Morning all...it's been a while since I posted! About 6 months, to be precise. There are two reasons for this - number one, I tend to use Facebook as my diary(I over share constantly), and number two, I have the job of my dreams as a Weight Watchers Leader, and life has become busy!!
I never, ever, ever thought that I'd have such an amazing job, where I am able to do what I love, talk about self esteem, about positivity, about eating healthily....and I get to work with and share with the most amazing people. I didn't think, when I was mired in misery and self hate, at a weight of 122kg, feeling like the most revolting person in the world, feeling weak, feeling trapped, feeling imprisoned in all that extra flesh....that I could ever be someone that could inspire other people.
Do you want to know what? Sometimes I feel like a bit of a fraud. I mean, yeah, I've lost some of the weight. My life has changed, my wardrobe has changed, and I'm a lot happier. But in some ways, I'm really scared of getting to goal weight. I have been this weight now (about 10kg overweight) for most of my adult life, and I am terrified of getting down to the 80s because I feel like I'll be too visible. Yes, I know I'm weird.
When I was 11, we moved house, and I started going to Brownies, and doing Netball. I also started working on some modest breasts. The breasts that everyone else in my year wanted, but that I would have gladly done without. They made me visible. They made me a target. I was mercilessly teased by the girls on the netball team and called "Big tits", excluded from their gossip, and for someone who was already struggling with these strange protuberances, it made it all the harder to deal with. It was the same story at Brownies. I'd practice a witty comment or even just a "Hello" (did I mention I was cripplingly shy for most of my adolescence?)...only to have it shot down in flames with a taunt of "OH YEAH, BIG TITS?".....ugh. I guess, looking back on it now, that they were jealous of my advance into puberty - but I would have gladly retreated from it! I slept with a bra on for most of my high school years, as I was so uncomfortable with them. They made me a freak, they made me different, they made me a target.
So, moving on into the final years of high school, I was a shy and timid gal, who'd subconsciously put on weight as a kind of camouflage for the hated bosoms. But, unfortunately, at 180cm, I was never going to fade into the background. Instead of "Big Tits", I became "Fatso", or "Big Red", "Ronald McDonald" or "Big Betty" (anyone remember "Hey Dad"?)
I guess I have spent most of my life trying to be what other people would like, and it's only since I lost the weight that I've regained my fashion sense, that I like wearing my hair bright red and asymmetrical, that I like wearing things that I wouldn't have worn in my "I'm living in Finley and a wife so I best wear sensible shoes" phase. I'm almost there. I'm so close to being happy with who I am......but I'm holding back cause I'm scared.
Well, my lovely Area Manager, Cate, has encouraged me to not settle. She's encouraged me to believe that I can lose that final 10kg and I can deal with being visible. That I deserve to be visible. How many of us are struggling with being visible in our lives? How many of us mask our fears and our imagined failings in life, with food and trips to the fridge? How many of us want to disappear because we think we don't matter, that we don't have a right to be visible?
I'm making a pledge right now that I'm on my way - that I'm going to try - and I'll tell you how I go. No fear - I have my faith in a loving God to lean on and the support of my amazing WW friends, Nicky, Laura, Claire and others......This year is the year of Triumph!! Peace and love to you all xxoo
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Ch-ch-changes
Hello all!
I'm writing to you from a place where I never thought I'd be - happiness! You see, I've always been a worrier - a bit of a scaredy cat, and always had that feeling of impending doom. Didn't think people liked me, didn't think I was good enough, didn't know who I was but hated myself anyway. And I'm talking about feeling like this from the age of 8. Dreadful stuff, eh? My mum is sad when I tell her that, she feels like she should have known. But how could I verbalise what I didn't know was abnormal? I thought that everyone else felt like this. I thought that people stopped feeling like that when they got a boyfriend. So, that was my goal. On the pages of a SMASH HITS 1987 diary, and deep into my psyche, the words "THIS YEAR I WILL GET A BOYFRIEND" ruled my life. If I could get someone to like me, that would prove I was worthwhile, and prove that I was somebody.
Sadly, I was cripplingly shy as a youngster, and most boys tended to like the girls who laughed and talked, instead of the ones who sat mute, gazing in wonder and fear at this strange species called "boy". I had no idea how to relate to them. Coming from a family of 3 girls, I had no clues, and trudged through life, and highschool alternately avoiding and stalking a succession of guys. In my mind, I fashioned scenarios where I spoke to the pretty boy who'd been occuping my thoughts. Sadly, in real life, I stared at him so hard in the canteen line, that he and his friends started to laugh every time I walked past. I had no clue.
Then, in Year 11, I discovered alchol! Through this magic elixir, I discovered that I could talk to BOYS! I could be witty and funny and unleash all the conversational gambits that wouldn't come out of my mouth otherwise.
I had some success with boys in my uni years and beyond, but my mission to self destruct was starting to interfere with my romantic life. Some of my suitors even had the temerity to suggest that I had a drinking problem. It all came to a head when I started to realise that if a guy really liked me, I'd ruin things, by getting drunk, by running away or behaving badly. I started going to counselling, where, layer by layer, I realised that I didn't really like myself - so if any guy showed an interest in me, I assumed he was insane, or joking. Or both. I started to realise that I couldn't really be in a relationship until I worked on myself.
