Seventeen…

Many years ago, two months into adulthood, I took a pregnancy test and found out my entire world was about to change. On April 28, 1999, it did. Jason came into the world a little after 11am that day, and life changed.

Being a mother to Jason has been a learning experience, a struggle, and a blessing — all rolled into one big, messy ball. While he wears a “teenager scowl” quite a bit, there are those moments of sheer joy when his face lights up, and you see that happiness peek through.

We’ve been through a lot together in the last 17 years, and especially over the last two. He has actually been my cheerleader in many situations, lifting me up and telling me that I’m a great person and I deserve better. It hasn’t been easy for him, but he is somehow holding it together and making it through.

Now, he is on the precipice of entering adulthood himself. I have one more year to hopefully make a difference in his life and get him ready for the world that awaits him. I know life is going to change many more times for us, but I’m hoping that this year will have more good than bad, and that he will be able to move toward an amazing future.

Happy 17th Birthday, Jason! I really don’t know where the time has gone.

Deconstructing a Relationship

Two people meet.

Two people meet and like each other.

Two people meet, like each other, and begin dating.

Two people meet, like each other, begin dating, and get engaged.

Two people meet, like each other, begin dating, get engaged, and get married.

Then…

One person becomes unsatisfied.

One person becomes unsatisfied and wants control.

One person becomes unsatisfied, wants control, and starts to get angry.

One person becomes unsatisfied, wants control, starts to get angry, and verbally abuses her.

One person becomes unsatisfied, wants control, starts to get angry, verbally abuses her, and wrecks the house.

So…

One person cries.

One person cries and wonders what she did wrong.

One person cries, wonders what she did wrong, and tries to fix it.

One person cries, wonders what she did wrong, tries to fix it, and gets hurt again.

One person cries, wonders what she did wrong, tries to fix it, gets hurt again, and realizes he is the problem…not her.

And finally…

One person throws him out.

One person throws him out and tries to move on.

One person throws him out, tries to move on, and gets drawn back in.

One person throws him out, tries to move on, gets drawn back in, and gets hurt again.

One person throws him out, tries to move on, gets drawn back in, gets hurt again, and files for divorce.

And now…

One person is happy again.

One person is happy again and finding her voice.

One person is happy again, finding her voice, and thinking about the future.

One person is happy again, finding her voice, thinking about the future, and looking forward to something new.

One person is happy again, finding her voice, thinking of the future, looking forward to something new, and writing this poem.

 

One person….can breathe. She is free.

  

 

Suave Sixteen

“Parents can only give good advice or put them on the right paths, but the final forming of a person’s character lies in their own hands.” ― Anne Frank

It started with a visit to the doctor’s office at 8:30 a.m. on Tuesday, April 27, 1999. A half an hour later, the pain began, and it ended at 11:10 a.m. on Wednesday, April 28, 1999 with a healthy 7 lb 11 oz baby boy. Now, 16 years later, I sit here and marvel at how fast the time has gone by.

That chubby little boy, with his bright blue-green eyes and his golden brown, curly hair has grown into someone who is lanky, awkward, and taller than his mother (which isn’t exactly hard…I’m only 5’6″). He loves video games, he loves to talk, and he doesn’t love school. Life hasn’t been easy for him, by any stretch of imagination. But, unlike some kids his age who are running after girls or running after drugs, he likes to sit in his room and play his games, listen to music, watch YouTube videos, and build things with his large collection of Legos and other various building materials.

While Jason does have some rough edges (what teenage boy doesn’t?), he has a huge heart. He loves his sister, his mom, his Gammy and Papaw, his cousins, aunts, uncles, etc. I think, like most kids his age, he doesn’t feel like he belongs anywhere. But, most of the great ones don’t…and I believe that he is poised for greatness.

