Before I go.
I was going to sit here and talk about how we are leaving for Hawaii. That it will be the first time Aurelia will go to the North Shore beach house. That it has been nine years since Nick and I have gone; the last time being when we got engaged. I wanted to talk about how going to Hawaii is always a mixture of excitement (yay beach! yay family!), exhaustion (yay family!), and anxiety (yay traveling! with a toddler! cockroaches! yay family!). But instead, all I can think about, really - all I can feel is this doom and gloom. I came to a few realizations over this week and I can’t really place how I should feel about them. Shall we plunge in?
1.) We started looking into life insurance. I’m actually really happy Nick and I are being super adult about this because we have this little person to think about. But when they were talking about rates, they basically skirted around how health affects the rate with me. They were very forthright with Nick, telling him about his possible options, but didn’t even give me a sideways glance about the rate group I would be put in. “Standard”. I was confused about it at first because why weren’t they telling me my possible other rates, until it started to sink in. I have been struggling with understanding what it means to be healthy, that weight does not equate health, and then I get this underhanded insult. I am fighting this dark underbelly need to crawl into a corner and cry and fall into the self-hate spiral about how much I do weigh and what kind of person this makes me and I’m a horrible example to my daughter. It’s a hard fight. It’s mostly confusing. Do I follow the ingrained societal self-hate train, the one I’ve grown up in and around? Or do I give it the middle-finger and continue to work towards a better understanding of health, even if it clashes against social norms? For now, I guess I will have to sit here with my “standard” rating.
2.) I’ve talked about how I’m writing. Believe me, it isn’t Shakespeare or Toni Morrison or probably even Dr. Seuss, for that matter. But I started to think about what I was creating and why was I creating it. What am I trying to say? And who the hell would want to read it? No doubt it is a fictional world, but I don’t want it to feel contrive. I feel like I’m trying to sort out something within myself in this world I’m creating. Perhaps I need to accept that, in the end, my story might not have a fancy bow wrapped around it? Perhaps I need to accept that if art imitates life, then it is meant to be unkempt?
3.) I’m scared shitless about my parents financial wellbeing right now. I don’t know what’s going on. I’m also wondering if they even know what’s going on, or if they are even being honest with each other about what’s going on. I don’t want to walk into my parent’s house one Sunday and they tell me that the bank is taking their house away. I know that sounds really drastic, but without really knowing what’s going on - my mind is racing to worst case scenario. We are all grown adults and should be able to talk about what’s going on, but I don’t have ownership over them; the fact still remains that I have absolutely no right to know what is going on in their bank accounts.
Hopefully I'll be able to take a break from all my thoughts while "on vacation". Good luck to me!
The end?
1.) We started looking into life insurance. I’m actually really happy Nick and I are being super adult about this because we have this little person to think about. But when they were talking about rates, they basically skirted around how health affects the rate with me. They were very forthright with Nick, telling him about his possible options, but didn’t even give me a sideways glance about the rate group I would be put in. “Standard”. I was confused about it at first because why weren’t they telling me my possible other rates, until it started to sink in. I have been struggling with understanding what it means to be healthy, that weight does not equate health, and then I get this underhanded insult. I am fighting this dark underbelly need to crawl into a corner and cry and fall into the self-hate spiral about how much I do weigh and what kind of person this makes me and I’m a horrible example to my daughter. It’s a hard fight. It’s mostly confusing. Do I follow the ingrained societal self-hate train, the one I’ve grown up in and around? Or do I give it the middle-finger and continue to work towards a better understanding of health, even if it clashes against social norms? For now, I guess I will have to sit here with my “standard” rating.
2.) I’ve talked about how I’m writing. Believe me, it isn’t Shakespeare or Toni Morrison or probably even Dr. Seuss, for that matter. But I started to think about what I was creating and why was I creating it. What am I trying to say? And who the hell would want to read it? No doubt it is a fictional world, but I don’t want it to feel contrive. I feel like I’m trying to sort out something within myself in this world I’m creating. Perhaps I need to accept that, in the end, my story might not have a fancy bow wrapped around it? Perhaps I need to accept that if art imitates life, then it is meant to be unkempt?
3.) I’m scared shitless about my parents financial wellbeing right now. I don’t know what’s going on. I’m also wondering if they even know what’s going on, or if they are even being honest with each other about what’s going on. I don’t want to walk into my parent’s house one Sunday and they tell me that the bank is taking their house away. I know that sounds really drastic, but without really knowing what’s going on - my mind is racing to worst case scenario. We are all grown adults and should be able to talk about what’s going on, but I don’t have ownership over them; the fact still remains that I have absolutely no right to know what is going on in their bank accounts.
Hopefully I'll be able to take a break from all my thoughts while "on vacation". Good luck to me!
The end?