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Accountability

When I sort of accidentally began this journey, accountability was a big thing for me. I talked about it. Owned it. Showed it. Through daily full body Instagram photos, I am holding myself accountable to myself and to (I’d like to think) the world for my fitness and health, whether I do or don’t meet my goals for that day, week or whatever.

Just recently, I’ve begun adding food pics to the mix, which I had been doing from time to time before, but that’s when I was flaky about it all and could easily have had a salad for lunch and fried chicken and mashed potatoes for dinner. You’d see the pretty picture of the salad, but you wouldn’t see and I wouldn’t speak of the fried chicken.

I guess it’s like the proverbial tree in the forest. If I eat it and no one’s around to witness it, does that mean it didn’t happen? Well, I knew that couldn’t last because even if I didn’t post pictures of every meal, I repeat, I post full body shots of myself every single day, so you would know something went awry, somewhere. I wouldn’t be telling the truth. I wouldn’t be telling my truth. And there are many parts to my truth.

The truth is, if this were five days ago, I’d have either a vodka cranberry or a glass of wine in my hand. And if I’m going to tell the truth, five days ago, I DID have a vodka cranberry in my hand, and followed it up with several more. And let’s just throw a couple of shots of tequila in there for sport, because that happened, too.

Also, a hangover happened, and though I’ve posted a vicious hangover selfie on Instagram, I made sure I got myself together before I posted my daily shot, and I still went walking/jogging.

I haven’t had a drink since Sunday and that’s in part because I’ve been thinking a lot about this accountability thing and also because a friend challenged me to a strict seven day fitness thingy that doesn’t allow for alcohol.

It’s been easy. Unbelievably easy until today, when my day wasn’t so good, when my relationship isn’t glowing that perfect glow, when I’m so annoyed/pissed/mad/sad that I just want to numb myself with a vodka neat or a whole bottle of wine. And yes, I can take down a whole bottle…and a half.

So, far I’m resisting. Sipping iced water and channeling this negative energy into new words and promoting Can’t Get Enough. And I think I’m able to resist mostly out of stubbornness and a small part of me thinks it may be an around about attempt at sabotage because my husband of course lives with me, knows my habits, my weaknesses and unfortunately, my triggers.

It’s good to get that off my chest. I’ll let  you know how it turns out tomorrow. Honestly.

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Walking and Writing

So, something happened. Not that thing discussed in extensive detail right below this post, but another thing, or to be more accurate, things.

I started walking again. Now, for those of you who don’t get here often, I haven’t been wheelchair bound or anything of the sort. But, due to an ankle fracture, broken bone in my foot and the general shitty-ness of Lyme disease, my afore established exercise regimen came to a screeching halt. That was four months ago.

I hadn’t made any solid plans to start up again, but on Wednesday when I decided to walk the dog (about ten minutes, three to four times a day) my husband decided to join me and make it a joint exercise effort. I was game, but I didn’t think we’d go as far as we did.

We wound up walking over three miles. It was midday, so it was pretty hot and it took us just over an hour. The dog wasn’t too happy about it, though. I, however, felt fantastic and decided that that day would be my Day 1.

Day 1 of how many you may ask? Well, I don’t have the answer, yet. I don’t want to jinx myself or set myself up for failure by setting hard goals, but what I have done is made myself accountable to my Instragram account, where every morning, before I do whatever workout I’m going to do (right now it’s walking) I post a picture of myself. And I’m talking full body shots. Nothing from the face up with clever angling that makes me look cuter and thinner.

This is the true definition of no filter. It is what it is. Take me as I am, and how I will be, at Day whatever.

Also, I’ve been at the writing table actually writing for the past three days, averaging 1100 or so words a day. It’s chapters for a novel I plan to pitch and it’s going just swell.

Now, I generally link to Facebook and Twitter when I post my daily picture, but if I forget, am in a hurry, or my mind is cloudy as usual, feel free to follow my Instagram account (@therealtenille) and watch my journey, day by day. And oh, cheer me on! Call me out! Keep me accountable!

Let’s do this.

Boundaries

lafyette

 

This is going to get personal, like, really personal. But that’s what we do here. Chat lightly, things get heavy, we promote a little.

I would categorize this one as a vent, except I’m not angry, and quite frankly, that worries me.

