A Pound of Flesh

I might as well come out and admit it.

I have a feeling that others have noticed, but what exactly do you say when you see that someone has gained a few pounds?

From May 2010 to March 2011, I lost 75 pounds.

Since March of 2011, I have gone up-down-up-down-up in my weight. I have done a fair job of maintaining an approximation of the weight I’d lost, but I’ve noticed an alarming trend over the past six months or so. I’ll get to that in a minute.

For most of that time, I weighed myself every single morning. I was vigilant about not eating bread—only allowing myself to have wheat tortillas now and then. I never ate restaurant bread. I rarely indulged in one of my favorite things, fresh English muffins. I rarely ate dessert—another of my favorite things.

Food became something I portioned out. It became something I had to think about, all the time, because I didn’t want to put bad food into my body.

At first it was a game I played with myself, to see if I could do it. To see how far I could take it, to see how far I could go with the weight loss. And since I’m piss-poor at holding myself accountable (apparently this is a trap “artist-types” often fall into), I posted my progress each week on Facebook. The encouragement and kind words I received helped keep me going, even when it was hard.

For a while the game was fun, but I got really tired of it.

So, I quit. I quit playing the game. I have really wanted to learn how to have a healthy relationship with food—all food, not just the food I “allowed” myself to eat. I wanted to learn how to allow myself to eat anything I wanted, but in moderation, so that I wouldn’t gain what I had worked so very hard to lose.

And another thing. During all that time of weight loss, something unexpected happened. People started coming up to me and telling me I was an inspiration to them.

Me? An inspiration?

Somehow, that set the bar higher. In a weird way, I can identify (just a teensy, tiny bit) with celebrities who seemingly overnight turn into role models for young people. It’s a difficult façade that’s tough to maintain. Impossible, if you ask me… it goes completely against the notion that what others think of me is none of my business, and it also goes completely against the mentality I’ve been working hard to embrace—that imperfection is truly a gift.

Life is a journey and it’s a process, yada yada yada.

So, it’s hard for me to admit that in the last months (I’m not exactly sure how many months, but definitely since last fall/winter) I have gained 15 pounds.

Fifteen.

I could list a whole host of reasons, excuses, and explanations, but the reality of it was on the scale for my sleepy eyes this morning. I have, indeed, gained 15 pounds.

As a recovering perfectionist, it’s extremely difficult to silence all of those tapes that are currently screaming in the background. Here’s a brief sample: You idiot! How could you let this happen? You can’t let all those people down! You look fat again! Fatty! Time to break out the fat clothes again! Oh look, another failure! Another thing you quit! You suck! You’re not good at anything! Might as well give up now!

Etc.

It goes on and on… and really, the tapes just get nastier.

So now, I’m not sure where I go.

I want to lose that 15 pounds I’ve gained, and more. I never hit the actual weight I wanted to hit, which is now officially 35 pounds away.

But I want to do it in a way that really works. I want to eat what I want to and not deprive myself of things I truly enjoy. I want to eat to take care of my body. I want to exercise regularly and get enough sleep most nights, not just a few.

Over the past months I have officially put my own health on the back burner. I know the reasons, but at some point reasons just turn into excuses, and it’s about time I own up to this and take accountability, because then I can’t sit in denial any longer.

It would be easy to say I’m angry at myself, but anger is such an easy emotion. It goes so much deeper than that.

The truth is, I’m heartbroken. I’ve let myself down in a way I never thought I would.

Weight, eating, sleeping, and exercise take so much energy to focus on, and now that I have a lot of other, new (and yes, exciting) things to focus on (job, boyfriend, writing group, volunteering, etc.), it’s been easy to let it slide.

No more.

By posting this, I am committing to move it all back to the top of my priority list. My very life depends on keeping myself healthy and that includes keeping my weight under control and making sure I sleep and move enough. It’s so easy to let it all go… too easy. It’s easy to forget why I did this in the first place, because I’ve come so far… and yet—despite all the health problems that run in my family, I have managed to lose focus.

I don’t know how people keep balance in their lives. I’m not sure I’ve ever had balance. I can keep one thing going strong, and the rest of it falls away. For a long time, that one thing was my health.

I’m not sure how to keep all the balls in the air, all at once. I have so much practice at dropping them…

But… I keep picking them up and dusting them off and trying again.

I guess that’s something.

Hitting the Reset Button

"'All there is to thinking,' he said, 'is seeing something noticeable which makes you see something you weren't noticing which makes you see something that isn't even visible.'" – A River Runs Through It by Norman Maclean

Sometimes, I’m guilty of thinking too much.

I’ve been sitting here for the past five days, unable to do much of anything (except sleeping—I’ve been a champ at that) without feeling dizzy, light-headed, feverish, clammy, and basically… like crap.

I’ve had a double ear infection, and possibly also the start of a sinus infection. And apparently the doctor didn’t bother to look at my history to see that I usually have to have stronger antibiotics from the get-go, because my body resists weaker ones like nobody’s business.

So I finally called yesterday and requested a stronger one, since I wasn’t better after starting the meds on Thursday. They called one in for me this morning, and now hopefully I’ll be on my way to better.

And in the mean time, I’ve tried working on work stuff (I'm so very behind), blog posts (it's embarrassing how many "in progress" blog posts I have going), Writing for Growth stuff (we're starting this Wednesday, the 17th, and the first class is **free** by the way!), as well as all the usual day-to-day living stuff, like laundry, cleaning, and cooking.

My body has been trying to hit the Reset button, and yet, I’ve been fighting it.

(I know, I know… how’s that working for me?)

What I’ve realized is that it’s more than frustration over being sick. It’s general malaise and frustration over where I am in a few areas of my life.

Spending too much time alone and having entirely too much time on my hands where I am unable to carry on about my life tends to send me into a funk. Because my mind starts going too fast… my gears turn too fast… I think way too much and then, all I can think of are all the places where I come up short.

It’s so easy to do, isn’t it? It’s so easy to get mired in all the areas where we come up short—but as compared to what? Or who? Compared to peers, friends, co-workers? Compared to family, neighbors, or even strangers?

Who exactly am I comparing myself to when I get into this negative head game?

The answer, for me…

No one.

See, I have these invisible standards in my head, and the standards basically equal perfection. And I have worked really hard to let go of my need for perfection in all areas of my life… and I have been doing exceptionally well with that—even when faced against some pretty significant obstacles.

But when I am forced to slow down because my body needs time to heal—to reset—my brain just can’t stand it, and it has to go and cause trouble in my heart.

So… on a day like today, when I’m finally starting to feel better, and I’m realizing the pattern I’ve been rolling around and “wallering” in over the last couple of days, and just as I get seated in today’s solid round of beating myself up…

My very own Prince Charming, complete with rhinestone sparkles!

I get a package like this in the mail.

And the note accompanying it reads:

Here is a frog for you to kiss. 

This one doesn’t talk back.

(In reference to this post)

Sometimes, all you need to hit the “Reset” button on your day—and even your whole attitude, really—is a good laugh.

Thank you, D, for giving me that good laugh today…

Adventures in Online Dating - Part 2

If I hide my head, you can't see me.

I’ve definitely slowed down the pace at which I am communicating with people, over email as well as texting and meeting in person. It became such a time-consuming prospect, and work has been absolutely nuts…  I found myself spending a long day at work and then coming home to sit on the computer and attempt to reply to messages that I’d gotten.

Something had to give.

And, in the grand scheme of things, while I am looking to meet someone amazing at some point—I’m not in a rush. I have a feeling it’s going to take a long time to find, and in the mean time, I can only hope to meet some truly interesting, engaging people.

What I’m finding so far, though, is that some people really don’t want to be seen. Some just don’t want to be known… don’t want to be felt… don’t want to be heard.

Growing up, I had a cat named Smudge who would constantly poke his head into a bag, or under a couch cushion, or into the mail slot in the desk by the phone.

His head was hidden, but the rest of his body was quite visible.

We always thought he did this as a way of saying, “If I hide my head, you can’t see me.”

We got lots of laughs from this as a family, but I really think this notion applies to dating, as well.

We humans work so hard to hide certain parts of ourselves, unaware that the rest of us is hanging out, in clear view. We try so hard to keep Pandora's box tightly shut. It takes a lot of effort, doesn't it? And how well does keeping that box closed really work, in the first place? 

I would go so far as to say that we work so hard to hide our faults, our deep inner secrets, our hearts, our souls… unaware that the harder we work to hide—the more visible we actually become.

People claim they want to be open and not be judged.

And yet, when they experience my openness and my willingness to listen, and when they find themselves confessing things to me that normally they wouldn’t say, it’s apparently unnerving and downright disarming.

I can’t tell you just how many times I’ve heard these words: “I’ve never told anyone that before.”

Or, “I don’t usually talk about this stuff. Ever.”

Thus, the unnerving, disarming part…

These are the things worth sharing, though. Those secret things are what makes someone worth knowing. It's how intimacy is nurtured.

And that’s what the men I’ve met actually don’t like—to be that exposed, that vulnerable…

That could explain why I’ve experienced the same multiple times now… when I put myself out there, and when I am simply me… it’s just a little more than they’re used to. It throws them for a loop and at first, they aren’t sure what to do with it. And in the end, it’s easier to walk away early on than to risk.

What exactly is the risk, though?

My opinion is that if someone truly sees a person for who he or she really is, that person is in danger of being discovered, judged, and ultimately rejected.

In other words… reject first. Get them before they get you.

(Because then, I won’t be able to see that he’s really not good enough.)

Yes. I do think it boils down to the “not good enough” tape.

When I say that I am open, I mean it. I really am. And I not only hope for that in return, I have come to just “be” in such a way that I am non-verbally asking the person I’m connecting with to be open, as well.

It’s amazing to me just how many folks want no part of that.

I get why. I used to be there myself.

And it's hard to be open. It means you could get hurt, which as you know, I have very recently experienced. (Thus, the other reason why I'm taking a bit of a breather.)

People don’t typically interact that openly on a daily basis. It’s easier to make jokes, tell funny stories, talk about how hot it is (I mean, it’s Texas in July, do you expect anything other than, "It's damn hot!"?), TV shows, the latest sports team debacle, or useless trivia, etc.

It seems that some people live their whole lives in small talk. 

I used to be the same—closed up, sputtering out the headlines of my stories a bunch at a time so that I was just interesting enough to keep people around me, but not threatening, and certainly with absolutely no clue as to what intimacy really is.

These days, however… intimacy is not only something I want—it’s something I am willing to take a risk and be vulnerable for. It’s something I strive to nurture in the close relationships in my life. In other words, for me, intimacy has become a necessity.

Even if it hurts.

I spoke of living the alternative for so long... of being disconnected, out of touch, and even numb. I make different choices now, and while that means I do feel pain on a deeper level, it also means I relish happiness and pure joy when I feel it.

So if I go on a couple of dates with someone, and we never get past the banter, the light talk, the joking around, and the general awkwardness, then chances are, we aren’t ever going to get very far... period.

I suppose that’s all just part of this dating game, isn’t it?

Freedom Means... Consciously Nurturing Me

“Let go of the way you thought life would unfold; the holding of plans or dreams or expectations—let it all go. Save the strength to swim with the tide. The choice to fight what is here before you now will only result in struggle, fear, and a desperate attempt to flee from the energy you long for. Let go, and the waves and crests will carry you to unknown shores, beyond your wildest dream or destinations.”  – Danna Faulds

Lately, I’ve been exploring the idea of what makes me feel free. I’ve been making more and more choices that help me feel free, and I am learning what it actually feels like.

Initially, I thought this was the first time in my life that I have actually been free.

That’s not true, of course. I’ve been free many times… and I’ve felt freedom a few times, but I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to feel it as freedom. I kept looking to others to fill the void inside of me, so it didn’t matter how free I actually was… I continued wrapping myself in chains—tying myself to others in unhealthy ways to feel accepted, validated, and important.

But this is the first time in my life that I have not only had freedom, but that I have felt freedom, and acted accordingly.

At first, I was afraid. I was petrified (ok, stopping the random song lyric now).

(I know. That was bad.)

I wasn’t sure how to make choices that fed my basic need of feeling free. I wasn’t even sure what being free actually meant to me, either.

Freedom can look like lots of things. This being July, and with the recent celebration of Independence Day on the 4th, it’s easy to think about our troops, our country, and what we stand for as a nation.

If I were a minority, it would be easy to define what freedom means in modern society.

If I were in a country where women are enslaved, and I were suddenly brought to America to start over—well, that sort of freedom is obvious, as well.

But what is personal freedom? Does it mean I’m not tied to anyone?

I would say that depends on my attitude. I am bound to my family by blood. I am bound to my friends by chosen bonds forged over time and with deep investments in emotional, intimate, and honest connection.

I am bound to my two kitties, to care for them and love them.

I am bound to other things and people as well, for different reasons. You get the point.

But, can one not also be free while being connected?

This is a hard question. The obvious answer is yes, but defining that quickly gets vague, nebulous, blurry.

In the absence of a clear definition of personal freedom, I realized that I’ve been sabotaging myself when everything seems to be going well.

I mentioned in a previous post that anytime things are going well, I am really waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’ve moved to the next level now… I am consciously choosing to be in the moment more (and more, and more!) and it’s paying off in spades. I find that I don’t worry nearly as often as I used to, about anything… and that is certainly freeing.

But I got to that next level of awareness and realized that when things are going well, I am actually the one causing things to go awry, with those thoughts of wondering when the next bad thing is going to happen.

It’s the law of attraction, plain and simple.

Now that I have that awareness, of course it’s time to stop sabotaging myself when I’m doing well and reset my attitude by doing good things for myself. I love myself. So, why would I go to so much trouble to mess things up when things are going well?

What I’ve come to realize is that spending time engaging in my latest distraction (at the moment, online dating—in the past it’s been too much TV, too much drinking, too much eating, etc.) is really just what I do to “check out” from reality… from my life. It prevents me from spending time on stuff that really matters to me. It precludes me from deepening my connections—to others as well as to myself and of course, to God. It prohibits me from continuing to grow and evolve.

Whatever my latest check-out mechanism of choice is, it prevents me from creating the life I want, and even worse—it stops me dead in my tracks from meeting my own needs.

As is usually the case, when I stumble on something over and over again, the root cause is usually a tape.

I only recently figured out what tape that comes from: I’m stupid (so I’m going to fuck it up, anyway).

(This tape is the hardest of all to admit. To myself, yes, but to admit it in public is a really big deal.)

I think what it really boils down to is that for me, my tape of I’m stupid really means that I don’t matter. That I’m not good enough.

My greatest fear rears its ugly head, yet again. But this is just another manifestation of it—a new head on the ever-present monster within. I’m stupid is a different version of my greatest fear that doesn’t feel quite as severe, yet it is still causing me problems, causing me to behave in ways that I don’t want to behave and make choices that I intrinsically don’t want to make.

Why on earth do I do this? I have an amazing life, filled with more blessings than I ever dreamed possible. I have no reason to check out from my life… but what I’ve come to realize is, this is a very long-standing habit. A lifelong habit, if you will… and it’s my next big pattern to break.

All these thoughts were spurred on by a simple homework assignment made by a good friend of mine. He asked all of us in a group to list 5 things that we do to nurture ourselves… and if we didn’t have 5… to come up with 5 things that would be nurturing.

I easily came up with four.

1. Yoga and dancing
2. Connecting with friends and family in meaningful ways
3. Writing
4. Eating well

But I was stumped on the fifth.

And it led me to realize that I’ve been spending entirely too much time doing things that just don’t matter to me.

And, I’ve made a decision about getting to five. I think the fifth thing comes from separating yoga and dance into two. In the beginning of my exercise journey, I exclusively did yoga and dance, one right after the other.

They were once one, because I needed that. Somehow, one made the other seem less intimidating.

I’ve grown since then, so now I’m ready to take it to the next level.

I made the choice to deepen my yoga practice by getting an unlimited class pass at one of the studios where I’ve taken a few classes. And, I have two Groupons to use up for two other yoga studios.

So… yoga… here I come!

And that same studio where I bought the class pass also offers hip-hop classes. Oh yes. I’m definitely checking that out, too!

What occurred to me this past week is that I am consciously making choices that are helping me feel more free, even within the confines of who and what I am currently bound to… even within the confines of society, and paying rent, and obeying laws, and all the other rules and restrictions placed upon humans.

Basically, freedom means I need to just be myself. No matter who I am around, no matter what I am doing. I need the freedom to do whatever it is, in my very own way.

I need the freedom to fall down, so that I gain the experience of standing up and carrying on. I need the freedom to stretch and let go, so that I can know what it feels like to fly.

And doing five things consistently to nurture myself is a pretty damn skippy way to walk the walk of living the life that I am meant to live, being the woman I am meant to be, and of course—paving my path of freedom.

So, I ask you…

• What do you need?
• What are 5 things you do (or can do) to nurture yourself so you can meet your needs?