And so, three months after that revelation, I started going out with Richard, and six months after that, we were engaged. Hey, if you're going to work through existential dilemmas, it's better to drag someone else along for the ride, and make their life miserable too, innit? Poor Richard. He's definitely seen me through some hard times, but he's an amazing husband (and person), and has given me the space to become truly me.
So what's the quick fix for a low self esteem? Enter counselling immdiately. You can't unravel years of patterns by yourself. Some of us are more emotional and prone to depression. It's a medical thing. You wouldn't try and treat asthma by yourself, would you? Lose the guilt, and realise that the most important thing that you can do for your friends and family is to LOVE YOURSELF.
My existential dilemma came to a head when I had Alex. Having kids is a surefire trigger for more "who am I" questions, and for someone like me who has tried to be what other people want me to be all my life, it was a freakout. But - thanks to my amazing family and friends, I've come out the other side stronger and more sure of myself. Not everyone has to like me. Not everyone has to share my opinon. But you know what, as long as I'm honest about me, that can never be wrong. I realise that I'm not everyone's cup of tea. Sometimes I'm too honest, too frank, too into emotional mumbo jumbo. But you know what? I like that.
I like me. I even love me. Do you love you too? You should. Cause you're awesome.
Deb xoxox
I'm writing to you from a place where I never thought I'd be - happiness! You see, I've always been a worrier - a bit of a scaredy cat, and always had that feeling of impending doom. Didn't think people liked me, didn't think I was good enough, didn't know who I was but hated myself anyway. And I'm talking about feeling like this from the age of 8. Dreadful stuff, eh? My mum is sad when I tell her that, she feels like she should have known. But how could I verbalise what I didn't know was abnormal? I thought that everyone else felt like this. I thought that people stopped feeling like that when they got a boyfriend. So, that was my goal. On the pages of a SMASH HITS 1987 diary, and deep into my psyche, the words "THIS YEAR I WILL GET A BOYFRIEND" ruled my life. If I could get someone to like me, that would prove I was worthwhile, and prove that I was somebody.
Sadly, I was cripplingly shy as a youngster, and most boys tended to like the girls who laughed and talked, instead of the ones who sat mute, gazing in wonder and fear at this strange species called "boy". I had no idea how to relate to them. Coming from a family of 3 girls, I had no clues, and trudged through life, and highschool alternately avoiding and stalking a succession of guys. In my mind, I fashioned scenarios where I spoke to the pretty boy who'd been occuping my thoughts. Sadly, in real life, I stared at him so hard in the canteen line, that he and his friends started to laugh every time I walked past. I had no clue.
Then, in Year 11, I discovered alchol! Through this magic elixir, I discovered that I could talk to BOYS! I could be witty and funny and unleash all the conversational gambits that wouldn't come out of my mouth otherwise.
I had some success with boys in my uni years and beyond, but my mission to self destruct was starting to interfere with my romantic life. Some of my suitors even had the temerity to suggest that I had a drinking problem. It all came to a head when I started to realise that if a guy really liked me, I'd ruin things, by getting drunk, by running away or behaving badly. I started going to counselling, where, layer by layer, I realised that I didn't really like myself - so if any guy showed an interest in me, I assumed he was insane, or joking. Or both. I started to realise that I couldn't really be in a relationship until I worked on myself.
And so, three months after that revelation, I started going out with Richard, and six months after that, we were engaged. Hey, if you're going to work through existential dilemmas, it's better to drag someone else along for the ride, and make their life miserable too, innit? Poor Richard. He's definitely seen me through some hard times, but he's an amazing husband (and person), and has given me the space to become truly me.
So what's the quick fix for a low self esteem? Enter counselling immdiately. You can't unravel years of patterns by yourself. Some of us are more emotional and prone to depression. It's a medical thing. You wouldn't try and treat asthma by yourself, would you? Lose the guilt, and realise that the most important thing that you can do for your friends and family is to LOVE YOURSELF.
My existential dilemma came to a head when I had Alex. Having kids is a surefire trigger for more "who am I" questions, and for someone like me who has tried to be what other people want me to be all my life, it was a freakout. But - thanks to my amazing family and friends, I've come out the other side stronger and more sure of myself. Not everyone has to like me. Not everyone has to share my opinon. But you know what, as long as I'm honest about me, that can never be wrong. I realise that I'm not everyone's cup of tea. Sometimes I'm too honest, too frank, too into emotional mumbo jumbo. But you know what? I like that.
I like me. I even love me. Do you love you too? You should. Cause you're awesome.
Deb xoxox
Friday, October 29, 2010
What a difference you've made...
Today, I went and did Body Jam - it was awesome! Do you know what was so awesome about it? The music was funky and I could pretend to be a gangsta, but the best part, was that when I looked at myself in the long gym mirror, I didn't have to quickly look away or think "gosh...i'm so fat!". I used to do Body Jam when we first moved to Shepparton in 2008, when I tipped the scales at a massive 122kg. I was so unhappy, but couldn't get out of the habit of using food as a crutch. I'd put on a lot of weight after Alex was born due to Post Natal Depression, and feeding my feelings was a lot easier than dealing with them. My feelings, they sucked. They sucked a lot.