I may or may not have spoken here about boundaries. Specifically boundaries in a relationship. And sure, everyone has their own, whether expressed or unspoken.

Mine, however, have been blatantly expressed in the past, but now I find myself dealing with the same issue.

Specifically, I’m talking boundaries when it comes to being in contact with people other than your spouse/partner.

Where do you draw the line? At texting? At calling? At hanging out?

And to catch you up. The spouse is mine, the contact is via text (as far as I know) and he sort of told me as an afterthought.

The texter is a coworker. Remember those simultaneous dreams he and I had where I dreamed he was having an affair with a coworker and he dreamed I was having an affair with the neighbor? Weird, right? Well, the neighbor moved.

And his coworker, not someone he works closely with or even physically comes in contact with on a daily basis, texted him yesterday to “check on him.”

He’s on vacation. He’s not sick.

He’s simply not at work. And if he’s not at work, then guess what? He’s at home or somewhere with his wife, who would be doing the checking on if need be.

I didn’t say anything at first.

Because I try to be a cool, modern wife, you know. But the thing is, I wear my emotions on my sleeve, and at some point, I started to boil over.

He thinks it’s jealousy. I think it’s boundaries, plain and simple. If I’ve not met, formed any type of friendship with this woman, she does not get to have a part in our marriage that’s exclusive to only him, especially when I was here first.

But, maybe that’s just me.

In the end I gave my opinion and honestly, he seemed sort of sad, like I had taken away a favorite toy or something. He even told me to find a guy to text after I asked how he’d feel if he were in my shoes. WTF, right?

Now, mama didn’t raise no fool. I didn’t come out and say “stop this or else” because if he wanted to stop he would and if I told him to stop and he didn’t want to, guess what? He’d continue, only behind my back which would make it definitely look like something even if it’s nothing.

So what did I do? What any sane woman would do, of course. I friended her on Facebook. I’ve got the bitch on my radar and I’m watching the situation closely. That’s all I’m saying.

 

 

Because there’s a reason.

robin

Today there is an assortment of Robin Williams photos and quotes to choose from, and I’m sure an overwhelming amount of them appear on the blogs, websites, and profile pictures of people everywhere. I chose the one accompanying this post because One Hour Photo is my all time favorite Robin Williams movie. It was dark, horrific, yet touching and relatable.

Yes, relatable.

Fans, friends and family of Robin Williams, we all have this in common: We received the news yesterday like a punch in the gut. We were all at once, shocked, confused and deeply saddened.

A heavy bulk of us also have this is common, which also, I’m sure is the topic of discussion on many a blog: we deal with, have felt or seen the effects of depression.

I’ve talked about it here before. I talk about it quite often, actually. There’s a whole category dedicated to it here. And like many, on my good days, my mask does it jobs, hides the tears that most times I have no explanation for, hide the emptiness and sadness in my eyes. Also like many, on my worst days, I can’t get out of bed, can’t stop the tears from falling, and sometimes consider other…options.

There are reasons. Could I name one? I could name several, but there would still be those who have their own feelings and judgements about suicide. Of course there’s help and maybe there’s hope, but I think the point that many people miss is that no matter how much help, how much hope there is out there, a person in the deepest pit of depression can see none of it.

The most furious my husband has ever been with me was when I confessed to him not long ago that I had seriously considered suicide early in 2012. I had mentioned it before, but he always thought I was kidding.

I wasn’t.

I was feeling the effects of late stage Lyme Disease, and at that time I hadn’t been diagnosed. The only thing my doctor could tell me was that I was experiencing a neurological emergency. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t get out of bed for days. I was starting to lose my vision.

One Sunday when my children were with their father and my husband was at work, I saw my chance. The only thing that kept it from happening was that I was out of bullets (and I never, ever run out of bullets) and I was in too much pain to get up and drive to the store. The next day I was properly diagnosed and began treatment.

That wasn’t what I would call a wake up call for me. Things still get heavy enough for me to topple over, but I think back to that day a lot. I think about my children who were only nine then, and who themselves struggle with so much at their young, delicate age. Much of the time, I’m their only cheerleader. What would happen if all of a sudden, I wasn’t there?

That’s what keeps me on track mostly, but like I said, things still get heavy, even in the seemingly best of situations.

I don’t have a witty or pretty way to wrap all this up, but I will say this: You don’t know, you’ll never know, until you know.

