Please Don't Live in Fear

Please don’t be ashamed of yourself because of how you look. Don’t let your weight or other perceived imperfections keep you from living the life you want. Don’t be embarrassed. Embrace the person you are, right now, and love them. Show yourself some respect, have some dignity. Don’t live in fear.

Why do I say all this?

Let me tell you a story.

Growing up I was never skinny but I really was never too heavy either. I was average, or at least that’s how I perceived myself.

Growing up I was also very lucky to have the most amazing group of friends. Thick as thieves, we shared the best and the worst of our lives together.

I moved away from my hometown area in 2000 and then moved even further away in 2002. It was sometime around 2003 that I really started gaining weight. I would say between 2003 and 2008, the year I moved back to the area I grew up in, I had easily put on at least 100 pounds and was gaining by the day.

Between 2003 and 2008 I was only coming home maybe once or twice a year. I would visit with some friends but not many, usually opting to see my family mainly during those times. By 2008, however, Facebook was now open to everyone and people I knew from my high school crew were not only aware that I was moving home, they were excited. I was excited too. I was ready to be home, see my friends again, excited to be back with those that knew me best. Hell, my high school best friend that I had known since I was 8 years old not only lived in Philly at the time, she lived like half a dozen blocks away. It was going to be awesome.

But do you know what happened when I moved back? I hid. I was so embarrassed and ashamed of what I had become I couldn’t face my old friends. Even though these were people that had gone through hell with me and I knew they wouldn’t care, I cared. I couldn’t do it. Out of the dozens of people still living back home when I moved back I only reconnected with two of my friends. And even then my time with them was limited. I made new friends. Friends that didn’t know the ‘old Dacia’, friends I felt wouldn’t judge me for my (perceived) failure.

Two years later I was off again, this time to Texas. Away from the city I loved. Completely missing out on reconnecting with people I loved. Intentionally.

I am not sure I ever admitted it, or at least not to many if I had, that I was so ashamed of the person I had become.  So much so that I missed out on years of time I could have spent with some amazing people. It was so silly. I look back on those times now and wonder what the heck was wrong with me? How could I just hide away like that?

It has been a long time since I lived in Philadelphia. When I travel home now I still mainly focus on time with family but now I also try to reconnect with anyone willing to spend some time with me. There is never enough time though. And there are people living back home that I haven’t seen in at least a decade if not more.

And that makes me sad. Utterly and completely sad. 

Especially when you find out that one of your close friends from high school is dying.

Especially when you find out that he died.

I missed out on a lot of things in my life because of my weight. I made a lot of bad/stupid decisions because of my weight, too. Honestly, I could write a book just on this subject. Now that I am at peace with the person that I am (I may have lost weight but I know I am far from perfect, and that is ok)  I try to not miss out on these chances and opportunities when they arise. But sometimes, it’s not enough.

I can’t go back to those years I hid from you Erik, those years I felt ashamed. I cannot tell you now how sad I am that I won’t get to see you again. We won’t get to drink a beer together or fight like brother and sister again. I can’t change how I wrote my history. And today, knowing that you are gone, that is a tough pill to swallow.

I am sorry for the years that passed between us. I am sorry I took for granted (with any of you) that our time together is limited and that the end point is unknown.

I can only move forward trying to be a better person, friend, daughter, (soon to be) wife, and take with me the many memories we have all shared. I will remember you fondly.

RIP Erik, my favorite Viking. 

I can't believe you still had this after all these years....

Love and hugs,

Dacia

xoxoxoxox

I Lost It Over Some Miso Soup

I try to be pretty diligent when it comes to eating out. I always ask about ingredients and double and triple check allergen/ingredient info online (when I can) and yet sometimes I still get burned.

Case and point- miso soup. Seems harmless enough, right? Miso paste is just fermented soybeans and it is something I keep on hand for cooking. It is salty and yummy. In the soup (made from miso paste) you will find little pieces of tofu, seaweed and scallions. Seems harmless enough right? But yet I always ask because the broth, the broth is where I seem to always get burned. I should know better right? This same thing happened last year at a pho restaurant that swore to me their ginger broth was just veggie stock and ginger but in reality (I found out on the third or fourth visit) it was chicken stock. FYI restaurants- stop calling things vegetarian if they are made with chicken broth.  UGH!

But I digress…yesterday I ordered some miso soup. It was probably the third time I had ordered it at this restaurant (where I was told no animal in broth just miso paste) only to be informed by my vegan-ish friend that they were probably wrong. Most miso soup has bonito in it. Which is fish. Which bothers me because I bet she was right and I bet the woman (or even the kitchen staff) didn’t know it had fish in it. I am a vegan and I didn’t know that.  I mean just yesterday I had to tell a waiter that eel sauce was actually made from eel bones after he tried to tell me otherwise. 

The reality is I try really hard to not eat animals but sometimes I do on accident and there is nothing I can do but learn from it and move on.  But that’s not really the point of this post.

The point is what happened after I ate the miso soup.

 

I basically lost it.

Somehow I went from ‘whoops, I probably just ate some fish’ to bawling my eyes out because I don’t have any (local) friends, to how much I feel like an outcast (yes, being a vegan makes me feel like the oddball in pretty much every situation), to how much it sucks that my closest friends are 1000 miles away, to how much my life would be easier if I could just find someone like me, to how alone I felt. And I just cried and cried and cried. Sobbed really. Those big ugly tears. With snot all over my face. Just uttering nonsense.  It was pretty ;)

And it felt good.

For the last few weeks I have felt off. I have been all over the place, emotionally, and I didn’t really know what was going on. And when I would tell E that I didn’t feel great I wasn’t able to tell him why.  I didn’t know if it was work stuff, school stuff, life stuff, some combo or what.

