Yesterday at MOMSnext (think MOPS but for moms with school aged kids) the speaker posed a couple of questions. These questions have been gnawing at me anyway but hearing them verbalized quickened the nudging in my own soul. She asked, What is it that God is calling you to dive into? You know what it is because it has already been nagging at your brain. What is the voice in your head saying that is preventing you from stepping out into that calling?
I had planned on either not answering or keeping it shallow. Several ladies that I work with are in my MOMSnext group and I didn't really want to bare my soul in front of coworkers. But if you know me at all, you know that if you directly ask me a question, I will give you a direct answer. I don't lie well and I really don't see the point of lying anyway. I tend to be far more of an open book than is probably beneficial. So I answered the questions when my coworker looked me in the eye and said, "So what about you Dawn? What is God doing in your life, how is He moving and how is He asking you to plunge all in?" And here is the truth about what is going on in my heart.
What is God asking me to plunge in to? I'm supposed to write. And over the last year I have been feeling a nagging at my soul that the writing is supposed to turn into speaking at some point. When I came to my current job, I felt very strongly that the Lord was telling me that it is a place where He will grow me and stretch me, that it is to be a training ground for wherever He takes me next. I don't want to stretch and grow. Growing hurts. God and I have been battling that out for a while now.
What is the voice in my head that is keeping me from doing what God is calling me to? No one wants to hear my story, no one wants to listen to what I have to say. That is the voice in my head.
And then there is the fear of the ripple effect of how this will impact the lives of my family outside of Hubby and the kids. My in-laws are the most private people on the planet and I'm pretty sure that as much as they love me, they think I share WAAAAAAAAY too much. My parents, well that is its own complicated drama. I also want to find the boundary of while telling my story, protecting other people's stories. Other stories play into my story and I want to find a way to be true to myself without crossing over into a realm of gossip and divulging things that are not my place to divulge.
I'd rather follow God's leading in a small and safe area than step out in faith. I'd rather write on a blog that I don't advertise that each post gets between 5-15 views. I'd rather not speak at all. What if God leads me big and I totally blow it? What if I cause more than a ripple effect in my family and instead of ripple circles, huge tsunami wave wash over us and leave a wake of devastation?
I'm terrified to take that step. I love to write, it ignites my soul, and I have no earthly clue what I would do if more than a couple of dozen people were to see something that I wrote. I have no college degree. I'm sure my writing would drive more than a couple of grammar snobs or editors completely bonkers. It isn't perfect, neither am I. What if being imperfect is not really what people want to see?
Showing posts with label job. Show all posts
Showing posts with label job. Show all posts
Friday, January 25, 2013
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
to share or not to share, that is the question
Today someone I work with said this,
"I understand you have a blog also, I'd love to read it."
And now I wonder, do I share or do I keep my little area of the world private? I don't talk about my blog or even that I do blog. Do I let her join me on my journey, on this journey that is often ugly? Or do I let her see the cleaned up version?
Why did I just think of starting yet another blog simply with the for everyone's eyes posts? I could give her my other link but then if she looks at my profile she will see that I am here also.
Oh anxiety, how I loathe thee. Anxiety of how much of my heart is ok to share. Anxiety that I want to share my thoughts just not sure if I want to share my journey. How far do I let people in?
"I understand you have a blog also, I'd love to read it."
And now I wonder, do I share or do I keep my little area of the world private? I don't talk about my blog or even that I do blog. Do I let her join me on my journey, on this journey that is often ugly? Or do I let her see the cleaned up version?
Why did I just think of starting yet another blog simply with the for everyone's eyes posts? I could give her my other link but then if she looks at my profile she will see that I am here also.
Oh anxiety, how I loathe thee. Anxiety of how much of my heart is ok to share. Anxiety that I want to share my thoughts just not sure if I want to share my journey. How far do I let people in?
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
yeah, I'm crazy
Would you think I was crazy if I told you there is a area at my work that scares me? No, not the lunchroom, though that scares me for totally unrelated reasons that I have already covered here! There is a place that I walk by and it brings back memories of attack.
When I walk by it the anxiety feels visible. If I'm playing it as well as I hope I am, no one can see the anxiety that I feel drips off of me like wax off a candle. But I feel it. I feel trapped when I'm near that area. I feel scared when I'm near that area. I feel not in control when I'm near that area. I want to run, hard and fast.
Remember when I said something was on the edge of my consciousness that would have to be dealt with? It started with a friend tagging her friend in a Facebook post. There was his name right in front of my face. The name I haven't heard in many years. It wasn't him, someone by the same name with a slightly different spelling. But it was enough.
A few days later I walked past this area at work and my palms got sweaty, my heart started racing and the tears threatened behind my eyes. Suddenly I was there again, being held down, clothes being ripped, my body being groped. My mind tried to tell my body that I wasn't really back there but it was too late, my body was already reacting.
Logic wasn't enough to convince my heart rate to come back to normal. Knowing he wasn't there, that I wasn't in danger, that I wasn't about to be hurt wasn't enough. And in my head right now I hear the article I read recently written by a counselor about PTSD, about how the body reacts no matter what the logic says.
I just walked by the "scary spot" when I was getting my lunch. I wanted to sprint again. I wanted to hide. I wanted to get away. So I sit here eating my lunch and blogging so that my heart rate will return to normal, my voice won't shake and my palms won't sweat so that I can get back to doing my job in a few minutes.
Silly really, that I react to something so simple. How I wish I were normal enough to not freak out at work over things that in reality don't still have the power to hurt me.
When I walk by it the anxiety feels visible. If I'm playing it as well as I hope I am, no one can see the anxiety that I feel drips off of me like wax off a candle. But I feel it. I feel trapped when I'm near that area. I feel scared when I'm near that area. I feel not in control when I'm near that area. I want to run, hard and fast.
Remember when I said something was on the edge of my consciousness that would have to be dealt with? It started with a friend tagging her friend in a Facebook post. There was his name right in front of my face. The name I haven't heard in many years. It wasn't him, someone by the same name with a slightly different spelling. But it was enough.
A few days later I walked past this area at work and my palms got sweaty, my heart started racing and the tears threatened behind my eyes. Suddenly I was there again, being held down, clothes being ripped, my body being groped. My mind tried to tell my body that I wasn't really back there but it was too late, my body was already reacting.
Logic wasn't enough to convince my heart rate to come back to normal. Knowing he wasn't there, that I wasn't in danger, that I wasn't about to be hurt wasn't enough. And in my head right now I hear the article I read recently written by a counselor about PTSD, about how the body reacts no matter what the logic says.
I just walked by the "scary spot" when I was getting my lunch. I wanted to sprint again. I wanted to hide. I wanted to get away. So I sit here eating my lunch and blogging so that my heart rate will return to normal, my voice won't shake and my palms won't sweat so that I can get back to doing my job in a few minutes.
Silly really, that I react to something so simple. How I wish I were normal enough to not freak out at work over things that in reality don't still have the power to hurt me.
Monday, October 15, 2012
7 almonds a.k.a. screw the new health class
I swear that if I hear one more person tell me that you can only eat 7 almonds for your liver to function properly, that I will scream! If I hear one more conversation in the lunch room about sugar grams, fat grams, appropriate forms of protien, I may pull out all of my hair! But hey, at least I could make bald a new fashion statement, right?
I think that for the next 6 weeks of this stupid health class I will be enjoying lunch anywhere but the lunchroom! Sitting at my desk with my oatmeal and facebook suddenly seems like the best option EVER. I want to scream at the top of my lungs. I want to tell people that sometimes there is such a thing as "too healthy". I want them to know that sometimes people like me take knowledge of health and distort it and use it as a weapon against my body instead of a tool to help my body.
I still read labels. I still refuse certain ingrediants. And I also am trying really hard to balance that with moderation. You know, the kind of moderation that says it is ok if someone brings in cookies to work to have one in spite of the fact that there is no label for me to read. The kind of moderation that that knows that homemade veggie lasagna is still a healthy option, even though it has noodles in it. The kind of moderation that has lacked in my life for a while now.
For the record, work is very orange enabling right now. I could count my almonds like they recommend, or I could trust that my nutritionist knows what she is talking about when she tells me that 1/4 cup is a serving and to not measure or count but instead trust my intuition. My health depends on trusting my nutritionist right now and not letting other voices interfere with the plan that she has laid out for me. That is so much easier to say than to do.
I think that for the next 6 weeks of this stupid health class I will be enjoying lunch anywhere but the lunchroom! Sitting at my desk with my oatmeal and facebook suddenly seems like the best option EVER. I want to scream at the top of my lungs. I want to tell people that sometimes there is such a thing as "too healthy". I want them to know that sometimes people like me take knowledge of health and distort it and use it as a weapon against my body instead of a tool to help my body.
I still read labels. I still refuse certain ingrediants. And I also am trying really hard to balance that with moderation. You know, the kind of moderation that says it is ok if someone brings in cookies to work to have one in spite of the fact that there is no label for me to read. The kind of moderation that that knows that homemade veggie lasagna is still a healthy option, even though it has noodles in it. The kind of moderation that has lacked in my life for a while now.
