Grrrr

This probably isn't going to be a very interesting post for anyone but me, but then again I don't have readers so what do I care?!

Picked up the bike in the afternoon yesterday. First red flag: they hooked up the wires wrong so the motor was going- but it wasn't actually working. The tech could have rolled his eyes and seemed more responsive to my request that it be fixed. At first he said something about not having space until May 30. Yeah, no. It took me being polite but persistent (read not leaving as they closed for the day) for them to open it up and fix the connection right then, not May 30th. Semi-satisfied, I head off into traffic without my helmet- which I thought was in the storage box on the bike, but wasn't, so I don't want to accuse them of theft, but, where the fuck is my helmet? I decide to let go of the helmet issue, after all, I could be mistaken and I don't want to charge in their sputtering accusations when so much has already gone wrong.

I start pedaling my way through traffic and right away even with the motor charged up I feel a lot of resistance. But I ignore it. I put it down to my first ride and nervousness (the whole time I keep thinking about the person who will, at any moment, snidely take me to task for not wearing a helmet not to mention all the shitty looks I will get). I ignore the resistance and keep going.

But then I get on the goose. And I just know something is wrong. Even still I don't listen to that little voice. I tell it to shut up. But my back tire is flat. It has to be. It's dragging and bumping and I can hear the rubber smacking against the pavement. I may not be Lance Fucking Armstrong, but I'm pretty sure my back tire isn't supposed to make slapping noises. But I tell myself to shut up. Because I just picked up my bike from the shop and paid $100.00 to get it repaired and tires changed. The little voice whispers FUCK. I keep riding. Maybe I'm wrong, what do I know about electric bikes? Maybe this is normal, I hope. A lady calls out to me. Inwardly I cringe. I just know she's gonna say that I should be wearing a helmet. Instead she calls out, "I think you have a flat. In the back."

I make that helpless 'I know, whatt'ya gonna do face'. Cause really, I'm half way home, I have a flat and the bike shop is closed. So what can I do? Abso-fucking-lutely nothing.

These situations really get the best of me because I find the bike shop intimidating to begin with. They all look very athletic. Like the kind of people who think nothing of pulling a century over the weekend for shits and giggles. (A century, for those not in the know is a one hundred mile ride). And the bike weighs a ton so getting it there is epic. Plus, I paid for a service and they screwed up the connection and gave me 'tude about it. And they didn't change the tire or the tube in the tire correctly. So now I have to go back. I have to lug that heavy bike into the trunk of our car, drag it in and I just fucking know they're going to be dicks about a quick service and a refund. I don't think I should pay for any labour for this fix, and I should definitely be refunded for the last one. Plus, the timing is all fucked because their hours don't fit with mine so that means the weekend, which means who knows when I will actually get to ride my new (fucking) bike.

So why does it make me so mad (aside from shitty customer service and wasted time)? Because, this is screwing with my plans. I had hoped to use the bike as a catalyst for change- forward momentum, man. And the truth is, I have some kind of screwed up way of being that says if I don't exercise every day I am a bad person. If I don't eat right every day, I am a bad person, too.

You combine those two commandments (thou shalt exercise and thou shalt eat right) and I am bound to screw one or both of them up on a daily basis.

But I figured, I have to get back and forth to work, so, building a bike ride into my routine was my crafty attempt to take a little bit of the pressure off myself- and avoid daily jaunts on the smelly loser cruiser. (Plus I desperately want to be one of those sporty people who think nothing of hopping on their bikes for a half century on a weekend for shits and giggles). Commuting by bike would mean I'd accomplished half of my daily "to-do list" 5 days a week. (Imagine the sweet relief of getting at living up to one commandment at least!)

Now though, my plans have all gone to shit. I had to sit through two weeks while the bike got serviced and that caused me to be anxious (unfinished business). Then you add in the fact that I had to shell out $450.00 for the bike and $100.00 for repairs and I feel guilty for spending so much money on myself. Then you factor in my mounting terror about riding in traffic (compounded by the fact that I have to wait to face my fear), and, my embarrassment that I need an electric bike versus a regular bike and I really just feel like... like I am on hold. And the feeling of being on hold is just anxiety- it's like being in a waiting room, waiting to start to feel more in control, to stop feeling like a failure.

