I did it - I went to my 20 year highschool reunion.
I didn't go to the 10 year reunion, as I'd just met Richard, and I was living in Canberra, he was living in Finley, and the reunion was in Taree. Love of your life versus awkward chit chat? Of course, I took off to Finley and spent the weekend in a love haze.
This one was different, though, 20 years had gone by. I got an invitation to the Facebook group last year, and was undecided whether I'd go.... my best friend Jennie was moving back to Wingham some time soon, so I knew that we could hang out. I'd also reconnected with a lovely girl called Shauna, who I was never friends with in school (we both thought the other hated us!) but have become firm friends with her over shared experiences and thoughts on Facey. I was hoping that Kristy, Liz, Renae and Richard M would come, as they were part of our posse in Year 11 and 12, but the distance was too great for them. There were lots of lovely people there that it was great to see.
It's hard for me to talk about my schooling without mentioning that I was seriously depressed and anxious for a lot of it. I suffered terribly from low self esteem, and I didn't know who I was, or who I wanted to be. The most I thought I could hope for was to be a housewife - I knew how to do housework and I felt sure that I couldn't fail at that. I was terrified of trying new things, terrified of seeming silly and wrong, terrified of myself and sure that other people had the answers that I was lacking.
I wouldn't say that I took part in much of my schooling - I'd say that I was an observer. I have the keenest memories of all the events that happened in school, probably because I was so aware of others and watching what they did. I thought other people had the answers, and watched how they interacted and talked and joked. If my friends were away, it wasn't uncommon for me to spend the entire day not talking to anyone. Yet, the moment that I came home from school, I'd come alive, I'd start performing. I'd laugh and joke and talk and express. I had so, so many feelings and thoughts, but I somehow thought that they were too intense and too much to share with other people. I was furiously angry at popular people, thought they were sheep, and clung to disdain of those who dared to be happy.
I can't imagine why I didn't get invited to more parties.
In the 20 years since then, I've grown into myself. I've become more me and less me at the same time. I'm aware of my boundaries and my limits. That is such a good and healthy thing. The times when I say "no, I'm sorry, I need help", empower both me and the person I am asking for help. I alone can do it, but I don't have to do it alone. There have been many many wonderful and amazing people who have shared my journey of self discovery and my quest for the prize of contentment.
I was surprised when people recognised me at the reunion, because the girl that I was at that school is someone who I don't feel like. Apart from the red hair, brown eyes and tall frame, I feel like I have little in common with her.
She agonised over what she said - I mostly let it go.
She was terrified of what people thought of her - I realise that I can't control what others think
She was angry at the cards fate had dealt - I realise that gratitude and acceptance are the only things I need to make sense of life
She didn't know who she was, but was sure it was wrong - I know exactly who I am, and I know that I am enough.
She hated people because she hated herself - I love people today (imperfectly), because I love and cherish myself.
She thought life wasn't fair - I know that life is what you make of the things that happen.
She hated Taree because coming there had ruined her life - I saw that Taree is a beautiful town, with beaches and lush green valleys. I saw that the sadness that was in me was what had ruined my outlook.
I know I've still got a long way to go, but just for today, I am happy in the journey, and contented in who and where I am.
There is a passage in one of my favourite books, where it says "We will not regret the past, nor wish to shut the door on it" - and that's exactly how I felt. No, I didn't feel the need to stick around. It was nice to see people and hear some stories of what they were up to..but there were no lightning bolt moments that resolved any deep seated issues. I realised that, as always, the answer is not in other people. It never is. Other people don't have my answers. My answers come from deep with in me, in a higher consciousness that I choose to call God. I carry this with me at all times, and wherever I go...there I am. And I like that.
Thursday, June 13, 2013
Monday, January 28, 2013
I broke up with dieting...because it was making me crazy
What goes around, comes around.
