Don’t try to understand me

Only I understand me. No one else, just me, just as you are the only one that understands you. When the day arrives that we can get inside someone else’s head completely and feel, sense and hear what another person is perceiving, then and only then will anyone ever be able to say, “I understand.”

“I don’t.”

I have trouble understanding my own thought process let alone yours. But I can understand the circumstances and the problems others face. I can understand anguish and upset, grief and sadness. These are all emotions I carry and feel for myself. I can’t however say to anyone, I know how that feels. I have said to people that I understand. What I’m expressing is empathy.

My dragon died recently. Those who know me, know that I have a menagerie of animals, mainly reptiles. “I’m so sorry, I know how you feel. I lost my dog.” Was a common response. I’m sorry lady but this was a Mexican Spiny Tailed Iguana. I have a dog and have lost dogs. It’s a totally different feeling losing a dragon. I don’t mean to be cruel and I don’t say that, as people sympathise. I even held back the anger as others would say, “Oh a dragon, really, how odd.” Most of the time not as politely as that. But no one really understood how I felt.

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No one feels how I do. My dad died. Yep, I got upset, but I was also really, really relieved and I said as much. No more having to be “one of the family.” Free to tell them all exactly how I felt. No one could ever understand that.

I’m losing weight with Slimming World. There is a correlation, trust me, stick with it. I had three pieces of Bakewell tart this weekend. Any bugger that is shaking their head and tutting right now is entitled to do so, but please don’t say, you don’t understand how I can justify it, nor, “I understand, I love Bakewell tart.”

We all have our own reasons for doing what we do, and our own justifications. I’m venting. I had a piece of tart on the Saturday. I made cakes for a Charity cake sale and I don’t like waste so I made an extra Bakewell for home. It was a small piece and 10 Syns. I had the Syns there and I could have my cake.

On Sunday however, life got a little bit gooey. It sort of fell to pieces. I went out, again. I’d been out Saturday, that was enough and I was out again first thing Sunday morning. I got home after having to settle for an Egg sandwich for lunch, I had soup with me in a flask but the flask wasn’t keeping up its end of the bargain, and the soup was cold when I opened it. I came home feeling deflated and irritated. So, tart it was then. The day got worse. Nothing happened. There were no triggers, nothing to set me off, just got gooey and I ended up with another piece of cake.

“No, you don’t understand.” I’m shouting and being belligerent. Apparently, I do it well.

I had a good home cooked piece of tart. I know exactly what went into it. Yes, I make my own pastry. Then I had another and another, and 50 Syns extra over the weekend are Syns I am not going to make up any time soon. So, I’m just going to forget about them and start again. I had plenty of fruit and veg as well. A stir fry Saturday, a roast with Cauli and carrots Sunday, Grapes and Kiwi’s and bananas.

I go and stand on the Scales on Thursday just as I have for the past three weeks. Last week I lost a pound and was over the moon. I had been a bit sloppy with counting my Syns and found that I just wanted to be healthy, not regimented. I was on meds that made me drowsy and counting was not top priority. But I lost a pound and was over the moon. This week I would like a loss, but I’m not aiming high.

“Why are you going to Slimming World if you are not sticking to the diet?” I was asked.

And that’s what it’s all about. That’s where we all need to understand that no one can understand anyone’s reason for doing anything. There is no strick diet. I’m not told that I have to eat this that and the other. ‘Diet’ is, after all, a word that means what we eat, not what we don’t eat.

I hear tell that this person wants to lose weight to get into a wedding dress, this one wants to feel better about herself. He would like to be able to play football with his grandchildren and I just want to be able to ride a horse again without feeling as though I’m going to break the poor animals back.

If you can’t understand how people can pay money to get fit again, look good, or just feel better about themselves, don’t judge. If you don’t understand how I can eat three pieces of tart whilst trying to lose weight, don’t judge. If you just want to mind your own bloody business and let us that do want to change to get on with it, please take your judgement elsewhere. Because under no circumstances do I want you to try and understand me.

A whinge, because I can.

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