The Look of Love

Before you read this, I want you to know that I know how very lucky I am. I have amazing people in my life to love and support me, and I am so very very very grateful for each one of them.

I haven’t written on my blog in a bit because, well, I’m depressed. I just am. I love Christmas, but not this year. I love dressing up, but not this year. I do it anyways, but my heart isn’t in it. My Christmas tree is up with my father underneath it. I miss my father. I’ve come to realize in so many ways that he provided me with emotional stability. He just did.

Without him I’m not sure of so many things anymore. I’m not sure where I belong. I’m not sure what I’m doing.

I know more than anything I want to be loved. I want to feel loved. (Please understand—I know people love me. I do know this, but I still have a hole in my heart.) I want to feel it in my heart. And I don’t. I’ve put up a wall around my heart for so long that I’m not trusting what’s there.

And I guess in some ways, that leads me to the core of my eating disorder. Food=Love. It really does. Food is always there for me. To comfort me. To wipe my tears away. To make me feel better. But I know that’s not true. In my head I know, but in my heart I don’t, and I feel like a giant f**k-up for even admitting this, but it’s how I feel.

So many times these days all I need is a really big hug, but I don’t ask, ‘cause I don’t want to seem needy. I worry about that sometimes. I worry about being too intense and too needy and too this and too that. Gee. I think I worry too much. Actually, I think I think too much.

I can’t wait for this Christmas season to be over.

I bought some Trader Joe’s Dark Chocolate Covered Peppermint Joe Joe’s the other day because I wanted to feel better. Sure I like the taste but it’s more about the feeling, but this time having a couple didn’t make me feel better and didn’t bring my father back. Nothing will.

So what do I do? I keep going to yoga, even on days I don’t feel like because I have to keep showing up for life. The day I don’t go to yoga something will probably be wrong. I wear my Santa hats and Christmas jewelry because that makes my father happy in his ethereal home. I’m going to the mall today to play at the make-up counters because I don’t do make-up that much and it’s something different for me to play with and I need new and different right now.

I saw a grief counselor a couple of times, but he didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know.

One moment at a time. I’ll be okay one moment at a time.

And the next time you see me, if you feel like it, you can give me a big bear hug—it’ll feel better than a dozen boxes of Trader Joe’s Dark Chocolate Covered Peppermint Joe Joe’s!

The Look of Love


3 thoughts on “The Look of Love

  1. Nancy–you just inspire me with your raw honesty. Here’s a hug from the east coast to the west–I will think of you today and wish you good thoughts at random times.

  2. Nancy – I hug you across the miles every day. I know that this time of year is hard for you, especially after losing your dear father just a few months ago. It’s your first Christmas without him, so it will be a difficult change, but you will get through it, one day at a time, one moment at a time. Hang in there and do your best to continue smiling…Put that lovely smile of yours on whenever you think about your loving father and all the wonderful memories you have of him, especially the memories of the Christmas’ you were able to share with him throughout the past years. Keep pushing and moving forward – It’s what your father would have wanted for you! Love ya girl! 🙂

  3. You are so wise, dear Friend. Thanks for writing the honest things that I would never dare to write. Virtual hugs to you, all the time.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s