And, Christmas Eve

Once again, I sound like a self-centered whiny bitch, who finds herself surrounded by trouble and just wants to escape. Not true. It's hard here because I am anxious not to write too much about serious and real things, out of fear that someone involved stumbles across this and suddenly can see inside my head. But when I make passing references to big things, I sound flip and uncaring. And I care. I do.

Part of what I am also trying to express is that when I am not at the center of something, when I'm not the person who gets hit the hardest, I find it hard to talk about it without feeling like I'm trampling on someone else's emotions. I don't want to co-opt anyone else's story. (At least not here. I'll likely fictionalize the hell out of it when the dust settles.)

Is co-opt the right word? My brain is fuzzy this morning.

Observation: since I had my Christmas celebrations already, I am suffering the post-holiday weight gain before most people have indulged in behavior that will cause theirs. Confession: I have to come to terms with the fact that my little "backslide" in weight loss isn't going to stop easily, and I need to take it in hand and STOP IT. I lost 55 pounds last year and have now gained 20 back - slowly, over time, with a pound here and a pound there, all the while convinced that I just needed to buckle down for a bit and I could control it and get back on track. But those moments of control would be followed by more moments of carelessness, so three pounds forward were followed by four back, and now here I am. New clothes that don't fit, winter coats that are too tight. I can't do this. I need to move forward again.