Complicated? Maybe not.

Some things are so odd and weird and big, I have to just type it out to sort out what's going on in my brain. This is one of those things. I think I have to type it over, just to make sure what I'm saying matches with what's truly inside my heart. Like, drag it out, name it, examine it. Render it safe, or not.

Bigger things have happened, recently, but writing about them wouldn't have solved shit, really. Sometimes other people need to fix my problems, (because they directly cause them) and sometimes, I need to sort things out alone. Not that I think this particular issue is even a problem, but it's certainly something worth thinking about.

So, Mark. Mark and I were friends all the way back in 1994, then we lost touch because of Guam, but started hanging out when I got back. We went to the UB Adult School together, and resumed our friendship immediately. We had (have) a load of stuff in common, and eventually took our friendship deeper. We were in a really intense relationship for about 6 months. For me, at that time, 6 months was an eternity. It was the most serious I'd ever been about any relationship to date, and we experienced the entire spectrum of emotions that come with 17 year old true love. Not puppy love bullshit, but the real deal. We also hated each other's guts sometimes too. We both had a load of baggage and issues that we couldn't begin to be mature enough to work through, so I ended it. I had a few reasons. Zero sexual chemistry, not a bit of passion. Sex was an awkward thing, at the best of times, and a fucking nightmare, usually. Other things were bad, too. We were fighting so much, every day, and it always wound up in tears, both of us crying, every day. Around that time, I became interested in someone else (what a mistake that wound up being, but that is a blog for another time.) and I figured the best thing would be just to end it. I was a super fucking coward, though. I wrote Mark an 11 page letter, detailing how much I loved him and how insanely bad for each other we were, and that I'd found someone else, and that maybe we should try being friends, because we were so good as friends. Then I didn't show up for school for the next week, because I felt so fucking bad. It was the worst breakup of my young life, and I can look back at all my relationships and say that honestly. I handled it badly, and it was just bad. He quit school and disappeared. I'm going to sum this up by saying I certainly paid my karmic debt for it, with the next few nightmare relationships I went through.

So. Facebook. Mark friends me. We become friends again, and like, really friends. We still have so much in common, we talk booze, music, slasher flicks, just the shit we love, and loved experiencing together. Friends. I'm happily married, and happily involved, and happily happy. Him, notsomuch. He went back to the same girl he was with before me. He dumped Jen to be with me, and when I broke up with him, he went right back to her, and there he stayed for 16 years. They had four kids, too. He's had a rocky time of things, he was in jail for a few years, rehab, and well...she never was capable of keeping him out of trouble. Essentially, they hate each other, and he's just there for his kids, whom he adores. Mark's got a lot of issues, but I can say that he's a good father, and does his level best by his kids. He has a decent job, but is deep in debt, and trying to fix that so he can make a clean break, move out, and pay child support. She takes off a lot, for days at a time, and leaves him with the 4 kids, to raise.

He confides in me some, we've always understood each other. Last night, he wound up at my doorstep, pitifully drunk. He, Luiz, and I hung out all night, drinking and talking. He kept going back to the time we were together, and saying how much he loved me, and still does. Like, we talk and joke, and I'd say "remember that time...." and he would answer with "of course I do, that was awesome, I loved you so much. I still do, though." And, being Thelemic, I can handle that without awkwardness. Love is universal, we're all connected, I can even say that I love him, but we're on totally different levels of it. Like. I love him for who he is, and because he's a great human and a good soul, and a good friend. I. Don't. *want*. Him. I want to be there for him, maybe help him through a rough patch in his life, and be his friend, go to some metal shows, debate the awesomeness of Freddy and Jason, get drunk and silly, yell and fight and laugh. I'm not at all interested in rekindling anything. I'm like 90% sure he isn't either, but with the drunkness last night, who can really tell? I told him that I loved him too, but that never in the boyfriend/girlfriend way, not anymore. I hope he understood.

We drank and ate, and talked till he really was too drunk to sit on the pub stool in the kitchen, so we offered him a place to crash, and he declined. He only lives about 3 blocks away, so Luiz and I bundled him up, and walked him home in the snow. The three of us hugging and laughing, and stumbling the whole time. The night ended well. Irv was out dealing with the snow, and the storm, but I was on the phone with him a great deal, throughout all of this, keeping him posted, including him, talking to him, having him talk to everyone.

Luiz was there looking on from a 3rd person perspective, and he said the way Mark kept hugging me was something like the way a child hugs his mother. Clinging, lost. I must inspire that in people, or something. I can be a maternal sort of friend for him, gods know he needs some of that in his life. His own mother was a waste. He does need help, fixing his drinking problem, sorting out his feelings. I am still not sure if I can help him or would just complicate his life. Ideally, I'd like to have him be friends with all of us, like one of the group. Come on over and party with us on a Saturday night, call me when you're down, that sort of thing.

