Living ~400lbs

… and believe me I am still alive


About 10 months ago I began to view my bedroom as a haven. It’s not just mine; I share it with the man of the house.  But the bedroom has none of my dad’s unpaid bills, bank statements, or benefit applications. It didn’t have boxes of belongings to sort through. It didn’t have my exploding to-do list. It especially did not have hospital or nursing home staff who expect me to do more or care more or be with my dad 24/7.

In our bedroom I began to consciously put that all aside. “I can’t do it here. So I won’t waste effort on it now.” Crossing that threshold meant I was safe.  In time it also extended to the adjacent bath. Later I began to think of other things I put aside here. I let down my “fat guard” and a few other fears — usually in my house, but always in our bedroom.

Tonight I sought that haven deliberately. The stressors are a bit different tonight, tho dad things are part of it. But again, my to-do list is not here. This is my haven. I’m glad.

4 responses to “Haven”

  1. Every care giver needs a safe haven. I am glad that you have a place to go where you can relax and not have to worry about all of that which stresses you out. Don’t let the to do list come in there. Put a lock on the door against it and all that you want to keep out. You are doing well for yourself. Keep it that way. You deserve it.

    1. I know what you mean–my bedroom is my haven too. And when family problems arise, my haven turns into buried under the bed covers, head covered and all–it helps immensely.

  2. I’m sorry you have need of a haven but I’m glad you do have one. I hope things improve for you soon, particularly as regards those hospital or nursing home staff, whom I hope will ease up on you. Jeez!

  3. My home is my haven. It’s the one place I know I can be free of fat hatred any time I choose so.

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About Me

Former software tester, now retired heart patient having fun and working on building endurance and strength. See also About page.

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