My Surprise Wake Up

I thought about skipping my blog post today, because I don't have a lot to share right now, but then I woke up pretty.

I am incapacitated due to a knee injury and haven't done much of anything since Friday night. I'm home, though, and doing everything I can to keep from getting sucked in by boredom.

But, I woke up pretty. My face was a comforting sight in the mirror when I hobbled to the sink to brush my teeth and all.  My hair didn't even suffer much for having had a tiny cat jumping all around my head through most of the night. 

Don't you love those mornings, though, when you happen to glance and notice you're not so bad looking after all? I'm going to avoid the mirror the rest of today just so I can remember that first look. It was a good one. :)

Your Feat, Not Mine.

I haven't done a WHOLE lot since leaving my Monday to Friday position at the radio group...and that's okay. I haven't had a lot of time to zone, just zone, and sort to figure out what's most important to me vs. what's most important to the world around me. Some things are in agreement. Some not so much.

I'm learning to be better to myself...which means the end of codependent behavior and a cessation to ego-saturating performance - something I don't often experience, but does happen from time to time.  I feel like an idiot because I've found that even though I know the best or right way to treat a person and a situation, I slip into the role of enabler.

I am better at being responsible and reasonable with friends than I am with family, but I'm not always good at keeping from being that PARENT, provider, puts herself last type with friends either. And with family, I am especially terrible at being...regular.

Growing up in a volatile household where I didn't know, one minute to the next, whether something would fly across the room at one of us (be it object or comment) or if something I said or did would cause enormous upset and then home would be a war zone of yelling and accusation and slammed doors and hatred....or if my pleading mother really would hold it against me if I didn't appease my stepdad or his kids with following the obnoxious rules and wishes, I felt, they didn't deserve to have. Not for how they treated us. Me.

I learned to "keep everybody okay," to the detriment of my feelings, and RATIONALITY. It's not because I care to be a martyr. I do not. It's because, and this is truer than true, I am afraid to lose the people I love.

I began to turn to God a lot at a very young age....around 7, 8.....because his words provided stability and very clear boundaries and more understanding than I received at home - certainly more compassion. If  I didn't have biblical stories, characters and principles to go to, I think I would be unreachable today; curled up in a closet, humming, rocking.

But, I did. Thank God I did, and had great examples of how people in pain took care of themselves, wound after wound, time and time again: They recognized God in their lives. They learned to view painful people through eyes of compassion. They relied on superhuman strength, that can only come from God, to move mountains. They acknowledged being broken and were willing to be made new.

I try to model after the people in the Bible to this day...but I don't always. I can't always. I still get scared and broken and all twisted up and don't know how to relate to people I'm in disagreement with when it comes to my deep needs and theirs. - Not surface stuff, and not core values, I'm good at disagreeing there!

Anyway, I'm in counseling to be less codependent, more able to let other people stand on their own two feet. Not mine.

Lucky There's Me

Little bursts of motivation happen continuously. I tend to fall into trouble when all the good-feeling starts to wane and my effort becomes routine. Can I be happy with routine? The sort of discipline that contributes to success?

Maybe I can. Maybe.

Now that I'm not over-employed I have time to lay in bed when I'd rather stay warm and comfortable. I can choose to ignore the internal alarm that has developed from my always-busy lifestyle. My kid is old enough to get herself ready to school and off in its direction. I don't have to do a thing.

But, I want to. I get emotionally high from taking care of my daughter. When I'm awake with her in the morning and looking after her just a little it makes me happy. Having to leave before she's off to school every day, leaving her to do whatever it takes to get there without my company, has sucked so much.

So, even though I can sleep in and ignore the urge to get myself out of bed, I realized (this morning) I wouldn't. There are so few years left for me to share these early hours with my kid. College is a future we can touch.

Having routine momentum is a tough one for me, or was, until I realized I can totally love my routine every weekday morning. And somebody else can, too.

We both get so pleased when I am ahead of her just a couple of small steps, just being around to listen to whatever mumbled ramblings she has on her mind before her school day starts. I make her breakfast....she takes time to eat it...we have a few minutes of exchange before she's off.

Normally, she grabs something easy (like a banana or whatever) and eats it or forgoes food til the end of the school day. Being home and awake for her day start is this is one thing I can take part in, be of help with, and enjoy 'til she is truly on her own. 

