Supportive spouse day

Today was one of those supportive spouse days. Mr. Salted needed a gum graft, so I took him to the periodontist, went grocery shopping while they worked on him, went to the store with him, got his prescriptions, made him a protein shake, made sure he took his Vicodin, and listened to him snore while he took a nap. He is really fabulous at the supportive spouse days when he's the caretaker, so I try to do as well when it's my turn.

I am trying not to fall into the circular abdabs--thank you to my friend "GOD" (those are his actual initials, I'm not being blasphemous for once) for that wonderful term, which he himself coined, so far as I can tell. The circular abdabs are something I fall into with more certainty than even gravity could promise; before I know it, in my own mind I am a loser who will be forever fat, unemployed, ending up divorced, sick, and friendless to boot. (Not to mention the not-getting-any-younger thing.) The circular abdabs are basically the ripple effect of every weak moment and negative thought/fear, jacked up on Mountain Dew and ready to rumble. Nobody needs that.

I need to fill out my FAFSA and get the school ball rolling with a bit more purpose. I am still feeling extremely unmotivated and discouraged about the bariatric surgery process. This is about day 52 of the food diary, which means I have about 130 days more to go. I am eating well, but not exercising much this past week. (In my defense, I was sick the last few days, and rather busy today.) I am tired of writing down everything I eat, beyond tired of the insurance company's crap, and am going to have to tell the wellness center that I need to have the minimum number of appointments to satisfy the powers that be because I just can't afford all these copays.

I can see why the insurance companies do what they do when it comes to this surgery; it prevents them from having to cover it in a great many cases, I have a feeling. I can also see why people just give up on insurance, taking out loans or whatever they have to do to make this surgery happen without interference. I can see why people give up, period. It's certainly crossed my mind; no one relishes speaking the words "oh, kiss my ENTIRE ass!" any more than I do, or enjoys the fleeting freedom throwing off shackles of any sort can provide.

However, when I think about giving up on this, I think back on college. I dropped out four times and it took me ten years to get a Bachelors degree. I dropped out four times, but I went back five times. People would tell me every time I dropped out that I would never go back, and I would screw up my courage and stamina and go back. I'm not dropping out this time. I ruminated about it for ten years before I decided to do it, and decide to do it I have. I have more support than I did trying to get through college, and there's that whole not-getting-any-younger thing, again.

I cancelled my exercise physiologist appointment for tomorrow (and, like magic, a massive percentage of the dark dread lifted from me like a swarm of colorful butterflies into the clean, clean air). One of my friends told me I was just not ready to grapple with the psychological issues I have around exercising yet, and she's right. I know I should exercise, and most of the time, I do. Just not every day, and not ever as much as "they" think I should. Some days, like today, accomplishing the things that need accomplishing are quite enough for this mere mortal.