This time about 4 years ago, I weighed 122kg. I hated myself. I felt revolting and inadequate, like I didn't have any value. It was hard to get around, I didn't have much energy, my size was 20....my self esteem was minus one thousand. I felt ugly and unattractive and that I was taking up way too much space. I felt that whenever anyone interacted with me, they'd whisper "you fat cow", under their breath. I was totally paranoid about my size.
So then, I decided to go to Weight Watchers. I embraced it with all the control freakery that is in me. I weighed and measured and counted points. I walked and thought and lived for my weigh in. I set up a reward list for when I lost the weight. I felt that people were more interested in me as I shrank. I became an inspiration. A thinspiration. And I kept it up, for a good year. In that time, I lost 24 kilos. I was, if not a shadow of my former self, looking pretty good. My friends and husband told me how great I looked. The doors of chain stores were open to me. I could wear Cotton On, Target,Sportsgirl and I was in a size 14, sometimes size 12. I was winning at life.
I lived and breathed Weight Watchers, I saw lives changed in those rooms as we shared our worries and our challenges about the week coming. We heard inspirational stories, we talked about strategies like filling up on vegetables so we wouldn't overeat. We exercised so that we could eat. Or, perhaps only I did.
I started working as a WW volunteer, handing out cards and helping. The next thing you know, I'd asked for, and received, a job as a weigher. Slight problem. Although I felt reasonably good about my weight, I was still 12 kilos outside my healthy weight range. People were coming through the doors at my height, wanting to lose 5kg, weighing less than I did as a weigher. I felt totally inadequate and that I should be at my goal weight if I wanted to take this shit seriously and become a leader. Which I totally did. I have a background in amateur theatrics (both on and off stage), and love the thrill of being in front of an audience.
So, because there was no manager in the area at the time, and as the other leader had quit, I got through as a Leader on a technicality. As long as I was committed to losing weight, I could become a leader. I had to submit to monthly weigh ins, as I did as a weigher. No worries, thought I. I've got this in the bag. I'm good at losing weight. Or so I thought. Until I had to.
My journey had stopped being about me and started being about numbers. I put a lot into my meetings, and would think about the clients and ways to help them. It was seductive to think that I had the capacity to help other people with their problems. Me, who only 4 years prior, had been suffering from crippling Post Natal Depression/Nervous Breakdown. I was useful. I had a function, other than mother, which often, I thought I did a pretty bad job. Sure, I love Alex, but I wanted something for me.
So, a couple of things happened. I started doing a lot of extra work to get my meetings going. I had to receive and count stock, and store boxes upon boxes upon boxes of stock in my spare room, and transport it to and from the meetings. I had to manage staff. I was really really crap at managing staff. I wanted them to just know what I was thinking and would feel annoyed if they didn't do things the "right" way, but felt unable to tell them, as by then, they were my friends. Awkward.
I had been struggling with my weight for a while. At 181cm, my goal weight is between 64-82kgs. At my lightest with WW, I reached 93kg. Still a way to go....and so I set about it. Only, I was a bit sick of counting so much. I was sick of being organised. Of weighing and measuring and counting and converting. My brain was full with so much information about food. And meetings, and ways to encourage people, the sales targets that I had as a leader, the information talk that I had to give to the new people, and what the product of the week was. I gained and lost the same 4kg many times. The leaders meetings that we had every second month became painful, when all my staff were at goal weight, and I wasn't. Worse still, the very thinnest, prettiest one of them all had decided that she would train as a leader. I was very supportive of her, but noticed that she had started to bring me up on some of the procedures that I wasn't doing properly. I should have talked to her about it, but I didn't know how to. I didnt' want to admit that I was jealous of her and her figure. She was getting married and I was jealous of that. Marriage is amazing and life changing, but at times it can be a slow plod, especially with young kids. I knew my husband loved me and that I loved him, but we were far from lovebirds, especially with my brain so full of weight watchers and points.
My son Alex was starting school and I was full of anxiety about him leaving me. He had been bullied at his kinder(preschool) and I was worried that the same thing would happen. School was not a pleasant place for me, and I couldn't help but project some of my fears onto him.