I know she's capable of getting here to there on her own.  She does a lot for herself. She has for years. I get to be a mom with my new hours, though, and we both like that.

For the past few months I've reduced my hours at work again and again until, finally, I decided to just be home...and in that time, she and I have grown together more closely. I have to credit breakfasts and the minutes of listening when she gets home from school. I am here for the debriefings and can provide a place to let out stress.

And you know what? It makes her happy. And that motivates me to be here even more. I mean here, in her life, on earth for as long as I can keep my life going, not just here at home. Her jokes, her health, her trust and confidence, the way she shares her life with me, expects me to just "be there" for her, is just the motivation I need for when my own momentum slows.

I tell everyone I am lucky to have her. I am.

Being home has shown me that she is just as lucky there's me.

I want to keep her lucky for as long as I can.

My internal motivation, my fitness, my health, is within me - there is no question of that. And right now I happen to like that I have new-found wisdom to carry me when my internal motivation starts to wobble. "Lucky there's me." Recognizing how important I am to my daughter, even in the littlest ways. Really cool reinforcement. I think I can love routine.

All I Really Needed to Know

... I Learned from My Dogs.

The saying "to every season its turn" is staring me in the face tonight. You know I have been in a state of transition for awhile now. Years. Change, GOOD change, is taking place even when I can't feel it. I've had a tough time feeling or seeing any progress/good change since the summer full of suck.

But I'm being gentle to my spirit tonight because I've learned a lesson from my dogs. Two of my dogs are house-trained, well-integrated parts of my family. Two of my dogs haven't had a chance to be. The two who have been crated while indoors and running amok in the fenced yard while outdoors have been mostly segregated from us even though we love them, feed them, spend time with them, socialize with them.

We have been so busy and tired and bothered that we didn't work to get them acquainted with life outside the box (while indoors, mind.) They are very healthy, happy dogs and get lots of love and run time, they're just not sitting by us while we watch TV. I want to change that. I want them to be as part of us as the other two are.

But they've been boxed for so long and there are behavioral issues between the pairs of dogs to sort out and there's so much work to do, so much work, to get everybody to where we can be in peace together.

I hired a trainer today. It is such a relief to say that. I hired a trainer to show me how to be with all four of my dogs so we can be the family I hope in my heart we will be. It is going to be a long haul. It is going to take patience. It is somewhat overwhelming....or, okay really overwhelming....!! But I'm committed to this and to them.

My homework is to spend a few minutes a day, a few times a day, while they are indoors and ply them with bits of food to do fun things like come when they are called....and sit....and make eye contact...and calmly hang out with us.

I accept that it is going to take us and them a few months, if not more than that, to establish a relationship that is more than, "Hi, I love you, good dog, let's go outside. Good boy. Good girl! Yay, outside!" patting and rubbing and kisses. Exciting, yeah, but hardly fulfilling for me, and I'm guessing them, too.

So, I have patience for them and their training. ...and I suppose I can have a little for my own, too. This "read one book at a time, eat a healthy breakfast each morning, soon to work from home" practice I started for myself is going to take time, too.

Tonight, when I called Dru over, I was able to give her a treat and say YES! because she heard her name and, more and more, kept coming back.  Spike got the hang of doing so after a good five minutes of trying to get his attention away from EVERYTHING IN THE WORLD. I don't even think he realized his name is Spike. It makes me sad/guilty that all this is so surreal to him...but I am committed. Yes. I am. To them and to me.

After an eternity, Spike finally learned he is called Spike and if he shows up when he hears that word he gets bits of food. And he learned that SPIKE! isn't a shortened way of saying "QUIT BARKING!"

Spike and Dru moved mountains with me today. I have to remember that my own small changes consist of getting over some pretty big hills, too. Even the ones I've climbed before and have to (sigh) climb again. And while I won't give myself kibble for it, I ought to give myself a YES!

And I am really grateful for Spike and Dru tonight. They prove that we can learn all new behavior. Even me.

