Saturday, March 20, 2010

The First Cut is the Deepest (baby, I know!)

Sometimes trying to be what everyone expects of you turns out to be the most exhausting task of all. Set aside the months of pre-surgical training, or the surgery itself, I am talking about the expectations I have of myself when that is all over. When I am home and thankful to have made it through, I feel like I owe it to the people that believed in me to give 110% all day, every day. Yesterday I came home and immediately started to pick up around the house. I wiped down counters, put stuff in the dishwasher, emptied my hospital bag, switched the laundry, went through the mail and took a walk with the dogs. When I came home, I napped for a couple of hours, and awoke (very reluctantly) because I felt like I should be doing something else. So I updated my Facebook status, fed my virtual pets, folded a couple loads of laundry and took another walk with the husband and kids. When I came home I showered and it felt wonderful. But then…..then, I just shut down. I was just exhausted. I sat there in my yoga pants and bra with my head in my hands, and had a good cry for a couple of minutes. It was at that moment that I realized I need to work at a pace that I am comfortable with, and stop trying to be super woman. I don’t have to pretend that it doesn’t bother me to watch everyone else eating steak and potatoes while I sip a 4 oz. sugar free meal replacement. I don’t have to make myself do things I’m not ready for just to prove how strong I can be. This is going to be a long journey, and the faster I go, the more behinder I will get. Slow and steady wins the race, right?

It is a little harder than I thought it would be, if I am being perfectly honest. The smell of the food and the sight of people eating food, makes me a little sad. I know in the long run this will all be worth it, but getting through this initial adjustment period is a wee bit o’sucky. My belly feels full very quickly, but my heart still yearns for raisin toast and Whoppers. The surgery is like Ritulin for my Fat Girl ADD. It will take a while to kick in, but I know I can get there….one sugar free pudding cup at a time.

I realize this is a lame entry, and you probably expected some more of my half-witted humor, but unfortunately for you readers, the pain pills not only kill my pain, they dull my sense of humor. I promise to bring the funk and all that junk very shortly. Word to ya mutha.

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