I’ve been doing a lot of it lately.
I’ve been draggin’ my ass out of bed with great effort. I’ve been draggin’ my ass to family functions with even greater effort. I’ve been draggin’ my ass on almost everything that needs to be done, most notably my efforts toward weight loss.
Last week was a great distraction. I have been penning essays for over a year now and compiling them in hopes of publishing a book. I found a publisher willing to look at an essay collection, something many publishers snub because, with regards to sales, they aren’t big money (to which I say, talk to David Sedaris who is currently laughing all the way to the bank). They had a deadline, though. October 31 was the end of their reading period. If I missed it they wouldn’t begin accepting manuscripts again until April, and then only IF they were interested in essays. So, I had to strike while the iron was hot. I spent the better part of last week typing up a synopsis, polishing sample chapters and writing a letter that outlined my qualifications–basically, a sales pitch for my skills as a writer.
Let’s talk about that.
I can write about many things–my kids, my husband, my dog, my weight loss, my struggles with PCOS, depression and a plethora of other issues. When it comes to touting my skills–tooting my own horn–that’s when the ass dragging begins. And drag ass I did. At my core, for only myself, I am a perfectionist. I don’t thrust my anal retentive goals upon others, I only aim to make myself miserable with my rigid rules. For four days I was mentally distracted by my writing goals and my desire to get my manuscript in under the wire.
Then, Halloween came. With nothing to occupy my thoughts outside of the many Minnie Mouse‘s (Mice?) and Raphael’s (TMNT) coming to my door begging for chocolates, my mood went downhill fast. A family friend visited from Germany after a 10 year lapse in proximity and even that wasn’t enough to buoy my spirits. I had friends over on Saturday and, I fear, they saw one of my worst sides: the negative, snarky, bitchy side of me.
Then Sunday happened.
Remember that family crisis? It began to boil again on Sunday. Nothing drastic happened except a lot of anger and tears, leaving my husband and I emotionally drained. Sunday night we snuggled up to one another and tried our hardest to soothe what pains us. It was like putting a band-aid on a broken arm.
Monday came and, again, the ass dragging commenced. I dragged my ass out of bed, late. I snuggled some more with the hubby when the kids went to school and took my good, sweet time soaking up that love my heart so desperately needs right now. Then I did some more ass dragging.
A good kind of ass dragging.
I dragged my derriere all the way to my Weight Watcher’s meeting.
I stepped on that scale and owned the poundage, having gained back half of what I’ve lost. OUCH.
I dragged ass to the little blue chair where I sat for an hour, going through the motions of someone who is physically, but not mentally, present. I didn’t laugh. I hardly smiled. But I went. I sat. And that is all I had it in me to do.
When the meeting was over I approached AnnMarie. She is such a sweet lady. She read my post last week and then private messaged me on Facebook. Her words brought tears to my eyes and I knew I owed this precious soul a hearty thanks. Completely out of character for me, I dragged my ass over and told her thanks and hugged a perfect stranger.
She doesn’t “know” me and I don’t “know” her, but we are kindred spirits. I carried the warmth of her words with me as I walked down that sidewalk this evening asking myself “Miranda, why aren’t you just turning around, getting back in that car, driving home and eating cake?”
Because, if a complete stranger can find a connection with the shitty feeling I have just by reading this silly blog, and find the courage to reach out to me, I can find the strength to drag my ass back to my meeting and get back on that weight loss train.
So, I did.
I may or may not lose this week, but I think there is something to be said about starting off by just going through the motions. I’ll be at that meeting next week, too. Draggin’ ass all the way.