few different types of guys. In fact, the guys Ive been with have been quite different from those I have dreamed of.

But the kind of guys I'm really attracted to are the built and buff guys, the Rocks of this world. That takes a high level of dedication, discipline and commitment to health and fitness. In order to be with, or even attract, that kind of guy, it would help to be at their level, or at least up near there somewhere. At the moment, I'm on the bottom rung, slowly trying to clamber my way up.

While I know I shouldn't have to lose weight to attract a guy or whatever, that I should just do it for myself, it's more about the mindset and actions than it is about weight. I am not attracted to guys with a similar physical appearance to me, who are lazy or unmotivated. And yet I want that hot guy to be attracted to me when I myself am that way? Not going to happen (I'm aware that my chances of Momoa ever knowing I'm alive, let alone being attracted, are very slim, but a girl can dream)

Everytime I hate you I think of you first

We are a nation of short poppies.

Between the blogs I read yesterday, and an email from a good friend this morning, it's got me thinking about this.

I am awful to myself. I would never dream of saying the things that I say to myself to anyone else. It would be horrible. Even when I thoroughly dislike (I rarely hate) people, I could not bring myself to say things that mean. And I have to actively try to be kinder to myself. It's a freaking struggle. And at the moment, I might say I'm at a 90:10 ratio or cruel:kind. The sad thing is, that seriously skewed ratio is a bit optimistic and  is still quite a significant improvement. It's part of why I find it so hard to accept compliments; I don't believe that nice things could possibly be true because I sure as hell do not see myself that way.

As my friend pointed out, "we're trained not to puff ourselves up, to put ourselves down and not get a big head". And NZ as a country is particularly guilty of this. It's the phenomenon of Tall Poppy Syndrome. As a nation, we are quick to knock people down, and reluctant to bolster them up. And if you are actually good at something? Forget about it. You only have to look at the way we treat our national sports teams to see evidence of this.

I remember if I got good marks in an exam or assignment at school, feeling the need to downplay it because it wasn't cool to be smart or to do well. No one wanted to be that "arrogant" or "cocky" confident person who is proud of themselves.

And yet, other countries, such as the USA and Australia, are full of those kind of people. Which is possibly why we have such a rivalry with the Aussies, and such a general dislike for a lot of Americans. Maybe we find their self-confidence threatening? A bit of research (okay, I just used Wikipedia) shows that it is primarily the UK, Canada and NZ that identify with tall poppy syndrome. In fact I remember talking to an American girl and mentioning it to her and she had no idea what it was, and thought it was a craziest concept, but one she had noticed happening while she was here.

I don't see it stopping anytime soon. But it's important to be kinder to ourselves and replace negative thoughts with positive ones, or at least to prepare a kind thought after each mean one, to balance it out and even out that ratio a little more. Speak to yourself like you would to a friend, bolster yourself up, take some pride. We are actually all awesome, even me.

Why should I wait for love if it comes as fast as he did?

Thought I would share another very interesting blog/article from James Clear. Here it is
(and actually, spend some time to read through more of his articles because they are brilliant)

It's a further reminder that the battle with the mind is the biggest battle of all. And even just a simple change from "I can't" to "I don't" can make all the difference. It makes perfect sense. 'Can't' gives that feeling of being able to, and feeling deprived because it has been taken away from you. Whereas using 'don't' instead gives the implication of choice, and it further confirms the identity you have for yourself.

I could read his articles all day long, except I'm sure my tiny little mind can only absorb so much. And it's a bit like collecting underpants

Well this time I'm not going to watch myself die

I went to Pump again last night. And though my muscles were burning during the class, I'm moving a lot easier today than I was last Tuesday. I'm sure some soreness will kick in tomorrow (the joy of DOMS), but it's good to know that I've improved even just that much in such a short time. FTW.

I must say, its a bit intimidating being in there with my 1kg weights, while everyone around me is using 5kgs. But then I have to remind myself that they've been doing it longer than I have. And completing it is more important at this point. I have a great habit of talking smack about myself, and I have to remember that the only person calling me 'weak' is myself, and no one else in that room (and if they are, fuck them!).

It also occurred to me, after last week's class, that I didn't eat much really good quality protein, so I must make more of an effort to do that to help my muscles recover.

It's too cold outside for angels to fly

I love Steve Kamb and his baby, Nerd Fitness.
Every time he writes an article, it speaks to me, or can be exactly what I needed that week. Sometimes, spookily so. Such as the time myself and a friend had been discussing bacon, and the next day, he wrote an article all about bacon.