So - today's class got me musing on what else is different in my life these days. I've been going to Weight Watchers for nearly 11 months now, and I've lost 21.7kg so far. I'd already started losing some of the bulk in 2009 - with a change of medication, I didn't retain as much fluid, and I started WW at a still hefty 116kg. Bigger than I'd ever been in my life. When I first started to lose weight, I'd be discouraged, and think "why should I celebrate losing weight when I shouldn't even BE this weight to begin with!??!?". But I rewarded myself and set goals, I really really wanted to do it - I was so sick of being tired all the time and having no energy for Alex or anything much. So, even though I've had days or weeks where I've got off track, just keeping on going has ensured that the days have turned into weeks and the weeks have turned into months, and here I am nearly a year later (hmmm.....that reminds me of something else I did with my life, can anyone guess?)
The things that are different now are:
I can fit into a size 16 or 14, instead of a size 20 (gah!)
I have energy - I no longer want to sit on the lounge and do nothing
I eat lots and lots of salad and fruit and love it!
I have gone almost vegetarian and I love that as well...chickpeas and tofu are my friends
I am still a sugar addict and frequently snack on meringues mmmmmmmmmmmm sugar!
I go for long walks with Alex
I play with Alex a lot more, run around and chase him
I feel more confident in social situations
I can now buy clothes based on whether I like them, not just grabbing something that will fit and cover bulges!
I don't have to keep adjusting my clothes because my tummy pushes on them, that sinking feeling when you realise your pants are rolling down because your sizeable gut is pushing on it is NO MORE!
I am proud of myself because I wanted to do this and I am doing it!
I feel proud that I have inspired other people to want to be healthy
I feel like I respect myself more. With the odd wobbly paranoid moment here and there, I want to be healthy so I can do more, as well as look nice in a pair of jeans :)
I feel younger. Fat makes you look old. I'll never forget being a large teenager in a borrowed pair of my mum's jeans on a School excursion to Newcastle. My skinnier friends jogged past a group of cute surfies and I shuffled by uncomfortably. One of the surfies looked at me with derision and said "are you the teacher?". Ugh. Not nice.
I am no longer asked if Alex is getting a brother or sister. I lost count of the number of times someone looked at my plentiful tummy and said "sooo........???" and I had to say "NO I"M NOT PREGNANT". bleah.
I can shop at the following: Cotton On, Sportsgirl, Jeans West and Just Jeans. No more City Chic or Big is Beautiful for me. Fashion for smaller people is so much cheaper. Yay!
One of the things that has kept me motivated is the idea of being in the WW magazine....and I really really want to do that. WW says that I have about 13 more kg to lose....and I really want to make this a reality. I want to have a healthy BMI for the first time in my adult life. I put weight on in adolescence, when I hit puberty. Hurricane Deb errupted and I was horrendous. I was miserable and feeling alone. Food was my friend and comforter. The same thing happened when I hit PND. But now, I don't need to be unhealthy like that. I can be free from the shackles and uncomfortability that being obese and overweight brings. The shame and sense of failure. I no longer hate myself, and I don't think it's all about willpower. I love WW because you can eat whatever you like, within reason. Smaller portions, pick your binge, do some exercise to earn more points. I realised that if I put down the cake and went for a walk, my life would improve. And it so did.
I love Ajay Rochester's books, they're totally inspiring because she has walked the walk and is totally open about it. At various stages throughout this journey I've cracked open her books again and again. I'll finish on this - today I read in a WW book, this quote
"Eating healthily and exercising is Hard. Being overweight is Hard. Pick your Hard".
I love it. Because no matter how I struggle to stay on the moderate eating wagon, I know I never want to go back to the sheer torment of being obese. This is not a battle I'll ever have full victory over, I'll always have a tendency to comfort eat and to be a bigger girl. But with WW, I believe I have learnt a way of being that is truly sustainable for life. And I'll be around for my little boy longer, and model good habits for him. Which is why Ajay did it, and that's what it's all about.
Love and light
Deb :)
So - today's class got me musing on what else is different in my life these days. I've been going to Weight Watchers for nearly 11 months now, and I've lost 21.7kg so far. I'd already started losing some of the bulk in 2009 - with a change of medication, I didn't retain as much fluid, and I started WW at a still hefty 116kg. Bigger than I'd ever been in my life. When I first started to lose weight, I'd be discouraged, and think "why should I celebrate losing weight when I shouldn't even BE this weight to begin with!??!?". But I rewarded myself and set goals, I really really wanted to do it - I was so sick of being tired all the time and having no energy for Alex or anything much. So, even though I've had days or weeks where I've got off track, just keeping on going has ensured that the days have turned into weeks and the weeks have turned into months, and here I am nearly a year later (hmmm.....that reminds me of something else I did with my life, can anyone guess?)
The things that are different now are:
I can fit into a size 16 or 14, instead of a size 20 (gah!)
I have energy - I no longer want to sit on the lounge and do nothing
I eat lots and lots of salad and fruit and love it!
I have gone almost vegetarian and I love that as well...chickpeas and tofu are my friends
I am still a sugar addict and frequently snack on meringues mmmmmmmmmmmm sugar!
