I am proud of myself. This week was tougher than others. An old family friend was found dead at a mall where I used to live. I don’t want to get into it because I still feel strange and I’d like to get through my week.
Retail therapy was my coping mechanism. I went to Nordstrom’s and worked with an amazing salesperson. It was obvious she’d mastered customer service and was a genuine pleasure.
After my shopping I left with 4 pairs of pants, two “batwing” tops and a cashmere sweater. This leads me to why I’m writing: They were in the exact same size I wear during the summer! That may mean NOTHING to you. As someone who struggles with weight and has for her entire life it means a lot. For the past 6 years my weight has fluctuated with my emotions: breakups, dating, boyfriends, death, family stress, moving, homelessness, singleness, happiness, loneliness y’know the usual.
I’ve been through a lot and couldn’t find a routine. Seattle has been my home for a year in February and I think I get it. This week I rode my bike to work twice. I went for runs with my dog, or took nice long walks. I’m eating vegetables, doing yoga, burning sage, taking my vitamins, baking things from scratch, visiting friends, and going to library. All-in-all, I’m taking care of myself. This time last year I’d just finished a 2 month long road trip living out of a truck and had gained probably 20 (or more) pounds.
Tonight I went to a Activists Artist thing and it was a little strange. I met a few cute men, flirted, had a drink, wrote some poetry, and walked through the city. I eventually found my way home — alone mind you– and I’m happy — meh, not happy. I’m content. Me gusta. I have a “thing” tomorrow and I’m nervous, but I think I’ll be okay. I plan to share more when I know more, but won’t until then.
Right now, I’m proud of myself and that’s such a great feeling.