But yesterday, as I was just letting the tears come, I realized something. I realized that I had missed my outlet for that cathartic release at fitbloggin and I think I really needed it.

I like to say the fitbloggin people are my people, they just get me. But that’s not really true. I mean yes, they get me but most people ‘get me’. I am not that complex. Anyone I talk to can understand my past and how I choose to live my life.

Fitbloggin isn't 'my people' they are me. Not saying everyone there is just like me but in a sense they kind of are. Everyone there attends because some area of their life is driven around health and wellness. And then yes, there is a smaller group of people who really are just like me- lost a whole lot of weight and are living in maintenance mode. Or are currently trying to lose a whole lot of weight, because I’ve been there too, they are me too. Oh, and there are always a bunch of vegans thrown in the mix too which is also awesome because I don’t know a single vegan here in Pensacola. Or, for that matter, a single person locally who struggled with obesity and lives in the mindset of actively trying to prevent obesity from taking over again.

And it sucks because these people that do, my blogging friends and support team, I only get to see once a year.

And knowing that I still have 11.5 months before I get to see them again hurts.

And it makes me feel alone.

E is great though, he takes on both roles (boyfriend and friend) well. And I commend him for knowing when to let me cry it out and when to try and talk it out.

And last night I cried it out.

And it helped.

But I think there is more crying that needs to be done. More work to get to the root of the problem.

Last night I also thought a lot about the times in the past when I felt alone. When I let my weight isolate me from others or when I would move somewhere new and struggle with making friends and I thought how at least back then I had two of the best friends in the world, my doggies, to help me through it. I miss them so. I know some of my tears last night were for them. I still miss them every day. In my opinion, dogs really are man’s best friend. I know mine were.

I don’t really know what else to say. I am emotionally beat this morning. I am in desperate need of that perspective shift where instead of being sad over not having friends nearby I should be thankful for the amazing friends I do have that make me feel like distance is never an issue in our relationship. I shouldn’t grieve over losing my dogs (who are happily living with a family in Alabama) I should be thankful for having many, many years of happy memories with them. And instead of crying over being alone I should realize that I am never alone when I have my love by my side.

I know all of this. I know how lucky I am to have such amazing friends and family and the world’s best boyfriend. I know how fortunate I have been to be able to have two loving doggies, to travel to see the friends I miss, to have people in my life (both near and far) that genuinely care.  And 95% of the time I feel exactly that- happy and grateful.

But I am human. And those other five percent….well, it happens. 

And sometimes you just need to cry it out, write about it, and move on.

Love and hugs,

Dacia

xoxoxoxox

Moving On...

Just wanted to check in with you after yesterday’s sobering post….

Today I am doing pretty well, believe it or not. Closure is definitely a good thing. My friend A and I were out to dinner last night and she told me how with divorce you cycle through the five stages of grief/loss since we react to divorce in a similar fashion to death. I thought about this a lot and I agree with her- I definitely went through those five stages.

I think that at first (for the last few months actually) I was in denial about the whole thing. Not that I was denying the fact that the divorce was imminent but that by trying to maintain a friendship with Paul and keep him in my life (because honestly I thought that was the best thing for us both) I was denying myself the right to move on, to turn the page or end the chapter or whatever metaphor you deem fitting. I was totally in denial of what divorce actually meant, what it really would be like.

Then, like a freight train, I entered into the anger stage on Monday and that went straight into Tuesday. I admit, I said a lot of unkind things to Paul. There were definitely times when I let my emotions take over me and the words, well they just kept coming. I just couldn’t turn it off. He took everything I said with a grain of salt, too, but that’s probably because he had acted the same way towards me at many points so he knew to be understanding.

The bargaining phase… well I think that one was short lived. I tried to reason to myself that if we could just get through this then ultimately we could remain a part of each other’s lives or if I just give him space/kindness/compassion/friendship/time/whatever then in the end he wouldn’t resent me or worse yet, hate me. But I can’t bargain for those things. It is what it is- I cannot control what will happen tomorrow or ten years from now. I can only accept this situation for what it is and move on.

When the anger was gone and I knew I couldn’t bargain with him for the outcome I desired well that’s when the depression set in. Depression is such a strong word though. I prefer to say sadness. I was really sad. For the first time I really felt just overcome with sadness. It was over, the marriage was over (which of course I knew) and going forward we would no longer be a part of each other’s world. That made me very sad knowing he was no longer going to be a phone call away. Sad that we wouldn't continue to share each others stories and life events. That we would stop being important and meaningful to each other. So, I cried. The ugly kind of crying…at work…just sitting there, hunched over my laptop crying my eyes out. I had to retreat to the bathroom where I hid in a stall and just let all the tears come, sobbing sounds and all. I cried and cried until it set in…until I reached acceptance.

Acceptance is what allowed me to say my goodbyes. To write yesterday’s post. To turn the page and end that chapter of my life. There is no more story of Paul and Dacia. It is over. Yes, writing that makes me sad, as it probably should, but only because there is a lot of history and memories I am leaving behind. That’s kind of a big deal. But yesterday, I laid them all to rest. I made my peace and now I move on.

Today is a new day, a fresh start and of course a blank page.

I don’t know what the future holds for me but I am not afraid.

Today I am excited to start writing my story, my next chapter. I cannot tell you how it all ends but I can tell you this- it is going to be AWESOME!

Also, I cannot thank you all enough for all the kind words and lovely sentiments I received yesterday. The outpouring was a bit overwhelming. It is because of you that I know my life has purpose and meaning and how I know it will be greater than I ever imagined possible.

Love and hugs and deep heartfelt thanks,

Dacia  

Saw this armadillo on my walk this afternoon....see you just never know where the day will take you...