I thought the whole evening was a situation that could have been awkward, or bad, but it wasn't. Part of it is our general philosophy about life, and part of it is complete disclosure and honesty, to everyone involved, and to myself.. Maybe that's why I'm writing this. As I type this out, I'm forced to examine my motives and orchestrate my thoughts. They're still pure. I'm cool with everything. The only thing I'm worried about now is that he's feeling ashamed, bad, or awkward about last night, and that he's going to avoid us. That, and since Jen still hates me with the white-hot passion of a thousand suns, and if she finds out he was here most of the evening, she'd probably make things very bad for him. He left his hat here. I plan on having Luiz drop it off. I'm not gonna show up at his door and make things weird.

Seriously!?

I just realized, a lot has happened since 6-16, that post that I wrote before I got bloodwork.

The results came back, that I was diabetic. The doctor put me on pills, and an 1800 calorie a day diet. The moment I heard, I filled the 'scrip, and asked Schuyler for his food journal.

The journal is a godsend. I document every single thing I put in my mouth, from a taste of dressing that I'm making for my salad, to a multivitamin, to those two cookies I ate yesterday. I learned that I was already keeping to roughly 1900 calories on a typical day, only it was mostly carbs and fat. I also learned that on daysI go out for lunch or dinner, I can eat about a thousand calories in one sitting. Things have changed, to say the least.

It's not hard keeping to 1800 calories, I don't feel deprived, I don't feel hungry, I just eat a TON of vegetables, some fruit, and have laid off butter, cream, rich, fatty meat. Most days, I hover around 13-1500, sometimes dipping down to 1100, and one day going as high as 1900. I have an appointment tomorrow with the diabetes learning doctor, and I'm downright excited to show her my food and activity journals.

Anyway, I know it's a mouthful after my whole littany of "I'm not dieting" earlier on here. I'm eating a lot of crow, I guess. I'm dreading a doctor visit, because he's the type to say "I told you so", but here I am.

I've discovered some interesting things. I don't mind being hungry, as long as I'm busy. I don't mind the tummy growling feeling. The worst time is a yawning stretch of time alone, and nothing to do. I have trouble between 3 and 6, mainly. That's why I've decided to pick up Tai Chi. It fills that time nicely, and I don't spend it obsessing about the next thing to eat. Even still, it's not too horrible, because I snack on strawberries, cucumbers, cherries, carrots, bell peppers, and stuff like that. Either that, or I eat half my lunch at lunch time (around 2, usually) and save the other have for picking at during that time.

I manage. It's strange, I never thought I would be typing these words, but I am thoroughly enjoying the pursuit of eating better, and managing my health.

It's always a good day, but today was especially good

Two noteworthy things, today. Went out to lunch for the first time since all this started (I still refuse to refer to the changes as a "diet" because it so isn't). I was worried about going out to eat, it was my last huge hurdle. I could easily consume 1000-1500 calories in one good lunch.

Today Alden and I went to Turning point, as a test to myself. I studied the menu, and weighed my options. I wanted something warm and filling, at least. I settled for a soup/salad combo. The soup was a white bean tomato soup, which was broth based and zero fat. The salad was chicken with fruit, coconut and pecans. I ate the soup and half the salad there, and ate the rest of the salad around 3:30. All well within the amount of calories I need by that time. I'm happy. Alden and I walked more than usual, and everywhere I go, instead of ambling around, I've been hustling.

The other noteworthy thing is Tai Chi. On a whim, I bought a DvD set with flash cards, that simply introduces you into the warmup, the whole Tai Chi form, and cooldown. I feel so poweful just doing the warmup. Because of the energies I raise and project as a part of my natural religion/spirituality, this is coming very easy for me. Not the form, that's a challenge, but the concept. I feel good about this, and even better that Alden is doing it with me. I have a ways to go, on perfecting the form, but that's my goal. I'll say it right here. I intend to be practicing it with ease and as a part of my everyday routine by the end of July. So far, I've mastered the two stages of warmup. I'll need more space to really practice the form, Alden and I are trying to learn it, and banging into each other.

I am *so* happy. I haven't felt this good in a long time.

Fasting and Relaxing.

I'm supposed to be fasting. I suppose I am, I didn't put any sweetener in my Lotus tea. That's fasting enough for me, and there's no cookies nearby. Just tea, unsweetened. Tomorrow morning, it's gonna be rough. Does fasting mean no clear liquids? Because I need a tall glass of something in the am, even water will make me happy. I should look that up.