For the record, work is very orange enabling right now. I could count my almonds like they recommend, or I could trust that my nutritionist knows what she is talking about when she tells me that 1/4 cup is a serving and to not measure or count but instead trust my intuition. My health depends on trusting my nutritionist right now and not letting other voices interfere with the plan that she has laid out for me. That is so much easier to say than to do.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
HR confessions and more
I've had so many thoughts attacking my brain that I haven't even known where to start or the words to say to debrief. Sunday was a beautiful day of worship at church. For a while I was able to bask in the presence of the Almighty. I was able to worship without reservation. For a few moments and for a few hours later, I felt at peace. I felt that my life really mattered. I knew that my sole purpose in life is to bring glory and honor to the Lord, to reflect Him and the work He is doing in my life. For a few moments, the size of my body didn't matter and didn't even cross my mind.
Today was a rough day. Nothing specific, just felt like going through the motions was like waking through mud today. I am so grateful for those moments in time, like Sunday, when I feel the Lord's presence so profoundly. Those moments carry me through the rest of the days when I struggle desperately. Today I didn't feel God, not even once but times like Sunday remind me that He is there even though I don't feel His presence.
Is it completely wrong for the girl who loves God, who believes He is good even when life isn't, who works for a Christian ministry, to say things like I didn't feel God today? Does that mean, as was so often told to me growing up, that I don't really trust Him because I don't always feel Him? Does it make my faith less if I share my doubts and fears? I don't know the answer. I do know though that on days like today, I have to hold on to what I know to be true not what I feel to be true.
Today brought the opportunity to talk to the HR person at my work. I really like her and I trust her. I went into her office and told her about my concerns with the health class that our work is sponsoring being either triggering or enabling to me. She is the only person at my work who I have told that I struggle to eat, that I have major depressive disorder, and that some days going though the motions is overwhelming.
I told her I don't want to make this public knowledge at the moment. I don't want my plate analyzed by every person in the office. I don't want the calorie police hovering over me and worrying even when I'm doing ok. (I told Hubby that calories are the little bastards that hide in your closet and sew your clothes smaller while you sleep. He laughed. And that is completely off subject and random. :) )
On a food note, I'm both struggling and doing well. I'm maintaining but at the moment the thoughts are pretty aggressive. Like for instance, I had my physical recently. My weight was satisfactory. My ideal however, I realized in reading through my journal, is 5 lbs lighter than what my ideal was this time last year. I feel the viciousness of the cycle that insists that no matter how much you lose, it isn't good enough for Orange.
My doctor allowed me to opt out of the metabolism screening which is good, that is always very triggering to me. So I didn't have the extent of numbers to contend with that I usually have but I still had the scale numbers to contend with. I still had questions from the new nurse wondering if I'm eating enough calories. I told her yes. And then I told her that I'm not counting them so I suppose I'm getting enough. When I'm counting them I know I'm not getting enough.
For the TMI part but it does show how distorted Orange can be.... Before my physical I had a severe kidney infection. The medicine I had to take for it backed up my bowels a LOT. The doctor recommended some different products to help cleanse my colon without being laxatives. It took several days to get back to being able to go. Then for a day it turned into diarrhea and I stopped taking the supplements. Today I contemplated starting them again. The conversation in my head went something like this:
Keep taking it. A little diarrhea shouldn't be enough to stop you. You can still be in control but really, isn't the diarrhea worth it for what it will do to flatten out your stomach?
And just that quickly the battle is raging again. In my actions I am still pursuing recovery. I am still striving to beat the voice in my head. Sadly though, that voice isn't little and it torments me day and night right now. I covet your prayers right now as the voices are really loud. Please pray for strength for the battle and peace for my heart.
There is still so much more but I've already made this really long and also it is getting very late and I need to attempt to sleep. I need rest so I can be productive at work tomorrow.
Today was a rough day. Nothing specific, just felt like going through the motions was like waking through mud today. I am so grateful for those moments in time, like Sunday, when I feel the Lord's presence so profoundly. Those moments carry me through the rest of the days when I struggle desperately. Today I didn't feel God, not even once but times like Sunday remind me that He is there even though I don't feel His presence.
Is it completely wrong for the girl who loves God, who believes He is good even when life isn't, who works for a Christian ministry, to say things like I didn't feel God today? Does that mean, as was so often told to me growing up, that I don't really trust Him because I don't always feel Him? Does it make my faith less if I share my doubts and fears? I don't know the answer. I do know though that on days like today, I have to hold on to what I know to be true not what I feel to be true.
Today brought the opportunity to talk to the HR person at my work. I really like her and I trust her. I went into her office and told her about my concerns with the health class that our work is sponsoring being either triggering or enabling to me. She is the only person at my work who I have told that I struggle to eat, that I have major depressive disorder, and that some days going though the motions is overwhelming.
I told her I don't want to make this public knowledge at the moment. I don't want my plate analyzed by every person in the office. I don't want the calorie police hovering over me and worrying even when I'm doing ok. (I told Hubby that calories are the little bastards that hide in your closet and sew your clothes smaller while you sleep. He laughed. And that is completely off subject and random. :) )
On a food note, I'm both struggling and doing well. I'm maintaining but at the moment the thoughts are pretty aggressive. Like for instance, I had my physical recently. My weight was satisfactory. My ideal however, I realized in reading through my journal, is 5 lbs lighter than what my ideal was this time last year. I feel the viciousness of the cycle that insists that no matter how much you lose, it isn't good enough for Orange.
My doctor allowed me to opt out of the metabolism screening which is good, that is always very triggering to me. So I didn't have the extent of numbers to contend with that I usually have but I still had the scale numbers to contend with. I still had questions from the new nurse wondering if I'm eating enough calories. I told her yes. And then I told her that I'm not counting them so I suppose I'm getting enough. When I'm counting them I know I'm not getting enough.
For the TMI part but it does show how distorted Orange can be.... Before my physical I had a severe kidney infection. The medicine I had to take for it backed up my bowels a LOT. The doctor recommended some different products to help cleanse my colon without being laxatives. It took several days to get back to being able to go. Then for a day it turned into diarrhea and I stopped taking the supplements. Today I contemplated starting them again. The conversation in my head went something like this:
You should finish the full 14 days
No, I don't want to deal with cramping stomach and emergency trips to the bathroom
Yes, but think of the weight you are losing in cleansing
But the goal of cleansing is to be healthy and get my system jump started a little to get back in the swing of things, it isn't supposed to be about the weightKeep taking it. A little diarrhea shouldn't be enough to stop you. You can still be in control but really, isn't the diarrhea worth it for what it will do to flatten out your stomach?
And just that quickly the battle is raging again. In my actions I am still pursuing recovery. I am still striving to beat the voice in my head. Sadly though, that voice isn't little and it torments me day and night right now. I covet your prayers right now as the voices are really loud. Please pray for strength for the battle and peace for my heart.
There is still so much more but I've already made this really long and also it is getting very late and I need to attempt to sleep. I need rest so I can be productive at work tomorrow.
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
she's only 8
We had an interesting conversation today in the lunchroom and I want to throw it out there to you guys to get some thoughts. My friend and co-worker has an eight year old daughter who has been using the f word. FAT. "I'm fat" with her hands on her stomach.
They have tried to affirm her with some healthy thoughts but she still doesn't see her beauty, she sees her weight. Of course these conversations terrify me because I was the eight year old who thought I was fat too. All of these years later my inner eight year old still points at my thighs and moans, "So fat." I never want another girl to hear those words.
I want her view herself with truth. I want her to see the beauty she possesses. She is a darling girl with a fabulous smile. She is perfect. But she can't see that. She is seeing through distorted eyes. And I have to wonder, do all girls see through distorted eyes? Maybe, but not all girls go as far as eating disorders to fix the perception of distorted vision.
How can my friend help her daughter? Can she avoid the road I've walked or is it as some have said genetic and cannot be stopped? What do you say to an eight year old who thinks she is fat? I seriously want to cry and I want to hold her and I want to protect her from this.
Or do all girls say they are fat at eight and I'm just hyper sensitive to their negative body image? Aren't eight year olds supposed to be more concerned with puppies and dolls than weight? Or is that just the ideal image in my head that doesn't really exist?
They have tried to affirm her with some healthy thoughts but she still doesn't see her beauty, she sees her weight. Of course these conversations terrify me because I was the eight year old who thought I was fat too. All of these years later my inner eight year old still points at my thighs and moans, "So fat." I never want another girl to hear those words.
I want her view herself with truth. I want her to see the beauty she possesses. She is a darling girl with a fabulous smile. She is perfect. But she can't see that. She is seeing through distorted eyes. And I have to wonder, do all girls see through distorted eyes? Maybe, but not all girls go as far as eating disorders to fix the perception of distorted vision.
How can my friend help her daughter? Can she avoid the road I've walked or is it as some have said genetic and cannot be stopped? What do you say to an eight year old who thinks she is fat? I seriously want to cry and I want to hold her and I want to protect her from this.