Why do I feel like a failure? The usual stuff. I'm 100 lbs overweight, I gained back 20 of the 70 lbs I lost last year. I hate my job and am in a "junior" position, I left a higher paying position due to someone sexually harassing me in an already toxic environment (and I can always just imagine every one's nasty comments behind my back "she couldn't cut it", "she brought it on herself by being too friendly", "she's weak and broke down under the pressure"). What else? I don't have a degree. I don't have sex enough with my husband (anti-depressants take away my sex drive), I'm not a good gardener, I have bad knees, I have cellulite on my calves (who the fuck has ripples of cellulite on their calves beside me?) I don't floss often enough and have gingivitis. I have corns and wide feet. Lately, I can't wear heels because they hurt too much. Oh, and I seem to have permanent camel toe nowadays. (The C-Toe, combined with my "comfortable flats" makes me look about 20 years older than I am, with a big vag, to boot.)

No wonder I feel like a failure. Actually, the wonder is that I actually get out of bed every day and continue to make an effort. But then I seize upon a plan- a plan in the making for a year- to ride to work every day. It took me a full year to devise a means by which I could reasonably attempt to ride to work every day on a bike. It took a whole year- more than a year- to gently cajole myself into braving traffic and other, potentially judgemental bikers, it took me spending money on myself, it took me planning safe routes, contingency plans, coordinating apres bike ride grooming plans and supplies, psyching myself up and god knows what else. It took a year to get here and now the whole fucking plan is delayed (and sullied) because the bike shop made me wait 2 weeks to get it serviced and fucked up the servicing and now I will have to wait who knows how long to get it right. (Plus I have my suspicions that bike people will be like restaurant servers and get back at me for asking for my bike to be fixed and not be charged the equivalent of spitting in my supper- they seem like a petty and vindictive bunch).

And, it's bike to work week next week, and I signed up for a team. It's a small thing, but being able to drop my participation in bike to work week into casual conversation would have meant a lot to me. And I would have felt like I was part of something- but nooooo that's all over now. That is just dashed. Ruined.

Maybe some people can take these things in stride and shrug their shoulders and say, oh well, it's gonna be fixed eventually. But I'm not one of those people. Besides for me, this is like waiting for a year, not two weeks. This was a series of baby steps on the way to a larger goal and now external obstacles are in my fucking way. And I feel like external obstacles are also in the way of my career. They're beyond my control. I can't change them. I have to be zen. Okay, well I've adopted a zen attitude on my job, but now the universe wants me to be zen about the bike, too?

Come on. Give me a fucking break. Actually, no, give me a fucking bone. Just something. One little thing I could do to feel a little bit more in control, a little less like a fuck, a little more like I won't be 100+ lbs overweight with a gaping camel toe for the rest of my life. One little fucking win is all I need right now.

But instead, I'm consigned to the waiting room.

Of mice and men

Today seems to have a theme- making me unsettled.

In the morning we had a nurse come by to draw blood, take our blood pressure and urine samples for insurance coverage. Kevin is their ideal client, he runs, he's thin, he never drinks and doesn't have an enormous amount of death and illness in his immediate family. I, on the other hand, am considered and insurance risk. Mother died at 49, 275b lbs.

Later today, I have a Dr's appt. I'm going because I have been avoiding dealing with my knee pain for, oh, years. And I thought if I am going to get the lap band surgery I might as well also deal with some other issues at the same time. I'm also dealing with hypoglycemia, have been for years. But since I have been headachey for the last while I thought I'd finally seek some medical advise- maybe it's not hypoglycemia or maybe they have better info than I can find on the internet on my own.

I went to the bike shop to pick up my bike but duh, it's not ready until 4:30 today. I'm pretty sure that by the time 4:30 rolls around the sky will open up and it's gonna pour on my first ride home. But I guess that's just another thing to get used to if I bike to work every day in the "good" months.

Already I started to calculate how much weight I could lose biking about 12 K a day. Probably about 5 lb's a month if I'm conservative- or 10 if I was able to avoid binge eating and all drinking. But asking that of myself, especially right now when I've been so unwilling and unable to do that, seems like setting myself up for failure and disappointment. And frankly I'm a tad sick of feeling disappointed in myself- feeling as if I am letting myself down all the time is fucking tiring.

Kevin and I have been watching Cesar Millan, the Dog Whisperer,on DVD a lot. At first it started as a fun distraction. We know our dogs aren't perfect, by any means, and we figured we'd pick up some good tips and tricks but I didn't think it would have any lasting impact on my life.

But something has sunk in!

The DW talks a lot about rehabilitating dogs and training humans. He also talks a lot about how dogs pick up on energy and use energy- they use energy to decide on a course of action, to be with someone- everything really. I started to realize that when I got Runkie I saw him as a savior. I had no friends, no family here and it was the first time I put my foot down in our relationship and demanded we do something outside of our comfort zone by getting Runkie.

