Well, after two years it’s finally happened: I have blogger’s block. Anyone else might think “Well, maybe I’m finally done saying all the shit I wanted to say” but c’mon…it’s me. I’ll probably die talking. Yap yap yap…drop. That’s the only way God will get me to shut up. Like I’ll be all “Let me tell you about the time I drove the DFW Penis with my girlfr-” to the nurse in my nursing home and God will be all “Nope…you’re done.” And then boom…I’m in Heaven. Hopefully.
I’m having a really hard time right now. It’s become pretty clear to me that my attempts to motivate myself with goals and fist pumping and the other usual tricks are not working. Right now I feel lost in terms of knowing how to handle this…and frustrated with my inability to get shit done for myself.
HMH and I had the surgery talk again last night (started by me, not him). I brought it up because I was having some pretty intense foot pain last night, along with some bruising around an old incision from a foot surgery that happened 12 years ago. I keep feeling like my body is breaking down and giving me shit at every turn…and it’s not going to be long before something major happens and I’m not any closer to significant progress. I think it’s time to circle the wagons, investigate all my options, and come up with a new plan.
Two years ago, I went on the hunt for a lap band surgeon and I found a decent one. He’s got a good bedside manner, he’s experienced, and his office staff and policies made me feel like I was his only patient. I was surprised at how pleasant the consultation experience was. And then, of course, I called off the surgery.
I have an appointment with him next week to discuss my options, including but not limited to lap band surgery. That’s all I’m willing to consider right now. Options. Perhaps this consultation will either scare me onto the straight & narrow path again or finally prepare me to decide on surgery as a tool to get my weight down far enough so that working out isn’t making me want to amputate my own feet.
I’m a little sad as I write this but it’s not because I feel weak or wrong for considering surgery (which I would have felt a few years ago), but because I’m realizing for the first time really that I may have been completely wrong about myself…and I’m going to feel really stupid if that turns out to be true. For years and years, I’ve been convinced that I’m the kind of person who has to do this myself…without help of any kind. Now I’m considering that perhaps I’ve really been the kind of person who just needed to grow up and admit that I’ve needed help all this time. I don’t like asking for help. I feel like I shouldn’t need it. If someone else needs it, that’s perfectly okay…but if I need it, then I’m a failure somehow.
Maybe that’s just the way it is and I need to accept it. At this point, my health is really the only thing I’m worried about – because I need to make sure I’m around for many more years. Because HMH can’t be allowed to live peacefully without me. What would he do without his Hot Mess Princess?
I’ll keep you posted on my consultation and my increasingly deranged thought process. And I promise, promise, promise that you’ll learn all about the DFW Penis Expedition by the weekend. It’ll cheer me up immensely to watch the video footage and relive that gloriously naughty road trip.
Until then, I’m still here…