I Remember Then

The following is a saved questionnaire that I filled out six or seven years ago - at a time when I felt like I was going to die (literally, physically die) if I didn't somehow find a way to live, to be myself, to be comfortable being myself. When I mention die, I don't mean I was suicidal - I didn't have those feelings - I could just feel myself dying from the inside out, like a candle that's simply run out of wick and can't keep a flame. I sought a counselor and wrote all this down so she'd know where to begin. Looking back, I can see the desperation of wanting to be ME and I'm so utterly grateful that today I am. I really, truly am. It's why I want to take care of my body. I've got a long wick with have a hell of a flame. Now I don't want to run out of wax.


What is your intent for this session?

"Clarification. My intention is to understand my own feelings and needs with regard to family and career life. I want to help myself to define goals, both short and long-term, that reflect my needs and skills. I want to be able to know which ideas and life directions are ones that other people want me to follow and which are ones that I want to follow. I want to be wise in making these decisions, and be able to discern one reason from another. Having this outcome will allow me to feel confident, to experience life in the way that is nurturing to my true self, and will help me to be even more authentic in my daily life, in anybody’s presence."

How will you know when you have achieved the outcome?

"Confidence. I will feel confident about my decisions, and will not feel wrong about them if someone else disagrees with them… or question my own judgment. I will feel smart, able, still be a good listener and be able to acknowledge the other(s), yet continue to be and do what I already am/do. I will continue to be comfortable being who I am, not feeling as if I must excuse my decisions or behaviors. They will be good enough, because they work for me, and they help –me-."

Where, when, and with whom do you need to interact in order to ultimately achieve the outcome?

"Education. It is important for me to learn how to show love to someone else without compromising my own life, or my desires for my own life. I want to learn how to respect my own boundaries, show others how to respect them, and not end up offending anyone. I need education in order to learn all this… to me, it is an art! Once I have some ideas of how to talk to others about what is important to me, without feeling like I have to explain myself until they accept me, I will feel that confidence to be even more authentic."

How will achieving the outcome affect other relevant aspects of your life?

"Development.I know that in order to develop more fully into this true person that I am inside, I have to learn how to support my own decisions – so that I don’t need to rely on anyone else for an “okay” or to feel okay about what I choose."

What stops you from having the outcome already?

"Insecurity. Oftentimes, I find that I feel the need to explain myself and my thoughts and wants and actions to others – whether they are in positions of authority or not. I let them determine whether or not I can succeed at something, even if my inner urge is to try something, and even if my own belief about my ability surpasses their belief about me."


What resources (internal and external) do you already have that will contribute to achieving outcome?

"I have the belief in myself to achieve anything I want to in my life, meaning anything at all. As if there is no mountain too tall, no goal too far, to obtain… that I can do… anything. My mom is an external resource for at least believing in me in the same way I believe in me. As far as skills, knowledge, behaviors, I feel like I can learn anything – if I don’t yet have the skill or knowledge or behavior, I can get it. I just have to be comfortable with what I want, so I can do what needs to happen in order to get it."

What additional resources do you need to achieve the outcome?

"I think that prayer and me are really all I should rely on for this, because for too long I’ve let my experiences with external and/or additional resources change my mind, sometimes to the point of disappointing me, or hurting my feelings… I need to be good to me and supportive of me, no matter what or who else is… without needing for others to be, but with the ability to enjoy it when they are."

What specific steps do you need to take to achieve the outcome?

"See what wants I have inside. I want to see my wants.I want to feel my wants are important. I want to know that my own wants are exciting and noble and courageous and will become successful And I don’t want anyone else(s) opinions to be able to keep me from them. I want to learn how to do that… and what steps TO take to do that."

Does "Honor Thy Mother and Father" = An Unhealthy Body?

Reflections on The Ten Challenges, Chapter 5:

To honor my mother and father didn’t used to be an easy task, but with time and growth I do believe I’ve become better at doing so. My mother is the only of the two who is still living and sometimes it is hard to keep from getting angry at her, saying things that I wouldn’t like to keep saying; however, the older I get, I find those times have less to do with my own selfishness.

When I “lash out” or get irritated with my mother it is usually because she is not taking very good care of herself. It is difficult to watch her be overweight (like me) and make poor choices for herself (like I have) and refrain from exercise (like I have) and, as a result, contract all kinds of diseases and disabilities (like I am afraid to.)

I see reflections of my mother in my own behavior as an overweight woman. For a long time I chose to blame my mother’s weakness toward wellness as reason enough for me to ignore my own. And there have been times when she and I have “partnered up” to take on the big jobs of losing weight and getting healthy, and one then both of us simply quit(s).

