Happy Birthday

It is dark. My eyes have no need to open yet but I know it is dark. I hear Craig’s light breathing. He is still in bed so it is before 6:30 a.m. Today is my birthday. I don’t want to be aware today. I want to keep myself separate from the day. I will acknowledge happy birthday greetings but I don’t want it to stop me. Today feels like a day that could stop me. Cake and happy birthday songs seem like a halt in my energy. I need to keep moving. This is a strange thing to say because I don’t feel I have being physically moving very much at all. Some part of me must be, because I feel I don’t want to stop.

My cell phone is resting beneath my shoulders, tucked between my mattress and the frame of the bed. I reach for it and check messages. A few happy birthday greetings already via Facebook and some private messages.

The temperature, minus 22 degrees Celsius. I seem happy to see 22° on the 22nd of February. I feel it’s a good omen for all these twos on my 42nd birthday.

I feel the need to get up. I roll over. My shoulder and lower back and neck resisting the movement. I push myself up, my body pinches and a quick flash of pain spans my body. I walk to the door, feeling for the softness of my pale pink housecoat I wrap it around me and feel an instant soft warmth.

Quietly I open the door and slip out into the Hall closing the door behind me. The bathroom with the scale is just the next door down but as I slowly walk there my thighs rub against each other and I am caught off guard by how uncomfortable it is. They are rubbing into each other so deeply. What pain. I must walk with my legs apart. This is new. They have been rubbing together for a long time causing me to wear pants all the time but this is worse.  This is much worse.

Today I’m going to weigh myself. It feels like a beginning. A begining where I try to care. Where I try to take action on my life. I want to know how I’m beginning this year. I go pee and pull out the scale.

Weight is 172lbs.

Waist is 39 in.

Hips are 41 in.

Chest is 37 in.

While I measure my head is still seeing the number 172. I’m a 172 lbs! I can’t believe it. I never thought I would ever be this heavy unless I was pregnant.

Today’s the day I begin my journey. I need to get healthy again. I need to find my strength. I am so internally lazy that I don’t even care about my weight or pick up a pen laying on the floor. I ignore it all.  Today is the day. It is time to take control of my life. Kettlebells and yoga. Here I come. I miss thin me. I miss the me that could move and not be in pain. I miss the me that coloured on my father’s bald head. I miss the me that was spontaneous, fashionable, fun. It is time for me to find these versions of me and bring them back.

“Wanting to be someone else is a waste of the person you are.” – Kurt Cobain

I need to celebrate who I am. I came to this version of me for a reason but it is now time to go home. This is my journey home. What lays unconscious in my mind is that I have been gone from home for a long time, almost three years. Some things may be different.

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