Written While Wearing New Clothes

If you haven't already learned of it: Fashion Bug is going out of business. I am bummed because it is my favorite clothing store. They sell clothes that fit my personality (as well as my shape) in a flattering way and for an affordable price. I know they are paired with Catherine's and Lane Bryant online; however, they will soon be gone completely and my life won't be the same without them.

After  I saw signs on the window saying Everything Must Go, I did what any savvy Virgo would. I went shopping! And I bought clothes for my present size and for smaller sizes, too, since I'm going down in number. I brought the store gift cards I get from family members for Christmas and loaded up.

Trying stuff on is always tedious feeling to me. I completely hate doing so in the store, but taking something home that looks bogus on me is something I hate even more, so I try on clothes even if it takes me two hours of playing fashion show in the dressing rooms.

WELL!

I'm down a bra size. And a shirt size. And a pants size.

I haven't even done a lot of hard work since my mother's death in June - really, I haven't had the want to fight the inertia that comes from feeling so lost. I admit I don't have the same appetite I once did, so maybe that makes the difference. I haven't been skipping meals for sure. I do have better stamina for daily activities and extra things that involve a lot of walking and carrying or taking lots of stairs and things like that...I can't honestly account for why the new sizes, but I will take them. Just don't give me any credit please - I didn't do a thing to make it so.

I've only been reducing carbs at breakfast and only for about a week now. It isn't that either. So, I'll give this one to God and the mysteries of the world and just be glad in it. Sincerely glad. A lift like this can help me keep going.

Sha-doobie...Scattered, Scattered...

Shmatta, shmatta, shmatta....I've had so much in my head and on my heart and in my schedule and wedged into my responsibilities and I kind of lost my way. The phrase "You do a lot!" comes at me on close-to-daily basis. I DO do a lot. And I have way more in my mind to DO. It's because I am no mere THINKer, see. I am here to get things DONE. And that's pretty great and works incredibly well when I know what I'm DOing.

But, I don't. Or I didn't, since my mother died. I've kept pushing with ambition and, well, projects have especially taken a big back seat for one reason or another. I've come to accept that when world doesn't work with you, it may be time to pause and reflect and maybe find a new direction or let it go and find a new adventure.

You know things have been the SUCK since my mom passed away. I function one moment to the next. Sometimes I don't function. Sometimes I just sit and stare around at the room I'm in and can't think up a single thought, let alone DO something.

I have piles of belongings of my mothers kind of everywhere in my house. I have some things in my car, too. All of that is waiting for me to sort through it. Yeah, it's on the list.

And I have a child, a teenager, who gets a lot of my attention and time because I want to have and do as much with her as I can before she's off to college and only comes home if her clothes stink.

My mom's estate stuff is in limbo, so me, too.

Weight loss attempts have been immediately successful followed by immediately not. And I can't seem to drum the motivation to go all in again. Just can't. My evilbrain goes like this: "Uhuh, I see you waiting, treadmill. Fuck you, treadmill. Fuck you, fast food. Fuck you, walking suggestions and recipes from innocent helpers. I don't need YOU."

So, What do I need? Hugs. I need a lot of those. And...to find some kind of peace with my mom and her death. And I need to get better organized so that I can DO all the things I hope to. And I need to stop wanting to do more until I get what I have already started or gotten into sorted out.

I've started with books. I have, literally, over 40 books I am CURRENTLY reading. Over 40 books, all of which interest me, all of which I read, scattered kind of everywhere from the kitchen to the bathroom. There are books in my car, too. I follow all the stories and know where I am in them, but I think this books all over the place reality is a good example of how I am doing everything. Bit by bit, as I have time, as the need strikes, when the mood hits and all that.

So, I'm starting with books. I've made an excel spreadsheet of all the books I am reading and stuck them in categories like ministry, radio, pleasure, helpful books like how to be organized (HAHAHAHAH!!!!) so I can SEE what I have ongoing. And I've decided to read ONE book at a time (no matter how long it may take me to finish it).

I'm starting with breakfast. I'm not going to worry about drive through lunches or being in a hurry or too tired to cook or anything beyond breakfast. Every day I am making healthy breakfast. No drive through, no skipping, no quick carbs loading.

 I'm starting with a quit job. No taking on more stuff, either. I need room to do this sorting, organizing, counseling with Cara (behavioral) and Ivana (nutritionist), and time well spent with my kid. I can do more later, and be good at it and not overwhelmed and the world will work WITH me. Watch.