 

Jason and his sister have an interesting relationship. They are best friends, and sometimes worst enemies (much like any sibling pair). They fight like cats and dogs, but she is the best friend he has ever had, especially as a child who doesn’t have the easiest time making friends. He also has an interesting relationship with me as well. Usually, he will sit there and talk my ear off about video games, but in the last year or two, we have started to bond over pop culture. We’ll watch American Horror Story, Grey’s Anatomy, and even Law and Order: SVU together. During that time, we’ll talk, laugh, etc. He shares my love of horror movies, but not my fear of them. He thinks they are great. He does what he can around the house, albeit at his own slow pace, but he will help out when Momma needs him.

Sixteen years old…almost a man. Or, as he tells it, a “pre-adult”. The best thing about him is his intuitive understanding of life, and his ability to be compassionate. He doesn’t ask for lavish, overpriced things. What does he want today? He wants a day with Mom. He wants to go to a movie and lunch with me. He wants to have dinner and cake at Gammy’s house tonight. Does he care that the cake is going to be homemade? No. Actually, I think he almost prefers it.

 

My amazing, intelligent, 16-year-old may need to learn a sense of urgency (and how to effectively clean his room), but overall, he is developing a character and heart that will take him far in his life, and for that I am very proud of him. Happy 16th Birthday, Jason! I love you very much!

Moving On

“You will find that it is necessary to let things go; simply for the reason that they are heavy. So let them go, let go of them. I tie no weights to my ankles.” ― C. JoyBell C.

It has been one hell of a year, hasn’t it? In a little more than a month, it will be a year since my sister passed away. Just beyond that is the one year anniversary of my failed marriage. So, what have I learned during this year of loss? I’ve learned when to let go and when to hold on.

I hold tightly to the memories of my beautiful sister, and I see her reflected through the faces and actions of her children. I loved her very much, and there will always be an emptiness in our family without her. But, being able to put down the mantle of grief, and move forward, trying to ensure this tragedy doesn’t happen to others…that is how I am making my way through the sadness of this loss every day. I will never forget her. I will never stop missing her. I will never stop loving her. I will always hold on to her memory.

Now, let’s move on to the things to let go, the things that I do not need to be sentimental about — namely, my soon-to-be ex-husband. This is someone who clung to me with every fiber of his being. Without me, he had no money, no home, etc. This is someone I had to completely cut loose to begin moving forward. But, since I made those cuts, I am happier. I feel lighter than ever before.

While letting go can be scary, because it means change, it also opens you up to an entire world of possibilities. Recently, I’ve even gotten back out into the dating world and met someone. It’s way too early to speculate what may happen between us, but finding evidence that nice, respectful men actually exist? Well, that is starting to restore my faith in humanity.  And just having the possibility of being able to find my person one day? That possibility is delicious and exciting.

It really gives me hope. 🙂

 

Paralleling Little Women

We’ll always fight, but we’ll always make up as well. That’s what sisters do: we argue, we point out each other’s frailties, mistakes, and bad judgment, we flash the insecurities we’ve had since childhood, and then we come back together. Until the next time. ”
― Lisa See, Shanghai Girls

See those girls up there? That’s us — Me (the fluffy one on the left side) and my three beautiful sisters. In this picture, we are arranged by birth order, from left to right. I am the oldest in our clan, and I am not even close to being the mature one. I guess that means I am older in chronology alone. That beautiful lady next to me is Jen, or Jen-Jen, as she was known when we were little. It was even on the back of her little lavender and white ride-along toy she had as a toddler. The next beaming graduate in the picture is Becky, my sister who passed away in May. Becky was one of the middle children, silly and yet serious in her own way. I think that she and Jennifer both had a seriousness about them all through their lives because they were middle children. I was the quirky one, Jen and Becky were the serious ones, but, they still knew how to cut loose. Then comes Kimmy — the baby of the group, with her adorable pose. I really do think she is the prettiest sister I have, which sometimes makes me green with envy (I wish I was that photogenic!!)…but of course I still love her! 😉

As I get older, memories of my childhood with these wonderful women keep slipping away, and I fear that one day they will be gone. I remember how we used to sit around and sing, sometimes with mom and sometimes by ourselves, and we would record it. We even used to have a “radio show,” and my DJ name was “Flabby Tabby,” which we all still laugh about even now. Honestly, if I ever went into radio, I think that would be a great name.

