The pitfalls of apathy

Wow.

Over 4 years since a blog post. Those who have stuck with me, God bless you.
Those who haven't, I honestly don't blame you.

I had a weird dream last night.

My uncle Michael showed up unexpectedly at a party with a size 9 dress for me. He said we were doing a family photo shoot in June and he bought matching clothes for everyone. I was like, uh, dude, I am sooooo NOT a size 9.

And then HE said, you have 7 months, you can get down to a size 9.

Abigail turned and looked at me and said, I bet you $500 that you can do it.

Anyway, dreams are weird.

I woke up and told Robert and he asked, "Well, why can't you?"

I'm not going to shoot for a totally ridiculous impossible goal and then get all discouraged when I find out it's a physical impossibility. (unless I starve myself of course)

AAAAAND I'll be out $500. (Everyone knows dream bets are legit)

Though I don't know why dream Abigail would bet me that I could lose the weight. I could just not do anything and I would win. Bad move, Abigail..... Bad move.

But your dream faith in dream me is sweet :)

Ugh, I'm boring myself. I'm so boring lately. Nothing interests me. I'm going through the motions. Last night I told Robert I want to do something to the house. We've lived there almost 2 years and have done almost nothing to it. Just painting it would be the easiest thing in the world.

Then I woke this morning and thought, meh. All my interest was gone. Robert told me years ago that I make big plans at night because it's too late for me to do anything about it. I told him years ago that I'm a lazy ass. Apparently, that's not a good excuse anymore.

Sigh.

A big part of it is that I'm overweight. It's a circular, familiar argument. I don't want to do anything because I'm tired. I'm tired because I didn't sleep well last night. I didn't sleep well last night because I had heartburn or I had pain. I had heartburn/pain because I'm overweight. I'm overweight because I'm too tired to do anything.

One big fat ugly circle.

Those who have ever dealt with weight problems (cough, cough, EVERYONE) will understand what I'm saying.

You see, I would love to get out of the house and enjoy my youth. Take walks with my husband. Play with my daughter. Dance with my friends. Get this godforsaken house in some kind of order.

But I'm tired, y'all.

You're my wonderwall

Iphone Auto-correction of the day:

Asses = Sewers

I'll admit, I can be a little full of myself.
When my husband left for boot camp, I let my head get inflated when people would tell me how strong I was, or how well I was doing, or how proud they were of me for following God's plan.

The honest truth: My husband followed God's plan. I was dragged along, kicking and screaming.

Not that I'm not well aware that my husband certainly DIDN'T want to leave his whole life behind and start down a very, very scary path. I just did everything I could to make it as difficult for him as possible. I spent the whole year before he left for boot camp giving him a hard time for joining the military. At the time, I wasn't aware that he was listening to what God wanted him to do. It wasn't until a couple of weeks before he left that I found that out.

As soon as I found out God was leading Robert, I gave up. I gave in. I stopped fighting and just focused on what we needed to do to get through the next year. I was still scared and angry, but I realized that I was just making a difficult situation MORE difficult. Plus, how can you fight God? You can't, simple as that.

And then he was gone.

Those two months were hell. Fortunately for me, I had a very very strong support system of family and friends that did everything they could to bolster me. They encouraged me constantly and wrapped me in love and faith, and I would not have survived those two months without them. (Thank you so much. You know who you are.) 

But I started to think more of myself. I started to think: yeah, I'm following what God says, I'm exactly where I need to be, I'm doing exactly what I'm supposed to be doing. I'm perfect, I don't need to work on anything else.
And I let myself believe that. I let myself believe that I was in control and I was doing what God wanted, sure, but that didn't necessarily mean I needed Him. He threw me into this situation and I was just picking the pieces up and reassembling my life.

It's like I just disregarded everything I had ever learned about God.

HE is in control. HE is my shelter. HE is my wonderwall.

I was never in control. I only had the illusion of control. When I think back on how I acted and thought, I'm ashamed. I thought I was a better person, a better Christian. I was so smug and sure in my belief that because I was "following God," that made me a better Christian. How lame is that?

I fully believe that I'm where I need to be. I fully believe that I DID listen to what God wanted me to do and I acted on it.
But just because I'm where God wants me to be does not necessarily mean that I'm doing what he wants me to do.

