Life As a Nonsmoker

Life as a nonsmoker is interesting. Despite telling myself I wouldn't, I'm pretty sure I've gained some weight. I refuse to weigh myself because that will just be counterproductive. I quit smoking. I'm going to gain weight. It's just a fact. I'll do my best to not eat bad things, but it's not always going to happen. As soon as I get my life back, I'll try to fix all these issues.

It's just that the whole weight gain thing takes such a backseat to all the personality and mood swings going on. I just don't feel like myself. I can't relax. I'm always tense. The only thing that I want to do to fix it is eat, but I can't. Or I will eat and then I'll feel like a glutton and guilt trip myself. My weekends are never as relaxing as they used to be.

I'm working on finding alternatives. I'm looking to find ways to relax and work out. Hopefully at one time. Like walking. Or jogging. I'd really love to swim, but my crazy anxiety springs up at the thought of going to one of those indoor swim places and wearing a bathing suit in front of all those people. So swimming will have to hold off for now.

Then there's work. I still do the same things at work I used to do, but they aren't broken apart by smoke breaks anymore. When I took a smoke break that was my time to mull over a problem and come up with a solution. That was my time to think. Of course I could go outside anyway, but do you know how dorky I would look just standing there for no reason? After lunch, I will walk the length of the building (we are part of a warehouse so our building is huge!) and that helps. But it's just one time. Oh and then there's lunch. I just wait and wait for lunchtime. Then I want snacks. I limit myself to yogurt and stuff like that, but I obsess over it. It's not good.

Oh and I've started to limit my soda intake, but not as much as I'd like. During the day at work it's easy to drink water while I'm sitting at my desk, but at home, I always reach for the soda first. I don't have the willpower to tell my husband to stop buying it like I should. I really need to work on it more. But at least I am drinking water, so that's good. Soda I limit to meal time.

Then there's just me. I can't tell you how many times I think to myself that just one cigarette would make everything ok again. There would be no more mood swings. No more crying for no apparent reason. No more craving food on a constant basis. All would be alright again. But I know it's a lie. And I'd have to start all over again. And I would hate myself. And I would hate disappointing everybody who is so proud of me.

So I continue on. Even when it feels like hell. Even when I feel my pants getting tighter. Even when things taste funny for no apparent reason. I will get past this part and be a (different) normal person again.

I've been a non-smoker 72 days now. It's something...

What happened to Power Rangers?

So it's started. Today my son told me all he wanted for Christmas was clothes. Seriously?? No matter how much I wanted nice clothes growing up, I would not sacrifice other cool things for them. I said, "What about video games?" He said, "Well, yeah, but I don't want to get less clothes for them."

My jaw just about dropped.

This conversation took place after I took him to the mall. He said he wanted a jacket, but he admitted later that it was just a pretense to get me to go. If he acted like it was something he needed instead of just wanted, he could get me out of the house. Sadly, it worked. I'm not a rich person. I rarely have money to drop on clothes for any of us, but I don't want people to say I can't get my son a jacket.

What we ended up getting was a t-shirt and a pair of shoes. And before you think, "Oh, just a t-shirt. That's not bad." We went to the store Hot Topic. A t-shirt is $20. At least I told him no on the second t-shirt.

The shoes... The shoes were these God-awful baby blue checkered Vans. They were $41. I so wanted to judge him for it, but I grew up in the 80's...I wore florescent clothes. I can't judge. I have no Jordache covered leg to stand on here.

If you're wondering what we'll do about a jacket then, don't worry, he does have various jackets around the house. They will just have to do. He knew the choice he was making. If he has to shiver a little, he can just look down at those lovely shoes he picked and remember.

We were walking through Target and he said, "Do you remember when I used to hate clothes and I would go straight for the toys?"

"Yes, I do," I said in a sad voice. Yes, I do...

Worrywart

I wish I knew when I became such a nervous person. I was never like this before. I was the kind of person who would just assume everything would turn out all right. I never worried when someone left the house. I just figured they would come home like they were supposed to.

Logically I know it probably started when I lost my dad. Then we started losing people left and right. My husband's cousin, uncles, my grandfather. It's gotten to the point I'm almost numb to it. But I'm not. I think I am, but my nervousness proves I'm truly not.

Like I mentioned in my cooking post I'm afraid of fire. I don't even like when my family wants to do a bonfire in our yard, which is ironic since that's where I met my husband. At a bonfire. I didn't even lose anyone in a fire. We had a house fire once when I lived at my in-laws but fire didn't even bother me as much then as it does now.

I have to watch my son get on the bus. He's 16 and I just can't stop. I have to see him get on that bus. Otherwise I'll worry all day long.

I worry about my mom. Sometimes I'll go over and check on her to make sure she's ok if I haven't seen her in awhile.

If my son goes into the bathroom for a long time I worry. That was where we found my father so that one is pretty understandable.

