Alana Marie

I became mournful and miserable. My life had no meaning…no purpose. My purpose had become feeding Charlie….my captor. Don’t get me wrong, he gave me things too…anxiety, paranoia, high blood pressure, depression, and in return I gave him my health, my happiness and my freedom. There came a day when I felt that I might suffocate myself with Charlie. I could see my life slipping away. I looked at him with loathing as we sat in silence and stuffed ourselves to the point of intoxication. Well, the divorce is final! Let me explain. I spent 25 years in an oppressive, controlling, stifling and very demoralizing relationship with “my other half”. By other half, I mean that 250 pounds of extra body weight that all but smothered me. It somehow took on a life of its own and eventually took away mine in the process. Let’s call that other half Charlie. Charlie was a gleeful soul at first. We spent lots of time together. We had fun eating and drinking to our hearts content. Loosening our belts as they became tighter and tighter. Charlie’s philosophy was always “Go big or go home” and boy oh boy did we ever live by that principle. We did everything to extreme, extra-large pizzas smothered in extra cheese, double quarter pounders with cheese…super-sized please. As time went on we began spending all of our time together. Charlie became so possessive. It got to the point where he would not let me leave the house. I could not see my friends or visit with my family. We stayed home all the time. We did not go on dates; no movies, carnivals or concerts. “We had a big screen TV” he said…”What else do we need?” Like the devil, he seduced me in to staying home and accommodating his needs….oh and he was oh so needy! I became mournful and miserable. My life had no meaning…no purpose. My purpose had become feeding Charlie….my captor. Don’t get me wrong, he gave me things too…anxiety, paranoia, high blood pressure, depression, and in return I gave him my health, my happiness and my freedom. There came a day when I felt that I might suffocate myself with Charlie. I could see my life slipping away. I looked at him with loathing as we sat in silence and stuffed ourselves to the point of intoxication. We were indeed a TOXIC couple. One night I asked him for a trial separation. Oh, he fought like the dickens to hold on to me, playing head games and mental manipulation. I fought back. I had my weight loss surgery, I began walking, and I went back to school and slowly began taking my life back. Charlie continued to hang around …to hold on, to tempt and entice. As I became stronger and healthier I began to see less and less of him. So today, I declare my independence! My divorce is final! Charlie my “other half” who, by the way, is most certainly not my “better” half, is officially gone and out of my life. He won’t be back. Good bye and good riddance. I realize today, that I only held on because I was afraid to let go. Alana Marie Follow my journey at http://pickastrugglecupcake.com

Well, the divorce is final! Let me explain. I spent 25 years in an oppressive, controlling, stifling and very demoralizing relationship with “my other half”. By other half, I mean that 250 pounds of extra body weight that all but smothered me. It somehow took on a life of its own and eventually took away mine in the process. Let’s call that other half Charlie. Charlie was a gleeful soul at first. We spent lots of time together. We had fun eating and drinking to our hearts content. Loosening our belts as they became tighter and tighter. Charlie’s philosophy was always “Go big or go home” and boy oh boy did we ever live by that principle. We did everything to extreme, extra-large pizzas smothered in extra cheese, double quarter pounders with cheese…super-sized please. As time went on we began spending all of our time together. Charlie became so possessive. It got to the point where he would not let me leave the house. I could not see my friends or visit with my family. We stayed home all the time. We did not go on dates; no movies, carnivals or concerts. “We had a big screen TV” he said…”What else do we need?” Like the devil, he seduced me in to staying home and accommodating his needs….oh and he was oh so needy! I became mournful and miserable. My life had no meaning…no purpose. My purpose had become feeding Charlie….my captor. Don’t get me wrong, he gave me things too…anxiety, paranoia, high blood pressure, depression, and in return I gave him my health, my happiness and my freedom. There came a day when I felt that I might suffocate myself with Charlie. I could see my life slipping away. I looked at him with loathing as we sat in silence and stuffed ourselves to the point of intoxication. We were indeed a TOXIC couple. One night I asked him for a trial separation. Oh, he fought like the dickens to hold on to me, playing head games and mental manipulation. I fought back. I had my weight loss surgery, I began walking, and I went back to school and slowly began taking my life back. Charlie continued to hang around …to hold on, to tempt and entice. As I became stronger and healthier I began to see less and less of him. So today, I declare my independence! My divorce is final! Charlie my “other half” who, by the way, is most certainly not my “better” half, is officially gone and out of my life. He won’t be back. Good bye and good riddance. I realize today, that I only held on because I was afraid to let go. Alana Marie Follow my journey at http://pickastrugglecupcake.com