Mostly, I'm blissfully happy. I'm with the love of my life and I see him every day and every day I fall more and more in love with him and see his love for me in his every gesture.

A small part of me, though, thinks, is this it? What did God bring me to this place for? Why did I uproot my whole life? What is God's purpose for me in San Angelo? Is it just to give my husband the support he desperately needs? And maybe it is.... I just really wish that I could be doing something else ON TOP OF supporting my husband.

Maybe it's not for me to know.

I feel really isolated here. I'm terrified of having to step out of my comfort zone. (My home instantly becomes my comfort zone) I don't want to have to get out of the house, I don't want to have to get a job, I don't want to have to talk to people, I don't want to melt in the heat, I don't want to get to know this city (I'm only here for four more months). At the same time, I have to get out of this flipping house. I am going bonkers just sitting. I'm tired of cooking, tired of cleaning, tired of reading, tired of watching TV, tired of playing games.
I'm at war with myself.
Let me out. Let me stay in.
I have to talk to someone. I don't want to talk to anyone.

I was talking to a good friend yesterday and we talked about being stuck in your rut. As a matter of fact, she wrote on her blog that she feels like she was pulled out of her rut, changed irrevocably, then put right back in (I'm paraphrasing, her wording was way nicer), totally changed but in the same place, essentially.

I felt that way after my mom passed away last December.

I changed completely, my whole world just flipped upside down. And when the dust settled and I looked around, everything was the same. Same job, same apartment, same rut, same issues.

It drove me mad. Familiarity didn't help me. I was grieving, but I was suffocating in the bubble I had created around myself. I was looking at my life with different eyes and it was flawed.

Robert is the one that pulled me out of my rut, because he freaking CATAPULTED out of his. I didn't even have a rut/comfort zone anymore. It was just gone.

And I'm trying my hardest to keep myself from falling into another pattern. I feel my comfort zone forming around me, but I DO NOT want to get into a rut. Nothing gets accomplished, you can't live your life the way God wants you to.

Living outside the rut is scary, though. What comes next? And will I survive it?

Enter Sandman

Iphone text auto correction of the day:

Wussy to Quash.

Iphone has this very annoying habit of auto correcting my words to what they think I mean to say. Not that this hasn't come in handy on quite a few occasions, but . . . STOP HELPING ME, PHONE!

I've been having weird dreams lately. Real events that happened to me end up getting skewed and worse in my dreams than they happened in real life. Nothing like waking up from a dream and wanting to hurl. Nice.

I don't have much to say today (which, for those who know me, that is SHOCKING!), but I will say this: I miss Houston.

There's flipping cactus here! I have never in my life lived somewhere with a cactus, even one in a pot. San Angelo is not a good place to live if you are clumsy. You WILL fall on a cactus.

I've been avoiding going outside. Reason one: it is DAMN hot.

Reason two: I'd have to actually get dressed. (my definition of getting dressed is whether I need to put a bra on or not)

Reason three: I'm lazy (which, honestly, encompasses reasons one and two)

Robert and I ventured onto our back porch at 4:15 pm today (for the first time). We both squinted in the bright sun and sweat poured off of us immediately. We both looked at each other and said, that's enough nature for us; let's get back inside and pop in some Friends!

Friends and Girls Next Door, and reading (of course) are my current addictions. Luckily for me, the libraries here are surprisingly well stocked (more well stocked than the one I went to in Webster). They have current books and LOTS of DVDs to rent (take THAT, Netflix!) so I'm not really bored.

I love spending time with Robert. He makes me laugh when I'm pissed, makes me cry sentimentally, makes me love him. Damn that man!

In two weeks time, I will be making the long, long, looooong trip back to Houston to go to a concert (my first in like 5 or 6 years!) and visiting family and catching up. Then, two or so days after I get there, I'll be making the trip back.

When I told Robert, he reminded me that his birthday is that Tuesday and I'll be leaving San Angelo on Sunday, so his birthday (and, honestly, money constraints) will make it necessary to make this trip an abbreviated one.

I really miss everyone in Houston. 

My timer is going off for my homemade fries. Robert just finished with the hamburgers. 

Take it easy, everyone. After all, it's Sunday! Save the running around for the weekdays.

Day 8838

Day 8838 of my life is about to end. Yes, I just added up the days of my life. I have no job. Sue me.

