Tidbits, Part One: Smokeless & Eating

Note: I started this post eaaaaaaaaarly this morning when I wasn't in a very good mood. Be forewarned, I'm a bit bitchy, but purging some inner daemons!!! Just wait. I split this into two parts....

So, it's after three in the morning, and here I sit on the laptop, worried, tired, confused, stressed, and bereft. Why not go back to bed? Because I can't sleep. Or rather, because sleep is done with me. I sleep in weird intervals, usually its about three hours at a time, so your truly is up for the duration.

Following up with my earlier post from yesterday afternoon, 'tis true, I've been sad. However, not just, I've also been extremely irritated. Rotating between emotions for the last several weeks. frustration is boiling over. Things came to a climax Sunday after a discussion with Brother Jarrell on how hectic things at home have been. In addition, I have a tendency to heap the worlds problems on my own shoulders. The recent deaths of the young men who committed suicide, the young man found disposed in a garbage dumpster, and all the unfairness mainstream society is attempting to thrust upon the LGBT community, well my heart is just in a bad place.

To his credit, our blogging brother Corey is a saint. Or at least God sent, honest and trule. I had a meltdown on brother, enough so to scare even the most patient of Saints. Surprised dude didn't go running for the hills, but Mr. Jarrell has proven himself to be a reliable and trustworthy friend. Kudos for him.

Since coming home from hospital, my parents have cared for me so might heal better this go round. We wanna nip all this in the bud and be done with it. Btu things never seem to go according to plan, at least not in my life. My family has been supportive, but they don't understand the mess I'm experiencing. It's difficult being here, back in Philly, back home, relying on others again. I'm used to my independence, but that doesn't mean I can't ask for help, but rather I want the help that doesn't come with restriction, or price tags.

All the rules! I have to laugh here because it seems like I'm 15 all over again. Can't do this after certain hour, must do this before this particular hour, lights out at this hour... Are you serious?!?! I'm almost 40. If I want to read or talk on my cell, that's my business. If I surf the 'Net for more than an hour, which I tend to do because mobility is an issue, well that's fine. I'm not hurtin' you am I? Sheesh! Let's call a spade a spade, being here sucks. The old saying "You can't go home again" rings sooooooo true.

Not to sound ungrateful, I'm happy someone took compassion to help me, believe me. My folks are extending a generosity and compassion not many people would extend to their children who're almost 40. And believe me, I've read in-between the lines with some comments. I am a grown ass man, why the help can't I can't take care of myself, right? That subtle unstated sentiment looms heavy in the air, I know. It's not just my parent though, so let's give them a little slack. But my parents are well known for their criticism and constant remarks on other people's lives and what folk should and shouldn't be doing. Christ. Living here, life is constant examination under the microscope.

An example. Shortly before going in hospital, I decided now was as good of time as ever to quit smoking once and for all. It's a nasty habit and in the long run I'll be thankful. But the road hasn't been easy and I'm having cravings still after several weeks. Well, like most folks who quit, I've developed a lil bit of an appetite. Dear sweet "mumsy" has decided to lay into about my eating habits, questioning where do I put it all, blah blah blah blah.

Now, I should mention that I am a thicker brother. It's in my genes. Unfortunately, I didn't inherit the "tall" traits from my mama's people and got stuck with the heavier, big boned genes from my daddy's Southern peeps! Frag! Hard to believe this child here started out life at less than 6 pounds when I was born.

Life has been a struggle to maintain an appropriate weight. It's oh-so-damn-easy to fall off the wagon, but I don't wanna be grossly obese or not cute anymore, so I do my best to work on things. Besides, you know gay men are more shallow than a little bit, so I'm not trying gain anymore girth than necessary. To that end though, I will ashamedly admit, I do have poor self-image, reinforced by the voices over 39 years how I was too this or too that. Tends to work on a guy af'er while. dealing with the residual negative self-esteem issues from childhood hasn't been fun in life. I don't enjoy discussing it. That's part of the reason why you probably won't see too many pictures of me on this blog. I simply hate how I look...but that's an even longer story.

To be completely forthcoming, weight issues are a hot mess with me. It's a colossal pain in the ass. I manage to go workout or exercise, but the shit has never been anything but a burden, never fun. And to that end, I recognize I will never look like a model, never have washboard abs, or be the one turnin' head. Such is life. Like the best of us, I take it in stride until somebody gets up in my grill about things, then, "Houston we have a problem."

Whenever anyone questions or challenges my behavior involving weight, foot, or eating, I get defensive or withdrawn, depending on where my head is at. And yeah, I've been known to stop eating too. Don't mess with the bulimic behavior too much though. (That scares the crap outta me, but shallow, sick part of me thinks I'd rather be a thin and sexy than some vile vilified hog.)

Dealing with post operation stress, the craving for nicotine has increased tenfold. All I wanna do is escape into the backyard and toke on some toxic chemicals. Yeah, I know smoking is probably the worst of habits, but it was my thang. I do and don't miss it at the same time. I don't miss running to the convenience store in the wee hours for a pack nor the price of a pack, but I do miss the tranquil comfort it gave, even if I did smell like an ashtray. At least I never smoked in the house! That was my rule. If I wanted a damn thing bad enough, then come snow, sleet, cold, dark of night, warmth and heat of summer, outside on the deck I was...