I go for long walks with Alex
I play with Alex a lot more, run around and chase him
I feel more confident in social situations
I can now buy clothes based on whether I like them, not just grabbing something that will fit and cover bulges!
I don't have to keep adjusting my clothes because my tummy pushes on them, that sinking feeling when you realise your pants are rolling down because your sizeable gut is pushing on it is NO MORE!
I am proud of myself because I wanted to do this and I am doing it!
I feel proud that I have inspired other people to want to be healthy
I feel like I respect myself more. With the odd wobbly paranoid moment here and there, I want to be healthy so I can do more, as well as look nice in a pair of jeans :)
I feel younger. Fat makes you look old. I'll never forget being a large teenager in a borrowed pair of my mum's jeans on a School excursion to Newcastle. My skinnier friends jogged past a group of cute surfies and I shuffled by uncomfortably. One of the surfies looked at me with derision and said "are you the teacher?". Ugh. Not nice.
I am no longer asked if Alex is getting a brother or sister. I lost count of the number of times someone looked at my plentiful tummy and said "sooo........???" and I had to say "NO I"M NOT PREGNANT". bleah.
I can shop at the following: Cotton On, Sportsgirl, Jeans West and Just Jeans. No more City Chic or Big is Beautiful for me. Fashion for smaller people is so much cheaper. Yay!
One of the things that has kept me motivated is the idea of being in the WW magazine....and I really really want to do that. WW says that I have about 13 more kg to lose....and I really want to make this a reality. I want to have a healthy BMI for the first time in my adult life. I put weight on in adolescence, when I hit puberty. Hurricane Deb errupted and I was horrendous. I was miserable and feeling alone. Food was my friend and comforter. The same thing happened when I hit PND. But now, I don't need to be unhealthy like that. I can be free from the shackles and uncomfortability that being obese and overweight brings. The shame and sense of failure. I no longer hate myself, and I don't think it's all about willpower. I love WW because you can eat whatever you like, within reason. Smaller portions, pick your binge, do some exercise to earn more points. I realised that if I put down the cake and went for a walk, my life would improve. And it so did.
I love Ajay Rochester's books, they're totally inspiring because she has walked the walk and is totally open about it. At various stages throughout this journey I've cracked open her books again and again. I'll finish on this - today I read in a WW book, this quote
"Eating healthily and exercising is Hard. Being overweight is Hard. Pick your Hard".
I love it. Because no matter how I struggle to stay on the moderate eating wagon, I know I never want to go back to the sheer torment of being obese. This is not a battle I'll ever have full victory over, I'll always have a tendency to comfort eat and to be a bigger girl. But with WW, I believe I have learnt a way of being that is truly sustainable for life. And I'll be around for my little boy longer, and model good habits for him. Which is why Ajay did it, and that's what it's all about.
Love and light
Deb :)
Monday, October 11, 2010
great expectations
Or - not so great expectations, as the case may be!
Being the age of 34, by now I'm starting to realise a few things about myself. I have expectations of people sometimes that aren't fair. I like people to be like me. And when they're not, sometimes I feel hurt and wonder why they're being like that. Crazy, isn't it?
Let me explain. I am a very social person and my idea of hell is being on a deserted island. I like time by myself, don't get me wrong, but I enjoy it for recharging my batteries, and don't like it if it goes for more than a day or so. Being a stay at home mumsy, I find I need to get out and about at least once a day with Alex, so I can interact with others. Otherwise, when Richard comes home, he's nearly knocked over by the barrage of words that comes flooding out of my mouth...."and then I did this, and then I did that, I saw a cat that chased a bird, then Alex did something cute, etc etc etc". Richard is a soul who doesn't really crave conversation in the way that I do, and finds this generally offputting. As you would!
Anyway, I am ok at the developing of friendships. I can be caring and sympathetic, and pride myself on being there for people (hey, I am discovering good stuff as well as bad stuff here!!). But where it all comes unglued is when I haven't heard from someone for a while. Or if I feel like I'm doing all the running. If phonecalls go unanswered and unreturned. I feel hurt, then upset. I feel like I don't matter to them. I've come to realise that I have friends who don't need to communicate as much as I do, who I have to make a point of *not* ringing, because it only upsets me when they don't call me back. They've constantly reassured me that they do love me, but that they know they're crap at keeping in touch. So, these friends, I know are still in my life, if only on the periphery.
The rest of my friends, especially those in the mummy trenches, I kinda like to see at least once a week or once a month. I like to keep in touch with people and find out how they're going. I wish I could be some other way, but if friends continually make excuses or cancel on me then I feel like they don't really want to be my friend anymore. I struggle with those people who get so busy that they can't catch up. I never get that busy. I make time. But I really have to stop expecting my friends to be exactly like me!! I need to just let go and let them have their lives without wondering why that text wasn't returned or that email wasn't answered.
I hesitate to blog about this, because I know it makes me sound somewhat pathetic or neurotic. I have plenty of people who I share my everyday with, but I seem to get caught up in wondering why those "too busy" people don't contact me - instead of focusing on those who do contact me, and those who I see and enjoy time with. This is something I'm going to really work on, because it cost me a wonderful friendship last year. Instead of talking about how I felt, I just got madder and madder, until in the midst of a dreadful bout of PMS, I unleashed a tirade on a dear friend. She was in a very vulnerable place at the time, and has been unable to forgive me. I get that. I know I can be hard work. So I'm trying to get rid of my expectations of others and give them space to be them. It's hard. Cause I want everyone to do what I do - because I'd understand that. I understand myself. Other people? not so much!!