This is today's one which, again, has come at the perfect time:
Relax!

And this lead to me reading some other linked articles (I do also do work while I'm in the office, but I'm sure improving myself is better all round for everyone.....), and this quote:

"Look at the changes you’re making to your diet as small steps on the path to a leveled up life.  You’re not depriving yourself of junk food because you want to suffer, but rather because you want a better life, a happier existence"

It's stuff that I do know intellectually, but sometimes it just requires that extra something to help it click in to place.

In other news, I dragged myself back to the gym yesterday for a Sh'Bam class. Mostly its just such a fun class, as well as getting very sweaty. And I ran into (not literally, I'm not quite that clumsy) a person that I lived with in the uni hostels in Auckland, who I haven't seen in about 11 years. And it was lovely to see her, and have a chat and hopefully catch up again (and if nothing else, a friendly face to see around the gym), but I was very conscious of the fact that she looks the same (and used to be a fitness model and has a fantastic body, and a killer booty!), and I have put on about 20 kilos or so since then. It was a bit depressing, and made me feel quite ashamed. And then of course, after I left the gym, I got McDonalds for dinner *facepalm*

But today is another day. Better choices are full steam ahead.

Never had much faith in love or miracles

I'm in physical pain, but mental triumph. It's that weird situation where you exercise, and for the next 2 days, your muscles are so sore that it hurts to get out of your chair, or brush your hair, or even just put your earphones in so that you can escape the mundanity of your job through music.

But at the same time, it's a good pain. Not in a masochistic kind of a way, but in a "fuck yeah I did something to achieve this" way. And you know if you keep going, the pain will lessen, but then you'll just have to push yourself harder to get there again.

In the meantime, I'm hobbling everywhere and my range of motion in my arms is similar to that of a T-Rex.

Crowded streets are cleared away one by one

I read this today on a Facebook page that I follow, and it resonated: 

 

"If you start your process by thinking "I am fat and ugly and I hate my body and myself, and I need to do something about this so I won't be such a worthless failure anymore" then the minute you make a "mistake" or "slip-up" in your plans, you will quickly fall back into your old habits because it plays right into the story you keep telling yourself: that you're a worthless failure. In a way, you believe you don't deserve anything better than the way you feel right now, so why bother?

If you start your process by thinking "I have some habits that are really not good for my mental or physical health and I need to work on this so I can live a more fulfilling, active, and happy life" then when you make that same "mistake" (and you will, because nobody is perfect) you can easily move past it because you have a new story: you deserve to feel better in your life. There's nothing wrong with you, you aren't a worthless failure, you're just human and humans sometimes make questionable choices. Not a big deal, you can make a different choice next time."

 

I try to think of myself as a healthy fit person, who eats well and works out, so that can become the reality. But actually, that top sentence is still my resounding thought on most days. The mind is such a powerful thing, and it is important to change my pattern of thought so that my mind can be my best friend instead of my worst enemy, but its so hard to convince myself or anything other than what I have thought (or been told)over the last decade or two....

Give me love like never before...

Just had a spectacular weekend.
Friends came down from Palmy for a birthday get-away. We went to the zoo, to Ed Sheeran, drinks and pool (hooray for Murphy's), and just generally hung out on Friday and Saturday.
Ed Sheeran is amazing. I can't even explain it. He does everything himself, and sounds better live than on recordings. Just incredible. Best concert Ive ever been to.

I was worried about being the 3rd wheel (although more like the 7th) but there was another single person so it wasn't so bad.

One thing I realised was how far I have come in terms of being able to express myself. Dad and I have always been close, but I think maybe it wasn't until I went overseas that we regularly started saying 'I love you' to one another, and it was quite awkward at first. Now we sign off each phone call with it, and say it when I leave after a weekend visit, but for a while there it was really hard.
And I think, other than Dad (and maybe Emma, but that was fairly infrequent), Keir may have been the first friend I had that hugged much, and that wasn't so often once we lived together and saw each other all the time. And then Amy came along, and she is a hugger, and expressed emotion very easily.
So over the weekend I realised that I can now hug people all the time (in fact, I crave them far more than I did when I was younger, maybe because I never knew what I was missing out on before?), and rather than being scared of that contact, I love it, and often initiate it too (instead of being scared and waiting for the other person). I also can tell people that I love them without wanting to hyperventilate or cry, and love hearing it too, it no longer scares me if someone loves me. You do have to earn it though - I'm not the kind of person who can just say it to anyone, but for the people I love, its important to me that they know it (perhaps because I now know how nice it feels to be cared about?). It seems like a small thing, but its a major thing for me.

