Processing

I have lived alone and spent enough time alone in my life that I talk out loud to myself and usually answer myself, too. (This is good, because my husband doesn't have the best hearing in the world and some ADD, so he has to be warned in advance if I want a response. He actually said to me once, and was completely serious, "It's only your voice I have a problem hearing." Yeah, you and every other husband, buddy. Bless his heart, my voice IS low, and a lot of my talking to myself and answering myself could be classified as muttering.)

Writing has always been another way I process everything. Growing up entailed learning to hide my writing well--better still, keep it locked up--and wait a day (or three) before I sent someone a letter. (I have written some doozies, and if they were received after junior high, I likely still mean just what I wrote.)

I am in the safest place I've ever been in my life. This is obvious, in part, because of what a mess my home office always is. (When I say my home office, I refer to the small second bedroom of our home, which I share with my husband's scuba gear, the majority of our books and DVDs, some stuffed animals, and various assorted other crap. It's probably about the size of a decent size walk-in closet, so you can say it's cozy.) I don't have to hide anything, because my privacy is respected. My writing isn't locked up; it's everywhere. I am perpetually trying to organize it and revise it, and there are post-its everywhere, not only stuff I want to write about or ideas but music, books, artists, movies, or whatever that I want to remember to check out.

If I wasn't in this place of relative safety, I would not be preparing for this surgery now. I was never ready to do it before. Even though I would like to go under the knife tomorrow and get on with it, part of me is glad for the time I have to prepare. I'm talking about the changes I have to make, and gradually making them.

One of my favorite happy things to do right now is making a list of all the things I want to do after I lose at least most of the weight--sort of a bucket list (though I hesitate to call it that because I've heard mixed reviews of that movie). So far it includes salsa dance lessons, parasailing, skydiving, some kind of martial arts, and going to Disneyland and/or Disney World because (a) I've never been anywhere like that and (b) I'll be able to fit on all the rides!