Being the age of 34, by now I'm starting to realise a few things about myself. I have expectations of people sometimes that aren't fair. I like people to be like me. And when they're not, sometimes I feel hurt and wonder why they're being like that. Crazy, isn't it?
Let me explain. I am a very social person and my idea of hell is being on a deserted island. I like time by myself, don't get me wrong, but I enjoy it for recharging my batteries, and don't like it if it goes for more than a day or so. Being a stay at home mumsy, I find I need to get out and about at least once a day with Alex, so I can interact with others. Otherwise, when Richard comes home, he's nearly knocked over by the barrage of words that comes flooding out of my mouth...."and then I did this, and then I did that, I saw a cat that chased a bird, then Alex did something cute, etc etc etc". Richard is a soul who doesn't really crave conversation in the way that I do, and finds this generally offputting. As you would!
Anyway, I am ok at the developing of friendships. I can be caring and sympathetic, and pride myself on being there for people (hey, I am discovering good stuff as well as bad stuff here!!). But where it all comes unglued is when I haven't heard from someone for a while. Or if I feel like I'm doing all the running. If phonecalls go unanswered and unreturned. I feel hurt, then upset. I feel like I don't matter to them. I've come to realise that I have friends who don't need to communicate as much as I do, who I have to make a point of *not* ringing, because it only upsets me when they don't call me back. They've constantly reassured me that they do love me, but that they know they're crap at keeping in touch. So, these friends, I know are still in my life, if only on the periphery.
The rest of my friends, especially those in the mummy trenches, I kinda like to see at least once a week or once a month. I like to keep in touch with people and find out how they're going. I wish I could be some other way, but if friends continually make excuses or cancel on me then I feel like they don't really want to be my friend anymore. I struggle with those people who get so busy that they can't catch up. I never get that busy. I make time. But I really have to stop expecting my friends to be exactly like me!! I need to just let go and let them have their lives without wondering why that text wasn't returned or that email wasn't answered.
I hesitate to blog about this, because I know it makes me sound somewhat pathetic or neurotic. I have plenty of people who I share my everyday with, but I seem to get caught up in wondering why those "too busy" people don't contact me - instead of focusing on those who do contact me, and those who I see and enjoy time with. This is something I'm going to really work on, because it cost me a wonderful friendship last year. Instead of talking about how I felt, I just got madder and madder, until in the midst of a dreadful bout of PMS, I unleashed a tirade on a dear friend. She was in a very vulnerable place at the time, and has been unable to forgive me. I get that. I know I can be hard work. So I'm trying to get rid of my expectations of others and give them space to be them. It's hard. Cause I want everyone to do what I do - because I'd understand that. I understand myself. Other people? not so much!!
Friday, October 8, 2010
history always repeats
Parenting is a funny thing. You learn a lot about yourself, and the influences in your life. I realised something big today that I wanted to share.
I was hurrying to go for a bike ride with Alex, was in a rush, and was trying to help him get ready. He wanted to wear his riding gloves, and so I was trying to help him put them on. First try, there was no finger in the pointer finger, second try, there was no finger in the pinky. Third try, the pointer was missing again. Fourth try, the index finger was missing. "Oh for heavens sake!" I grumped. "Alex, what the heck are you doing? Are you even trying?". I saw his little face frown and his eyes take on a sad look, but was so caught up in what I was doing that I didn't take it in. I tried again. "Come on, mate, put your finger in there. It's easy! Come on. What are you doing?" he tried again, very tentatively. And yet again, no finger in the pointer finger. I felt so frustrated "come on, mate" I exclaimed, "Do it properly or don't even try". He dropped his bottom lip and looked like he might cry. Suddenly, I snapped out of the perfectionistic trance that I was in. What on earth was I doing to my little boy, and where had that come from?
I gave him a big hug. "Sorry for being such a cranky mummy. Mummy was being mean, wasn't she? Mummy was cross with the glove, not you". And suddenly, I remembered someone in my young life helping me with my homework, with different things, and wanting me to do it right first time, getting frustrated with me, and giving up on me, or taking my homework off me and doing it themself. This person is a perfectionist, no doubt because of their upbringing, and is much harder on themself than anyone else. But it made me realise how deeply those words, that sentiment had echoed in my little girl psyche. Because, dear reader, I chose to not even try, because I couldn't do it properly. The sentiment echoed through all aspects of my life - through my relationships with guys, through my friendships, through my jobs. All my life I did the bare minimum, only chosing things that I knew I was good at, that I had natural talent at, and avoiding anything that I couldn't do properly. It's probably something to do with my core personality too, being prone to self doubt and needing reassurance. Under those circumstances, someone with a stronger core would have thought "ok, I'll do it perfectly". But I chose underachieving...and unlike Bart Simpson, I was not proud of it. My life until around 2003 was one long shame spiral for the things that I knew I could probably do, but was too scared to try.