I worry about my brother-in-law in the hospital. But that is a very real worry since he really is sick.

I worry about my dog. If I don't see the cat for a couple days, I worry.

I always assume the worst too. I was never like that.

This person I am now is not someone I recognize. I need to get over it. Fast. My son will be driving soon. He will be going out. He will sometimes not call me like all teenagers too. If I don't let go, I will go insane. I can't control or watch over everything all the time.

If you see me, you see this laid back person who looks like they rarely worry about anything. And I can be like that. I was even call too nonchalant once at work. When we had layoffs I wasn't even that worried about myself. Oh, I was worried, don't get me wrong, but those worries seemed so small compared to the ones in my head.

And most hours of the day, I'm fine. When I feel everything is under control. But if someone calls me and says they don't know where someone is or something is wrong and it's all scattered to the wind. I'm assuming the worst and wanting to huddle somewhere in a corner.

I'm hoping time will take care of most of this. I'm sure it will. Right? But what if it doesn't? What if this nail biting means I never have long nails again? And what about the hair twirling? Will I end up with a bald spot?

See what I mean?

I'm going to stop worrying now. As soon as my son gets back into the house...

A Confession

I will never be good in the kitchen. I just can't relax. If I cook something, I get obsessed with it. I just can't cook the food. I stalk it. I crank call it. I hide in the bushes with binoculars watching it. When I cook with oil, I'm so scared of a grease fire, I cook at the lowest temperature possible and it takes forever. I watch the pot, and yes, it really doesn't boil when you do that.

I follow recipes to the tee. I never improvise. I don't know what spice would be good with what. When I cut veggies, I have no finesse. I don't even know what part of the cabbage you're supposed to use. I couldn't even spell cabbage the first time I wrote that sentence.

I don't like to cook. The only things I enjoy making are eggs and dips--not together. Any kind of dip. Dips are good. Eggs--soft boiled, hard boiled-sunny side up, scrambled, fried, deviled. I am like Bubba with shrimp when it comes to eggs.

But that's it. That's all I like to make. It's all I enjoy. The dinners and all that... Blah. Sometimes I'm even disappointed when the roasts I make in the crock pot. And you don't do any work with that. Just throw it all in and let it cook all day.

I try though. I feel like they will take my woman badge away from me if I don't try. And I like to eat, so that's always an incentive to cook. Plus, if my husband cooks, he likes to grill, and that grill he has is a death trap. It always catches fire. And like the grease, I'm so paranoid of that. He just considers it a challenge. Like he's the Indiana Jones of cooking.

I don't want to stalk my food. I would just like to throw something on for dinner and have it come out tasting good. I get lucky sometimes...in the kitchen too. Meals will come out exactly like they should. It feels like I won some kind of battle. It doesn't make me satisfied. It makes me tired. All that stalking will do that to you.

Maybe I should take a tip from Frankie Goes to Hollywood and Relax. Just do it. But if my cooking is anything like their career, it will never happen.

In the meantime, would anyone like some spinach dip with a side of scrambled eggs?

Moments

Life is full of moments. The older I get the more I realize this and wish I would've appreciated some of them more. Moments with my father who I miss so much and moments with my son. His childhood is almost over and I wish I could go back and gather all the moments and slowed them down. That little boy with the active imagination who'd run up to me and hug me. I miss that boy. I love the teenager, but I miss the boy.

This evening I was in the grocery store looking for spaghetti sauce when a woman and her little boy came down the aisle. I didn't look at them, but I could hear them talking.

The little boy said, "I found a penny! This is my lucky day!"

The mom said, "Please keep your voice down."

That upset me. He really wasn't that loud and he just sounded so excited. But I couldn't judge her, because I could remember that voice. That was the voice I'd use when I'd start tuning off the chattering and the whining. When I stopped truly listening.

I wanted to go over and say, "Let me see your penny," and enjoy the moment with him. Childhood seems long, but is really so short. I wished I'd thought about that when my son was young. But I didn't. Not always.

I'm not sure what the point of this blog is. For once I don't really have one.

Just make sure you always appreciate your lucky penny. They don't stay around forever.

Broken

I'm a bad blogger. I am. I keep saying I'm back and then I just disappear again. I'm sorry. I love this blog. I do. But I just lost something last year that I can't seem to get back again.

There were many more interviews I planned to do and ideas that just got lost. That's where I am right now. Lost.

My mind kept telling me I was fine and ready to get back to what I was doing before I lost so much, but then I just find myself sliding right back down. I'm still broken.

That's not to say I can't find my way out of this. There's still a spark there. I'm just waiting for it to grow back into that fire that used to blaze through me.

It will happen again. It's just going to take time.

I'm sure many people have given up on this blog and I don't blame them. But if you're still around, and still reading this, then thank you. I appreciate it. And one day some one is going to be bored enough to visit and find I'm on here blogging away. Back to my old self.

But until then... I'm just going to keep searching for the pieces.