When my mom says she is starting a weight loss or exercise regimen of any kind, I have lost the ability to support her wholeheartedly. I have come to expect failure from her because I have invested anew so many times only to see expectations she has for her progress (and ones that I have for her) fall short. I’m tired of being disappointed in my mom to where I get tense, angry, frustrated, worried and tired by just the simple mention of what she had for dinner – or by the admission that she couldn’t walk up the stairs or needed to sit down to breathe without finishing her walk through a pharmacy or grocery store.

I forgive my mom on a daily basis, then this kind of situation comes up again and I find myself getting angry again… so there is a cycle or pattern of “I’m okay with mom, I’m frustrated with mom” going on kind of constantly.

The truth is, I love my mom so very much. She is so important to me that I am fearful of her leaving our world too soon! My mom is funny and smart and clever and has a lot of great ideas. She’s adventurous and silly…. but a lot of people wouldn’t know that because she is a prisoner of her own flesh now (like I have been!)

My mother’s advanced stages of asthma and rotator cuff injury and diabetes have made her less healthy than me, but I can see myself heading in her direction if my own choices go unchanged. I make more attempts to right my diet and to get exercise than my mom does; however, I wouldn’t consider our lives a competition.

I want to be healthy and I want my mom to be healthy, too. I am working with a physical trainer and will soon have a dietitian and a plan to work with so that I can fulfill my want – I am feeling able and ready to commit to this. I wish my mom could do the same.

I sometimes wonder if having my weight is one way I’ve been able to stay with her and not leave her behind. I will share a significant life story of mine to explain why:

When I was only nine years old, my family went to California. It was a big, big trip and very exciting to do together. My stepdad and his kids, my mom and I went into this adventure as a family, but as it turned out, this time together provided an opportunity for us to become a divided one. Again.

A lot of my childhood was spent being “Carole’s daughter” in a house full of “Jimmy’s kids.” They were known as privileged and I was known as poor, or that was the assumption. Jimmy was the Be All in our family – the decision-maker, the heart-breaker, the provider of all things, the captain of our ship…you name it. Mom was understood to be the “housekeeper / babysitter whom Jimmy took pity on and allowed to stay in his home with her daughter” despite the fact that they slept together and my mom was, in every respect besides paperwork, a wife.

There we were in California where the high cliff walls turn into sandy beaches. I was jazzed about going down the side of the cliff just to get down to where the water was. My stepbrother and I were the first ones most of the way down and everyone else followed.

My mom got stuck. She wasn’t very heavy back then. She was just scared and couldn’t get her footing right and didn’t want to tumble who knows how many feet, so she cried out.

Jimmy was up there with her, but I saw him coming down. His two daughters, teenagers at the time, were coming down also. Mom was crying, sitting in the dirt, wanting Jimmy to help her back to the top where the pavement would be sanctuary, but he razzed instead and told her to stop being a wimp and to follow along.

By then, my stepbrother was down on the beach. My stepsisters were climbing over me to continue down. My stepfather was in a bad mood and cursing about my mother’s uselessness and I was frozen in place. I watched my stepsisters scuttle past, easily digging their feet into crevices of rock. I heard my stepbrother shrieking in delight because he was the first to make it down. I asked out loud if anyone was going to help my mom because I knew she was too afraid to make it.

“She’s your mother!” they said. Every single one of them left it up to me, at nine years old, to climb all the way back to the top of this cliff and help my mother (then at least twice my size) get back to the parking lot.

It was hard, but I did it. The place where she was had too much sand to get any good footing and she couldn’t go up. I tried to convince her to follow me down because it would have been easier, but she was freaking out too much. I couldn’t get up the sandy ridge any more than she could, so we were kind of stuck there – until some guys who came to park and view the ocean overheard my mom crying and came to lend us a hand up with some rope.

From below, I could hear mimics of my mom’s crying – my stepsisters – and comments of how useless she was – my stepfather – and laughter – my stepbrother and I thought they were cruel and I loved my mother, but I was angry at her because I didn’t want to be her rescuer. I was angry at everybody else for the same reason.

To say that this scenario was normal is an understatement. Within our home, I was often forced to “deal with” my mother or was forced out of the family unit because I belonged to her. It bothered me that no one else would help her or care about her. I love my mother with great, great love and would not deny her or disassociate with her for anyone.  But would I hold onto my weight and poor eating habits and keep from exercise to continue to be “with” her? Sometimes I wonder if I do.

This was about forgiveness, I know. I don’t feel a need to forgive the things I’ve mentioned, though. I feel a need to forget, or a need to move away from that bond or somehow change the dynamics of that bond so that I can be healthy – really, truly healthy…. even if my mom decides not to. It breaks my heart to think of that? But I am afraid my heart will give out if I don’t take care of it with or without her.