Another thing I remember is that we all adored the remake of the movie Little Women, the one with Winona Ryder. It was funny, but even back then, I always likened the four of us to the March sisters, except I changed the order around a bit. Jennifer, though younger than me by four years, has always been the older, more mature sister, and my protector, so my mind always cast her as Meg. I, as a writer, of course saw myself in Jo March, while Becky was similar to Beth in her generosity and love for her family, and Kimmy was a ringer for Amy. I remember that after seeing that movie the first time in 1991, I really wanted us to organize our own little newspaper, much like the Pickwick Papers, but we never really got it off the ground.

We had a lot of ambitions back then. But, in a few years, I started going to high school and hanging out with my younger sisters less and less. When I moved away from Marion in August 1999, Jennifer was 15, Becky was 13 and Kimmy was 11. I missed the bulk of their teen years, and when I returned to Ohio for good in November 2005, they were grown women. It never felt the same as it did when we were kids, though I don’t know if it ever does. I think sisters are great because you have all of these women with different personalities who are thrust together by blood lines and a little bit of chance – women who probably would not be friends if they were not related. And yet, at least in our case, we love each other unconditionally. Do we fight? No doubt. Do we get annoyed with each other? Yep. Do we talk about each other to Momma? Oh you have no idea! But, we always come back together when we need to — when times get really hard.

It wasn’t until I sat in that hospital room with Becky seven months ago that I realize how much our lives resembled that of the March sisters. I thought of a scene from the movie we loved so much as I stood there by her bed:

Beth: If God wants me with Him, there is none who will stop Him. I don’t mind. I was never like the rest of you… making plans about the great things I’d do. I never saw myself as anything much. Not a great writer like you.

Jo: Beth, I’m not a great writer.

Beth: But you will be. Oh, Jo, I’ve missed you so. Why does everyone want to go away? I love being home. But I don’t like being left behind. Now I am the one going ahead. I am not afraid. I can be brave like you.

That was Becky, except she did make great plans, and she worked to follow through with many of them. But, she loved being at home, and I believe she resides there still in some ways. She loved her sisters, and she believed in our dreams as well. I think she knew that if I worked at it, I would someday be a great writer (I’m still working on it). She knew Jen and Kim could accomplish their dreams and goals as well. We loved (and still love) her very much. I think we will always feel that loss because she has went on ahead of us, quite a bit sooner than she should have, leaving us with a hole in our sister pictures and our hearts. There has always been four, and even though she has gone ahead of us, we will one day catch up to her, and we will become four again.

I dedicate this blog to Jenny, Becky and Kimmy – three women I never got to choose, but wouldn’t trade for anything. I love you very much!

Repurposing and Rediscovery

I knew this girl once. She was funny and bright, with this crazy smile that looked like the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland.

This girl focused on her career and every aspect of becoming a writer. She published anywhere she could. She loved getting the praise and awards for a job well done. No…she didn’t just love it. She craved it. She knew that it made her a better writer. Then, she graduated from college, and moved on to see her name in print every day as a journalist. She poured over her own stories and the stories of others to hone the craft of news writing and improve it, trying to become the best journalist she could be.

Her are some pictures of the girl from her college days:

See! Beautiful, suspicious, pensive and full of potential! And that first picture really shows the smile!

Then, that girl ceased to exist. Her light went out. She got into an all-consuming relationship with a man who would do everything in his power to build the girl’s confidence in herself — everything to make her crave his praise. She became addicted to it. Then, that man did everything is his power to kill that girl’s identity and squash her sense of self-worth, so she would be completely dependent on whatever praise or love he decided she deserved that day, week or month — which wasn’t much. And she stayed. Like everything else in her life, she tried to be the best wife she could be. She knew that he loved her and praised her every day before, and if she just tried a little harder, she could find that man again, and she would get her identity back.

