Today will be a rant about something else. My body. I know I should be proud of the progress I've made in the last year. I know I should focus on the positive changes that I've made and of how much healthier I am than I was 18 months ago-but I'm finding that to be a bigger challenge now than it's ever been. I remember looking in the mirror in August of 2009 weighing nearly 200 pounds and crying. I remember wondering how I allowed myself to get to that point and I remember promising myself that I would again weigh 145 pounds and then I would be happy. Well, now 15 months later I weigh less than the 145 pound goal I set for myself and wouldn't you know it-I'm still not happy.

I know that my body looks totally different than it did before. I am aware that I wore a size 6 skirt to our Thanksgiving dinner-and a size small shirt. I am aware that the sweat pants I wore on Sunday were a small. I know for a fact that my clothing is smaller- I just don't really feel like my body is any smaller. I look in the mirror each morning and see my jiggily thighs, my flabby arms, my squishy stomach. I look in the mirror and I still want to cry. I stand in the shower and obsess over the fact that my thighs touch each other. I HATE the fact that I have such a poor body image. I am disgusted by the fact that I place such value on a number on the scale. And I hate even more that these feelings of disgust and hatred don't help me to eat better or to work out more.

I hate that I can't be happy with who I am. I hate that I can't look in the mirror and find anything that I like about myself. I hate that I look at pictures of myself and even though I'm 60 pounds lighter than I was 15 months ago-I still feel like a huge, fat, disgusting disgrace.

I made a deal with myself last Monday that I was going to go an entire week without saying anything negative about my body. And I did. I made it an entire week. But now it's day 8 and I looked in the mirror this morning and wanted to cry- again. I am so irritated with my inability to find something positive about my appearance.

Ugh. Monday

I have decided I really dislike Mondays. I've always kind of had that "I really don't want to go back to work" feeling-mostly because of how hectic my days (and evenings and nights) are during the work week, but now I dislike them for an entirely different reason. He leaves on Mondays. I really don't like seeing him pack up his clothes, I hate saying good bye at 5 am and I despise hearing his truck back out of my driveway. I don't like all of those things because I know that it'll be 5 days before I get to see him again.

I have spent a lot of time figuring out if this is what I really want. Do I only want a weekend relationship. And the answer overwhelmingly is I'd rather have him 3 days a week than 0 days a week. I have gone over this a million times and I am positive that I am happy with our relationship. I have imagined how it would feel if he were gone and I was scared with the answer. I realized that I have allowed myself to feel for another human being. I have allowed him access to my heart, to my mind-to everything that I am. I realized that I am in love with this man. The man who tries harder than anyone I know to make me happy. The man who fixes things that have been broken for years. The man who will give my kids piggy back rides, lets them steal his socks, spins them in circles, who will wrestle and will try out all of the greatest "finishers." The man who watches me cry and lets me see that it hurts him. The man who understands my love of Christmas. The man who calls me every night before bed and talks to me for an hour.

Now that I know that I love this man-I have an even bigger problem. I refuse to be the one to say it first. I need to hear it from him so that I know he means it-so I know he isn't just saying it back. My heart aches to tell him just how much he means to me. I want so badly to tell him-but I know that saying it at the wrong time could ruin everything we have and I really do not want to do that. I can not count the number of times I have said it to a closing door after he's gone through it, or as I've watched his truck drive away, but I know with absolute certainty that I mean it.

I hate Mondays because that is one more missed opportunity-and because I know that I have to wait 5 more days for another chance.

It's amazing how quickly a day can go from wonderful to all wrong. Thanksgiving was everything I had hoped it would be. I started out the day so very thankful for everything that I have. I am thankful for the changes I have made, thankful for the people I get to surround myself with, I am thankful for my childrens' laughter, the list goes on and on and on. Dinner was wonderful. I am glad I got to share it with people that I love. I will admit I was unbelievably nervous having invited my new friend to spend the holiday with us. I was afraid I would mess up the food, or he'd laugh at my improvisation with the chairs, or that any number of things would go wrong. In the end-only the sink broke. Which he was wonderful enough to fix for me.

After everything was cleaned up and there was no evidence remaining that this thing we called Thanksgiving had even existed, we all sat down in the living room for some Mythbusters and football. And then everything went to hell. His phone rang. He ignored a phone call. He clicked "listen to voicemail later" and a flood of emotions came rushing back. I sat on the couch and cried. Huge tears rolling down my face because of that one action. Not because he ignored the phone call-but because I realized how much he truly matters to me. I realized that I have let myself feel for him, allowed him into my heart and I realized how much it would kill me if he were to hurt me the way my ex-husband had hurt me. I recalled numerous times we'd be at a restaurant, driving down the road, spending time together as a family and his phone would ring and he'd ignore it. Not because he didn't want to be bothered, but because it was one of his other women. It took awhile for me to be able to explain this to the new friend-mainly because I didn't really know how to go about explaining it to him. But I did and I felt a little better. Then anxiety set in and I thought "am I going to drive him away? Will my insecurities scare him? Will they make me not worth the effort?" He says he understands. He says it's ok and that I don't need to apologize. I really want to believe him-but trust is hard to rebuild. I know with each passing day that he's gone I learn to trust a little more-and each time he comes back-I learn to trust even more than when he's gone. I know eventually one day I will be "normal" again. Afterall-it took a long time to "ruin" me and it's going to take even longer to "fix" me. I just hope that he thinks I'm special enough for him to stick around and see me fixed...

