June 26, 2012

Spontaneous Post!

I was reading an old post from one of my friends (I had many inspirations from her blog- it was epic) and she was discussing (OMG, I write "discussing" in just about every other sentence in my progress notes and now every time I type it outside of a progress note, my skin crawls) how she is trying to incorporate more spontaneity in her life.

Let's have a moment where we consider the irony of planning less planning in future plans... boom.

So, I'm reading this thinking, "How does one NOT plan?" It seems to go against every part of my being. I mean, I have flashbacks to all the moments I have encouraged my clients in some way to PLAN something for their future. And here I am trying to not plan.

Kid you not, my first thought in wrapping my mind around the concept of not planning was "I would have to plan..." And I caught myself. Honestly, how do you plan to not plan while coordinating with other people's plans? (Anybody else thinking of that scene in the Dark Knight when the Joker is saying how bad things happen in society and it's OK as long as it's part of the plan?) Like, for the last few months I have been pouring myself into my "plans" (wow, let's DISCUSS how old that word is getting...) for living in and sprucing up my parents' basement. I mean, if we truly took the opportunity to explore why I'm developing all these artsy fartsy ideas for a living area I will only be in temporarily, we would find that this is helping me reduce the anxiety I have about this endeavor while feeding my feelings of competency and allowing me to be distracted from other work I could be engaging in... but let's not get into that.

Actually, let's... kind of... not directly because I don't know if I'm ready to put that on a blog and make it a whole new level of "official". Planning does so much for us. It's not just "I have items A through X to do and I'm going to have to physically pencil it all into a calendar or else it ain't happening." Yes, I said A through X instead of Z, it was spontaneous, get with it. In your planning, you can totally forget why the fuck you're doing A through X.

So let's explore (not discuss!) this deal with the basement, since I already brought it up. That's right, people, we're going to directly address it- if you didn't see that coming, you did not read the title of the post. I want to move back to my parent's house. I have advertised that my motivation is to save money and the more I dream about the hypothetical money I will be saving, I drool a little bit. Of course, if we factor in the tuition loan payments coming up, it will probably only be a fraction of that but I'm still in grad school so we're going to continue to float the delusion of I will work out that hefty bill at a later date. I've been offered by a few people to come live with them (again, we will ignore the fact that I find these people wonderful and delusional for wanting to live with ME) and while I have given all of these prospects great thought, the dream dissipates and I'm still looking at trying to live with my parents. And then I start to consider why the hell I'm trying to swing this. A year ago, as I was making this plan most official, I literally had a panic attack. Living in a cardboard box was looking preferable. And yet, I find myself burrowing deeper into my plans. It honestly makes no sense.

And it's dawned on me that I'm probably just trying to prove something to myself. Instead of accepting the fact that I may be a competent family therapist, I am pushing myself to the ultimate test- negotiating life with my own family. I don't know if this is the actual reason- I really need to get on that personal therapy train. But as I have spontaneously forced myself to recklessly delve into my psyche, without planning it, I've recognized that my DIY To Do list consists of mental gymnastics to avoid all the cognitive garbage behind my endeavors (and my brain is going for the fucking gold on this one).

But my instincts pull me back into my plans to "be where you are". I have to cut my spending and save considerable money before I totally charge out into the world and all these plans may ultimately help make the basement my own and something that helps me own the situation- to be where I am and embrace the situation for what it is.

I'm aiming for nature and sophisticated ridiculousness.
Seriously though, that basement is going to be fly.

June 5, 2012

I Love You Like a Fat Kid Loves Cake

Thanks for hanging in there, guys. I love you... like a fat kid loves cake. And not like the Rhianna/Chris Brown Birthday Cake, I mean regular cake. Although, fat kids may sing the Birthday Cake chorus like I do when I eat cake... that sounded mad awkward, let's move on.

This is something that has sent me around the bend at least a few dozen times and probably will a few dozen more but for reasons I'll explain later, I haven't mentioned it.

I'm 5'7" and weigh 160 pounds... on a good day. When I'm slouching, it's 5'6" and usually I'm 165-170.

