My Glow Up Diary, Part 4: Baby Steps

Some steps forward, some back, but always forward again.

I took a mental health day today.

I took a mental health day despite having a four-day weekend.

There were so many things I wanted to do but didn’t get around to doing (plus the limitations of businesses being closed). However, I didn’t get around to doing any of them today.

After dropping the kids off at school and feigning my “cough cough, too sick to come in” message to work, I crawled into bed for an hour’s nap at 8:30 am. After that, I forced myself to the gym since I knew it would be empty.

I’m back to healthy-ish eating again. I scoured my garage freezer for Healthy Choice meals and only found food that expired in 2022. Yes, I attempted to eat them and no, they were not edible. At least it forced me to empty the trash into the outside bins.

I settled on two grilled buffalo chicken pieces on a low-calorie tortilla with SkinnyGirl chipotle ranch dressing on top. Gotta get that protein if I want the muscle.

I’m not sure how it’s already 2 pm. I have less than an hour before I get my kids. Note to self: take mental health days when you don’t have the kids.

While I had a rough and emotional weekend, I’m noticing small changes.

When driving, if a depressing song or one that reminds me of Jeremy comes on, I immediately change the station. In the past, I’d lean into the comfort of the pain. Now I’m adopting an “oh hell nah” mentality when mentally depressing songs play.

I’m not beating myself up as much (note the “as much” part) when I don’t work out or if I eat like garbage. The app for my scale yesterday told me “You’re gaining fat” under the spot where it told me “You’re gaining weight”. Normally I’d go down an eating disorder and body dysmorphia spiral. Instead, I laughed and told my scale, “You’re such a dick”.

I know I’m a pro at losing weight. I know some of it was from the excessive salt I ate. My body issues can chill the fuck out, we know what we’re doing here. This is standard fare.

When I look at pictures of myself as a child, I remember feeling like I was a bad person even as a kid. It’s heartbreaking to see a smiling five-year-old knowing that inside, their core belief is that they’re a bad, awful human. Thanks, Mom and Dad.

It dawned on me that my sympathy for the child in the photo is the same sympathy when I see pictures of myself in my early twenties. In my late twenties. In my late thirties. Even when I turned forty, only five years ago.

It was a face-punch realization: right now, this moment, at almost forty-six, I’m in a state of self-loathing that sixty-year-old me will look back and say, “Why was she so hard on herself?”

In all the past stages of my life, I struggled. Whether it was from abusive parents, eating disorders, lack of emotional intelligence and maturity, or a bad marriage, I struggled. I give myself grace in those photos knowing that I still slapped on a smile for the camera knowing the turmoil inside.

The Me of Today feels like my inner struggle is warranted since I wanted the divorce and it caused pain to my kids. I did a lot of crappy things in my past and everything I’m miserable about today is karma.

I need to give myself the same grace that Future Me will give.

Weirdly, accepting karma is being an asshole because I deserve it feels freeing. Jeremy’s callousness with me during our breakup is karma for my callousness during my divorce and subsequent relationships. It feels like I’m repaying a debt and after this, I’m free. I don’t like it but it feels like equilibrium. I can focus on a better life without the fear of karma coming after me with a bat ready to whack my kneecaps for an unpaid debt.

I hung up a new Weeks Of My Life poster. It’s a series of checkboxes, one for each week of your life until eighty-something years old (not sure how I’ll feel if I outlive the chart). It took me forever to fill in the boxes to get to year forty-six, week twenty-two. Half the poster is filled. I put it in an obnoxious place on my wall because I want it visible as soon as I wake up.

Ha! As I typed that paragraph the poster fell off the wall. 3M Command Strip hooks never freaking work on matte flat paint finishes.

Over the weekend, I returned two very old (but unworn) items to Nordstrom because I need the cash. Turns out, I paid for one item with a gift card and the other one could only be given back as store credit. I’m bummed that I didn’t get $250 in cash but on the plus side, the Nordstrom Anniversary Sale is coming up. I knew it would make me sad, not having money for it like I did in the past. Now, I can splurge and my net financial difference is the same. That makes me happy.

It’s all about finding the happy.

This past miserable weekend excluded, I’m much better with my sleeping. I force myself to be in bed by midnight. While that doesn’t sound like a win to most people, my standard bedtime is two or three in the morning.

I haven’t followed through on being outside for ten minutes a day. The weather is miserable and today it’s raining. By “rain” I mean “drizzling” because this is Southern California. I enjoy watching rain and I miss East Coast rainstorms. They don’t fuck around when it comes to catharsis.

Ten minutes. I can sit on my porch for ten minutes even when it’s drizzling.

My golf lesson is in two weeks. I’m excited. I know nothing about golf so this is a massive leap out of my comfort zone. Plus, I’ll interact with new people. My social skills are garbage courtesy of working from home. Time to show the world my cavewoman speaking abilities.

I’ve been on a few dates with a new guy, Ben. He’s the last person I chatted with before deleting the dating apps. Does he have a solid income? Yup, he lives in a ritzy gated community. Is he good-looking? Not as much as Jeremy but yeah, he’s attractive and fit. Does he have a good personality? Uhh…not so much. He’s in sales and is friendly, but he doesn’t make me laugh.

Yesterday, Ben commented on showing the “authentic” side of myself because I’m usually making wisecracks and sassy comments. In the past, I may have altered my personality to suit his more serious demeanor. Now my belief is, “Fuck that. I am a witty, sarcastic person. This is how I enjoy talking. Get used to it.”

Will it last? No, because I can’t be with someone who doesn’t make me laugh. I enjoy time with my girlfriends but very few of them genuinely make me laugh. That’s probably the thing I miss most from Jeremy; his personality matched mine and I never stopped smiling.

I mean…I still slept with Ben, let’s not get too hasty when assessing a potential relationship. A girl’s still got needs. And thankfully, it was pretty good, unlike the last guy I banged and drove home crying because it was so awful compared to Jeremy. My custody schedule is opposite of his so for now, I’m letting him lead how things go. If he doesn’t want this, fine. If he wants to find a way to see me, that’s fine too.

I didn’t note anything major in this glow up update. But they’re significant enough for me to notice a difference. It’s like an overfilled balloon releasing a bit of air and the tension is reduced a little bit.