Fifty seven weeks out from surgery, and here are the numbers I care about:
- Weight: 235
- Blood Sugar: 101
And up one pound.
¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Not to seem too flippant, but honestly this has happened so many times it’s hard to get too wound up about it anymore. I’m writing this on Thursday instead of Wednesday, because yesterday I went to the dentist for the first time since November. I’m supposed to go three times a year, but the Covid had other plans for me this year. So they pulled our their iron hooks, strapped me down, and worked me over like a mob informant. My entire skull ached for the rest of the day, but at least my teeth were fucking clean.
The fall semester has officially started at one of my schools, and it starts for the other two on Monday. I still have three classes to prep for and a faculty meeting to attend, so this is going to be short this week.
Things are pretty good when I can get the politics out of my head, which is increasingly difficult to do. This is not a normal election year. In the past week, I’ve unloaded on an old buddy, and on my parents, and the funny part is that they’re on opposite ends of the political spectrum. I have no fucking time for the useless, bullshit excuses people will make for voting for a white supremacist, but I have equally little time for the people who refuse to vote for the guy running against him. All of them can fuck off, I’m so goddamn angry. I feel bad for unloading on these people I love, and I’ve considered apologizing, but then I think about it, and even though the way I delivered the message could’ve been considerably more respectful, the message itself is something I stand by. I don’t feel bad about a single word I said. And if it takes me yelling at them to get through, then fuck it. And if they refuse to listen or even consider my point of view, fuck it. I tried. There’s a lot at stake this year.
I guess I’m writing about this here because it’s been causing me considerable stress. Like, way worse than I’ve let on to anyone. I have to limit how and when I consume the news. Our democracy is literally at stake here, and I have a hard time listening to talk show hosts make jokes about it. And Randy Rainbow can go fuck himself. I’m sure he’s a great person, and I know he’s talented and funny, but I’ll laugh if Trump loses. If Trump wins, then how many of us were laughing at Randy Rainbow videos instead of making phone calls or donating to Biden? I can’t take even a few seconds of it.
And so, all this stress is triggering shitty old thoughts and behavior. I was driving up Mountain Avenue yesterday on my way home from the oral torture session, and I was literally thinking about the four or five drive thrus I could stop at. I haven’t thought about that shit in maybe a year. I stopped at none, but even the thoughts were enough to freak me out. Time to question everything, track every calorie, focus on what I can actually do, and remember that teaching is going to demand all of my time in about four days.
I’m a neurotic mess happy. When I focus on my work. And don’t read too much news. Or talk politics with people I love. Or stay in my head too much.
Here, have a graphic:
