I genuinely appreciate that people actually read this, remember things, and care. Seriously, it means so much to know that people are paying attention and keeping me accountable.
When I originally started NNP, it was to chronicle my weight loss journey “publicly.” I believed that in daily posting what I was eating, how I was exercising, and how I was recovering from my breakup with A and moving on with my life, I might make better choices and not allow myself to slack off. I hoped I would see progress over time and look for what worked and what did not. It never occurred to me really that people would pay attention.
I keep this site secret and anonymous and I think of it as my private journal. There are a couple of password protected pages, protected only because I wanted to capture some details I considered too outable, but the substance appears on the pages. (My relationship with BP . . . who still gives me a hard time about dating BFD, though he’d broken up with me a couple of weeks before . . . is chronicled in excruciating detail, restaurants, resorts, trips, etc. And I keep a little record of particularly memorable BFD encounter details. What can I say, the man has some amazing moves . . .)
So, this is my private journal, on which I rant and rave and dissect my thinking about what the fuck is going on in my relationship with BFD. It’s no longer so much about my career stuff, because that’s gotten very outable. Same with clothes. I am still a pencil skirt and sheath dress girl, and I acknowledge that my style has forced BFD to dress better. He is dropping serious money on clothes and stepping up because I am always dressed. He’s a man, so he has difficulty differentiating dressed up from wearing a cute sundress to hang out at his house, but he has stepped up of his own volition after too many “oh, you’re awfully dressed up, aren’t you?” as I stride in wearing a cute dress and he shows up from the gym.
There are things I am absolutely passionate about, which I refuse to mention here, because I have very definable taste. At brunch yesterday, I was telling a friend who does not receive my emailed missives “oh I love this new [thing]” and W and JF both chimed in with the text of the forwarding email I’d sent the day before. Yeah, I am that girl.
(I do have significantly better taste than almost anyone I know. In part, it’s my job, but it’s also my job because I have good taste. So anyway . . .)
As now nine freaking months have ticked by, NNP focuses more on the ins and outs and ins and outs of my relationship — and a bit about the whole body image thing — and that means I am often confused and contradictory and uncertain.
What is real and true and solid is how we feel about each other — a comfort, an easy intimacy, an almost intuitive knowledge of how to deal with each other. We get it wrong and we’re very sensitive, so those wrong notes sound like alarm bells. The stakes are high for us because of age/wealth/society and we cannot really afford to get it wrong, so we box and hide and reveal and lather rinse repeat.
Here, I pick apart his comments, his hurts, his faults, his narcissism, and his tone-deafness. But here’s the reality: he takes care of me when I don’t realize it, he always has my back, he goes through ridiculous contortions to tell me everything about everything all the time — who he’s with, how he knows them, what they look like, what they mean to him. He has given me a job, a car, and is pushing me into a new career, one far more lucrative and better suited for my talents than the one I am mostly in.
It’s painful sometimes for me to read what I have written, but it’s a real-time chronicle of how I feel. When I am unbalanced, which has been happening a lot lately for myriad public and private reasons, I tip over with every shift in the wind. When I look back, I see what I missed before. I realize that he’s thoughtless, but not hurtful. He dashes off missives with enough misspellings and mistypings that he appears illiterate, so I have to look beyond his words to his intent, his actions and our history.
The reason I write here is to gain perspective. Ten plus years ago, I went through such painful personal drama that I was in the perfect storm of all of my issues: the death of a beloved family member after a long illness, the divorce of my parents (10 years later than it should have occurred), and a relationship with a then highly functioning addict. I spent 4 months talking to my ex (never reconciling and I dumped him as soon as I realized he was an addict) and my mother, but at the end of that time and with warning, I told them I was done and they had to fend for themselves.
I withdrew into my journals, grabbed control of my life, and became the person I always wanted to be. I was in my late 20s and I created the right life for myself. To be honest with you, my readers, I pretty much had everything I could possibly want — spectacularly successful career, all the right connections, a wardrobe so outstanding I am wearing half of it still and looking chic, and a life filled with opportunities and possibilities. I was also a tone-deaf narcissist, but them’s the breaks.
A wandered into my me-centered world and, like water on a stone, wore down my rougher edges. He taught me to relax and unplug and look for more in life than just success. I became a “we” and we had some good years and some bad years. Though we were unhappy for the last couple, vows are vows and I lived with the loneliness and abandonment, while living with him every day. Mercifully, he broke up with me and I got my life together again. Sort of.
I got my life together-ish. I got thin, then skinny, then took it further. I started dating, then grew tortured, then dated a new guy, and then met my darling Big Fucking Deal. I am still struggling for balance, for acceptance, for love, for self-control, for release of self-control.
I am not fully together. OBVIOUSLY. But I think I am better than I sometimes sound or feel. This is a journey and six months from now, I will be chronicling new obsessions, as I move along in my process. I am growing, shifting, changing, stumbling, and learning.
Thank you for being here, for being a part of this journey, for giving me advice, counsel, links, and for kicking my ass when I need it the most.