IntrinsicTina

God awakened me this morning. Well, God, Rod, or wasn't it just odd? I tried to deny the reality of a new day dawning but when my brain refused to follow the example that my closed eyes were setting. Gracie, my cat, herded me to her food bowl (which held plenty of food, if she'd just stick her paw in to release the blocked kibble) but alas, she's a cat. I'm the hero of my cat today. Life is good.

This is the sweetest rendition of overweight I could find on Google images. It is from a Light Fit Yogurt ad campaign. Attributions aside, I just realized how far my journey back into compulsive overeating and depression has taken me. I'm in the mood to chronicle... One year ago found me celebrating my husband's birthday at a fancy boutique hotel, dolled up to "the nines" at The Nines in Portland, Oregon. I was poured into a form-fitting dress, red cashmere coat, and heels. I'll admit that I felt sexy and glamorous and a bit smug about my accomplishment of dropping 40 lbs and 4 dress sizes over the previous year. I would catch myself wondering why everyone doesn't face their demons and get i nto some program that will allow them to become all they can be. Oopsie! My downward spiral started right about that time. I began allowing myself to have little "treats". When the barista at Starbuck's gave my husband a gratis cupcake for his birthday an

Searching for meaningful work and trying to keep my sanity. It's so easy to fall into despair and if I'm truly honest, I've been there more times than I care to admit on this go round. Have you ever tried to get work that you are perfectly capable of doing, that you've proved yourself in but found that the ground rules have changed? That's where I'm at today and I hate it. What is keeping me relatively sane today? Professional help (in the form of marriage counseling), amateur help (a support group), and the distraction of my private pursuits. I've been downloading audiobooks from the public library and listening to them during my days at home, keeping up on housework as well as pursuing my passion...knitting. I knit as much as I can get away with. My current knit project is a men's cap in a waffle-like pattern (reminds me of a men's thermal top). I'm kind of bored with it but I haven't been motivated to attack the Aran Knit Scarf that

Getting ready for Valentine's Day . Okay, I admit that this is rare but I am actually prepared for Valentine's Day this year. Both Valentine's Day AND my Valentine's Birthday (a week later). So how about that?! I'm amazed. I'll admit it. Normally I procrastinate both of these blessed events. I waffle, stammer, and complain that my man is just too difficult to buy for (or knit for). He wants things like...a camper window purchased from a part-time vendor on E-bay. (No thanks, too risky.) Or a batch of molasses cookies. (Much too easy and common in our household. I make those quite frequently to show him that I love him.) Or he says that he just wants "Peace". (This request usually leaves me feeling under-appreciated like he's alluding that I am some kind of harpy. Gee, Honey, now I really want to make your special day pleasant.) Here's a hint, don't ask for peace if you really want it. Speaking of hints, he's dying to kno

Duty aside, I'm so happy that I could be "of service" to my friend. It had been a long time and this was an opportunity to renew our acquaintance and bolster our friendship. This was her "hour of need" and really she did not ask all that much of me. For me, the longer we spent time together, the sunnier the day felt despite the very real encroaching rain clouds and subsequent rainfall. A ride turned into a pleasant drive, a stop at her former home to collect belongings turned into a reuniting of loved ones (not with her family but with her beloved dog), a quick stop at a store turned into lunch at a familiar place. It was as if no time had passed, just friends talking, sharing from the heart, and enjoying the simple pleasure of being together. For this opportunity, I am now truly grateful.

This morning I am picking up a friend from a hospital, not just any hospital, a mental hospital, a place that strikes fear in my heart because I fear I may end up in such a place at times. I am picking her up not as any kind of noble gesture or because of close friendship, but out of a sense of duty. I'm not very happy about this trip for many reasons, the first is the inconvenience, since it is well out of my stomping grounds and known territories. Another is the fact that when I've attempted to make contact with this friend, she could not be bothered to contact me in return. I suspect that I am one of the last people she desired to contact and for that I am chagrined at the prospect of this trip. However, in the spirit of love and tolerance, a spirit that I wish to be afforded to me when I act without conscience, I will follow through and be there at the ready. I've learned that her family is turning their backs on her and she is currently without a place to s

My husband and I fight. We argue, fuss, scream, and yell. We struggle to be heard by one another and we are determined not be walked on. Both of us do this, not just one of us. We have sought counseling on more than one occasion with mixed results. Some days it seems that it is just not worth the struggle and on others, there is no doubt that the work we put into our relationship is worth so much more. Saturday morning, following a fairly successful 'Date Night', I succumbed to the inner turmoil of my mind (I was PMS-ing as well) and let loose with fears and emotion that had bottled up inside. My husband went into indignant mode and stood solidly against me (or so I judged). I felt marooned and alone on my island of misery. I was hurt and knew I was overly wrought but I was powerless to stop the onslaught of my own emotions. I explained, I pleaded, and eventually became so enraged that I drop-kicked a bagful of groceries we had packed to take with us over the weekend.

If life is a celebration, then it's never too late to celebrate it. I'm choosing to celebrate the life of my mother-in-law (MIL), Madeline Flink. I have had little of my MIL's attention. I met her in the midst of her alcoholism and dementia and to say that she had a violent streak, a rage, is nothing short of the truth. Being plunked into her life at this point didn't allow us to become acquainted the way either of us would have liked. As such, I was afraid of my MIL and kept physical and emotional distance though I delighted in preparing nutritious meals that my husband transported to her home lest she not be properly fed. My husband, her son, became her guardian which was a huge emotional tug-of-war that had to be surmounted. She was incapable of maintaining rational thought, was paranoid, and unable to take care of her own physical needs. She lit candles and turned on the stove to cook and left both candles and pans to burn out (unattended). She collected food