Sunday, April 21, 2013

Inside Out, Outside In

I've not been very successful in my health pursuits, and not for lack of trying.

I get up at 6am and work out. I run on the weekends. I stay away from bad snacks. I even gave up wine for 2 weeks straight. Despite all of that, I've been tired, moody, and depressed (I'm fine right after I work out, but as the day wears on, my mood plummets).

I do some part time work, I was taking business classes, I've been planning a new art project, all of this in addition to being a single parent raising a son in New York. My son attends middle school. An all-boys school, and the experience has left a lot to be desired, but thankfully he is involved in various academic programs, he maintains an A- average, and even though he tests the mommy-waters sometimes, he's an overall good soon.

I walk around my once decent neighborhood and I don't know what happened. People have gotten meaner (or maybe I've gotten softer). Walking out my door to deal with the mean streets of the Bronx, I feel myself putting on my Iron Man armor with the hopes of just doing what I need to do without getting into it with anyone.

I like to walk down the street with my head held high. It actually does a lot for my self-esteem to do that, but I can't because people allow their dogs to shit on the sidewalks, everywhere. It's like playing hopscotch, except you're trying not to step on dog shit, so don't date look up or you will, as I did one day, find your foot in a soft steaming pile of it before it's too late.

I just want to walk down the street with my head held high. Is that too much to ask?
Is it too much to ask that if I need to purchase clothes in my neighborhood shops, that at least one store supplies clothes that are fit for business? How many stores do we need selling the same ole stretch pants, cut out shirts, unitards, glitter tank tops, and 6 inch hooker shoes?

I've come to the solid conclusion that I have outgrown my hometown.

When I was a kid, I used to go outside and play. There are no kids in the neighborhood for my son to play with because it's all about video games, getting girls, and fighting each other to prove their malehood (since none of these boys are no where near being men).

A kid - one of my son's classmates - yelled at me. (Pause: I checked that ass, no doubt, but the fact that he didn't even think twice about it started to break the last bit of spirit I was feeling about being in my hometown. This morning, a neighbor yelled at me because I asked why she removed my clothes from the washer when I was standing right there (apparently, I didn't move fast enough for her and I don't respect people's time. Huh????). I checked her too, not for her actions, but for her being rude when I asked her about it. An employee flipped out when I told him his boss now requires all employees to fill out time sheets. I handled that professionally as well. But I have to say, these incidents took a lot out of me emotionally. I sat here today wishing I was that stereotype of a black girl from the Bronx who curses out anyone that crosses the line. I'm not a pushover, but apparently people think that when you're not hurling f-bombs at them. I shouldn't have to do that. I don't need to do that.  And yet I hate the feeling that they may think they're gotten the best of me because I didn't show my ass right along with them.

The last time I did show my ass was to a former supervisor. I had an Iyanla/DMX moment where I proclaimed that she will not speak to me (the way she did) ever again. I followed that up with a complaint to the HR department, and a week later, my services were no longer needed. I was relieved, but then I thought, well, if I was going to lose my job, I should have at least dropped an f-bomb or two since pride doesn't pay the bills.

Another time, I had to tell a man who I had dated in the past, to stop texting me inappropriate photos of his anatomy. What did I get for reminding him that I had standards and wasn't going to bite the carrot that he was dangling in front of me when we both knew he didn't want me? LOLOL... I actually have to laugh before I write this... he cut me off, blocked me... because I told him my favorite part of his body was his face (hint, hint, stop sending me pics of your junk).

Yep, it's been that kind of a time people. And as a result of the stress that has been building and building... no amount of push ups, and HIT training, and boxing, and running, and not drinking soda or eating candy or beef, or cake....none of that is helping me to get in the kind of physical shape that I aspire to.

Stress is a BEAST. I hate the muthafucker.

Stress is my biggest enemy.

Stress in increasing my cortisol levels, which is why I don't have my washboard abs.

Stress has me tired all the time, but I gets no good sleep.

Stress has me thinking I look 10 years older than I actually am (interesting, others think I look great, but I feel like crap. It's like people who suffer from eating disorders - it's not so much about how they look, but how they feel).

I don't know what tomorrow will bring, but I do ask that God wakes me up in the morning so that I can continue to sort through this mess because I'm not ready to give up yet.

I'm frustrated. Disappointed. Hurt. A little bit angry. A lot exasperated. Confused. Tired. Anxious. Achy. But I'm not ready to give up just yet. Not yet.

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