I have to fast, because I'm going in for a ton of bloodwork. My doc determined, last week, that he had no "labs" on me, and is planning on fixing that tomorrow. I hope I don't faint. I hope I'm not __________ (insert any of a dozen weird maladies, here).

On Friday, I was all fired up and busting out of my skin. What a difference a few days make. I thought and thought about the whole piercing thing, and between the delayed gratification, other things I need to spend money on, and all the well meaning pointers (I mentioned piercing in my Facebook status...everyone jumped on that bandwagon) It just sort of diffused the pangs. I didn't go today. In fact, I didn't do too much, today at all. Very low energy, felt cold and gross all day, and I haven't been sleeping properly.

Yesterday seemed to be just about what I needed, though. Suzanne and I went out for a girly day. Indian food, for lunch, then we went just driving around, talking. We wound up at Whole Foods, and walked around talking food, makeup, and generally girly things. I read some cards for her, and we finished the day with Italian ices. It was supremely nice. She brought me a huge bouquet of daylilies, in yellow, white and pink. They're so perfect, they look fake, but they fill the kitchen with their light scent. She's the best wife ever. That's our joke, we're gonna leave the guys someday, and move to Vermont, get married, and open a bed and breakfast. She's probably more serious about all that than I am... I've entertained the thought of being in a relationship with a woman, in fact, before I met Irv, I was sure I was gonna wind up a lesbian, living with my girlfriend and 9 cats. But, things are so good now, with the family and our situation, so those ideas are about as distant as Jupiter.


I don't have much to write about, tonight, I'm just enjoying the process. Hopefully it puts me in a sleepy, calm headspace. I'm nervous about tomorrow morning, mainly because I get nervous about *every* doctor visits, but maybe even moreso because this one isn't on my terms. I'm not going in there because I need something, or am sick, this is a factfinding mission, and I'm worried that the facts will wind up different from what I thought.

Sunshine brat

I hate that caged, restless feeling I've been getting lately. The weather is probably partly at fault. This is the time of the year that I spend mornings outside, and I haven't been, because it's been rainy and cold. It hit very hard, this morning. I was antsy, jittery, not in the mood to read, write, spend time with the cards, play video games, NOTHING, not in the mood for anything that I enjoy, or that generally relaxes me. Here's my one day a week that I have to mysef, and I'm just about freaking out of my skin. Brain going fast, zero concentration, and a real urgent need to release. Not even sexual, it's weird, with all this energy, none of it felt sexual. It more felt like a childish ants-in-my-pants brattiness.

Then, the weirdest thing happened. Goddess smiled, the sun came out! It didn't just subtly lighten the sky, or slowly peek through the clouds...I mean the sun came out. After being cold, stuffy, muggy, humid, damp, and gross, for an eternity, walking out into extreme sunshine was like going on vacation. I felt all my cells swell and drink it in, I could feel the nutrients and warmth spreading through my skin and into my blood. It felt like honey pouring through my veins. I could use a thousand analogies here, seriously, but I haven't felt that warm, whole, and good in weeks.

Right then, I made up my mind to go out and enjoy it. I swept my hair up into a chopsticks bun-nytail, threw on some makeup, and donned some leggings under this sundress (ok for around the house...ass needs to be covered in public.) and went out of doors. No direction, no real sense of anything except that I wanted to be outside, driving around, with my sunroof open and music blaring. I brought the three decks I've been meaning to have trimmed. That was my first stop, to see if the charming guy at Staples was there, the only employee I'd trust to die-cut my decks. But, he wasn't, and I almost came back home sulking. I sat there in the parking lot, for a few minutes, tucking my decks back into my bag, when it hit me.

I don't know what 'it' is, but I just started driving. I cranked down ALL the windows (fuck my hair and lipgloss...) and blasted the stereo up to 33. I put on my Faith No More list, which is the sountrack of my own youth, and just drove. Faith No More empowers me, pushes me on, fills me with thoughtful clear vigorous energy, like no other band. It makes me want to sing, and move, and fly. It was so good to just drive, and drive. I pushed the speedometer up, way up, past 75, past 80...zooming down Rt. 35, going who the hell knows where. For a few minutes, I felt 18 again. Wild abandon fits in here, somewhere.

I passed Destiny, and got a wild-ass idea. I need a new piercing. I need the pain, release, and clarity. I want a new piece of jewelery, and fuckall, while I'm there, I needed my old piercings fixed. I needed it right that minute, and I still do. I was stopped at a light and decided to draw a card. I reached into my purse, without taking my eyes off the road, and pulled out the first card I touched, which happened to be from the Robin Wood deck. "Should I get a piercing?" It was the Knight of Pentacles. I'll detail it more in the Tarot end of these blogs, but yes. Think it through, this is your body and could cost a pretty penny, but yes.

