I went to bed last night at three a.m. It was ridiculous, really. And I know it. And yet, even though I slept until almost noon today, I ended up having a better time last night than I have in months. And I spent the entire day in my pajamas. I ate snickers bars, drank a glass of milk and called it a meal. Lit my candles and my house smells like English roses and strawberries, and it's lovely.
Social Security actually *did* call me back, to tell me that everything should be fine, to go ahead and mail in the paperwork I have and that should be straightened out, and with an apology even for the mistake. I'll go in on Monday to FCC to pick up the rest of my books, and with that have everything I need to be good to go.
Spoke to the public library and have all of my info there all straight, talked to a very nice woman who I thoroughly enjoyed speaking with, and I'm considering joining the book club there once a month.
Went to a wedding tonight, and got such a royal kick out of the ceremony that I was just tickled silly. And then went with a bunch of friends and we all got absolutely shit-faced at the local bar, and had a grand time to be perfectly honest. And watched one of them streak around, being just silly. It was good fun, and everybody had fun. Last I saw of the bride and groom, they were headed out on their honeymoon. It was nice. Really, really strange, but nice. I can honestly say I have never seen anything like it. I don't think I'll be drinking that way again anytime soon. I don't like the weird slurry speech thing that it caused me. But it was all in good fun, I suppose. And everybody knows that I am definitely not big on weddings, which I made perfectly clear to the groom. I am anti-wedding, and anti-babies, as always.
And having said all of that, onto my normal rhythm. I've been reading quite a lot lately, now that I have my books up and accessible again has caused me to read with more frequency than I have in the last year or so. I hadn't realized just how little I'd been reading until I suddenly had access to my books again. Which is what caused me to get my library account active again. I've re-read all my John Grisham novels, and worked my way through about half of my fiction books in general in the last few weeks. I'm starting to work my way through the Idiot's guides, just for something to read that's non-fiction. And so I've ordered several books from the library to be sent to the local branch, and I'm really looking forward to it. I learned a few years ago to borrow them first and read them, and the ones that I really enjoy thoroughly I'm willing to purchase, but I won't just buy everything I read anymore. And I need to get down to the Book Nook and check it out, now that it's under new management.
I have started a new exercise routine, although I'm still having to favour my ankle, as it's still giving me trouble. I don't think that sprain has healed quite right, or perhaps it was just a lot more severely sprained than I had originally thought. I have to wrap it up and ice it down several times a week still, and I'm still having to use anti-inflammatory meds to keep it under control. The swelling still hasn't gone down, and it still hurts substantially. Especially if I leave it down for more than an hour or so. It's just not good, and I hate that. And there really isn't much I can do about it, since the x-rays showed that it was clearly not broken. So I started lifting weights to tone up my arms, and working out my chest, because I was tired of looking at my arms, and I figure trying to give some tone under my breasts couldn't possibly *hurt* anything.
Everyone who spends any time with me out in public is aware that for the most part, I'm a creature of habit. My social anxiety is severe enough that I only go to the places I'm very familiar with, and I don't even go there often. I stay close to home, and I like it that way. And because of my weight issues, I rarely, if ever, go out to eat. It's been years since I went and voluntarily sat in a restaurant that wasn't the small local breakfast place that is my customary hangout spot. And by years, I mean the last place I went anywhere, was just *before* Danny and I became a couple officially.
I've gone to dinner here and there throughout that seven years, but for the most part, that was it. And I can actually remember (because of my memory being so spotty, this is memorable to me, work with me here) why this matters to me. Just before we got together, Danny and I had gone and had coffee at Denny's one night. And I remember that we sat in a booth there, and while he didn't know it, I had bruises all along my abdomen, because I just barely fit sitting there. And it sucked, and I never went back again after that. I barely went *anywhere* after that, because of how much it hurt, and how horrible it was.
Recently I went and sat with my Grandma at Denny's for breakfast. She's old, and it's the place she likes. She had just had surgery, and she wanted to sit in a booth, because it would be most comfortable for her, and I cringed, because honestly, I will not tell an 80 year old woman who just had surgery no. And since she's generally very aware of not embarrassing me, I sucked it up (pun intended), and we sat down. I didn't need to suck it up. Denny's had overhauled their restaurants a long while back, and they "minimized" their booths, making them the smallest seated ones in town, which is how I got bruised in the first place. If you're "normal sized" it's still not particularly pleasant. If you're heavy? It's a nightmare. And because the booth tables don't move, you're just screwed, there's no way to adjust for comfort. At any rate. Grandma and I sat down. And I fit just fine. I can cross my arms in front of me between the table and my stomach now. I guess Grandma hadn't thought about it, because when she looks at me, she sees me. When *I* look at me? I still see me the way I was a year and a half ago. Or five years ago. Or whatever. But what I see when I look in a mirror is not the person I am now. And I just cannot seem to compute that with who I am now. And it was brought home, very hard, when I sat down across from her, and nothing squished, and nothing bruised, and a woman who was the size I used to be came in with her husband, and sat at a table across from us. And I realized that I may always think that's how I look, but when other people look at me now, the reason no one stares anymore? The reason they smile and compliment me now? Is because I'm *not* that woman anymore. I'm not the social outcast anymore.
Because I fit into the Denny's booth now. I fit into society now for the most part. I walk up the stairs at the college, to get to where I need to go, I don't need to take the elevator. I walk from the back of the parking lot. And I remember Christmas, Phillip saying "of course you can walk, it's not like we're in a race" when we went to the bookstore and parked out in the boonies. And telling me that if I was feeling so badly that I couldn't walk from where we parked, we shouldn't be there at all. And he was right. It's been a progression. And the end result has been now. Now where I go where I want to. And carry in my groceries by myself. Because I can. Because that's what it is now, right? That I can? And I never realized how much I allowed everyone to do it for me, because I assumed I couldn't do anything, until someone looked at me and said "of course you can." And from that point on, I did. And I have. And I can.
Some days I can't do as much as I'd like. And I wait until the next day, and I do better. I won't ever be able to run like a gazelle. And I don't need to. I'll get there just the same. It might take me a lot longer. But it's not a race to be the fastest. And I'm comfortable with that now. For the girl who five years ago wasn't able to stand up and cook a meal? I'm good with what I have now. I can carry in my groceries. I can walk up and down a flight of stairs multiple times in the same day when I need to. Take a shower. Go swimming. Move a bookcase.
If I seem like I'm giving up? It's because I'm tired, and my energy has run out. It's because I've been beaten down a lot, and sometimes, everybody could use a hug. And I really would like to have back my friends. But I'm haven't broken yet, even when I wanted to. And if I seems like they beat me, I guess they haven't yet. Because I'm still here. I'm still standing. In my own place. On my own two feet.
Someday, it's bound to happen that I'll inevitably run into one or the other of them, somewhere around. And I'm sure when that happens, I'll fall into a big emotional basketcase. But I'll be damned if I'll fall into pieces in front of them. I'll smile, say whatever the appropriate words are at the time. And then walk away. Because it's what they both wanted from me. And whatever my own personal feelings are? It doesn't matter now. Because I genuinely do wish them both the best. All I want is for the people I love to be happy, healthy and taken care of. It's all I've ever wanted for any of the people I love. And they all know it. Whether I can be the person who takes care of them or not, I still want them to be loved and happy.
And I've always been exquisitely skilled at putting on a show of being what is needed. And that now needs to be calm, collected, and just a girl you once knew, who saw you around town, in passing. I can pretend with the best of them that whatever once was between us, is no longer there. I've moved on. You'll see what you need to see.
As I've always done, I'll give them what they need, to be happy.
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