Before everyone says this in some divine unison, I am aware that some people do not see that. I see it every. freaking. day.

And if I haven't learned anything else from psychology it's this- if everyone else says the universe operates one way and you say another, you are probably crazy.

But I'm pretty sure I'm right, not crazy. I'm like 90% sure I'm right and the more people try to insist I'm wrong, the more I'm so sure I'm right.

And it's because of what people say BEFORE they know my true weight. Actually, detour- Who the fuck actually thinks that I'm the one woman who lies UP about their weight? Honestly?! If anything, I'm the only woman on this planet who will tell you their true weight if you ask. Granted, you'll get the one eyebrow-raise of "Excuse me?!" but I will be honest. Do you think I lie up about my weight because I enjoy being heavier than every single one of my boyfriends and love interests? Yes, because I value someone pitying my weight over how that makes men around me feel. I just don't get it. Why would I lie up about my weight? Especially if I can get away with telling people I weigh 145, why would I lie up?! Last I checked, being overweight was not socially or sexually desirable in this country- PARTICULARLY for women. Not like we can rationalize it by playing football or something... Geesh... Ok, anyway-

I've heard so many negative comments over the years against overweight women. And they are just said right in front of me and I sit there thinking about women whom have it worse off than I do. My. God. That must suck for them. And then I wonder if they don't hear the things I hear because their looks more closely resemble their weight.
Chicks with stretch marks are gross. (Side note- no one has control over that. It's dependent on how fast your bones grow in puberty, ass)
I would HATE to have my girlfriend weigh more than me. That's gross.
Fat chicks, like, you know, those weighing over 150.
Lane Bryant sells clothing for fat women. (They sell sizes 10 and up- I'm a 12)
OMG, I feel so fat- I weigh like *insert a number between 120 and 135*.
 OMG, I feel so fat- I cannot fit into a size *insert a size between 4 and 8*.
And the one I heard today which prompted this post was a man referring to his daughter whom felt fat, "She's like, 5'6' or 5'7" and weighs 145, and I think she looks great." I replied (knowing that 145 is where I'm supposed to be), "And that's where she SHOULD be." That was a hinthintnudgenudge I don't weigh that- I wish I did! But the man didn't pick up on it and I just became very uncomfortable as I restrained myself from screaming and tried for the umpteenth time to assure myself that this person means nothing wrong.

Just like no one ever intends to insult me when they say these things around me but recognize that when you say something like the above, I inform you of my weight/size/stretch marks, and you tell me "Oh, you don't look like that." YOU'RE PAYING ME LIP SERVICE. You made an unbiased remark about how you feel and then started singing a different tune when I reveal you were just a total dick? Oh, well then I'm totally going to believe you. It's even cuter when people try to follow up with "It depends on how you feel" or "It really depends on how healthy you are." Oh, really? Well, now that I've sat here and heard you talk shit about something that describes me, I feel fucking awesome- and then I remember how much my doctors like to tell me I'm overweight. Oh, "it's all about proportions"? A sphere is proportional, too, ass. I'm not stupid.

Proportionally to Princess Leia, Jabba the Hut looks fat but that's probably because he's fat.

Again, I recognize that no one intends to do harm when they make these statements. But if you could just respect that that's how I feel, I'd really appreciate it. Telling me I'm full of shit will not help me boost my confidence. Also, just as I try not to discuss my negativity about my weight to other overweight people (women in particular), maybe you shouldn't be making bold, insulting statements about "fat" people. If you feel that way, that's nice. You can keep that to yourself. It's one thing to say you're unhappy about your weight. Ok, so is everyone else. But quantifying yourself as "fat" based on weight/size/other measureable characteristics is some dangerous grounds. It's like calling yourself old around someone who's 90. Just shut up. How do you think that makes them feel?

Finally, I have to state that I'm aware my weight is due to unhealthy choices I've made. I get that. I can change it and I'm working on it in my own way in my own time (I swear, staring at this picture of Jabba the Hut is really helping curb my appetite). But if I don't look as bad as I feel- who the fuck cares?