I'm so not criticising this person. I love them unconditionally. They worked so hard, and still work so hard, providing for their family. It wasn't unheard of them to do a 40 hour week in one job, to do a couple of shifts at another workplace, and take on other work on weekends. They wanted to give their family the best of everything because that's the way they show love. So no wonder they were tired and frustrated and unable to be patient in every situation. But I know one thing - I'm never going to tell Alex to do it properly or not at all. The fun is in the attempt, and the journey, not the destination.
And the great thing about this massive revelation? That I can change the pattern, because I'm aware of it. I knew I felt like this, but I wasn't sure where it had come from. Now I know. Knowledge is power, particularly self knowledge. You can't change yourself or your life if you refuse to see the unhealthy patterns and exchange them for healthy, loving ones. Admit, accept and change. Courage to change the things we can and the wisdom to know the difference.
Love you!
Deb
I was hurrying to go for a bike ride with Alex, was in a rush, and was trying to help him get ready. He wanted to wear his riding gloves, and so I was trying to help him put them on. First try, there was no finger in the pointer finger, second try, there was no finger in the pinky. Third try, the pointer was missing again. Fourth try, the index finger was missing. "Oh for heavens sake!" I grumped. "Alex, what the heck are you doing? Are you even trying?". I saw his little face frown and his eyes take on a sad look, but was so caught up in what I was doing that I didn't take it in. I tried again. "Come on, mate, put your finger in there. It's easy! Come on. What are you doing?" he tried again, very tentatively. And yet again, no finger in the pointer finger. I felt so frustrated "come on, mate" I exclaimed, "Do it properly or don't even try". He dropped his bottom lip and looked like he might cry. Suddenly, I snapped out of the perfectionistic trance that I was in. What on earth was I doing to my little boy, and where had that come from?
I gave him a big hug. "Sorry for being such a cranky mummy. Mummy was being mean, wasn't she? Mummy was cross with the glove, not you". And suddenly, I remembered someone in my young life helping me with my homework, with different things, and wanting me to do it right first time, getting frustrated with me, and giving up on me, or taking my homework off me and doing it themself. This person is a perfectionist, no doubt because of their upbringing, and is much harder on themself than anyone else. But it made me realise how deeply those words, that sentiment had echoed in my little girl psyche. Because, dear reader, I chose to not even try, because I couldn't do it properly. The sentiment echoed through all aspects of my life - through my relationships with guys, through my friendships, through my jobs. All my life I did the bare minimum, only chosing things that I knew I was good at, that I had natural talent at, and avoiding anything that I couldn't do properly. It's probably something to do with my core personality too, being prone to self doubt and needing reassurance. Under those circumstances, someone with a stronger core would have thought "ok, I'll do it perfectly". But I chose underachieving...and unlike Bart Simpson, I was not proud of it. My life until around 2003 was one long shame spiral for the things that I knew I could probably do, but was too scared to try.
I'm so not criticising this person. I love them unconditionally. They worked so hard, and still work so hard, providing for their family. It wasn't unheard of them to do a 40 hour week in one job, to do a couple of shifts at another workplace, and take on other work on weekends. They wanted to give their family the best of everything because that's the way they show love. So no wonder they were tired and frustrated and unable to be patient in every situation. But I know one thing - I'm never going to tell Alex to do it properly or not at all. The fun is in the attempt, and the journey, not the destination.
And the great thing about this massive revelation? That I can change the pattern, because I'm aware of it. I knew I felt like this, but I wasn't sure where it had come from. Now I know. Knowledge is power, particularly self knowledge. You can't change yourself or your life if you refuse to see the unhealthy patterns and exchange them for healthy, loving ones. Admit, accept and change. Courage to change the things we can and the wisdom to know the difference.
Love you!
Deb
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Depression - an insider's view.
Guilt - seems to be the emotion of the week this week. I have always been a worrier. A fearful kinda person. I don't believe that anything happened to me to make me like that, I just think it's my inherent personality. I come from a long line of worriers. I'm the kind of person who can't sleep at night thinking about what might go wrong.
Motherhood has unloaded a massive truckload of guilt on me, though. I didnt' want to admit that I had post natal depression when Alex was born, because I didnt' want to have it. I wanted to be a coper. But at the same time, it was waaaaaaaay scary to be his mummy. I don't think anyone can realise until it happens to them, what a huge responsibility it is to be a parent. Suddenly, the buck stops with you. And for a worrier like me, the endless variety of things that could go wrong were almost too much to bear. So I got PND. And I fought it. Imagine the emotional and mental equivalent of a broken leg. You go to a doctor, you go to a psychiatrist. "Fix my leg!!" you plead with them. They try. They give you antidepressants. They give you strategies. And, if you're unlucky, like me - nothing works. The broken leg splinters the more you walk on it. Your flesh is exposed. You're in unbelievable mental and emotional torment. But you're told that it will get better. So you wait. But the wound wont' heal and becomes more agonising. You go to a mother and baby unit, and they tell you that you will have to use your strategies until it becomes better because you are on all the medication you can be. You go home, you try to cope, but every time you talk to someone, you do anything, all you can think about is the agony you're in. Try to look for the positive, they tell you. Try to go for a walk. Ignore the agony. If you were in this much physical pain, surely you'd have a strong painkiller. Yet, you have to live without anything to numb it. You try to self medicate and end up in a psych ward. God has a sense of humour, because no matter what you try, you can't check out of this horror.
