I've noticed the pounds creeping back up, but what did I expect after my sporadic gym time and visits to candyland. Inertia creates a hole that I can't fill with food no matter how hard I try. Yep, should have signed up to bootcamp again. My mind said you know you should, my eyes reading the words on the website, but my heart said, it feels like punishment. Those who gain weight have to run and sweat and heave and struggle - that's punishment. And I was tired of being punished. You'll run and run and still be last behind the 27 year olds, you'll lose an inch or two here and there and so what? I remember when Sampson died and I kept going to bootcamp cause that's all I had, was the pain and sweat for one hour clouding out my pain. I smiled and pounded my aching feet up the steps of the stadium, all for the 10 minutes of endorphins I'd get in the shower later. I continued to work out with my twisted ankle and I liked the fact that I had a tangible injury to mark my grief. It didn't hurt enough.
No one has ever accused me of not showing up, of not being able to make a commitment. If I say I'm going to be there, I'll be there. I remember once years ago, I had to go to an audition and at the time I was working a temp job in a middle of some industrial area. I waited for this bus and of course, it was raining a monsoon. My piddly umbrella didn't stand a chance. The bus was nowhere in site. I waited and waited. I ran across a busy road to another bus step. The first bus showed up then. Finally a bus arrived and then it took me to a bus loop where I had to take another bus and when I made it there, I had to walk/run hard for 5 minutes. By the time I got to the studio, I was soaked through. My hair, my makeup was a mess. I tried my best to clean up. The casting director said I looked like a drowned rat. I didn't know if I wanted to smack her or crumple up and die. I was freezing, wet, teeth chattering in a skin tight black jumpsuit. I think I had one word to say. I didn't get the part.
But I showed up. I made it. Yet someone else got the part. My life went on and I had lots of roles to play and many happy things happened. I never forgot that day, though.
An analogy to the infertility experience. Waiting, waiting, running for buses, getting chilled to the bone and still not getting the part. And though I've done the "sensible" thing by turning to adoption to solve the childlessness part, I read about the long 2 year wait by friends who finally held their child in Africa right to the 6 week, 1 week, 12 days to get "chosen" stories. I feel like I'm being punished. I know it's nothing personal, right, universe, God? Anybody? Oprah? I'm not looking for pity here, I'm not even particularly upset right now, I'm just looking at the facts. This is something I probably should have been in therapy for. Aha. Blogging has been a kind of therapy and I know it has definitely kept me from snapping. I've never really talked to anybody about the effect that infertility and childlessness has had on my psyche - except to you all. I can describe it to interested friends or acquaintances, but I always self edit. So you know, I don't sound ..... CRAZY. So I don't sound depressed or stuck or obsessed or that I'm looking for pity. Cause I'm not. I'm just looking for clarity, maybe answers. Something tells me there are no answers, just a different way of looking at things.