Easy like…

vodka

…feel free to take it from there, but let me tell you, nothing about this Sunday is easy, not for me anyway. I knew it had been a few days since I updated here, but a whole week?! Wow, I had no idea. And in the meantime, so many readers, blogger and reviewers were happily participating in the Can’t Get Enough blog tour, including the Trollop With A Laptop herself, Alison Tyler, who posted this colorful interview with me on her blog yesterday, while I was busy shuttling the twin to the sitter, driving to a book signing…

booksa

…signing one (tee hee) book and driving back, picking up twins, picking up dinner then coming home where it began storming and the power went out.

And that was just yesterday. Today I planned to stay in bed all day and rest because I was bold, no foolish enough to wear heels yesterday, and apparently I must atone for that today. However, instead of resting and recovering peacefully, I’m having to deal with the difficult tenant I’ve been avoiding mentioning to much over the past year (because I’m such a fucking lady) because after avoiding being served with a notice of eviction, she finally got served, then tells me that she needs more than ten days. Not because she doesn’t have anywhere to go, mind you, but because she doesn’t feel like moving her stuff.

Really, she doesn’t feel like it? Well, you know what I don’t feel like? Paying mortgage on a home that I’m not living in and not being reimbursed for it and having it torn all to hell to boot. So, yeah, that’s going on right now, but I’m trying to put my energy elsewhere.

Like this creative spurt I’m going through right now. While the power was out yesterday evening, I entertained my husband by reading him the beginnings of some things I’m working on. One story is a comedy in addition to being erotic, and the first paragraph made him laugh out loud. That was cool.

But speaking of Alison Tyler, one of several things I did on Friday (indcluding having tires changed, ugh!) was visit the Atlanta bookstore Charis Books where I spotted her Dark Secret Love on display on the shelf. I couldn’t resist snapping this picture and tweeting and tagging her.

darksecret

She wrote about it on her blog today.

I know this is a super long post, but I had a lot of catching up to do. I haven’t even mentioned that Rose Caraway announced the winners of her give away on Friday! And she did it in such a unique and clever way!

Thanks, Rose, thank everyone, and thanks if you made it through this post!

“All They Do Is Fuck”

A few days ago, I walked into the room to find my husband had started watching True Blood from Season 1. Neither of us had ever expressed interested in watching and really knew nothing about it.

I, however, know that I’m not into vampires in any kind of way, I don’t even know if “vampire” should be capitalized.

But, when I walked in, Sookey and Bill were, well, in the throes.

“That’s it,” my husband said, pointing at the screen, “that’s all they do.”

So, naturally, I was intrigued and started watching with him. It’s officially our thing now.

But, beyond all the wild, crazy, “dirty dick and all” sex, we like the damaged relationship between Tara and her mother. We love that Tara is such an emotional mess and keeps pushing Sam away.

And fake voodoo woman?

And naked man turned dog shape shifting?

Count me, I mean, us in!

At this point, we’re pretty attached to Lafyette, so don’t tell us if he dies. We almost needed resuscitation when we thought he was dead at the end of Season 1.

So, we’re enjoying it, and Hubs has sternly looked at the dog and said, “I better not ever catch your ass naked at the end of my bed!”
 

Date Night Done Right

There are no blog stops scheduled today or tomorrow, so this weekend you’re link and plug free! Yay!

I know how annoying constant promotion can be when every tweet, every blog is a link oto see my book, like my book, buy my book. And while I realize these things are important to a book’s success, I also know you got it the first, second or third time around.

Promoting your work can be tricky. It’s a constant test of balance between pushing your work and maintaining that light , casual relationship on social media.

So instead, let me tell you how date night became this:

kelandchase

And this:

friedgreen

First of all, I didn’t think a date night was necessary. Hubs actually took his days off this week and his sister and her fiance visited. We had a really good time , but he felt he owed me some quality time. There wasn’t a movie at the theatre that we hadn’t seen and we really didn’t feel like going out in the rain to have dinner.

So, we decided we’d grab a DVD and stay in and cuddle for the evening. However, both our bodies decided otherwise. We lay across the bed and watched Rookie Blue, some Mike and Molly and soon my husband, myself and the dog fell asleep spoon style at the foot of the bed.

It was both cute and pathetic. And dinner? That was a plate of fried green tomatoes.

Fancy, huh?

I know. It’s what I do.