I hate you

Today I would like to say a great big huge "I hate you" to my insecurities. I hate the fact that I can't believe things that in my heart I know to be true. I hate that my brain tries to deceive me and get me to believe things I know can't possibly be. I really wish that I could go through each day without this sinking feeling in my stomach. I wish I wasn't constantly waiting for the next huge disappointment. I hate that I can't believe in myself and can't trust that people might actually like me.

I know that everything happens for a reason. I know that I was destined to go through what I went through in order to make me appreciate what I do have. I know that I am learning a lesson in trust and in faith. I know that I should believe in myself, and I should believe him and I should trust in God, but after the life I've lived-it's hard to trust anyone.

I really wish I could be a self confident, self assured woman who never wondered if people were being truthful and honest. I wish I could wake up every morning KNOWING that everything was going to be ok. I wish that could just trust that God knows what he's doing.

I feel like I'm never quite good enough. I'm not the prettiest, the funniest, the smartest. I'm not the best at anything that I do. I'm just an average human being who wants nothing more than to make the people she loves happy and most days I feel like a horrible failure. I know that life isn't a competition and that there will always be somebody faster, smarter, prettier, funnier-but just once I would like to be told I was the best at something.

I hope that someday I will be able to look in the mirror and be ok with what I see. I hope that someday I will look at myself and believe that other people can and do like me, but looking at myself right now it doesn't seem like that day will come anytime soon.

Thank God it's Friday

This has been one of the longest weeks ever. Each night has required me to be at school until at least 4, except for Tuesday and Wednesday which required me to stay until 7. I am so unbelievably thankful that Parent/Teacher conferences are over for another year. I enjoy meeting with parents and talking about what we do, but I really was not cut out to work 12 hour days. Maybe I'm just spoiled.

I'm frantically scurrying to get all of my Highly Qualified Teacher paperwork into the Super's office. This is a huge pain, considering it should have been done 5 years ago-but that's beside the point. I feel this year is the year of paperwork. That between the divorce, moving and school I have had an ever growing stack of papers waiting for me to fill them out and turn them in.

Monday through Friday require so much from me. It's an amazing amount of work to be the only grown up responsible for 3 children. I frequently used to say that it would be easier to be a single parent because there would be no expectation of assistance from the other parent. I am learning that this theory is in fact true! It sucks that there's nobody to "tag-you're it" but, knowing that I am responsible for all of it almost makes it easier. Or it could possibly be the fact that there's nobody making a mess while I'm at work, the house looks exactly the same when I get home as it did when I left. Or maybe it's that our life revolves around our schedule now and nobody else's. Either way-it's a ton of work, but my life seems far less stressful than it did previously.

Because the weeks are so long and hectic-I long for the weekends. I look forward to lazy days and doing whatever we please. I also look forward to being able to spend time with him. The him that makes me happy. The him who wants to spend time with me. The him who makes me smile and forget all of the crappy stuff. The him who has taught me that when someone leaves, it doesn't mean they're gone for good. The him who has taught me that sometimes people are honest and they do what they say they are going to do. The him who has taught me that sometimes people want to make you smile instead of wanting to see you hurting and crying. I think this will be the him that will restore a lot of my faith in humanity.

It's been a long time.

I came home to an empty house last night. I had Parent/Teacher conferences until 7:00 pm and Jeannie was gracious enough to volunteer to keep the kids over night to make my life a little easier. I walked through the door of a quiet house. My arms were only full of my belongings. No backpacks, no blankies, no toys, no papers that didn't quite make it into school bags, and no kids. As I went through my nightly routine of laundry and sweeping and getting things ready for the next day, I realized how lucky I truly am. I have 3 amazingly wonderful, well adjusted, smart, caring and kind children.

As I was sitting on the couch trying to figure out what to do to occupy my time before my most anticipated phone call of the night and then bed time, I decided I should check out my blog. It's been months since I have even logged in, much less posted anything. As I read though those early days of summer, my heart broke for that poor, broken woman struggling to find something each day that would get her through to the next day. I cried a little, I laughed a little and most of all I realized how far I have come in the last 5 months.

I never thought I would be able to live on my own. But I have done it and done a pretty damn good job of it-if I do say so myself. I take care of my home. Hell, I even raked leaves for 7 hours on Saturday. I take care of my kids. I am the best mom that I could possibly be to those 3 little monsters-running them here and there, doing homework, breaking up arguments, hopping like frogs down the hall, playing babies, kissing boo boos and loving them like there's no tomorrow. And I manage to go to work every day with a smile on my face knowing that each day is a new day and a new opportunity to be the best person that I can be.

I have learned a lot about myself and what I value most in life. I have learned that I have an amazing family and wonderful friends. I am thankful for each and every person who has stuck by me through these most trying months and have been supportive even when I was at my worst-because "if they can't handle you at your worst, they certainly don't deserve you at your best," right? I know who I can count on in the middle of the night, I know who would give me their last dollar if I really needed it and I know who will be there with me always. I know that those people who matter give me everything I need and all I need is respect, honesty and love. I am a far happier woman than I have ever been. I am learning who the true Misty is, and to be totally honest- I kind of like her.

I am working on my insecurities little by little. Some days are easier than others. I still have moments, days or even weeks where I feel like people couldn't possibly really like me. I still question people's intentions and their integrity daily. I'm sure over time I will begin to trust people again, and will be able to take their word for things. I'm sure I will begin to be believe in myself and in others. I'm sure that someday I will know the meaning of true happiness. Until then I'm enjoying the ride because life's a journey, not a destination.