I live in San Angelo on an Air Force base (temporarily) while my husband finishes up tech school for the Air National Guard. Then we'll move back to Houston.


You know, looking at how many days I've lived is somewhat comforting. I can think of days where I wasn't sure if I would live another day. I would always randomly think (in newspaper headlines, of course, because apparently my death would warrant a headline), DEAD AT [whatever age I currently was]! GIRL FOUND IN OWN EXCREMENT!
(Ahhhh, nothing like a poop joke right off the bat!)


Some people are afraid of poop jokes. I've never had that issue, unfortunately for the four people who will read this....... Okay, maybe I do have that issue, cause I wanted to go take it off. I won't, though. (You're welcome.) These blogs do make you feel horribly exposed, though. Nobody look at me!


I don't have a plan or intention in mind with this blog. It sounded like fun and maybe a good way to stay in touch with my homies in Houston. (What up, y'all??) I was talked into it by a couple of friends. For some weird reason, they WANT to hear what goes through my mind. . . . Strange.


I'm sitting at my computer staring off into space. This blog will take me two hours to write. Luckily, I have two hours to spare.


I did NOTHING today. I seesaw back and forth between morose apathy and languid bliss. Not having a job is hard work!


I really SHOULD get a job. I don't have kids or a stay at home job or a reason to not have a job. When I first moved to San Angelo, I was unpacking everything I planned on using, and cleaning and organizing and cooking. So I felt like maybe I didn't need one, plus I've had a rough year.....


HOWEVER, I am well aware that an idle mind can be a breeding ground for anxiety. Not having something to do doesn't suit me at all. Being alone doesn't suit me at all..... Why, then, (you ask) would you move somewhere you have no friends, no family, no job, no familiarity, horrible cell phone service, and a barely functioning computer?

Because I'm in love with my husband and my God, and my God cleared the way.


Even now, he takes care of me. He watches out for me. He understands my need to just BE and provides for me, even when I crunch the numbers and say to Robert, "Yep, we ain't gonna make it this month." Money unexpectedly appears, or something doesn't go through or gets pushed back to when I DO have extra money and it's taken care of. Amazing.


On another note, I made the most terrible lobster bisque in my life today. It tasted like cream of crap. VERY appetizing. Even I couldn't eat it, and I've eaten some questionable things in my 8838 days.

I dropped Robert off for class at 2:45 pm (they can't be dropped off at their class, they have to form up outside of the dorms and wait in the 100+ degree heat for about 20 minutes while roll is called. If they are absent from formation, they get in BIG BIG BIG trouble), then ran to the commissary (on-base grocery store) for kitty litter and ice (not to be used together, though).

Then I came home and continued my Girls Next Door marathon. I like watching TV shows and movies with commentary. You always get way more trivia that way.

An hour and a half later, I realized that I needed to start dinner. (Robert goes to class from 3 pm to midnight, but he has to eat dinner at 5:30 pm. Somebody PLEASE tell me how this makes any kind of sense???)

I decided to try this new lobster bisque recipe........
We all know how that turned out.

I don't even know how I can salvage it. It honestly tastes like I just mixed cream and sherry together and served it warm. Sick.

Can't toss it, though. I spent money to make that crap and by God, it WILL BE SALVAGED!

So Robert came home and tried his best to eat it. I kept saying, "It's horrible, I know. Don't even try to eat it." He didn't comment on it (smart, smart man!), but he stopped halfway through and filled up on cheese garlic biscuits. He went back to class (after grabbing like a million snacks) and I sat down and read my best friends' blogs. I like to feel like I'm still in the loop. (If the loop extended 500 miles wide.)

San Angelo is honestly not as bad as I thought it would be. It's not Houston, by any means, but it's not Podunk, TX either. They have a Chick-fil-a and for that, they have been spared.

I'm sick of unpacking. If I'm only going to be here for a few months, what's the point? Then I think, ooooh, I'd like to read THIS book. And I have to go digging through boxes to find it. And since the box is open I might as well unpack it...... Stupid book fetish.

I'm tired of writing. I'm going to go watch Girls Next Door, Season 4!!! And maybe try to salvage the bisque.
Or maybe I'll just stick it in the fridge and forget about it. That's always a good plan....

Good night, all who read this blog. And I'm sorry to have subjected you to it. (But not really.)