That's all I want to DO right now.

Craving Perspective

I recently discovered this story told of Socrates:

Legend has it that one day Socrates and his student were walking down the beach deep in conversation and Plato had expressed to Socrates his desire to gain the wisdom and knowledge that Socrates had. Socrates didn’t answer him, but instead said, “Walk with me into the ocean.” So, they turned and walked into the sea together. When the water was about shoulder height, Socrates asked, “What is it exactly you want from me?”… “Knowledge,” his student answered, at which point Socrates abruptly grabbed his student's head and pushed him down under the water. After a brief moment Socrates let his victim up and asked him again, “What is it you want?" “Knowledge,” was the answer again.. at which point Socrates shoved him back down under the water. After a length, the student began to struggle to get his head above water, but Socrates was a strong man and held him down until at last he allowed his captive a breath. “What is you want?” “Air… I need air!” “When you desire knowledge as much as you desired a breath of air, then you shall have it.”

When I desire weight loss as much as the student desired breath, no doubt it will be done.

Stand Up Eight

Good news: I was able to go in for an evilbrain evaluation on Thursday last week.  Based on my conversation, Cara used Transactional Analysis to help me identify the reasons I get so stuck in what I now recognize is a "high-strung parent" role more often than I'd like.

I was shown a few examples of why this may have become my mode of operation and I could think of plenty more once I considered my later childhood and adolescence - those times in my life when I was unable to feel accepted by my step-family members and sometimes classmates in school.

I've always been a liked person, but a fat girl. Fat was a dominant trait of my step-family members (and eventually, more permanently a trait of my mom's and mine, too) and I discovered years ago that my weight gain and fat maintenance was, and probably still is in some twisted way, related to a need for acceptance by these people whose attention and care I really wanted.  I wonder if my mom felt that way, too.

SOME classmates were not accepting of the fat at all; however, many did eventually overlook or get around my big, open flaw because they found me likeable and fun and even very active despite the size of my thighs. This hasn't changed much! Adults are very much the same way, I find. Fortunately, many people accept me as-is. If they didn't, I wouldn't have friends.

But as many friends as there can be, there is an overarching need for acceptance inside my body that strives to get fed again and again. It is not easy to work so hard. It would be nicer to not give a fuck what anybody thinks of me or whether they will accept me, and I do eventually develop the attitude...but this leaves me in the "high strung parent" mode, always working, usually more serious than playful, attempting to be righteous most of the time, pushing at other people to be better, pushing at myself to be better. There's not a lot of relaxation. There's not much of a 'high" either. Mostly, I feel stress. 

There is some reward for being like this and that is the feel of accomplishment. Accomplishment is for me, probably like it is for you, validation of a job well done. I LOVE the feeling of accomplishment because, and you'll get a kick out of this, I don't need anyone's acceptance when I've achieved. I accept myself. And I am glad to do good work and I am glad to be who I am.  Accomplishment carries me from one quest to the next and feeds me the sensation I can't get from anybody else.

So, can you imagine how stuck it feels to be SO actively high strung, striving for my own personal accomplishment at the ONE thing I can't seem to BEGIN to change, let alone conquer.  I can be good at plenty of other things. I want to be good at this.

And I can be.

You believe it. I believe it. Cara, Ivana, Barb, Debbie, my friends and family believe it.

I'm going to continue to work with Cara to try to get out of the "high strung parent" role and enjoy being an adult a little more, enjoy goofing off a little more, too.

And in the meantime, I'll use the behavior I have as a strength instead of a measuring stick.  No more "Why can't I just?" questions. No more defeatism because I've screwed up or gotten sidetracked or lost desire for doing the work.  I have to treat weight loss and health like I treat every other project I see through to accomplishment.

I quit my daily nine-to-something job so I can focus on actually doing just that.

An Important Reminder

I can't stop thinking of my mom and how much I miss her and how much missing her and wanting her affects my motivation. I roller coaster so much now. 

Since I can't seem to get my mind quiet and I can't stop thinking over every minute spent in the last two weeks of her life, I decided to look at all my Facebook posts from that period just to remember where my mind was, what was happening, because memories get distorted as time moves on.