Or do all girls say they are fat at eight and I'm just hyper sensitive to their negative body image? Aren't eight year olds supposed to be more concerned with puppies and dolls than weight? Or is that just the ideal image in my head that doesn't really exist?
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
on the road again
I'm enjoying a glass of red wine and chilling out in front of the computer. I'd like to be listening to only the sounds of my typing and the fan gently blowing but instead I'm listening to the sound of my kids kicking their walls and playing instead of sleeping. Usually that pisses me off, tonight it just annoys me. I know that someday I'm going to miss the days when they were supposed to be sleeping in the next room over.
I gave a teaser in my last post so I thought I'd fill you all in. Hubby is on the job hunt. It is a little scary and exciting all at the same time. The short version of the story is that the company he has worked for for nearly nine years is going in a different direction. It has become clear to us that it is time to move on. He is leaving on mutually good terms, he's not angry with the company and three of the managers are writing him letters of reference.
With the new direction the company is taking, Hubby can either change to change with the company and be miserable at his job or he can move on. He and I and his managers agree that it is time to move on. He gave his notice yesterday. His last day will be September 12. He's not being fired but he is being forced out.
I almost feel like I should be mad but I'm not. I'm ready. For eight years he loved his job. For this past year he has not enjoyed it at all and it has taken a toll on him physically and emotionally. And when he has a toll taken, it naturally takes a toll on me as well.
I'm excited to see him move on. I'm terrified to see him move on. I'm excited for a new season. I'm scared that it may be a difficult transition. I'm at peace because I know it is the right move for him and for us as a family. I'm at peace because I believe God has His hand over us and that this is part of His plan. I'm scared because I don't know what is next.
My fight is going well. I still have the thoughts, the voices that beg me to go back. Right now though I want this healthy(er) life more than I want that sick and disordered life. Right now I can fight. Right now I can lean into the arms of my Savior and trust He has me in His hands. Right now though it is still a fight, it is a smaller battle. For that I am so grateful. I'm so glad that me eating isn't a worry on Hubby's plate while he looks for work. I'm praying for continued strength for my journey.
I gave a teaser in my last post so I thought I'd fill you all in. Hubby is on the job hunt. It is a little scary and exciting all at the same time. The short version of the story is that the company he has worked for for nearly nine years is going in a different direction. It has become clear to us that it is time to move on. He is leaving on mutually good terms, he's not angry with the company and three of the managers are writing him letters of reference.
With the new direction the company is taking, Hubby can either change to change with the company and be miserable at his job or he can move on. He and I and his managers agree that it is time to move on. He gave his notice yesterday. His last day will be September 12. He's not being fired but he is being forced out.
I almost feel like I should be mad but I'm not. I'm ready. For eight years he loved his job. For this past year he has not enjoyed it at all and it has taken a toll on him physically and emotionally. And when he has a toll taken, it naturally takes a toll on me as well.
I'm excited to see him move on. I'm terrified to see him move on. I'm excited for a new season. I'm scared that it may be a difficult transition. I'm at peace because I know it is the right move for him and for us as a family. I'm at peace because I believe God has His hand over us and that this is part of His plan. I'm scared because I don't know what is next.
My fight is going well. I still have the thoughts, the voices that beg me to go back. Right now though I want this healthy(er) life more than I want that sick and disordered life. Right now I can fight. Right now I can lean into the arms of my Savior and trust He has me in His hands. Right now though it is still a fight, it is a smaller battle. For that I am so grateful. I'm so glad that me eating isn't a worry on Hubby's plate while he looks for work. I'm praying for continued strength for my journey.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
How does she do that??????
I planned on skipping lunch today. Yes, I am flat out admitting that I had every intention of having a low intake day. I have been once again fighting the voice in my head (or maybe indulging the voice in my head) that swears that I can both live and restrict. That voice is trying so hard to tell me that I can still be me, that I can still be a great mom, wife, friend and employee without the assistance of food.
Let's be honest for a moment, I know the voice is lying and yet I still feel the need to listen when it speaks. I still feel like I could be the different one, that my disease wouldn't steal from me. I still feel like if I could be down x pounds before my doctor's appointment that I would be "happy" with myself.
And then my work friend happens along on the days that I have no intention of eating and she just seems to KNOW. Once it was a friendly, "Hey, have you taken your lunch yet?" Last time it was the one I blogged about with a touch on my knee and a "You ok?" Today it was the offer of splitting the cost of Chipotle. How did she know? How did she know that today was the day that I needed to eat, that today was the day I had not one intention of indulging in lunch, that Chipotle was probably the only thing that could have tempted me?
I don't know, but I'm grateful that she brought me out of my head. I'm grateful that she gave me perspective enough to see the faultiness of the voice in my head. And I'm grateful that she went and got the food. God must have known that I needed someone here who could pull me out of my head once in a while. There is no other reason that I can think of that the only times she has mentioned food to me have been the days that I have really been struggling!
Let's be honest for a moment, I know the voice is lying and yet I still feel the need to listen when it speaks. I still feel like I could be the different one, that my disease wouldn't steal from me. I still feel like if I could be down x pounds before my doctor's appointment that I would be "happy" with myself.
And then my work friend happens along on the days that I have no intention of eating and she just seems to KNOW. Once it was a friendly, "Hey, have you taken your lunch yet?" Last time it was the one I blogged about with a touch on my knee and a "You ok?" Today it was the offer of splitting the cost of Chipotle. How did she know? How did she know that today was the day that I needed to eat, that today was the day I had not one intention of indulging in lunch, that Chipotle was probably the only thing that could have tempted me?
I don't know, but I'm grateful that she brought me out of my head. I'm grateful that she gave me perspective enough to see the faultiness of the voice in my head. And I'm grateful that she went and got the food. God must have known that I needed someone here who could pull me out of my head once in a while. There is no other reason that I can think of that the only times she has mentioned food to me have been the days that I have really been struggling!
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
are they really watching my plate or is it all in my head?
Yesterday was a working lunch. In other words, my work provides lunch and we eat while we continue our meeting. I hate working lunches. I despise them. Yesterday had me desiring to run away, to cry, to swear. Thankfully I was at a table of people I'm fairly comfortable with which eased my tension a little. I always feel like people are watching me eat and it makes me really uncomfortable. Which really, especially here where no one knows about my past, probably isn't happening.
At least this meal was Panera so it was sandwiches and salad rather than pizza or bbq. Having healthy options should have made it easier but for some reason yesterday's lunch was still harder than usual. My friend now works with me. She sits in the cubicle next to me. I really like having her there. I was scared at first to have her there because having her there crosses the line of keeping work and personal separate.
It means that someone in my office knows that some days I don't eat. It means that someone in my office not only knows about it but was the one to get the text saying that I was in the hospital under 72 hour watch nearly two years ago. It means that someone at work knows about things I don't want to share at work about my past.
It also means yesterday when I was staring at my food contemplating for a few moments running away, that I got a quick touch on the knee and a concerned, "You ok?" Wow. That was a life giving moment. I still excused myself to my cubicle to cry for a minute or two but I came back to my meeting and was able to eat the lunch. That simple gesture helped me bring my head back in the game.
Maybe I still feel like everyone noticed my plate because I noticed someone else's. I noticed the woman who ate only half of her sandwich (which they were half sandwiches to begin with) and gave her salad away and never ate dessert. Maybe I feel it because I couldn't stop my leg from shaking violently once the food time arrived. That was probably more of a tell than my plate.
I feel vulnerable. Not necessarily in a bad way but still vulnerable. I feel like there will come a point that my story is going to be asked about and as I've said before, if you ask, I don't lie. I am a little afraid of that but I'm learning that I trust majority of the people in my office. I want to be known and at the same time I want to be invisible. It is a scary spot.
I also yesterday realized that I think God brought me here to prepare me for what is next in my life. I hope to work with this organization for a very long time. I love it, I'm passionate about it, I feel called to be where I am. I also feel like the stretching and growing that will happen here is to prepare me for the next step. I don't know if that step will be within this organization or outside of it but I feel fairly convinced that this is training ground. That is exciting and terrifying all in one breath.
And today I can eat lunch alone if I wish, with no one watching me. Even if I do eat with others, knowing I don't have to eases the anxiety a hundred times over.
At least this meal was Panera so it was sandwiches and salad rather than pizza or bbq. Having healthy options should have made it easier but for some reason yesterday's lunch was still harder than usual. My friend now works with me. She sits in the cubicle next to me. I really like having her there. I was scared at first to have her there because having her there crosses the line of keeping work and personal separate.
It means that someone in my office knows that some days I don't eat. It means that someone in my office not only knows about it but was the one to get the text saying that I was in the hospital under 72 hour watch nearly two years ago. It means that someone at work knows about things I don't want to share at work about my past.
It also means yesterday when I was staring at my food contemplating for a few moments running away, that I got a quick touch on the knee and a concerned, "You ok?" Wow. That was a life giving moment. I still excused myself to my cubicle to cry for a minute or two but I came back to my meeting and was able to eat the lunch. That simple gesture helped me bring my head back in the game.
Maybe I still feel like everyone noticed my plate because I noticed someone else's. I noticed the woman who ate only half of her sandwich (which they were half sandwiches to begin with) and gave her salad away and never ate dessert. Maybe I feel it because I couldn't stop my leg from shaking violently once the food time arrived. That was probably more of a tell than my plate.
I feel vulnerable. Not necessarily in a bad way but still vulnerable. I feel like there will come a point that my story is going to be asked about and as I've said before, if you ask, I don't lie. I am a little afraid of that but I'm learning that I trust majority of the people in my office. I want to be known and at the same time I want to be invisible. It is a scary spot.
I also yesterday realized that I think God brought me here to prepare me for what is next in my life. I hope to work with this organization for a very long time. I love it, I'm passionate about it, I feel called to be where I am. I also feel like the stretching and growing that will happen here is to prepare me for the next step. I don't know if that step will be within this organization or outside of it but I feel fairly convinced that this is training ground. That is exciting and terrifying all in one breath.
And today I can eat lunch alone if I wish, with no one watching me. Even if I do eat with others, knowing I don't have to eases the anxiety a hundred times over.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
breaking the silence part 1
It has been a while. I have struggled and grown, fought and been stretched. I didn't intend to do any of those things, nor did I intend to do them alone. The budget was tight this month and the tv/internet was the least important of the bills and therefore, I had no internet and ended up growing and stretching without you, my dear friends and sounding board.
I have to say this month has been one of the hardest and one of the most rewarding. I had to come to terms with the diet talk at work. Someone mentioned the person who had taught the class about "the diet" and I know her. And the "diet" isn't a diet at all, it is a healthy living lifestyle class not a "I'm fat and need to lose 20 pounds" fad diet. Here's where I had to realize my own insanity. This class is a really helpful and informative class. Much of what it entails I had already been doing in my own efforts to live healthy (before relapse) before I even took the class. The problem with it was in my own brain. I took those healthy living steps in that class and made them into hard. fast. rules. So though I was already mostly living them, suddenly they were RULES and I would rather not eat than break them. I am the one who went too far, not the program. It was my brain not the class that distorted it into what it became for me. For most people I would recommend it in a heartbeat, just not for me or anyone else prone to eating disorder struggles.
My first three weeks at work were filled with tears. I loved what I was doing, I loved the people when I saw them in their cubicles or in the hall or mail room just not when they were all gathered together. I cried more in front of people in those three weeks than I think I have in years. I just couldn't stop the tears from coming no matter how hard I tried. I was tired. I was lonely. I didn't know where I fit in this tight knit group of people who all already know each other and have a history together and know each others stories. I tried so hard to make conversation. I would add something to a conversation and get a polite head nod and then they were back in their own little lives and the conversation went on as though I had said nothing. They weren't trying to exclude me but I felt extremely excluded.
And then there was food. Ahhhh, my old bitter enemy. Rephrase, food isn't the enemy, how I feel about it is, how I interact with it is, how I use it to avoid my feelings is the real enemy. I wasn't eating breakfast and barely eating lunch. All I could think about was how I was going to cope in this very lonely place that I now work in four days a week. Restricting was just the easy go to. It felt wonderfully terrible. I cannot think of a time before that restricting made me feel so guilty while still delivering the physical euphoria that I longed for. I knew I wasn't taking care of myself but for the life of me I couldn't remember why I needed to move forward. All I could think about was that I don't think I was really that sick EVER. It couldn't have really been that bad or I would remember why I couldn't go back to it, right?
I have one vivid memory that is the only thing I can see in my mind as proof to myself that it was worse than I ever thought it was. When I was in the hospital a very overweight woman looked at me and said, "This is what self hatred looks like, eating a weeks worth of calories in a day." I pulled up my shirt and said, "It also looks like this, eating a days worth of calories in a week." Three people in the room gasped when I lifted my shirt and showed my ribs. The face of one person in particular is etched in my mind with the reaction given at seeing my ribs. It is the only thing I have to remind myself that though maybe I couldn't see how bad it had gotten, it really was that bad.
I tried to remember the feelings but I couldn't. I couldn't remember what being sick felt like and it really did start to glorify in my mind again. Since I couldn't remember the feelings, I forced myself to remember the facts. I may not remember what it felt like to wince in pain when my kids hugged me, but I know that I did. I may not remember how my body felt when it hurt to just lay down and sleep, but I know that it did. I thought about my mom-in-law smacking me with a newspaper and telling me I'd lost too much weight. I thought about the clumps of hair that were constantly falling out. I thought about the worried and sorrowful looks Hubby would give me when he thought I wasn't looking. I thought about the look on that persons face while I was in the hospital. I thought about the friend who stopped me one day to ask how she could help because she knew of my past struggle and could see the current struggle getting worse and worse.
I never did feel it, but I forced myself to remember it, even as just black and white facts. I never did FEEL why going back to sick was bad. I just had to trust that I knew it. And that right there friends, was when I realized that I can do this recovery stuff. I couldn't feel a single reason to pursue recovery or to at minimum to hold steady enough to not relapse and yet I knew those reasons.
The next post is the kindness that I needed in the moment I needed it, the panic attack at work in front of my entire team, the words of wisdom that bring me back to you only a little shaken but not completely shattered. But for tonight, I'm tired. It's good to be back. I've missed you guys!
I have to say this month has been one of the hardest and one of the most rewarding. I had to come to terms with the diet talk at work. Someone mentioned the person who had taught the class about "the diet" and I know her. And the "diet" isn't a diet at all, it is a healthy living lifestyle class not a "I'm fat and need to lose 20 pounds" fad diet. Here's where I had to realize my own insanity. This class is a really helpful and informative class. Much of what it entails I had already been doing in my own efforts to live healthy (before relapse) before I even took the class. The problem with it was in my own brain. I took those healthy living steps in that class and made them into hard. fast. rules. So though I was already mostly living them, suddenly they were RULES and I would rather not eat than break them. I am the one who went too far, not the program. It was my brain not the class that distorted it into what it became for me. For most people I would recommend it in a heartbeat, just not for me or anyone else prone to eating disorder struggles.
My first three weeks at work were filled with tears. I loved what I was doing, I loved the people when I saw them in their cubicles or in the hall or mail room just not when they were all gathered together. I cried more in front of people in those three weeks than I think I have in years. I just couldn't stop the tears from coming no matter how hard I tried. I was tired. I was lonely. I didn't know where I fit in this tight knit group of people who all already know each other and have a history together and know each others stories. I tried so hard to make conversation. I would add something to a conversation and get a polite head nod and then they were back in their own little lives and the conversation went on as though I had said nothing. They weren't trying to exclude me but I felt extremely excluded.
And then there was food. Ahhhh, my old bitter enemy. Rephrase, food isn't the enemy, how I feel about it is, how I interact with it is, how I use it to avoid my feelings is the real enemy. I wasn't eating breakfast and barely eating lunch. All I could think about was how I was going to cope in this very lonely place that I now work in four days a week. Restricting was just the easy go to. It felt wonderfully terrible. I cannot think of a time before that restricting made me feel so guilty while still delivering the physical euphoria that I longed for. I knew I wasn't taking care of myself but for the life of me I couldn't remember why I needed to move forward. All I could think about was that I don't think I was really that sick EVER. It couldn't have really been that bad or I would remember why I couldn't go back to it, right?
I have one vivid memory that is the only thing I can see in my mind as proof to myself that it was worse than I ever thought it was. When I was in the hospital a very overweight woman looked at me and said, "This is what self hatred looks like, eating a weeks worth of calories in a day." I pulled up my shirt and said, "It also looks like this, eating a days worth of calories in a week." Three people in the room gasped when I lifted my shirt and showed my ribs. The face of one person in particular is etched in my mind with the reaction given at seeing my ribs. It is the only thing I have to remind myself that though maybe I couldn't see how bad it had gotten, it really was that bad.
I tried to remember the feelings but I couldn't. I couldn't remember what being sick felt like and it really did start to glorify in my mind again. Since I couldn't remember the feelings, I forced myself to remember the facts. I may not remember what it felt like to wince in pain when my kids hugged me, but I know that I did. I may not remember how my body felt when it hurt to just lay down and sleep, but I know that it did. I thought about my mom-in-law smacking me with a newspaper and telling me I'd lost too much weight. I thought about the clumps of hair that were constantly falling out. I thought about the worried and sorrowful looks Hubby would give me when he thought I wasn't looking. I thought about the look on that persons face while I was in the hospital. I thought about the friend who stopped me one day to ask how she could help because she knew of my past struggle and could see the current struggle getting worse and worse.
I never did feel it, but I forced myself to remember it, even as just black and white facts. I never did FEEL why going back to sick was bad. I just had to trust that I knew it. And that right there friends, was when I realized that I can do this recovery stuff. I couldn't feel a single reason to pursue recovery or to at minimum to hold steady enough to not relapse and yet I knew those reasons.
The next post is the kindness that I needed in the moment I needed it, the panic attack at work in front of my entire team, the words of wisdom that bring me back to you only a little shaken but not completely shattered. But for tonight, I'm tired. It's good to be back. I've missed you guys!
Monday, May 14, 2012
Post It note frenzy
Today I sat outside in the sun with my lunch and my thoughts. The weather was beautiful and the fresh air was needed. The problem was that I didn't really want to eat my lunch. I sat trying to remember why I needed to eat it. I sent my friend a message telling her that I couldn't remember why I needed lunch. She sent back the perfect words. So perfect that I copied them to a Post It note and put it on my computer.
It has been really hard to remember lately why sick was bad. I keep trying to remember the things I hated about being sick, but much like delivering a child, time has a whiskey effect and it doesn't seem as bad as I know it was. Orange seems like a comforting friend holding her hand out to me and it hurts to turn my back and keep walking. I know she can't really comfort me but she keeps promising that she can, that this time she has really changed, that she won't abuse her power anymore.
So tonight I made more sticky notes. I made more notes of why I need to eat. I have notes to put in or on that adorable new lunch bag I just got. I have reasons that eating is important.
It has been really hard to remember lately why sick was bad. I keep trying to remember the things I hated about being sick, but much like delivering a child, time has a whiskey effect and it doesn't seem as bad as I know it was. Orange seems like a comforting friend holding her hand out to me and it hurts to turn my back and keep walking. I know she can't really comfort me but she keeps promising that she can, that this time she has really changed, that she won't abuse her power anymore.
So tonight I made more sticky notes. I made more notes of why I need to eat. I have notes to put in or on that adorable new lunch bag I just got. I have reasons that eating is important.
How about you? Anything to add? What reasons do you eat when you desperately want to avoid food? Do you write them down?
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
lunchroom chronicles
I'm trying so hard and I'm so tired. Office lunch hour I must figure out how to do healthily. After 2 days of being able to skip the whole horrible affair, today I tested the waters again. At first it was manageable with the anxiety not being overwhelming. I made sure to sit with the 2 ladies who were in the lunchroom. After all, my job is with a Christian ministry and much of my job revolves around cultivating relationships.
Shortly before my lunch time ended, several other ladies came into the lunchroom. Someone pointed out that everyone had a salad for lunch. I had already finished, but boy was I glad that I had brought salad, wouldn't want anyone to think poorly of me based on my lunch choices. And then it started, fat talk. Diet talk. I'm not good enough just the way I am talk.
"Are you doing THE diet again?" "Yeah, but only for ten days." "I need to do IT again." "You shouldn't do it, you are supposed to be training and you need the extra protein and calories." "I'm just going to do it for swimsuit season and then get back to training." "Yeah, I'm doing it too, I need to lose about 10 more pounds."
The talk was swirling around in my brain and I just wanted to scream "STOP" and run from the room and hide. I guess I had hoped that working in this office, though filled with women, would be different from other places. I thought a place of ministry would be my refuge from the storm of orange inside of me. I so wanted a shelter from the storm, a safe place, a place where orange would be easier to keep at bay.
I guess it turns out that women are women and we all battle this perfect body bullcrap, even in places that should be safe. My anxiety skyrockets just thinking about lunch tomorrow. Do I eat at my desk, like I did on Monday, just to avoid the triggering conversation? Do I keep trying to make friends and build bridges and eat in that lunchroom?
I've had a hard time wanting to eat anyway but I have been putting one foot in front of the other, making myself stay present and in the moment, and making the choice to eat anyway. Everything in my head is screaming at me. I want to say that the voices aren't bothering me, but I'd be lying. The diet talk in the lunchroom has my head spinning. I'm wondering what food games will be played here and wondering how I can minimize their damage to a firm and yet very shaky recovery place.
Shortly before my lunch time ended, several other ladies came into the lunchroom. Someone pointed out that everyone had a salad for lunch. I had already finished, but boy was I glad that I had brought salad, wouldn't want anyone to think poorly of me based on my lunch choices. And then it started, fat talk. Diet talk. I'm not good enough just the way I am talk.
"Are you doing THE diet again?" "Yeah, but only for ten days." "I need to do IT again." "You shouldn't do it, you are supposed to be training and you need the extra protein and calories." "I'm just going to do it for swimsuit season and then get back to training." "Yeah, I'm doing it too, I need to lose about 10 more pounds."
The talk was swirling around in my brain and I just wanted to scream "STOP" and run from the room and hide. I guess I had hoped that working in this office, though filled with women, would be different from other places. I thought a place of ministry would be my refuge from the storm of orange inside of me. I so wanted a shelter from the storm, a safe place, a place where orange would be easier to keep at bay.
I guess it turns out that women are women and we all battle this perfect body bullcrap, even in places that should be safe. My anxiety skyrockets just thinking about lunch tomorrow. Do I eat at my desk, like I did on Monday, just to avoid the triggering conversation? Do I keep trying to make friends and build bridges and eat in that lunchroom?
I've had a hard time wanting to eat anyway but I have been putting one foot in front of the other, making myself stay present and in the moment, and making the choice to eat anyway. Everything in my head is screaming at me. I want to say that the voices aren't bothering me, but I'd be lying. The diet talk in the lunchroom has my head spinning. I'm wondering what food games will be played here and wondering how I can minimize their damage to a firm and yet very shaky recovery place.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
excited and scared
I've been trying to be intentional about my sleep since starting my new job which means I have intentionally been avoiding my time warp blog. But I need a quick reprieve before packing up lunches and heading to bed.
I did get the new job that I had interviewed for. Last week was my first week there as well as my last week at my other job. It made for a tiring week, let me tell ya! I absolutely love the new job. I have never been more welcomed at a job. I am so thrilled to be serving in this capacity for a non-profit organization that I whole heartedly believe in. Not to mention that I am earning more and working more hours, which is always a plus!
I'm still a little scared though. I've been mostly a stay at home mamma for quite some time and now I'm actually going back to "real" (I think I prefer to say "scheduled") work. I've never worked in an office, in a cubicle. I've never dealt with the ridiculous stress that an office lunch hour brings. I mean, I brought lunch and I ate it, but all the while I was wondering what they were thinking about my plate. Was this an appropriate amount of food? Is there anything in my behavior that would have given my struggles away? Is this how normal people spend their lunch breaks, eating together and chatting about life? And no one dies of anxiety in doing it?
I have a lot of what if's going on. What if I gain a zillion pounds sitting on my butt all day long? I won't be chasing my kids all day anymore. What if I relapse badly again and it becomes easily evident to those around me again? What if I grow distant from the dear friends that I have now? Oh that is a big one.
Seriously, we have been in a similar stage of life. Sure, most of them have kids younger than mine, but we are all stay at home moms. How many impromptu play dates at Chic Fil A will I miss before they all have a common bond that I'm no longer a part of? I remember when one of my good friends went back to work after years of staying at home. I remember feeling like she no longer understood the day to day of nursing babies and changing diapers and all of the other things that were still a part of my every. single. day. I remember feeling lonely when she wanted to tell me about her day in the work force, away from her children,when all I had to offer to the conversation was that my baby hadn't lost weight again or had tried a new food. Not that we loved each other less, but we had less in common and it was the start of drifting apart.
I know full well that that could very likely happen again. My kids are all older than theirs and come fall will all be in school all day long. I have freedom that I didn't have when they were younger. Freedom to schedule coffee dates instead of McDonald's Playland dates, freedom to do things in the middle of the day without worrying about naps. I also have the freedom to hold a professional job. Will the differences in our lives, in our day to day, cause us to drift apart also? I know it's the natural ebb and flow of relationships, but I am genuinely afraid of this.
I love my new job, but I am a little scared at how it could change my life. I'm scared of not being able to see the sun whenever I want because I am in a cubicle. I'm scared of sitting still for hours a day, because I have to. I'm scared of not meeting my goals at work. I'm scared that I'm going to burst into tears with the next person who is ridiculously kind to me. I'm scared I will lose my friends and have to start over once again.
And I'm equally excited. I'm excited to open this new chapter of life and see where it takes me. Like a novel I can't put down, that is how I feel about beginning a new season of life.
I did get the new job that I had interviewed for. Last week was my first week there as well as my last week at my other job. It made for a tiring week, let me tell ya! I absolutely love the new job. I have never been more welcomed at a job. I am so thrilled to be serving in this capacity for a non-profit organization that I whole heartedly believe in. Not to mention that I am earning more and working more hours, which is always a plus!
I'm still a little scared though. I've been mostly a stay at home mamma for quite some time and now I'm actually going back to "real" (I think I prefer to say "scheduled") work. I've never worked in an office, in a cubicle. I've never dealt with the ridiculous stress that an office lunch hour brings. I mean, I brought lunch and I ate it, but all the while I was wondering what they were thinking about my plate. Was this an appropriate amount of food? Is there anything in my behavior that would have given my struggles away? Is this how normal people spend their lunch breaks, eating together and chatting about life? And no one dies of anxiety in doing it?
I have a lot of what if's going on. What if I gain a zillion pounds sitting on my butt all day long? I won't be chasing my kids all day anymore. What if I relapse badly again and it becomes easily evident to those around me again? What if I grow distant from the dear friends that I have now? Oh that is a big one.
Seriously, we have been in a similar stage of life. Sure, most of them have kids younger than mine, but we are all stay at home moms. How many impromptu play dates at Chic Fil A will I miss before they all have a common bond that I'm no longer a part of? I remember when one of my good friends went back to work after years of staying at home. I remember feeling like she no longer understood the day to day of nursing babies and changing diapers and all of the other things that were still a part of my every. single. day. I remember feeling lonely when she wanted to tell me about her day in the work force, away from her children,when all I had to offer to the conversation was that my baby hadn't lost weight again or had tried a new food. Not that we loved each other less, but we had less in common and it was the start of drifting apart.
I know full well that that could very likely happen again. My kids are all older than theirs and come fall will all be in school all day long. I have freedom that I didn't have when they were younger. Freedom to schedule coffee dates instead of McDonald's Playland dates, freedom to do things in the middle of the day without worrying about naps. I also have the freedom to hold a professional job. Will the differences in our lives, in our day to day, cause us to drift apart also? I know it's the natural ebb and flow of relationships, but I am genuinely afraid of this.
I love my new job, but I am a little scared at how it could change my life. I'm scared of not being able to see the sun whenever I want because I am in a cubicle. I'm scared of sitting still for hours a day, because I have to. I'm scared of not meeting my goals at work. I'm scared that I'm going to burst into tears with the next person who is ridiculously kind to me. I'm scared I will lose my friends and have to start over once again.
And I'm equally excited. I'm excited to open this new chapter of life and see where it takes me. Like a novel I can't put down, that is how I feel about beginning a new season of life.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
delusional paranoia
I work at a college bookstore. Being the nerdy type that I am, when we are slow I like to read text books. I know, I know, I could stop right there and you would have had your daily laugh. I mean really, who reads textbooks for classes they are not taking? I do. Usually psych books. On any given day you could find me reading Abnormal Psychology or The Complete Textbook of Suicidology. So given my lack of college degree, and my greatest bit of knowledge on the subject from a textbook I'm reading in my free time, I find it funny that I decided today to diagnose my mother with delusional paranoia.
Now I didn't tell her she is delusional. And I didn't tell her that she is paranoid. But I am telling you. She watched 2 of my kids today so that I could take my middle one to the eye doctor. When she was leaving she saw 2 books near the door. The top one was a library copy of Julie Andrews' Home and the second was a borrowed copy of The Help.
Wait, I think this story deserves some background. My mom is a nanny. Now honestly I don't know why this family still employs her. Their son is in college now and their daughters turn 16 this fall and will be driving. I think they just enjoy having my mom around so they find odd things for her to do to keep her. She has been with them for 13 years.
Ok, back to our regularly scheduled story. So when my mom sees The Help she asked "Isn't there a movie out about this one?" I confirmed. Then she told me that her boss had asked if she had seen the movie or read the book. My mom told me she doesn't know what boss is worried about with her, like they have some big secret or something that she might spill.
I must have cocked my head, because my mom continued to explain that she thinks the reason her boss mentioned it is because they are afraid my mom will go and tell people all about them. Now first of all, they are awesome people and very, very good to my mom. They are very kind people and while we all have things we prefer to be private, they do not have any obvious "baggage". What could my mom possibly tell about them? That they have ridiculous amounts of money but don't act like it? That they are unbelievably kind and generous not only to my mom, but to everyone they meet?
I told my mom her boss had probably brought it up because it is a great book and has been on the bestseller list for quite some time. My mom got the strangest look and then said, "Well, yeah, I suppose. Maybe she had to read it for her book club and that is why she brought it up."
So again, I am not a counselor or a doctor. Nor do I play one on tv. I have no training. I just have a mom who is out there more often than not and an Abnormal Psychology textbook waiting for me when I arrive at work tonight. And with the help of all of these things, I have decided to, privately, of course, diagnose my mom with delusional paranoia. :)
Now I didn't tell her she is delusional. And I didn't tell her that she is paranoid. But I am telling you. She watched 2 of my kids today so that I could take my middle one to the eye doctor. When she was leaving she saw 2 books near the door. The top one was a library copy of Julie Andrews' Home and the second was a borrowed copy of The Help.
Wait, I think this story deserves some background. My mom is a nanny. Now honestly I don't know why this family still employs her. Their son is in college now and their daughters turn 16 this fall and will be driving. I think they just enjoy having my mom around so they find odd things for her to do to keep her. She has been with them for 13 years.
Ok, back to our regularly scheduled story. So when my mom sees The Help she asked "Isn't there a movie out about this one?" I confirmed. Then she told me that her boss had asked if she had seen the movie or read the book. My mom told me she doesn't know what boss is worried about with her, like they have some big secret or something that she might spill.
I must have cocked my head, because my mom continued to explain that she thinks the reason her boss mentioned it is because they are afraid my mom will go and tell people all about them. Now first of all, they are awesome people and very, very good to my mom. They are very kind people and while we all have things we prefer to be private, they do not have any obvious "baggage". What could my mom possibly tell about them? That they have ridiculous amounts of money but don't act like it? That they are unbelievably kind and generous not only to my mom, but to everyone they meet?
I told my mom her boss had probably brought it up because it is a great book and has been on the bestseller list for quite some time. My mom got the strangest look and then said, "Well, yeah, I suppose. Maybe she had to read it for her book club and that is why she brought it up."
So again, I am not a counselor or a doctor. Nor do I play one on tv. I have no training. I just have a mom who is out there more often than not and an Abnormal Psychology textbook waiting for me when I arrive at work tonight. And with the help of all of these things, I have decided to, privately, of course, diagnose my mom with delusional paranoia. :)
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
emotional rollercoaster
Wow, if ever there were a day of ups and downs, today was it. My morning started out on a lovely note, hubby went in early last night so when I woke up, he was already home from work. That was a nice surprise :) ! I took my kids to the park where I met up with several other mom friends from MOPS. I had asked a friend if I could leave the kids there for a bit so that I could go with hubby to his "result of findings" appointment at the doctor. Though she agreed and I know her to be the type of person who doesn't say yes when she thinks no, I still felt guilty as I drove away. I felt guilty that of the 5 moms who were there, none of them are in the school age kids stage of life yet. One has 5 kids and is pregnant with her 6th. One has 3 kids, one of whom is still an infant. Another one is pregnant, due in a week. They have their hands very full (I know, I remember those days so very well!) and I added 3 more kids to watch in addition to the 12 kids they already were watching.
As I drove away my guilt quickly transformed into worry. The doctors office had called and asked hubby to come in because his labs came back abnormal and needed to be discussed. What was this doctors visit going to bring?
Worry gave way to relief when the doctor informed us that hubby's cholesterol was high but still (just) below the point where he would need medication to correct it. She had us come in so that we can manage his health now while it is still managing rather than playing medicinal catch up later.
My relief was short lived before anger and jealousy kicked in. The doctor was informing us that hubby is in generally good health and his numbers all look pretty good, except the boderline cholesterol. Enter jealousy. He eats like crap and doesn't exercise and yet his body is tolerating it and is still healthy. I adore him, as you know if you are a regular to my blog, but I wish he would take better care of himself. His body fat percentage is just slightly above mine. WTH? How on earth do I eat healthyor not eat at all and have a body fat percentage that is nearly the same as my hubby's who eats like a good old boy (lots of meat, hardly any fiber or veggies). The doctor left the room for a minute and during that time hubby looked at me and informed me that there is no way he should be getting a clean bill of health with the way he takes care of himself. That is were the anger came in. I wanted to yell at him. Thankfully I didn't.
When I left the appointment, my head was spinning. I didn't understand how I could be so relieved and so hurt in the same breath. I'm so glad my hubby is doing well and that as far as his health goes, he won't be leaving us anytime soon. And I also ached. I needed to process my own emotions.
I arrived to pick up my kids and realized I also needed to cry. My friend understood. I wish she didn't, I wish no one understood what this feels like (though I am grateful to not be alone). She reminded me not to obsess over the stupid body fat percentage. I didn't know until today that she too has struggled with eating issues. I look at her and always see what I wish I looked like only to hear her say to me today that she feels the same towards me. Huh? How on earth could one of the world's most beautiful people hate her body and wish for a different one, especially mine?????? What am I missing here?
A little time with the family was enough to nearly pull me out of my funk. Work is such a nice break for me, usually, so I was happy (enough) with having a bit of time with the fam and then an evening at work. Work was mostly good but there was a disturbing thing early in my night. I pretty much work in a fishbowl, windows all around. I was sitting at the register and a couple was making out in the lobby right outside my window. The problem was that the guy and girl were facing the same direction and he was kissing her neck but making eye contact with me. EEEEWWWWWW! I thought maybe it was one of those weird coincidences where you just happen to look up at the same time. I was weirded out so I moved to a different part of the store. Again, can we say fishbowl? I moved to the other side of the store and started doing my candy inventory. I looked up because I felt weird, only to notice the couple had moved in the lobby to right in between my door and the main lobby door and the guy was still kissing her and still looking at me. By this point I was feeling icky and starting to feel very vulnerable. Did I happen to mention that he bore resemblance to my abusive ex-boyfriend? Yeah.
I am so grateful that, though I don't get any signal in my store, for some reason I can get and send texts to one person. I don't know why I can't get calls or send texts to anyone else. I guess my store must just like her because I don't have problems getting a signal when it is her. Thankfully texting her helped me to stay calm, well calm enough. I really wanted to lock up the store and go in the back room with an oversized sweatshirt, curl up in a little ball, and cry. I wanted to hide. I find that I think I've passed an issue, I seem to be doing well and then something silly like tonight makes me realize that I really haven't actually worked through the emotions of the abusive relationship. I felt scared of this guy who was kissing someone else and watching me. I felt overwhelmed. I felt panicky. I felt extreme anxiety. And I wanted nothing more than to have them leave.
When they finally did leave, I did lock up the store and went upstairs to the college to grab a cup of coffee and I talked with the gal at the desk. She told me to call her if I'm ever uncomfortable like that again and she will come down or call building security to come over. I learned something new tonight. Our part of the building is for the college only and is not to be used by those not affiliated with the college. If they come back, I can call security and have them asked to leave. Great, now I know how to handle the situation. I'm glad of that, but it doesn't change the fact that I am experiencing some pretty powerful negative emotions that were dug up that I have to figure out how to deal with.
Of course the easy way would be to not deal with them and to cope by restricting. Tempting, not going to lie . But then I realized that my friend was struggling to eat dinner and how much that made me ache for her. I so wanted to make it all right in the world again. I wanted to make her better, even though I know it isn't my job to make her better. I wanted her to eat for herself, to listen her body and to take care of herself. I wanted her to eat for the man who loves her. I wanted her to eat for me, because she is the only her we have and I would hate to lose her. She ate. She inspired me to listen to my own advice. I had dinner, against the voice in my head that begged me to shut down instead. Maybe this is what recovery is all about, doing what you need to do instead of listening to that voice that tells you what you "should" do.
As I drove away my guilt quickly transformed into worry. The doctors office had called and asked hubby to come in because his labs came back abnormal and needed to be discussed. What was this doctors visit going to bring?
Worry gave way to relief when the doctor informed us that hubby's cholesterol was high but still (just) below the point where he would need medication to correct it. She had us come in so that we can manage his health now while it is still managing rather than playing medicinal catch up later.
My relief was short lived before anger and jealousy kicked in. The doctor was informing us that hubby is in generally good health and his numbers all look pretty good, except the boderline cholesterol. Enter jealousy. He eats like crap and doesn't exercise and yet his body is tolerating it and is still healthy. I adore him, as you know if you are a regular to my blog, but I wish he would take better care of himself. His body fat percentage is just slightly above mine. WTH? How on earth do I eat healthy
When I left the appointment, my head was spinning. I didn't understand how I could be so relieved and so hurt in the same breath. I'm so glad my hubby is doing well and that as far as his health goes, he won't be leaving us anytime soon. And I also ached. I needed to process my own emotions.
I arrived to pick up my kids and realized I also needed to cry. My friend understood. I wish she didn't, I wish no one understood what this feels like (though I am grateful to not be alone). She reminded me not to obsess over the stupid body fat percentage. I didn't know until today that she too has struggled with eating issues. I look at her and always see what I wish I looked like only to hear her say to me today that she feels the same towards me. Huh? How on earth could one of the world's most beautiful people hate her body and wish for a different one, especially mine?????? What am I missing here?
A little time with the family was enough to nearly pull me out of my funk. Work is such a nice break for me, usually, so I was happy (enough) with having a bit of time with the fam and then an evening at work. Work was mostly good but there was a disturbing thing early in my night. I pretty much work in a fishbowl, windows all around. I was sitting at the register and a couple was making out in the lobby right outside my window. The problem was that the guy and girl were facing the same direction and he was kissing her neck but making eye contact with me. EEEEWWWWWW! I thought maybe it was one of those weird coincidences where you just happen to look up at the same time. I was weirded out so I moved to a different part of the store. Again, can we say fishbowl? I moved to the other side of the store and started doing my candy inventory. I looked up because I felt weird, only to notice the couple had moved in the lobby to right in between my door and the main lobby door and the guy was still kissing her and still looking at me. By this point I was feeling icky and starting to feel very vulnerable. Did I happen to mention that he bore resemblance to my abusive ex-boyfriend? Yeah.
I am so grateful that, though I don't get any signal in my store, for some reason I can get and send texts to one person. I don't know why I can't get calls or send texts to anyone else. I guess my store must just like her because I don't have problems getting a signal when it is her. Thankfully texting her helped me to stay calm, well calm enough. I really wanted to lock up the store and go in the back room with an oversized sweatshirt, curl up in a little ball, and cry. I wanted to hide. I find that I think I've passed an issue, I seem to be doing well and then something silly like tonight makes me realize that I really haven't actually worked through the emotions of the abusive relationship. I felt scared of this guy who was kissing someone else and watching me. I felt overwhelmed. I felt panicky. I felt extreme anxiety. And I wanted nothing more than to have them leave.
When they finally did leave, I did lock up the store and went upstairs to the college to grab a cup of coffee and I talked with the gal at the desk. She told me to call her if I'm ever uncomfortable like that again and she will come down or call building security to come over. I learned something new tonight. Our part of the building is for the college only and is not to be used by those not affiliated with the college. If they come back, I can call security and have them asked to leave. Great, now I know how to handle the situation. I'm glad of that, but it doesn't change the fact that I am experiencing some pretty powerful negative emotions that were dug up that I have to figure out how to deal with.
Of course the easy way would be to not deal with them and to cope by restricting. Tempting, not going to lie . But then I realized that my friend was struggling to eat dinner and how much that made me ache for her. I so wanted to make it all right in the world again. I wanted to make her better, even though I know it isn't my job to make her better. I wanted her to eat for herself, to listen her body and to take care of herself. I wanted her to eat for the man who loves her. I wanted her to eat for me, because she is the only her we have and I would hate to lose her. She ate. She inspired me to listen to my own advice. I had dinner, against the voice in my head that begged me to shut down instead. Maybe this is what recovery is all about, doing what you need to do instead of listening to that voice that tells you what you "should" do.
Friday, July 22, 2011
good things about recovery
I've been talking with a friend lately about the good things about recovery. I can read again and actually process what I am reading. I can play with my kids again (though I am tired of having wrestling Royal Rumbles every day. Couldn't they like Lego's or something??????). I can shower without feeling guilty about taking time for me.
I still am discovering who I am though. I just read a really great post letting go of the ed identity. I so get this. I am starting to enjoy life again, but sometimes that old panic creeps up. What if I completely let go. Who would I be? I mean, if I eat that bite of chocolate and don't feel guilty, what will I feel? If I don't use starving to make me numb, what would I actually feel? Can I handle it? Do I know how to live without orange in my ear whispering how she can make it all better? Who would I be if I were completely free? Would I be worth my own time?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The other day, mostly out of tired laziness, I realized something kinda cool. When I was showering, I just never opened my eyes again after rinsing the conditioner out of my hair. For some unknown reason, I lathered up with my eyes closed. Here is what I discovered, it wasn't as scary with my eyes closed. I know, that sounds weird but hear me out.
The way my body felt under my hands was much different than it appeared in the mirror. Once again a case of the mirror lying. The problem is that the mirror was lying more than I realized. Without being able to see every mark, touching my own body was a completely different experience than anything I have ever known in the past. Without looking at myself and picking apart every flaw, I realized that my body is not that of a whale. With only my hands, no eyes, I "saw" something completely different in myself that I have never seen.
Wondering if it was just a crazy fluke, I intentionally closed my eyes the next day when I showered. It wasn't a fluke. For the first time EVER I was able to appreciate things about my body that when I look with my eyes, I just cannot see. I still don't see in the mirror what I felt. The mirror is still lying. But somewhere I deep inside, this time I am able to identify that it is lying. Something deep inside of me is remembering a feeling instead of a vision.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I love my new job. After only 3 weeks, I am going to go solo next week. I'm good with it, a little nervous, but good. My friend will pack up after I arrive and go home to her adorable 10 month old son and just be mommy and I will close up shop on my own. My friend and the managers are all surprised that I feel comfortable with it so quickly. No one expected me to be on my own until after the rush for fall semester was over. I am able. I can do it. This is just one more area that recovery kind of feels good.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tomorrow I get to meet with my team of ladies that I will be leading for this upcoming MOPS year. I am excited! And for the first time in so many ages, I feel like I have something to contribute. For the first time in far too long, I feel nearly completely confident that I can do a job that I have committed to. It does feel good to feel like an asset instead of a liability for a change.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At some point over the last year, I have made actual forward steps in my recovery. Last fall I was often reminding myself that 2 steps forward 1 step back is still 1 step ahead of where I started. But as I am reading over this post, I realize that somewhere along the line the forward steps became more clear. I know I am not "there" (wherever the heck "there" is) but I am further on my journey than I was a year ago and for that I am thankful.
I still am discovering who I am though. I just read a really great post letting go of the ed identity. I so get this. I am starting to enjoy life again, but sometimes that old panic creeps up. What if I completely let go. Who would I be? I mean, if I eat that bite of chocolate and don't feel guilty, what will I feel? If I don't use starving to make me numb, what would I actually feel? Can I handle it? Do I know how to live without orange in my ear whispering how she can make it all better? Who would I be if I were completely free? Would I be worth my own time?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The other day, mostly out of tired laziness, I realized something kinda cool. When I was showering, I just never opened my eyes again after rinsing the conditioner out of my hair. For some unknown reason, I lathered up with my eyes closed. Here is what I discovered, it wasn't as scary with my eyes closed. I know, that sounds weird but hear me out.
The way my body felt under my hands was much different than it appeared in the mirror. Once again a case of the mirror lying. The problem is that the mirror was lying more than I realized. Without being able to see every mark, touching my own body was a completely different experience than anything I have ever known in the past. Without looking at myself and picking apart every flaw, I realized that my body is not that of a whale. With only my hands, no eyes, I "saw" something completely different in myself that I have never seen.
Wondering if it was just a crazy fluke, I intentionally closed my eyes the next day when I showered. It wasn't a fluke. For the first time EVER I was able to appreciate things about my body that when I look with my eyes, I just cannot see. I still don't see in the mirror what I felt. The mirror is still lying. But somewhere I deep inside, this time I am able to identify that it is lying. Something deep inside of me is remembering a feeling instead of a vision.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I love my new job. After only 3 weeks, I am going to go solo next week. I'm good with it, a little nervous, but good. My friend will pack up after I arrive and go home to her adorable 10 month old son and just be mommy and I will close up shop on my own. My friend and the managers are all surprised that I feel comfortable with it so quickly. No one expected me to be on my own until after the rush for fall semester was over. I am able. I can do it. This is just one more area that recovery kind of feels good.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tomorrow I get to meet with my team of ladies that I will be leading for this upcoming MOPS year. I am excited! And for the first time in so many ages, I feel like I have something to contribute. For the first time in far too long, I feel nearly completely confident that I can do a job that I have committed to. It does feel good to feel like an asset instead of a liability for a change.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At some point over the last year, I have made actual forward steps in my recovery. Last fall I was often reminding myself that 2 steps forward 1 step back is still 1 step ahead of where I started. But as I am reading over this post, I realize that somewhere along the line the forward steps became more clear. I know I am not "there" (wherever the heck "there" is) but I am further on my journey than I was a year ago and for that I am thankful.
Friday, July 8, 2011
blessing in disguise
Today was another of the long, no accountability, could easily not eat and no one would know, days at work. I didn't plan on eating even though I had brought something small to eat. When I got to work the gal I work with asked if I had brought my paperwork because the manager had asked her to FedEx it to him today. CRAP, I left it setting on the dishwasher in my rush to get out the door on time! No problem, I'll call hubby and have him bring it out to me. Plus then I get to see my family for a few minutes and introduce my kids to my friend (she has only met my oldest and he was a baby then).
Well, when I called hubby, he was just getting ready to lay down for a nap. He said he would bring it later in the afternoon. I get barely any cell reception in the store but for some reason suddenly I was able to get a text. It was Amy telling me that she was eating lunch because I had texted her this morning and that turned her day around. (By the way, great job, Lady! I am so proud of you!) I was starting to feel a little guilty that I had told her to take care of herself but didn't really want to return the favor to myself. She listened to me, and I was worried about listening to me. I felt like a total hypocrite.
Well time kept passing and wouldn't you know it, hubby and the kids didn't arrive till 4:30. Middle kiddo asks, "Mommy, do you get breaks when you work here?" Yep, I sure do. Would you like me to take my break now while you guys are here? YES! Well, I happen to work right next door to Tokyo Joe's. My hubby told me, "I know we can't do this every time, but do you want Tokyo's tonight? I'm buying." So I ate after all. I forgot my signed employee conduct agreement and tax forms at home and in forgetting, I remembered something much more important, to take care of me tonight.
I'm going to get this. I know I will. And from here on out my days are 4-8:30 instead of 12-8:30 so that will help. Going in at 12 is hard. I can't eat lunch by 11 to leave at 11:30 so I skip lunch. If I skip a meal at work also then I've essentially missed dinner too. I loved seeing my boys tonight. It reminded me of why I want to get better, of why I need to keep fighting, of all of the good things in my life. Today my forgetfulness was a blessing in disguise and a much needed dose of perspective.
On a slightly different note I received the perfect answer to my orange comment today.
Thanks for that, not only did it help me to identify the stinkin thinkin, it also made me laugh. It is true that laughter is the best medicine!
Well, when I called hubby, he was just getting ready to lay down for a nap. He said he would bring it later in the afternoon. I get barely any cell reception in the store but for some reason suddenly I was able to get a text. It was Amy telling me that she was eating lunch because I had texted her this morning and that turned her day around. (By the way, great job, Lady! I am so proud of you!) I was starting to feel a little guilty that I had told her to take care of herself but didn't really want to return the favor to myself. She listened to me, and I was worried about listening to me. I felt like a total hypocrite.
Well time kept passing and wouldn't you know it, hubby and the kids didn't arrive till 4:30. Middle kiddo asks, "Mommy, do you get breaks when you work here?" Yep, I sure do. Would you like me to take my break now while you guys are here? YES! Well, I happen to work right next door to Tokyo Joe's. My hubby told me, "I know we can't do this every time, but do you want Tokyo's tonight? I'm buying." So I ate after all. I forgot my signed employee conduct agreement and tax forms at home and in forgetting, I remembered something much more important, to take care of me tonight.
I'm going to get this. I know I will. And from here on out my days are 4-8:30 instead of 12-8:30 so that will help. Going in at 12 is hard. I can't eat lunch by 11 to leave at 11:30 so I skip lunch. If I skip a meal at work also then I've essentially missed dinner too. I loved seeing my boys tonight. It reminded me of why I want to get better, of why I need to keep fighting, of all of the good things in my life. Today my forgetfulness was a blessing in disguise and a much needed dose of perspective.
On a slightly different note I received the perfect answer to my orange comment today.
Starbucks is either going to make me fat or kill me. I don't know which is worse.
To which the response was, "I'd rather have you fat than dead."Thanks for that, not only did it help me to identify the stinkin thinkin, it also made me laugh. It is true that laughter is the best medicine!
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
new job
Today was my first day at my new job. It went amazingly perfect. For accountability, I have to say that if I am not careful, this job could easily enable my e.d. Today I took a break but spent it talking to my co-worker/friend instead of eating my lunch. It was easy to do. It would be easy to continue. For those of you who just worried about me from that comment, my hubby had made dinner for him and the kids tonight and he made me a plate as well. When I got home he even heated it up for me. He's wonderful and I felt taken care of.
I really enjoy the job. It was pretty easy to pick up on what I needed to do. It seemed like everything came back to me intuitively and I was much more at ease than I thought I would be. And I remembered all over again why I love working with that girl. She is amazing.
I just need to be mindful of the fact that it could be very easy to "forget" to eat. I need to make sure that I remain intentional about recovery even at work (maybe especially at work would be a better statement). Sometimes recovery sucks. Sometimes being mindful of snares sucks. Sometimes being intentional to pursue healing not disease sucks. Sometimes wanting it bad enough to write about it so that you have accountability sucks worst of all!
I really enjoy the job. It was pretty easy to pick up on what I needed to do. It seemed like everything came back to me intuitively and I was much more at ease than I thought I would be. And I remembered all over again why I love working with that girl. She is amazing.
I just need to be mindful of the fact that it could be very easy to "forget" to eat. I need to make sure that I remain intentional about recovery even at work (maybe especially at work would be a better statement). Sometimes recovery sucks. Sometimes being mindful of snares sucks. Sometimes being intentional to pursue healing not disease sucks. Sometimes wanting it bad enough to write about it so that you have accountability sucks worst of all!
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
gainfully employed
I got the job! I am now a stay at home mom by day and an employee by night! I will be working in the bookstore of a local college. The fun part of the job, the last job I worked before retiring to motherhood was at a bookstore. The person who I will work with is a friend of mine who I actually worked with at the old bookstore. If I go to the main campus to work, I will also work with my old boss from the bookstore. It is a small world indeed.
I will still be home with my boys during the day and this job is (usually) 2 evenings a week with opportunity for more hours right before terms start. I could squeal! Plus since my family will be in bed when I get off of work, I can stop by the gym on my way home for a bit. Thanks for the prayers, good thoughts and finger and toe crossings! I start work on Tuesday :)
I will still be home with my boys during the day and this job is (usually) 2 evenings a week with opportunity for more hours right before terms start. I could squeal! Plus since my family will be in bed when I get off of work, I can stop by the gym on my way home for a bit. Thanks for the prayers, good thoughts and finger and toe crossings! I start work on Tuesday :)
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