That’s not the way it happened though. Down the rabbit hole the girl went, and she disappeared…for a long time. But, she is back today. Hello everyone…You can call me Tabs. 🙂

I have sat in my house for three weeks, talking to friends and family about the situation I have endured, and this morning, I’ve decided that it is time to start rediscovering my identity as a writer and repurposing my life. I used to be completely career-driven. Then, when I met my husband, my career didn’t seem important anymore. But, what I didn’t realize was that being a writer is who I am, and without that hunger to write, I feel empty. So, today I write again. It feels good to be back.

 

Tabs today – Oct. 4, 2014

See! She still has that smile!

 

Putting it all into perspective

“Your flesh is not a reflection of your soul. So when you look in the mirror, remember that your light outshines your flaws.”
― D. Antoinette Foy

 

In 2012, I started a blog called “The Way Back to Me,” and it talked a lot about my life and my drive to lose weight and regain my health. Then, in 2013, I decided to actually buy the domain name for “Call Me Tabs” and start a new blog. For awhile, it was all about life in general, and later it became more about the discrimination of a fat woman in society, especially when a fat woman is going through the process of planning a wedding.

Once 2014 hit, I did not blog for a long time. I felt like I didn’t have much to say, and I was depressed a lot of the time. I started to realize that maybe, just maybe, my lack of energy, my aches and pains and stomach issues did have something to do with my weight. Then, in April, I landed myself in the hospital with bronchitis, the same day my sister landed in the hospital with elevated liver function. After three days of steroids and breathing treatments, my doctor told me that I needed to lose weight if I wanted to see life after 50, or possibly even 40. I still tried to stay true to my “health at any size” beliefs and had no idea how much life was going to change in just a short 45 days.

A month and a half after that hospital visit, my sister passed away. Her body was having issues with food digestion, and it had caused her to lose a lot of weight. I realized, as I watched her body shut down and then pass, that health at any size is a ridiculous notion. Obviously, at less than 90 lbs, it is impossible for an adult to be healthy. Obviously, at almost 400 lbs, it is impossible for an adult to be healthy. That is just a fact. If you are 400 lbs, and you start eating healthy and exercising, your body is going to lose weight. So, saying health at any size is not true — because if you are healthy, you would not be that size — your body will begin to shrink or grow, depending on your side of the scale.

Losing my sister has been an eye opener to me, as I’ve said in previous blogs. When you are faced with your own mortality after losing a sibling so young, you really start to put your life into perspective. What is important to me? What do I cherish in my life? What do I want to do in my life?

The answers were easy: My health is important to me. I cherish my family, and I want to stay with them as long as possible. And, I want to enjoy my life with energy and zest. I want to thrive, instead of just surviving, no matter where I am planted in this world. So, for the last thirty days, I have been logging into MyFitnessPal and keeping an accurate record of my food — my calories, protein, carbs and fats — every day. I’m also keeping track of my exercise and weight loss. When I initially weighed myself, I was already two weeks into the process, and I weighed 387 lbs. Last week, I weighed 373, and I’m not sure what I weigh right now. But, my mobility has improved exponentially already. I do not get winded just walking in the grocery store. I actually have the energy to get up, clean my house and cook for my kids now. My feet don’t swell up every day now, and I just feel better.

So, from now on — this is me. I am happy with myself, and I love my body. I love my body enough to keep it healthy and take off the weight that is holding it back. I’m actually starting to love myself — and I never thought that would happen.

Week 5:

Fearful Tears

“Tears are words that need to be written.”
― Paulo Coelho

This is my story. It is not always a happy one, nor is it always sad. But, there are always tears.

When I was 17 years old, just a few weeks before my 18th birthday, I met the love of my life (at least, at that time). He stayed that person for me for a really, really long time. In some ways, he is still. I had two children with him; we have a history. But, after half a decade or so, the sad times were more prevalent, and the happy times were not so happy anymore. At that point, it was time for both of us to take our leave from the relationship. Tears were shed by both of us, but I don’t think either one of us did much looking back after that.

