And now for something completely different...

Today marks (almost) exactly one month until I leave for Vienna (sausages).  [if I don't add a quiet *sausages* to the end I invariably say I'm going to Venice which, you know, is a TOTALLY different place]

I've been totally slacking on the diet/exercise thang.  I'm up 5 pounds from my "I lost weight lar lar so there" weight.  ACK SHOO LEE I'm up TEN POUNDS from my "oh jeebus lookit how low my weight is!" weight.

That 5 (ten, asshole) pounds has been bounced off and stuck back on a coupla times.  *shrug* in the big scheme of things what is 5 pounds?

I'll tell you what, thanks for axing.

That 5 pounds is my tail wag of HA HA I DID IT.  That 5 pounds is my jeans are too tight.  That 5 pounds is I'm all puffy from sneaking in wheat and I look a little like a balloon again.  It's MY PRIDE, ok?  Yes, I think I'm a much better human bean and deserve much more love when I'm smaller.

Amy from 'Big Bang Theory':  sometimes you forget, I'm a lady. And, with that comes an estrogen- fueled need to page through thick glossy magazines that make me hate my body.

Anywhozle - I have given myself a month, which is an arbitrary date because I'm not trying to fit into a gown or a bathing suit.  But a goal is a goal, right?  So for a month, I am going to post here about my weight/food, and turn this into a miasma of self loathing/self congratulations because I live to torture y'all.  In between, mixed into the gristle of the post, will be updates about narc crap.

I'll tell you at the front of it if there is anything other than flagellation in the post.

So, regarding Vienna (sausages):  for Jeff, this trip will encompass the big meeting with the Saudis (remember this post?) as well as the MIRB which stands for, um...  the 'MIDS International Review Board' - of which MIDS is the thingy <--(technical term) Jeff works for/in/around WHATEVER I JUST LIKE HIS PAYCHECK.  The MIRB is a huge gathering party at a hotel conference room with round tables and a buffet dinner and speeches and would usually be on my Top Ten List of Things I Will Fake My Own Death To Avoid.  But not this time...

Never fear - I am not going to the dinner party with the Saudis.  I learnt mah lesson, dammit.  Also, the prince I met is no longer a part of this thing, he moved on to bigger and better stuff of which I remain blissfully unaware seeing as Saudi Arabia is such a champion of human rights an all that.  So - RIGHT!  moving on.

But this trip - I feel so normal this time.  It's so different from the last two times I've gone to Europe (I had to throw that in there this will be my 3RD trip to EU jeebus ME, the asshole who can't walk and hold a job and sing at the same time I will have 3 stamps in my passport).  But my brain doesn't feel broken anymore.

See, this ties into the 'report my walking and diet' bullshit.  Because that is all part of why I feel whole and unbroken now.  Meds, diet, exercise.  (also less alcohol, did y'all think I'd forget to praise that part because I don't take it lightly.  It's still a once in a while thing, not a last summer drunk fest thing).  I hated myself for so long.  I hated my whole self - not just how I looked, that is just an outward manifestation of your inner physical/mental health - I hated my brain.

And now I don't.

I'm dumbfounded.  (too bad it didn't strike me into silence, eh?)

I still haven't figured ME out yet, not all the way.  But I have this new understanding for where all the cracks and fissures are.

My cracked brain is like this poor bunny

And I am seeing the beauty of my broken self.  There are others with bigger mental health problems than mine, that's a given.  Mine are puny and mewling little kittens, compared to some.  But they have crippled me, just the same.

I was thinking how so many of my sisters were cheer leaders through Jr. hi and hi school - and how that could NEVER have been me.  We grew up in the same house, with the same parents, but my self esteem and confidence was broken far worse than anyone else's.  All with good and proper reasons/understandings on my part about why it happened, this isn't a discussion of my abuse so much as it is a discussion of coping.

Because coping is all you can do.  Coping is a form of healing - you learn how to use your fake arm, you learn how to hold the broken vase.  You play to your strengths, and keep yourself and your brain as healthy as you can.

Yeah I've written about this before.  But if you are healing from abuse, please know it's ALL a discovery.  Just getting to the point where you can be quiet inside your own head and listen to what your under-brain is telling you - that is so completely helpful.

It's funny (to me, in a not ha-ha way) that I found the key to success (diet/meds/exercise) and yet I keep going back to what hurts me, like I'm trying to see 'is this wall still hard?  I'll run my head into it again and just test it' but I guess that is part of the human condition, no?

It's sunny out and my dogs have to pee, and I have to go walk 4 miles.  My posts always end up meandering like this page from Alice in Wonderland

so I'll quit here.