As I slipped my fingers inside the cover and touched the first page, it hit me that my lifelong dream had indeed become a reality and that with the first word of that opening chapter came the closing of another. Within the pages were the lonely days of weighing nearly a quarter of a ton along with the endless nights of drunken madness which eventually bled into late afternoon hangovers. Staring at the words, I am reminded of the wasted days and nights squandered while living a life of dangerous excess. As my car swung into the driveway, I noticed a plain and unpretentious package sitting idly on my porch. Bending over, I picked it up and carried it into my cozy little home while searching for a return address. My breath caught in my throat as I spotted it. Setting the box on my dining room, table I peeled open the lid as the sound of the stiff, clear packing tape crackled and snapped beneath my fingers. I opened the little box slowly, with great anticipation, as one might open a newly found treasure chest reclaimed from the bottom of the ocean. My heart beat wildly as I reached into the bottom of the broken cardboard box and placed my hand upon a book, a plain and simple book which held the stories of my life. The cover was cool and smooth and slid easily into my hand. Slowly, I lifted it out and into the light while my face felt flushed and my hand shook just a bit. As I slipped my fingers inside the cover and touched the first page, it hit me that my lifelong dream had indeed become a reality and that with the first word of that opening chapter came the closing of another. Within the pages were the lonely days of weighing nearly a quarter of a ton along with the endless nights of drunken madness which eventually bled into late afternoon hangovers. Staring at the words, I am reminded of the wasted days and nights squandered while living a life of dangerous excess. The book itself was a chronicle of my existence, holding together all of my pain and anguish in one neat little package for the whole world to read, critique and criticize. My life was now, quite literally an open book. Standing there in the quiet shadows of my home, I felt extremely isolated and alone. After a few moments of quiet reflection, I began to realize that maybe I was not. I recognized that other people like myself, the lost, lonely and forgotten, might stumble upon this pint-sized treasure chest of emotion and maybe, just maybe, they would gather a bit of hope. Perhaps, they too might find the courage and the bravery to do battle with the demons that controlled their lives. Through my stories they might find the inspiration to try, yet one more time, to rid their lives of the physical and emotional baggage that they perpetually carried upon their backs. Suddenly, it seemed ok to bare my soul and share the deepest darkest secrets of my past. If my heartache could help to guide just one person out of the darkness of their addictions, then the sharing of those secrets would be well worth the sacrifice. With that thought warming my heart, I carried the book to my Carmel colored chair, lit a fire and opened it to the first page and began reading the story of my life. Follow my journey at Pickastrugglecupcake.com Alana Marie

You pause looking at the red velvet seat and you can remember your last visit to this same theater almost 7 years ago. You squirm as you recall the embarrassment you suffered that night when you attempted to squeeze yourself into that empty seat. You shifted and struggled to the horrified look of your best friend who followed behind you as you fled, embarrassed, out of the auditorium. Going to the movies, it’s a simple pleasure enjoyed by everyone. Who doesn’t love the smell of the hot buttered popcorn spilling into the giant, glass bins as you pass by, or the sound of squealing children anxious so see the next adventure of Harry Potter? Hidden away in their dark and dismal homes, there are a select few, who have not had the delight of strolling up to the ticket window or relished in the excitement of scanning over the lighted billboard filled with this week’s brand new releases. It has been a long time since they have experienced the joy of watching a movie up on the big screen.. A dark theater is a place of escape, fantasy and whimsy, where for two hours one is transported to another place, day or time. Most people walk through the doorway, past the black satin curtains and head for the middle rows and the center seats…the best seats. But you are not “most” people. You are a tentative visitor, cautiously walking into the theater alone. You inch your way, slowly towards the first available seat…on the end. Your heart pounds as you near what has been a source of anxiety and intimidation for longer than you care to remember. You glance around to make sure no one is watching. They are not. Instead they sit ripping open their giant boxes of Goobers and Sno-Caps, shoving greasy hot popcorn into their mouths. They fiddle in their seats, checking their cellphones before the opening credits begin to roll. You pause looking at the red velvet seat and you can remember your last visit to this same theater almost 7 years ago. You squirm as you recall the embarrassment you suffered that night when you attempted to squeeze yourself into that empty seat. You shifted and struggled to the horrified look of your best friend who followed behind you as you fled, embarrassed, out of the auditorium. Today, you are here for redemption…a revenge of sorts. You come alone…just in case, well just in case it happens again. You hover in front of the portentous seat, your heart pounding in your ears. You take a deep breath, close your eyes and sit. To your pleasant surprise you glide easily into the seat as you exhale madly. The tears well in your eyes as the big beautiful screen transforms into a kaleidoscope of Technicolor. You settle back into your chair and as the movie begins you smile, knowing inside that you will remember this movie for the rest of your life. The great adventure of the day was finding the courage to walk into the building….the movie…whatever it is, is just a bonus. Fondly, Alana Marie For more inspiration visit my blog: Pickastrugglecupcake.com