Mom's Happy Birthday

"I am in love. Smurfs are back. Yay"

That's the text I received from my mom the other day.

Today is mom's 65th. We live pretty far away from each other, so I'm unable to pick her up to take her to see The Smurfs at her local theater. I asked my cousin Stacy if she would mind being me for a day. With my cousin's agreement, I purchased a gift certificate through Fandango which I was able to e-mail to her direct (with my personalized message) from their site. My mom's a stitch in the movie theater. She's one of those people who gasps out loud or tells the characters not to go any further or informs the leading lady that her love interest is "a fucking asshole." Yup, right out loud in the black of the room at the story's climax. I don't think she'll need to tell Smurfette to look out for anyone, but she will no doubt find something to say.

Getting Started

I mentioned in my first post that I had a little trouble fitting in with a new family at a very young age. To help you understand, my mother and I lived a very busy life in a little apartment. I went to preschool, my grandparent's house, and sometimes with mom to one of her jobs.

She worked as a switchboard operator for Ma Bell in the evenings and drove my preschool "bus" aka her car with a bus sign stuck to the roof, during the day. She also worked for a portrait studio and sometimes took me to work with her there, too.

We went to Gloria Stevens Figure Salon together (my mom used to battle to keep weight off of her and she did a good job of it!) a few times a week. We went to my dance classes a few times a week. We ate "poor" - a lot of canned and boxed stuff, hot dogs and things like that.

We had roommates sometimes - usually girls in their twenties who rented a room but were barely ever home - and we had each other. My mom had had a couple of boyfriends and they were each nice enough to me, but none of them had really made any impact on either of us, so it was mostly just the two of us. I was very, very happy then.

And then my mom introduced me to the man who would eventually become my stepfather. His name was Jimmy. He was very big, very dark and he had three chubby kids.  I learned after a series of "family dates" together that Jimmy's wife had left him and his kids and that my mom and I were going to live with him.

The idea of living with them seemed pretty cool because Jimmy and his kids seemed to have and do anything they wanted. I was in awe of their ability to take off on a moment's notice and go for "penny rides" (where you flip a coin and drive in whichever direction the head points). They had a great backyard, bicycles, a dog. I was all for the move. Jimmy seemed to think the world of me.  His kids were funny. I didn't mind moving in at all.

Jimmy had a busy job that took him away for weeks at a time which left mom at the house with four kids. When he was away, she would kind of cook the same way she cooked when it was just her and I...and since there was more money, so there was more food. And since most everyone in the house was overweight, meal portions were pretty big.

When Jimmy was home between business trips we ate by his basic menu: pepper (cubed) steak and potatoes, tuna and potatoes, American chop suey, hamburg and potatoes (each with some kind of canned vegetable,) and pizza every Friday night.

When I say pizza, I mean it was customary to buy six pub-sized pizzas, one for every person in the house. It was amazing! We didn't just get pizza, but we got whatever pizza we wanted - the entire pizza all to ourselves. WOW!!!!!  I loved having my own pizza. While everyone else got linguica or some other topping, I always ordered plain cheese. While everyone else pretty much finished their entire pizzas, I'd have leftovers for the next couple of days (unless someone ate them).

But a combination of things made eating a whole pizza something of a feat I had to attempt:

1) It was becoming clear that being cute, skinny, flexible, outgoing and a showoff was getting on Jimmy's kids' nerves.

2) Everyone else could finish a whole pizza and I couldn't.

3) If anyone finished their whole pizza, Jimmy would shake his head in amazement and say "God love ya, kid." and I thought that meant he was very proud.

I learned to eat an entire pizza on a Friday night...and did so every Friday night that Jimmy was home...and before long I would do that even if he wasn't.

12 Ways My Weight Has Gotten in My Way

I've heard myself tell people again and again that even though I've been a heavy girl for a lot of my life, my weight has not gotten in my way. Laying in bed last night, I was saying this to myself and I recognized it is a lie. I consider myself to be as honest as a person would be, so imagine the offense I felt calling myself a liar. But, I have to face up.

Even though I have accomplished some pretty great things while being a heavy person, my weight has gotten in my way a whole lot. My weight continues to be in my way - and just in case I try to tell someone (or myself) that it hasn't, I've provided a list to refer to.