I was single for seven years. And, to be completely honest, they were some of the most successful years of my life, so far. I went back to school and graduated. I started a career. I even fought for a job I wanted, and I got it. Everything was right on track. I don’t remember too many tears during that time — unless stress took over.

When I was 33 years old, I met a man who I thought was the true love of  my life. He had many flaws, some that were not easy to overlook, but I did — who doesn’t have flaws, right? At the time, I was sitting at 300 or so pounds, and it felt really nice to meet a man who didn’t try to get into my pants or play some game with me. We only knew each other a couple of months before he proposed, and we married two days after our one year anniversary. Then, the flaws that each of us thought we could overlook started to come out. Everything changed, and every day, you could cut the tension in our house with a knife. We both know that one misstep could set off a blowup. Finally, we came to the tipping point, and we separated. The tears flowed every night for the first two weeks, but there is no going back now.

Now, I sit here at age 34, reflecting on the last 16 years of my life. I have loved one man, and I have tried to save one man. I love and continue to raise two wonderful children. I love my family, and mourn the loss of an important member of it. But, where am I in all of this?

I don’t have any identity anymore. I have been someone’s daughter, girlfriend, wife or mother for my entire adult life. I’m tired of the tears. I’m tired of holding onto a man because I feel like I don’t have any identity without him. I’m tired of the fear that I feel when I’m leaving a relationship. I’m done with all of it. I’m starting to realize that maybe the love of my life shouldn’t be another man. Maybe…just maybe…the love of my life should be me.

Tabby’s Picture Project!

So, if any of you are on Facebook, you will notice that I have been putting up pictures of my food lately. I swear, this is not to make you hungry or annoy you. I take the pictures to A) remember recipes and food combinations and B) to keep a record of how my food is changing over time.

Here are some of the pictures I’ve already shared:

 

It’s not all perfect, but I’m getting there. And most importantly — it’s made at home, and most of it is not highly processed.

 

Now on to the reason for this post:

I figured that it would be fun to also keep a record of my face as it changes throughout this process. So, every week, I’m going to take a picture of myself. It should be interesting to see the differences.

I’m on my fourth week now. Here are the pictures from the previous three weeks and today:

Week 1

 

Week 2

 

Week 3

 

Week 4

 

Now it’s time to continue on with the day! 🙂

 

 

Reinvention and Rediscovery

“Ruin is a gift. Ruin is the road to transformation.”

― Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love

 

I am in the midst of a year that has brought major upheaval and transition in my life. Thankfully, I take easily to change in many situations, otherwise I may still be lost in a fog of chaos and confusion. Instead, I am swiping my way through the fog and trying my best to find the bright spots.

I lost two people I loved very much this year. One of them passed away, leaving a large hole in my heart (you can read about my dear sister in the previous entry). Another I left by choice, which was far less difficult. Not because I loved the person any less, but because at some point, you have to realize that you can’t save someone, and instead, you have to save yourself.

So, that is what this year is about – Rediscovering myself. Reinventing myself. Saving myself.

I spent the first 7 years of my adult life being completely involved in a marriage that was toxic. Then, I spent the next 7 years of my life finding my own voice and identity, just to let myself be lost in another toxic marriage — a relationship that didn’t even last two years. As I leave that second relationship, I realize that I need to get back to me more than ever before.

That is why I swim. That is why I cook. That is why I write. That is why I laugh. That is why I breathe in and out. That is why I get up every morning and keep on living. Eventually, I am going to find that person that has been hiding for the last two years. That loud, brash, opinionated woman who won writing awards and had big dreams for her future as a writer. I miss her — where did she go?

Tabs is out there. I will find her one day. 🙂 I just need to keep repeating my mantra, “I am enough,” and looking forward to the future. There’s no reason to look back — I’m not going there anymore.