I just spent three hours standing in line winding through a school and church, after which I enjoyed the best fish, coleslaw, macaroni and cheese, bread and butter, and tater tots I’ve ever had. Was the food really good? Or was it so good simply because I had been waiting for it for so long? We’ll never know!
A few random thoughts tonight. That’s right, I’m back to blogging freely with no concern over the quality of the material I’m sending out into the world!
I wasn’t kidding when I told you I had become obsessed with pioneer life. My mind has come upon some questions about the women who traveled west with their husbands and families in covered wagons. Where did they come from? What were their lives like before they ventured west? How did they come to this decision, to leave everything to set out for a new place? Were they immigrants, or had their families lived in America for a couple of generations or longer? Were they farmers before? How long did the journey take? What if they became pregnant, or it came time to give birth to a baby on the journey? How did they (probably the men) know where to go? How did they know if they were lost? What would they do if they were lost? What did they do about “feminine stuff” on the journey? How did they maintain their…relationships…with their husbands without a house with bedrooms and walls, if they had children? Did they teach their children to read while bouncing along in a wagon, or did education go by the wayside? Did they travel on Sundays?
The most I know about pioneer time is what I learned from Laura Ingalls Wilder books, and the time when the family is traveling west is from a child’s perspective, because of course Laura was a child at the time. I am finding that I want to know about it from an adult’s perspective.
I don’t know if I’ll ever use it again, but I’ve decided to add the odd category of pioneers to my blog. 🙂
Random thought #2…
There once was a boy in my life who wasn’t very nice to me. As recently as two or three years ago, I was aware that my relationship with him was still affecting every element of my relationships with other guys. That truly is not the case anymore. I am free of him, the way that he treated me doesn’t intrude on my enjoyment of dating, or my ability to trust. Thank God. I have been able to let lots of stuff go, to just accept that it happened and let it be gone. However, I’ve realized that there are two things that still echo in my head. I don’t really talk about them, because they sound like such shallow worries. I don’t want to admit that such shallow thoughts take up so much importance in my life. But I think I just need to talk about them for awhile in order to accept them and let them go. One, he told me that with short hair I looked like a guy. Every time I’d like to leave the house without makeup, or cut my hair, or I get somewhere and realized I forgot earrings, I hear that conversation. The second comment he made that is still with me had to do with weight. I was in college, so I was a whole lot smaller than I am now. And he told me that I looked okay, but he would prefer it if I didn’t get any bigger than that. And then later on in our relationship, he commented that he had been trying to eat less because he wanted to look his best for me, and he wondered why I didn’t love him enough to do the same. So now, I have it in my head that if I’m above that magic number, guys think I look fat.
I understand if you read that and you think, how shallow, just let it go, he was a jerk! And you’re right. But maybe you don’t feel what I feel as I type those words. My heart sinks into my stomach. Tears well up. I feel this defeated, worthless feeling. I know that no one could ever look at me and see something beautiful. I know that no one would ever see past the fat and ugly to see a good person underneath.
And now I actually feel a little bit angry. I didn’t ask for those comments!!! I didn’t ask him, tell me honestly what you think about my weight. I never would have, because I didn’t care what he thought about my weight! And now I care what EVERYONE thinks about my weight!!! I didn’t WANT this! I didn’t ask to have sad, worthless feelings triggered every time I look in the mirror. I didn’t want to feel guilty and disappointed in myself every time the scale goes above the magic number (which was six years and 20 pounds ago, if you’re counting) or every time a certain size doesn’t fit in the dressing room of a store. I am so FREAKING mad!!!!
It’s just a number on a scale, it’s just a number on a tag. I don’t want to care about those things. I want to care about being healthy, eating healthfully, exercising healthfully, and those numbers will reach the right place for me. But in order to put healthy things in your body and to be motivated to exercise, you have to care enough about your body to want to treat it well. And I can’t, because when I look in the mirror, I don’t see something to be valued and cared for, I see something that is ugly and worthless. I hate what I see. And I HATE him for making me see it.