In the end, it was as simple as this for me - did I want to live or die? I wasn't going to feel better or like me for a long, long time. But did I really want to deprive my son of a mother, my husband of a wife, my parents of a daughter, and my sisters of a sister? I wanted more than anything to end the unbelievable anguish. I was suicidal for about a year to 18 months. But, in the end I was stronger than it (with God's help). I decided that screw you, depression, I am GOING TO LIVE! So I just got up every day, and did the best I could. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't laugh, I couldn't read. I was less a person and more a collection of horrendous mental agonies. I didn't think I'd ever get better. I didn't believe the people who told me I would. I wished that I had a fatal illness because at least I knew it would END.
But do you know what? it did end. At first, I had a good bit of a day. then a good whole day. Then a couple of good days in a row. Then, without me noticing it, I had a good week. And another. When I fell back into a bad day, it was terrifying, because I thought it would start again and I'd never have a good day. But I did. And when I finally "Woke up" from depression.....my son was 2 and I had to start picking up the pieces of my relationships again. It was very hard. I think that I've only really started to feel like myself this year. My son is 4 now.
So I spoil him sometimes. I'm so guilty that I wasn't "There" for the first two years of his life. Yes, I always loved him. That was one of the things that kept me alive. But I couldnt' always be the mummy I wanted to be. Because I just wasn't able. So now I want to be the best mummy I can possibly be. But I don't want to spoil him. MOtherhood is so hard!!
Anyway - I will end on this - I know this is a heavy post but I wanted to get it off my chest. I'm trying not to spoil him, but I love him so much. Without him, I wouldnt' be the survivor I am today.
Love and peace
Deb xo
Motherhood has unloaded a massive truckload of guilt on me, though. I didnt' want to admit that I had post natal depression when Alex was born, because I didnt' want to have it. I wanted to be a coper. But at the same time, it was waaaaaaaay scary to be his mummy. I don't think anyone can realise until it happens to them, what a huge responsibility it is to be a parent. Suddenly, the buck stops with you. And for a worrier like me, the endless variety of things that could go wrong were almost too much to bear. So I got PND. And I fought it. Imagine the emotional and mental equivalent of a broken leg. You go to a doctor, you go to a psychiatrist. "Fix my leg!!" you plead with them. They try. They give you antidepressants. They give you strategies. And, if you're unlucky, like me - nothing works. The broken leg splinters the more you walk on it. Your flesh is exposed. You're in unbelievable mental and emotional torment. But you're told that it will get better. So you wait. But the wound wont' heal and becomes more agonising. You go to a mother and baby unit, and they tell you that you will have to use your strategies until it becomes better because you are on all the medication you can be. You go home, you try to cope, but every time you talk to someone, you do anything, all you can think about is the agony you're in. Try to look for the positive, they tell you. Try to go for a walk. Ignore the agony. If you were in this much physical pain, surely you'd have a strong painkiller. Yet, you have to live without anything to numb it. You try to self medicate and end up in a psych ward. God has a sense of humour, because no matter what you try, you can't check out of this horror.
In the end, it was as simple as this for me - did I want to live or die? I wasn't going to feel better or like me for a long, long time. But did I really want to deprive my son of a mother, my husband of a wife, my parents of a daughter, and my sisters of a sister? I wanted more than anything to end the unbelievable anguish. I was suicidal for about a year to 18 months. But, in the end I was stronger than it (with God's help). I decided that screw you, depression, I am GOING TO LIVE! So I just got up every day, and did the best I could. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't laugh, I couldn't read. I was less a person and more a collection of horrendous mental agonies. I didn't think I'd ever get better. I didn't believe the people who told me I would. I wished that I had a fatal illness because at least I knew it would END.
But do you know what? it did end. At first, I had a good bit of a day. then a good whole day. Then a couple of good days in a row. Then, without me noticing it, I had a good week. And another. When I fell back into a bad day, it was terrifying, because I thought it would start again and I'd never have a good day. But I did. And when I finally "Woke up" from depression.....my son was 2 and I had to start picking up the pieces of my relationships again. It was very hard. I think that I've only really started to feel like myself this year. My son is 4 now.
So I spoil him sometimes. I'm so guilty that I wasn't "There" for the first two years of his life. Yes, I always loved him. That was one of the things that kept me alive. But I couldnt' always be the mummy I wanted to be. Because I just wasn't able. So now I want to be the best mummy I can possibly be. But I don't want to spoil him. MOtherhood is so hard!!
Anyway - I will end on this - I know this is a heavy post but I wanted to get it off my chest. I'm trying not to spoil him, but I love him so much. Without him, I wouldnt' be the survivor I am today.
Love and peace
Deb xo
Monday, September 20, 2010
You're my world, you're my everything...
Hello readers!
