where I am at.
Purple yoga mat, hairy legs, cold sweaty neck. My psoriasis is a bad as ever and subsequently so is my hair. I braid and coil it at the base of my neck, I put it away.
So I have this yoga mat and it could be the wrong kind. I took eden to a fancy yoga apparel store for her birthday because I love her and want her to feel good, but my underneath face is growling at the other women in the room now that I can identify the brands and know how much they cost. Eden doesn't count, those are Johnson County moms, I'm a jc mom, eden said, "no you aren't....... unless you want to be."
The lady beside me had leggings with a complicated mesh design on the side, I kept staring at them in warrior positions. Which makes me hate her, want them, hate me, that order.
Losing 50lbs and realizing the center of hostility in my world toward me sits inside me and not in other people's eyes has not helped me figure out how to calm it. There's no amount of appropriate guest bathroom towels, social hibernation, pta participation, burpees... that will quiet this meanie talking to me all day. I don't know what to do with it, but I can jump up on counters like a CAT,so I forge ahead.
My husband (my husband.) has a big beard and I like it. He has his face in his phone while his mom tries to open his eyes to the fact that his dad can't intentionally say "go" five times like the speech therapist asked. His dad is losing the reflex to swallow and Rbt is intent on looking up the size of blah blah optical cable. He thought he could put it away again when family left and the door shut, but I couldn't let him. You're focusing on anger toward your mom because you aren't facing your dad's dysphagia. It isn't about blame, but we all sat in that dining room and pretended everything was ok. How could you judge your mom for not vigilantly watching every swallow, how could anyone stay vigilant when they just want to eat some fucking biscuits and gravy on a Saturday morning with family like they have for a million years. I will do it for you in 30 years. Nothing will make it better, but for everyone's sake, open your eyes.
It was an hour and I can't stand irrational circles, but I walked them and he met me. We get here... no, it isn't about blame, you aren't making this easy but you can't... this fucking sucks... so what do we do next.
I have so much peace, I'm protective of my peace, and Rbt is in the center of me calming storms. But we can't expect to side step every difficulty. We have to fight against complacency, we need each other to recognize when it's time for quiet and when it's time for a fight.
So, he has this beard and all his tshirts are worn out. His feet smell terrible and I tell him so - he won't listen because I don't shower on the weekends. Sidney likes me better, but she's too heavy for me, so Rbt puts her up on his shoulders. Brooklynn and Rbt are playing games I don't want to understand while I roll my decorative purple yoga mat out on the floor in front of them...
So I have this yoga mat and it could be the wrong kind. I took eden to a fancy yoga apparel store for her birthday because I love her and want her to feel good, but my underneath face is growling at the other women in the room now that I can identify the brands and know how much they cost. Eden doesn't count, those are Johnson County moms, I'm a jc mom, eden said, "no you aren't....... unless you want to be."
The lady beside me had leggings with a complicated mesh design on the side, I kept staring at them in warrior positions. Which makes me hate her, want them, hate me, that order.
Losing 50lbs and realizing the center of hostility in my world toward me sits inside me and not in other people's eyes has not helped me figure out how to calm it. There's no amount of appropriate guest bathroom towels, social hibernation, pta participation, burpees... that will quiet this meanie talking to me all day. I don't know what to do with it, but I can jump up on counters like a CAT,so I forge ahead.
My husband (my husband.) has a big beard and I like it. He has his face in his phone while his mom tries to open his eyes to the fact that his dad can't intentionally say "go" five times like the speech therapist asked. His dad is losing the reflex to swallow and Rbt is intent on looking up the size of blah blah optical cable. He thought he could put it away again when family left and the door shut, but I couldn't let him. You're focusing on anger toward your mom because you aren't facing your dad's dysphagia. It isn't about blame, but we all sat in that dining room and pretended everything was ok. How could you judge your mom for not vigilantly watching every swallow, how could anyone stay vigilant when they just want to eat some fucking biscuits and gravy on a Saturday morning with family like they have for a million years. I will do it for you in 30 years. Nothing will make it better, but for everyone's sake, open your eyes.
It was an hour and I can't stand irrational circles, but I walked them and he met me. We get here... no, it isn't about blame, you aren't making this easy but you can't... this fucking sucks... so what do we do next.
I have so much peace, I'm protective of my peace, and Rbt is in the center of me calming storms. But we can't expect to side step every difficulty. We have to fight against complacency, we need each other to recognize when it's time for quiet and when it's time for a fight.
So, he has this beard and all his tshirts are worn out. His feet smell terrible and I tell him so - he won't listen because I don't shower on the weekends. Sidney likes me better, but she's too heavy for me, so Rbt puts her up on his shoulders. Brooklynn and Rbt are playing games I don't want to understand while I roll my decorative purple yoga mat out on the floor in front of them...