Of course, my life is so sideways my rare spontaneous moments rarely pan out... Took a U-turn, pulled in, and the place was closed. Hah on me. He was supposed to be open 2 hours before, but no one was there, and the place was locked down tight. I'm going back, probably Tuesday. I have between now and then to decide what I want. I was going to go there, today, and let Clark make the call, what he thought I should pierce. One would think that's an iffy proposition, but I trust my piercers. Mike has come up with quite interesting and beautiful ideas, some that I went through with, others I didn't. I trust Clark to do the same. There's that brattiness again. Sometimes I just have to do what I want, when I want it, and how I want it, fuck what anyone thinks, fuck finances, fuck practicality.

So, most of this afternoon felt like a huge giggle, with an ironic smirk at the end. Definitely a great way to start the weekend.

The Gauntlet

Going to the doctor today was not unpleasant. It was hard for me to even type that with a straight face, but it's true, haha. Normally I despise any interaction with any medical personel on a professional level, but today it was simply to go in and tell him I needed more Advair. We discussed my weight, which apparently is quite the issue, to him. Not so much, for me. It's a littany I often repeat to "well meaning" fat-hating people in my life.

I take good care of my body, I don't fill it with junkfood and garbage, I cook well, and I eat well. I have dieted many times, everything from *cringe* Richard Simmon's Deal a Meal, to Slim Fast, to Weight Watchers, to Atkins, to South Beach, to good old "calories in-calories out" and, uh, hello...none of it has stuck. I've come to a grand revelation in my life. I like eating, cooking, being happy and comfortable with food, more than I like the notion of being "thin". Cooking is a major passion of mine, and so is eating good things. Other people can eat good food, and remain within what society deems normal, why can't I? I'll tell you. I've been fat since I was a kid. NATURE has deemed this strong, toned, and apple-shaped body as Lisa's personal norm. Society can go fuck itself. I don't eat any more or less than my 100lb friends. I refuse to feel shame at my intake, what, how, where, and when.

Frankly, I don't even want to be thin! I don't like the look and feel of bones through my skin. I like the lushness, the earth mama of myself. I am comforted and feel comfortable with my size.

My doctor regards my attitude with disdain. He says "fine, but what about when you're 50?" I say...I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. He wants me to look into surgery. He does not know how I loathe the whole act of the medical industry. I like him, he would make a good boss, or neighbor, or something, which makes my visiting him easier, but I strongly hate doctors in general.

The gauntlet that I would be put through for weight loss surgery, and I have been researching it for YEARS, is not fucking worth it. If I could make an appointment for overnight lap-band, next week, in and out, no hassle, no psychiatry, no cardiology, no stress tests, no liquid diet for 3 months (that alone is a hearty chuckle...if I could cope with a liquid diet, would I even need surgery?!), then promise me no anemia, no bone densityloss, no muscle loss, no HAIR loss, along with the fat loss...well, then maybe we could talk. Maybe.

Either way, he thinks it's weird that I eat the kind of portions that I do, and lose weight very slowly, or not at all (to the tune of 14 pounds less, in a year). I'm forthright, I eat small portions, I am not lying to him, or myself, or this blog. I also don't skimp buttering my potato, or drizzling fine green olive oil over my spinach. I don't say no to luscious milk chocolate, or a good pulled pork sammich. But, I'll eat an eighth of the chocolate bar. I'll eat a few tablespoons of the pork, on half a roll. I'll eat half a potato. I do not LIKE being stuffed full, groaning, and sloppy full of food. That makes me feel "fat" in a negative way. I hate that feeling. I like being satisfied, I like tasting, and experiencing, but I hate being packed full. I am active, but not athletic. Not like I used to be, at least. Not since the asthma started. I move around a lot, and do a lot of anaerobic activity, like yoga, or theraputic stretching, and pilates moves. In fact, if I am idle, and standing still, I am doing one of those things.

It brings us to bloodwork. Next week, we're going to try that. He has no lab results on me, and is curious to check my thyroid, and other stuff. I feel pretty meh about the whole thing. Alternately, it would be nice to find out that there's some kind of circumstance, but I would rather not complicate matters of my health. I don't want to take pills, or whatever.

He's lucky he's so charming, or else I wouldn't even be down for bloodwork. He makes it sound all "come on down to the office next week, and we'll see what's what". I almost asked "should I bring refreshments?" His tone, he made it sound like a picnic. Wouldn't that be ironic!

I wonder...

If the page is loading weird, or if it's just me.