Im gonna pick up the pieces...

In just under 3 months I will turn 30. Eeek.
I don't think its the number thats freaking me out so much. Okay that might be a blantant lie. 30 sounds a little old. It sounds like I should be a grown up and have my life sorted, and be settled down with a husband and kids and a house and all that stuff. Not because society says so (because they sort of do, but that is changing) but because I always thought that I would be there by now.

Instead, I am single, have 3 qualifications (2 of which are in related industries), a cat, no money, and no real idea of what I want to do or be or who I am.

So I need to take stock of my life so far.

Over the past decade I have:

- lived in Auckland for 3 years, loved and lost my first "boyfriend", and still managed to push through and complete a 3 year Bachelors degree, got drunk a lot (hello tequila and lemonade!), smoked too much, did regrettable (not really) things in a pub, got piercings and tattoos, and made some awesome friends and a fabulous bestie

- moved back to Palmy, found a job, made some new friends (some of whom I am still close to), flatted with one of those friends and had the most fun (and drunk) times, discovered more great music and made awesome memories, got my restricted licence, and fell for guys that I shouldn't have (pretty boys with long hair are a weakness)

- went overseas, lived in Ireland by myself for a year, managed to find work and places to live, made some friends (noone that Im terribly close to, and don't really stay in touch with, except for one person that I now work with), tried to figure out what I would do when I came back home, travelled around some, went to awesome concerts, and fell for another pretty boy with long hair (note: not a good idea to fall for guys in another country, because they tend to stay there when you leave)

- came back to Palmy, got a job straight away, made some awesome friends there, researched courses I could do since office jobs no longer really appealed (I had it narrowed down to vet nursing or primary school teaching), moved into a new flat, met my second bestie, got a kitten, started going to counselling (possibly about 10 years later than I should have, but better late than never), started meeting/dating guys online (could also be known as the start of the 'WTF was I thinking?' phase of men in my life), joined a weight loss centre, lost about 16kgs (which I then gained back, plus interest), got my full licence, and a bit of a strained relationship with Dad due to his horrific taste in women (well, just the one really)

- chose Vet Nursing, so spent 2 years studying, combination of flatting or living with Dad (once he had broken up with said horrific woman, and then our relationship got awesome again), did a bit more counselling, met more amazing people (still close to about half), continued with terrible men (I think it was only 3 all up, but all pretty awful), got a job in a supermarket (increased my hatred of people...), weight stayed about the same (exercised quite a bit and course was pretty physical, but my eating went in waves of good and crap), serious depression episode which resulted in my first experience with anti-depressants (and learning not to go off them just because you are starting to feel better) joined another weight loss centre/club/regime, and started getting more comfortable with my own feelings

- finished course, moved to Wellington to an office job (would've taken any job at that stage), moved in with someone I knew through a friend that I had met a few times (who then turned into another very close friend), lost a bit more weight, met a guy (online again) who then turned into my first serious relationship (lasted just under 2 years), moved in with him, gained all my weight back (plus, interest again), got a vet nursing job which I loved, met some awesome people through work, started losing weight again, gained it back again, did some more counselling, self-esteem increased and decreased in waves, on and off anti-depressants again, realising that I expect too much of my friends simply because I would do anything for them and that isn't always returned (and maybe its unrealistic to think it would be...), choosing my own happiness above someone else's (and ending the 2yr relationship), deciding to do a different course (zookeeping), and making the decision to move back up to Auckland

- moved to Auckland to do the course, found a flat, did a telemarketing job (never again), met another guy online (also a wanker, possibly ending my online trials altogether), got viral meningitis (hopefully also never again) and had my first stay(s) in hospital, another vet nursing job, met cool people through the course and work, loved Auckland Zoo, did some more counselling (best one yet), felt fairly miserable and lonely (and although its easy to blame this on Auckland, realising it was more to do with me and not just location), got to spend time with my bestie up there, and then decided to move back down closer to friends and family once the course was over (and there were no jobs going at the zoo)

- back in Wellington, in an office job short-term (another 5 months), feeling lonely and miserable half of the time, regular trips back up to Foxton/Palmy to spend time with friends and my dad definitely helps, realising Im in love with a friend of mine (out of my league, 95% sure he does not feel the same), wanting to sort my shit out before I enter the next decade

So I have done a lot, accomplished some things, and closer to figuring out what I do and don't want out of life. My goal is to lose a bit of weight (get out of the triple digits and stay out of there forever more) and sort my head out a bit more, over the next couple of months so I start my next decade in a healthier place physically and mentally.