I don't always post certain things on my blog because I don't think people who aren't living it day to day would necessarily understand. But then time goes by and I think yes, I will share that because sometimes it would be nice to know someone else just gets it and I'm not the only one feeling the way I do.
I guess that's the whole purpose of a blog, is it not?
A few weeks ago I was feeling particularly low about myself and life in general. It's no surprise that since having Penelope, my body hasn't gone back to what it was, what took me so long to get to, and it's upsetting. It's frustrating, it makes me angry, it makes me feel defeated and it makes me feel like maybe I'm really meant to be a fat girl. Maybe I'm not supposed to be thin and maybe that's why it's such a damn struggle to get anywhere.
It all kind of came to a head about two weeks ago now when Matt basically let me know that yes, I've physically changed and yes, it's kind of an issue for him. But then he quickly back tracked and tried to make it sound less harsh than how it originally came out and let's be honest, there is no way to un-ring that bell. The damage was done and I was hurt.
But then the next day, in true Sara fashion, I got angry.
How fucking dare you criticize me. I've had three kids. I was never a thin girl to begin with. Yeah, maybe I don't exercise as much as I should but my level of exhaustion is cannot be accurately measured. You know why I don't feel like going out for a 3 mile walk/run? Oh, because I've been with a baby all day, hauling kids around, cleaning the house, running errands, and trying to minimize what my husband has to do when he gets home from a 14 hour work day. I kind of just want to go to sleep by 5 p.m.
The only way I know how to work through my anger without freaking out on people is to clean.
So that's what I did.
I had to each lunch and then I realized, I haven't cleaned my fridge in awhile.
Needless to say, my entire kitchen area smelled like bleach and you could have done one of those germ tests in my refrigerator and came back with nothing. It worked because when Matt came home and got hit with a wave of bleach smell, he knew he was in trouble. Didn't say a word to me all night.
I stewed for another week (I'm a Pisces, it takes me awhile to mentally go through things), I stupidly signed up for my first half marathon. Can I run around the block without wheezing and gagging? No. But that is a post for another day.