12 Ways My Weight Has Gotten in My Way

1. Being accepted into new family. This has happened twice. I was a skinny, busy, showoff of a kid who loved to dance and be active. I moved into a family of (mostly) fat people and really enjoyed being able to wow them with my ability to touch my toes to the back of my head. I "ate up" all the attention I received from the heavy grownups, but the heavy kids didn't like me at. all.  Looking back, I don't really blame them. I soaked up attention and made them feel bad for being fat. (I wasn't cruel, but I was almost 5 and as most children are, I was aware of the difference between us and I pointed it out.) I did a lot of eating to become accepted into my new family. Many years and many pounds later my weight got in the way of being accepted into new family as an adult. I will go into my years of depression and anxiety, my strained relationship with my in-laws, and my excessive weight gain some other time.
2.  Attracting members of the opposite sex. I believe this kind of explains itself.
3.  Sitting comfortably in seats. This one tells it like it is, too.
4.  Physical Enjoyment. I LOVE movement. I love stretching. I love dancing. I enjoy exercise when it doesn't feel like strain, but invigorates instead. My weight prevents me from doing all of these things with delight. I may not even get to participate in a 4-miler coming up in a few weeks because of number 5 - because of my weight.
5. Healing old wounds. This old knee injury of mine has not been able to heal completely...ever. I first twisted my knee (and it popped out of position and was sprained) when I was fifteen. It didn't stabilize all that well afterward; however, that didn't stop me from running and dancing and jumping around all I wanted. ...but eventually my weight did. Because when I was about 22, I ran from the auditorium at Massassoit Community College (where my dancing school was holding dress rehearsal for our recital) full speed for the dressing rooms a few hallways away. I leapt. I did a pirouette. I landed wrong. My already damaged knee gave out 100%. I had to be carried to a car, carried to E.R., and have since sprained the same knee twice by doing nothing much at all. I've had arthroscopic surgery to remove scar tissue and a very, very painful recovery. I didn't receive physical therapy (I hadn't thought at my young age to even ask for that). Before the knee blew out, I danced for hours upon hours, nearly every day. (Think Flash Dance. Think Janet Jackson's Pleasure Principle video.) And realize, I have not danced - REALLY danced - since 'losing' my knee. My knee is still so very unstable. My weight is in the way.
6. Creating new wounds.  I can only imagine what damage my weight is doing to my heart and liver and kidneys. I don't like to imagine it, but perhaps I should.
7. Feeling secure. Okay, maybe having security issues isn't completely caused by being overweight, but I am sure my fatness doesn't help. My weight gets in the way, especially, when I have a good idea and want to share it with other people. I feel like I have to prove myself more than the average person in order for people to listen to me or like what I have to say or see past the weight to even hear what I am saying to begin with. I don't know if this is really what people do or think, but it's how I interpret their actions and it's the kind of pressure I put on myself because my weight is in my way.
8. Staying Awake. I get so tired. SO tired. And I used to think having thyroid issues was such a cop-out for lazy fat people that I didn't buy in. I learned I had hypothyroidism in 2000-something when I could barely get myself out of bed every day. My doctor said he was amazed I could get myself out of bed every day and he meant it. My T4 levels were hideously low. I still fight to be awake every day, but at least I know why. I know that hypothyroidism causes weight gain...but I kind of think weight gain leads to hypothyroidism. I'm no doctor, though.
9. Laughing at Myself.  It can be hard to laugh at my own mistakes sometimes because I'm so concerned with doing everything well...or trying to. When I do something like trip or fall or spill something on myself, I'll get angry and embarrassed rather than laugh it off. I get even more upset if other people find it funny. (I'm getting a little better at this, but could use a lot more freedom from the stress of my weight being in the way of it!)
10. Meeting People. Oh, God. I get the worst feelings ever when I know I have to meet someone who knows about me, but has never seen me. People who know me and see me do love me, and they talk me up pretty high, but that just makes it harder for me to meet whoever they have "told all about" me. Pair that scenario with having an amazing voice that people find sexy, cute, young, entertaining and I know they will expect to meet the girl they envision. I know they will not meet her...at least physically. I panic because of that. My weight is in the way.
11. Posing for Pictures. I have so few family photos. So few moments captured with my little girl. It wasn't until I read a blog post from Amy that I realized how much of our lives I have quietly stepped aside from documenting. I've refused to own a camera. I've refused to try a webcam. I don't even put my face on my blog...and I have an okay face. I just. don't. like. how. I. look. My weight is in the way.
12. Eating in front of others. Bleh. I am constantly conscious of what is on my plate, how food looks going into my mouth. What people must see when they watch me chew. This doesn't happen with good friends or family who I feel very, very comfortable with, but it does come to mind and can blot out any conversation I am having or am in the middle of to a point where I have to stop and restart, retry, to talk to whoever is with me. I HATE to eat alone in any public place, ever. My weight is in my way.

The next time I try to say my weight has not gotten in my way, I will at least have this list to remind me of otherwise. I think it's important to learn to say the truth even though I want to be able to think that I haven't been hindered that much. I have missed and lost so much of my life and that will not change until this weight it isn't in my way anymore.