As my car swung into the driveway, I noticed a plain and unpretentious package sitting idly on my porch. Bending over, I picked it up and carried it into my cozy little home while searching for a return address. My breath caught in my throat as I spotted it. Setting the box on my dining room, table I peeled open the lid as the sound of the stiff, clear packing tape crackled and snapped beneath my fingers. I opened the little box slowly, with great anticipation, as one might open a newly found treasure chest reclaimed from the bottom of the ocean. My heart beat wildly as I reached into the bottom of the broken cardboard box and placed my hand upon a book, a plain and simple book which held the stories of my life. The cover was cool and smooth and slid easily into my hand. Slowly, I lifted it out and into the light while my face felt flushed and my hand shook just a bit. As I slipped my fingers inside the cover and touched the first page, it hit me that my lifelong dream had indeed become a reality and that with the first word of that opening chapter came the closing of another. Within the pages were the lonely days of weighing nearly a quarter of a ton along with the endless nights of drunken madness which eventually bled into late afternoon hangovers. Staring at the words, I am reminded of the wasted days and nights squandered while living a life of dangerous excess. The book itself was a chronicle of my existence, holding together all of my pain and anguish in one neat little package for the whole world to read, critique and criticize. My life was now, quite literally an open book. Standing there in the quiet shadows of my home, I felt extremely isolated and alone. After a few moments of quiet reflection, I began to realize that maybe I was not. I recognized that other people like myself, the lost, lonely and forgotten, might stumble upon this pint-sized treasure chest of emotion and maybe, just maybe, they would gather a bit of hope. Perhaps, they too might find the courage and the bravery to do battle with the demons that controlled their lives. Through my stories they might find the inspiration to try, yet one more time, to rid their lives of the physical and emotional baggage that they perpetually carried upon their backs. Suddenly, it seemed ok to bare my soul and share the deepest darkest secrets of my past. If my heartache could help to guide just one person out of the darkness of their addictions, then the sharing of those secrets would be well worth the sacrifice. With that thought warming my heart, I carried the book to my Carmel colored chair, lit a fire and opened it to the first page and began reading the story of my life. Follow my journey at Pickastrugglecupcake.com Alana Marie

Going to the movies, it’s a simple pleasure enjoyed by everyone. Who doesn’t love the smell of the hot buttered popcorn spilling into the giant, glass bins as you pass by, or the sound of squealing children anxious so see the next adventure of Harry Potter? Hidden away in their dark and dismal homes, there are a select few, who have not had the delight of strolling up to the ticket window or relished in the excitement of scanning over the lighted billboard filled with this week’s brand new releases. It has been a long time since they have experienced the joy of watching a movie up on the big screen.. A dark theater is a place of escape, fantasy and whimsy, where for two hours one is transported to another place, day or time. Most people walk through the doorway, past the black satin curtains and head for the middle rows and the center seats…the best seats. But you are not “most” people. You are a tentative visitor, cautiously walking into the theater alone. You inch your way, slowly towards the first available seat…on the end. Your heart pounds as you near what has been a source of anxiety and intimidation for longer than you care to remember. You glance around to make sure no one is watching. They are not. Instead they sit ripping open their giant boxes of Goobers and Sno-Caps, shoving greasy hot popcorn into their mouths. They fiddle in their seats, checking their cellphones before the opening credits begin to roll. You pause looking at the red velvet seat and you can remember your last visit to this same theater almost 7 years ago. You squirm as you recall the embarrassment you suffered that night when you attempted to squeeze yourself into that empty seat. You shifted and struggled to the horrified look of your best friend who followed behind you as you fled, embarrassed, out of the auditorium. Today, you are here for redemption…a revenge of sorts. You come alone…just in case, well just in case it happens again. You hover in front of the portentous seat, your heart pounding in your ears. You take a deep breath, close your eyes and sit. To your pleasant surprise you glide easily into the seat as you exhale madly. The tears well in your eyes as the big beautiful screen transforms into a kaleidoscope of Technicolor. You settle back into your chair and as the movie begins you smile, knowing inside that you will remember this movie for the rest of your life. The great adventure of the day was finding the courage to walk into the building….the movie…whatever it is, is just a bonus. Fondly, Alana Marie For more inspiration visit my blog: Pickastrugglecupcake.com