Normally, I tend to go with the flow. But there have been a couple of notable instances where I have been firm and demanded we do things my way. Buying the house, Runkie and Skittles are all in our lives at my insistence. I said that they were non-negotiable things I had to have in my life in order to function. I always feel guilty about these things (before I "get" them and for a little while immediately after) but they always end up being a life changing experience for both of us- that improves our lives. It usually takes a year to five to accomplish them, sometimes less in Skittles case!

Back to Runkie though. When I got him Kevin still worked nights and we both slept during the day. I had terrible anxiety and panic attacks and just being outside alone caused me to feel terrified. I was not the person I am now. I couldn't leave the house unless accompanied by someone else. And because I had no friends, no family, no job- nothing, I really didn't have a reason to go out, really. So Runkie represented my fledgling attempt to rejoin the world. He needed to be walked for potty time. He needed to see people, places and things. And so I started to explore the world with him.

Because of my anxiety I didn't much more than go around the block by myself the first year, and even that was nerve wracking. But he was my shield. I was gauranteed good interactions with him at my side and I felt safe with him there.

But according to the DW I was putting him into the role of the protector and pack leader and that's where a lot of his dominance problems stem from. He only did what I asked him to do. And as I got better I never took that role away from him because for the most part, he's a good boy and I see that he has a gift of calming people and being incredibly loving. I didn't want to call him dominant or aggressive because he's not- he's insecure because I put a heavy burden on him. And when he and I bump up against one another for "power" he's confused. I let him run the show for so long he doesn't understand why I am saying no.

We even have a joke about him, if he had a motto it would be: you don't tell me, I tell you.

Anyway, Runkie attacks if we try to take a chewie away. So now I have been using the DW techniques of dominating him to put his chews down, instead of asking (and getting bitten). I stand by him or sit and start taking up physical space and I only ask once. I wait for him to move away and drop it. He attacked during the last session, (his chewis was down to a nub and we panic he'll choke- he has before) and I put him on his side and waited for him to calm down. And it's working.

I think it's all about the energy though. If I put him on his side and was filled with anger, it would be abusive. If I put him on his side and think instead of being a calm, balanced influence who is bringing peace and compassion to the situation, I can feel him relax. I keep his tail up so he doesn't get scared and when I feel him relax, I can actually feel it, I loosen my grip and start to stroke him in neutral zones, so it's never a punishment, but a correction.

There's some controversy about the DW's methods- but the important thing in my eyes is intention and energy. If the intention is to defuse an aggressive dog in an aggressive situation and you send a calm, confident energy, it's not cruel. When I put Runkie on his side I could actually feel him release his tension and rage after a couple of seconds, it was like the fight went out of him, not the spirit which is what animal owners always worry about, but the fight. The aggression naturally faded and I could almost feel or sense that he was coming to his senses. Like a switch had gone off in his brain that said, "I don't actually want to bite my mother, I just flared up because she tried to take my precious, but I guess that's not good."

Skittles is another matter. Skittles is pure fun. She has never bitten either of us, or anyone for that matter. Skittles' main goal in life is to have fun, to enjoy every second and squeeze the love out of every encounter. She's a big suck- she loves to cuddle and she has no personal boundaries. Our bodies are merely extensions of her pack sense- she feels it's totally natural to be connected to us by laying all over us. It's not dominance, she's insecure and our presence makes her feel safe and secure. I try to introduce her to situations where she can overcome little obstacles and become more confident and I think doing some DW techniques with her can help her feel more calm. Mostly we're focusing on creating space in the household- no jumping on the nice furniture, calm submissive state before walks (as opposed to bouncing off the walls), asking to come up on us and being more polite with strangers (instead of actually bouncing off of them and trying to stand on their shoulders).

In her case, I think Skittles' feels more secure because she'll have rules and boundaries- things will be clear to her so she'll feel secure in herself. That's the hope anyway.

But all of that was really a segue! Or just me thinking through my own history with my dogs. All of that was to say that both of them are conduits and living expressions of my mood and needs. Runkie came to me at a time when I needed stability and leadership- he provided that to me! He came to me when I needed someone to help me come out of my shell and with his cute looks and fun personality he attracted people to me and helped me to gain confidence during social interactions. Skittles came into my life just after we lost Mondo and I was desperately seeking love. Runkie was getting on in years and wasn't as cuddly- he wanted more space. I wanted and needed someone who could share my sense of play and fun enhance my own good times. I wanted a cuddly little being who had no boundaries so I could shower them with constant affection and give them all the love I don't give to myself. From day one, Skittles gave me that. She loved being touched and stroked and snuggled. She's a repository for all the love I feel. For me Skittles is affection.