Yes...I know it's been a while since I blogged. But I've been thinking about it, that's almost the same, isn't it?
well, today was a shocker....I had to come and share about how it felt. Looking after Alex and Richard and the house is my full time job. I"m a stay at home mum and some Monday mornings I wake up and think "ho hum". I feel guilty about not spending enough time playing with Alex, I feel guilty about not spending enough time doing the laundry, cooking nutritious meals, being able to earn money, keeping up with world events, and guilty about how I spend a heck of a lot of time thinking about ME, myself, how I look, what I'm going to wear, what other people think of me.....how much weight I've lost, how many points are in my snack, how many points were in what I ate yesterday, how much weight am I going to lose, am I a yummy mummy yet? Argh, it's all so stupid, what I think sometimes. I just get obsessed with what's in my head and totally lose focus on what's important. The job that I do is important.....and if I'm distracted by ME ME ME, I miss the important stuff.
Today, Alex had a minor collision with a reversing car. I was able to reach him before any real damage was done, he was wearing a helmet and neither he nor the car were going very fast. Still, it was enough to turn my blood to ice. I was just concentrating on getting Alex to hospital to be checked over, and dealing with what had to happen, to get him lunch and to go home and put a load of washing on, to get dinner, to make his bed.
After dinner, when he was in bed, my sister in law rang to ask how Alex was, and how I was. Her sweet, gentle inquiry brought me undone. I was chipper on the phone but after I hung up, it really hit me how precious he is and how sometimes I'm so irritated by countless requests for everything in sight, that I lose focus of how much I love him. Sometimes he becomes an irritation that I want to escape from, and I know that a lot of stay at homers feel like that, but I feel so bad that it took me so long to actually process what happened today. I sat there and cried because he IS so precious, he is such an amazing kid and I love him SO much......and it just hit me for the millionth time how BIG a responsibility it is to be his mummy and how much that freaked me out to begin with, because it felt like it was too much for me to take on. Today, I couldn't get ahold of my mum or Richard, while Alex and I were waiting in emergency to get him checked over. I thought - looks like I have to be an adult - but when do the grown ups show up? It's scary being a grown up. Half the time, I still feel as clueless as a kid, and that I have no idea what I am supposed to do. But, you know what I have realised lately? That's part of being a human/adult/married/a mum...there's no magic moment when you realise, hurrah, I'm here! There's just coping with what life throws at you - that's what makes you an adult. Nobody has a rule book to life (unless it's the bible), and I just have to trust that my best is good enough.
Alex, buddy, I love you. Every night, before I go to sleep, I look at you sleeping peacefully, and can't imagine my life without you. I'm blessed to have you. God, please help me to remember that, and not to get taken over by my crap and the irritation of daily life. Help me to delight in the blessings you've given me and not to take it for granted and want to escape from my responsibilities!! :)
Yes...I know it's been a while since I blogged. But I've been thinking about it, that's almost the same, isn't it?
well, today was a shocker....I had to come and share about how it felt. Looking after Alex and Richard and the house is my full time job. I"m a stay at home mum and some Monday mornings I wake up and think "ho hum". I feel guilty about not spending enough time playing with Alex, I feel guilty about not spending enough time doing the laundry, cooking nutritious meals, being able to earn money, keeping up with world events, and guilty about how I spend a heck of a lot of time thinking about ME, myself, how I look, what I'm going to wear, what other people think of me.....how much weight I've lost, how many points are in my snack, how many points were in what I ate yesterday, how much weight am I going to lose, am I a yummy mummy yet? Argh, it's all so stupid, what I think sometimes. I just get obsessed with what's in my head and totally lose focus on what's important. The job that I do is important.....and if I'm distracted by ME ME ME, I miss the important stuff.
Today, Alex had a minor collision with a reversing car. I was able to reach him before any real damage was done, he was wearing a helmet and neither he nor the car were going very fast. Still, it was enough to turn my blood to ice. I was just concentrating on getting Alex to hospital to be checked over, and dealing with what had to happen, to get him lunch and to go home and put a load of washing on, to get dinner, to make his bed.
After dinner, when he was in bed, my sister in law rang to ask how Alex was, and how I was. Her sweet, gentle inquiry brought me undone. I was chipper on the phone but after I hung up, it really hit me how precious he is and how sometimes I'm so irritated by countless requests for everything in sight, that I lose focus of how much I love him. Sometimes he becomes an irritation that I want to escape from, and I know that a lot of stay at homers feel like that, but I feel so bad that it took me so long to actually process what happened today. I sat there and cried because he IS so precious, he is such an amazing kid and I love him SO much......and it just hit me for the millionth time how BIG a responsibility it is to be his mummy and how much that freaked me out to begin with, because it felt like it was too much for me to take on. Today, I couldn't get ahold of my mum or Richard, while Alex and I were waiting in emergency to get him checked over. I thought - looks like I have to be an adult - but when do the grown ups show up? It's scary being a grown up. Half the time, I still feel as clueless as a kid, and that I have no idea what I am supposed to do. But, you know what I have realised lately? That's part of being a human/adult/married/a mum...there's no magic moment when you realise, hurrah, I'm here! There's just coping with what life throws at you - that's what makes you an adult. Nobody has a rule book to life (unless it's the bible), and I just have to trust that my best is good enough.
Alex, buddy, I love you. Every night, before I go to sleep, I look at you sleeping peacefully, and can't imagine my life without you. I'm blessed to have you. God, please help me to remember that, and not to get taken over by my crap and the irritation of daily life. Help me to delight in the blessings you've given me and not to take it for granted and want to escape from my responsibilities!! :)
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