Death, Exercise, Nap, et.al
Hi.
My grandma died today. I have to go home dark and early tomorrow morning. I love my grandma. She always made me laugh and smile, and she told me she loves me all the time. I used to get annoyed by her trying to bring me closer to God, but eventually I just thought it was part of her charm, and I always felt really lucky to know this lady. She knew a little bit about everything, but not a lot about anything, which resulted in her laughing at herself a lot. She liked crosswords and jigsaw puzzles and TV and movies and ornaments and card games. When I helped her get settled in her apartment after Christmas the other month, I saw she still had the same green and red sprinkles that she kept so that Steven and I could make cookies whenever we stayed with her. We were her only grandkids. I don't remember if she didn't like to cook, or if she wasn't physically able to, (or if maybe she did, and I just don't remember...) but I do remember always eating tuna from a can with little cocktail forks at her place. I saw my first episode of Jerry Springer while staying at her apartment one year, and that was the same year I got a pink, purple, and aqua-colored walkman and Ace of Base tape for Christmas. My grandma was a real neat lady, and I'm allowed to look up to her because she is my grandma, and she pampered Steven and I the best she could with her social security budget. I'm glad that she straightened out and my dad invited her back into his life by the time I was born. She was awkward, and so am I, so she didn't mind if I didn't say much but just sort of made faces. She made faces back at me. She was always just as self-conscious as I, so we made sure to tell each other that we look pretty, and that outfit looks nice. She lost all of her hair before it ever got gray, so I'm glad that I decided to cut her hair before the chemo over Christmas break, like she wanted me to. She wanted it to look nice one more time before it was gone. And now she's gone, and she looked nice and I love her.
Today I'm going to be bold in therapy and tell Tely that I don't want to be fat, and I pay attention to calories, but mostly, I wonder how she is so thin, and how I can be thin and recovered like her. Maybe she doesn't remember that I am not naturally thin, and have been chubby, if not fat, all my life (excluding the times my eating disorder really took effect). Because, frankly, I am bothered by the 20 pounds that recovery has put on in my arms, legs, and midsection. I am a little better at handling the weight today than I was yesterday, and more yesterday than the day before, so it feels good to slowly accept a realist image of myself. But I'm human, lest we forget, and I miss the days those pants used to fit. I'm worried to tell Tely the strategies that have consumed my brain for moments at a time this past week. Strategies to cut calories, and exercise four hours a day (hasn't happened yet, but sometimes it still sounds like a good idea). I want her to think I am getting better, not regressing. (Safe to say that what she thinks reflects on what I think)
I leave soon. *sigh*
My grandma died today. I have to go home dark and early tomorrow morning. I love my grandma. She always made me laugh and smile, and she told me she loves me all the time. I used to get annoyed by her trying to bring me closer to God, but eventually I just thought it was part of her charm, and I always felt really lucky to know this lady. She knew a little bit about everything, but not a lot about anything, which resulted in her laughing at herself a lot. She liked crosswords and jigsaw puzzles and TV and movies and ornaments and card games. When I helped her get settled in her apartment after Christmas the other month, I saw she still had the same green and red sprinkles that she kept so that Steven and I could make cookies whenever we stayed with her. We were her only grandkids. I don't remember if she didn't like to cook, or if she wasn't physically able to, (or if maybe she did, and I just don't remember...) but I do remember always eating tuna from a can with little cocktail forks at her place. I saw my first episode of Jerry Springer while staying at her apartment one year, and that was the same year I got a pink, purple, and aqua-colored walkman and Ace of Base tape for Christmas. My grandma was a real neat lady, and I'm allowed to look up to her because she is my grandma, and she pampered Steven and I the best she could with her social security budget. I'm glad that she straightened out and my dad invited her back into his life by the time I was born. She was awkward, and so am I, so she didn't mind if I didn't say much but just sort of made faces. She made faces back at me. She was always just as self-conscious as I, so we made sure to tell each other that we look pretty, and that outfit looks nice. She lost all of her hair before it ever got gray, so I'm glad that I decided to cut her hair before the chemo over Christmas break, like she wanted me to. She wanted it to look nice one more time before it was gone. And now she's gone, and she looked nice and I love her.
Today I'm going to be bold in therapy and tell Tely that I don't want to be fat, and I pay attention to calories, but mostly, I wonder how she is so thin, and how I can be thin and recovered like her. Maybe she doesn't remember that I am not naturally thin, and have been chubby, if not fat, all my life (excluding the times my eating disorder really took effect). Because, frankly, I am bothered by the 20 pounds that recovery has put on in my arms, legs, and midsection. I am a little better at handling the weight today than I was yesterday, and more yesterday than the day before, so it feels good to slowly accept a realist image of myself. But I'm human, lest we forget, and I miss the days those pants used to fit. I'm worried to tell Tely the strategies that have consumed my brain for moments at a time this past week. Strategies to cut calories, and exercise four hours a day (hasn't happened yet, but sometimes it still sounds like a good idea). I want her to think I am getting better, not regressing. (Safe to say that what she thinks reflects on what I think)
I leave soon. *sigh*