I came across this poem. I wrote it for my mom (after years of begging me to write one for her) and was fortunate to recite it for her (though she was sedated and on a lot of equipment) two days before she died.

I cried so hard while I was writing it. I've never seen or felt so many tears or so much snot in my LIFE. I sobbed. I sobbed for everything I didn't do when I could have. I sobbed for everything I wished we could still do. I sobbed because I missed her already. I sobbed because it broke my heart to see my mom so sickly - knowing how much she wanted to live and live and live.  I sobbed because I held so much pain and yet, despite everything that happened all around me, soldiered like a daughter is supposed to. I sobbed because I didn't know what to do with myself, how to imagine life without her. I sobbed because I didn't know what to do. I was helpless. I was so so helpless.

my awesome mom

When I got to the hospital to read it, I did my best not to cry.. and I read it twice so she could know how much I meant every single word.

if you can't watch the sun rise,
i'll watch it for you.
if you can't get on your feet,
i'll stand up tall.
if you want to feel the ocean,

i'll run through it.
you gave me life, the greatest gift of all.
if you can't say you love me,
i'll just know it.
if you can't take a breath,
i'll drink mine in.
if you can't fight the fight,
i'll find the will, mom.
i'll savor life, the greatest gift of all.

And here I've been for the past month or so bouncing between emotional waves every single day...barely keeping my head above the dicey water. I decided to post the poem here so I can look at it for the promise it was and use it to curtail the want to stop the needs I feel with food. 

 

I wanted her to know I'd be okay. I wanted her to know I'd be successful. So, a reminder for me. 

I have another good reminder I can share with you - but not at this time and not next time! Instead I'll probably join you to debrief after my session with Cara (later this afternoon) some time over this weekend.

I'm a Mad Woman!

Evilbrain surgery was postponed because my daughter finally, albeit inconveniently, decided to follow my advice to see her doctor because she was feeling persistent nausea. Not wishing to miss the opportunity to get her in, I pushed my counseling visit with Cara to this week. Tomorrow, actually.

Thankfully, my girl is feeling better. She is a self-propelled vegetarian (read: PASTA-tarian) and her blood work requires iron supplements and B-12 vitamins. Because she's closer to adulthood, she is a lot more pushy and/or resistant to my concerns but she finally felt bad enough to see her doc. All good, too! She was ordered to ramp up her protein intake and to consult with a nutritionist regularly.

I am so pleased to report that she chose to see my nutritionist (Ivana of Yourishment) rather than anyone her doc would supply. That says a LOT about Ivana. Good work, Ivana! So far, increased protein is helping a whole bunch, by the way. Okay, so this visit with Cara tomorrow may be tough, but I need it.

This week has been so tricky because I...well, I realized I am depressed. I can't say I am clinically so, but I would believe it if someone diagnosed me. I'm just so up and down emotionally. I was high functioning one day yet couldn't even figure out what to do with myself the next.

I have not been able to think of my mom without crying - not even when sharing good memories - and no matter how many times I say she died, has died, is dead, has passed away, is gone...it does not get any easier. I sort of thought repetition would help me - that just being blunt, the way that I am, would help me with this overwhelming reality. It doesn't.

Every time I think of my mother being dead (or alive, which leads to thinking of her being dead) I feel a rock in my stomach. I feel unquenchable ache in my throat and chest. I feel nervous. I feel need. To curb my pain, I eat food. Worse, I eat easy-to-digest, easy-to-get or easy-to-make, quick-to-satisfy food. You know the type: Carbs. Uh-huh, and my next favorite food: melted cheese.

So, while my mind is so jazzed up and ready to not stay on the path which will lead me to a similar fate as my mother...my heart is so deeply struggling with despair and want. And my behavior is to soothe the hurt. I am rational enough to know these small fixes are not actually helping me - that they are just appeasing me moment to moment. Picture me drowning and reaching for reeds that pull out of the riverbank instead of sturdy branches that reach out to me.

With Cara's help, I am hoping to see a way around or out of this stupidity - this knowing what I'm doing to myself yet doing it anyway, this foolishness crap that hurts me just as significantly as the death of my mother does. I want to know how to overcome madness, because that's what this addiction is. It's madness.