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I woke up this morning with a new conviction. Maybe it's the weather--I'm more of a gray day kinda gal--or maybe it's because my ankle feels better or maybe I'm just horrified by my own disgustingness.
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I should explain that, while my ankle was healing, I figured I didn't need to update this blog. I'm not keeping a blog to keep a journal of my general comings and goings. But, perhaps I should. I mean, I fell off the wagon hard, mostly because I wasn't holding myself accountable.
Here's what happened during my little intermission. My ankle hurt pretty badly, and I know I said I would go to the doctor, but I don't have $500 for a visit and an x-ray, and physical therapy at a hundred bucks (or more) a pop would kill me. I rested. I iced. I compressed. I elevated. I think we're good now.
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The other thing that happened is my car died for good and all our money is wrapped up in the kitchen remodel as I've already mentioned a bunch of times (oh whoa is me...I know). Even if it fit in our summer budget for me to join a gym, I can't get there. I'm rattling around this house, working at my computer by day, watching movies at night. I realize, when the zombie apocalypse occurs, I will not survive the boredom. I'm not like the omega man in I Am Legend (the book, not the movie) who worked out during the day to keep himself in shape--he did also drink copious amounts of whiskey, so I might be a little like him. It seems to me, however, when the zombies take over, only the super smart and the super athletic will survive. The smart guys will create bunkers and serums and antidotes and whatnot while the athletic will...well...be athletic. I am neither super smart nor am I even slightly athletic, as though you haven't noticed already.
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Here's another thing that happened and why I fell off track: When I spend a little bit of time alone, I feel rejuvenated. When I spend a lot of time alone, I go dark. I don't mean I get all depressed and angry. Well, I suppose I do to a certain extent, but I mean my brain goes dark. I have trouble writing and I have trouble thinking and I have trouble motivating. I need noise and people to have a successful day. I have friends (thank you Liana and Caroline and Tanya and Chicky and Amy) who have driven here to pick me up for adventures or have come to visit, and Groom lets me borrow his truck when he can, but otherwise, here I sit.
When I was in my early 30s, I had a few epiphanies about what kind of person I am. First of all, I realized I was a total bitch and I'm still reeling from the repercussions of my younger-self behavior, but we don't need to get into that.
Second, I was in Amsterdam on business and this sweet Dutch man sat next to me at one of the dinners. He was slightly overweight--in America he'd be considered average...god I sound like such a euroweenie but it's mostly true--and he said to me, "I am...uh...like you? I...struggle wit za weight..." I was like, "Whoa." I had never struggled with my weight. What did I look like?
Third, I was traveling alone in Italy--also for work--and I didn't (still don't) speak Italian. I had no car and I would spend my day working alone in my room before venturing into the evening air for dinner in the village. This was when the Internet was still in its infant stages, so I couldn't just get on my iPhone and click around and it was a hassle to check email. In Amsterdam, I could visit any number of Internet cafes--they were far more prevalent there than in, say, Maine. But in Italy, I was holed up in a hotel in Santa Margherita Ligure along the Italian Riviera. There were no Internet cafes. I would wander the village and listen to people speaking a language I didn't understand. I hopped the ferry over to Portafino and wandered about over there for a day but, again, I had nobody to talk to. I walked for miles and miles by myself.
Each day, I would go into town even though I couldn't talk to anyone, and I would sit at an outdoor cafe and listen to people chatting because I desperately needed that stimulus. But I was so freaking lonely. It got to the point where I didn't want to be around people anymore because it made me anxious and tired and sad. The feeling hit me sooner than it would have hit me if I had been in an English-speaking country, but I recognized the sensation. That's what comes out after a week of being alone. I realized then that I need to interact with people or I start to shut down.
Side story: I was sitting alone at one of the sidewalk cafes enjoying the morning with an espresso and a chocolate pastry when a man sat down at my table. Normally, I would given that person a bargoyle face--you know the face. The "I'm sitting here at the bar reading my book and I don't want any nonsense from you so take your smiling mug away from me before I spew hot fiery lava all over you or worse I shall turn you to stone" face. But, this day, I was happy for the companionship. He invited me to spend the day with him in neighboring Rapallo, which boasted a more lively scene, or so he claimed. I accepted.
It was Italian Job all the way to Rapallo and though I could understand only half of every word my driver spoke, it was nice to have a slight taste of freedom. After a day in what turned out to be another touristy destination with even more people with whom I could not communicate, I was driven back to my hotel where the man asked me to dinner. I politely declined. It's true, I was feeling better than I had in days and I enjoyed some company, but I was exhausted after trying to understand what was happening around me and I didn't think it would be a good idea to join this stranger for dinner (said the girl who had just accepted a ride in a strange car to a strange place in a strange land).
As I ascended the stairs to the Grand Hotel Miramare feeling like a gorgeous American model who had spent the day on a wild international Italian adventure, this man--who had taken pity on me and spent a day showing me his countryside--called out. I turned around and descended the stairs to wave as he pointed to a rather large zit on my cheek and said, "Eeeh...no more chocolate for you, yeah? Iz bad for...ah...complexion."
No car. No company. No stimulus. It all made me go dark. I've crawled out from under the blanket on this rainy day to say hello and to say, yes, I plan to get on the elliptical today.
I plan to start over.
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