In short, my brain was too full and too busy. On top of that, I was a recovering alcoholic who hadn't been to an AA meeting in over a year. I had a nasty little secret too. After my sleeping tablets were ceased in 2008, I rediscovered my old friend codeine. I'd hurt my back and noticed that after I took the tablets, I was much more able to sleep. I filed that away for future reference.
In the midst of all this cray cray, mid 2011, I'd developed a horrible sinus infection, with a crippling headache. I started taking aspirin/neurofen based codeine painkillers along with panadol based codeine painkillers. I only took them 2 at a time, because that's what it said on the packet, but I totally ignored the part where it said "no more than 6 in 24 hours" and "do not take for more than a week at a time", and especially not "WARNING: Codeine is addictive". I was washing the painkillers down with lashings of Diet Coke and Skinny cappuccino, and hating myself for not losing more weight.
I told my coworkers at WW everything. Warts and all. (oh, except about the painkillers!!) I told them the things that I should have revealed only to other AAs, things about my past and my present and behaviours that I had that were far from healthy. I didn't really know much about appropriate conversations.
And so, it all came to a head. One Saturday morning in January 2012, all the hate and fear and anger that I felt towards my body, for not losing weight, my mind, for obsessing over how fat/thin I was, and how I compared to those around me, all the nasty, black, disgusting thoughts and feelings I had, erupted. A couple of things happened. I felt that the Thin and Pretty Leader in Training was disrespecting me. I felt that she wasn't listening to me. I felt jealous and horrible and ugly and fat and stupid, and I unleashed all of that on her. And she fled the room. The other girl looked at me in horror and said "This changes everything". I was still angry, so justified myself. Then a trickle of fear crept in. I went into the bathroom, where Thin and Pretty had fled to....and found her with a nosebleed, weeping in the aftermath of my vicious attack. I apologised, and we hugged. We all went out for a rather subdued coffee. Oh. And it was her birthday. Happy birthday - sorry for the verbal abuse, let me pay for your coffee.
Are you surprised to hear that they never spoke to me again? Are you surprised to hear that I was fired? They cut me loose and I was angry. I was embarrassed and ashamed and felt awful.
But, at least I could eat what I wanted now. Or could I? I pushed so much crap into my body in the next few days, that I almost immediately put on 3 kilos. Didn't worry about them too much. As long as I could still fit into my cool clothes, I was golden.
February came around, and I was anxious and twitchy at home. One of my friends got me a job at a fast food cafe. This was good news for the bank balance, but very bad news for my food. We were allowed to eat whatever we liked from the Bain Marie.... and so I did. The habits that I'd picked up over 2 years of WW were still ingrained and I binged on fruit and vegetables, but ate quite a few burgers from the shop, as well as the enormous fatty fries that tasted like heaven.
I joined a gym, because my pants were starting to get tight. This was April. My weight had hit 102kg and I was a little worried, because it wasn't coming off like it used to. I started drinking protein shakes from the gym and still eating crap. It didn't work. By the time I quit the cafe, in May, I weighed 105kg and was busting out of my size 16 pants. I had to go and buy a few size 18s. I couldn't fit into my size 12 or 14 tops any more. I started to feel paranoid about my size.
In June, I stopped going to the gym, and decided to go back to what had worked for me. Weight Watchers. I signed up for three months of online tracking so I could get back to tracking my points. But something was wrong. I couldn't control myself any more. I resented having to stop eating. I kept bingeing. I even threw up. The painkiller usage had continued on, with my headaches and backaches a part of everyday life. I had a hole in my tooth, so sometimes used that as an excuse for buying the daily painkillers. I started visiting different chemists after a chemist asked me "Have you been to the doctor for this? You've had a lot of painkillers recently!". I was full of fear, and self-righteous anger. He had no idea how I suffered! (Yeah, right).
Weight Watchers wasn't working. I took a couple of kilos off, but they'd keep coming back on. I started going back to AA meetings, as well as a new fellowship to help with some of my emotional problems. I quit another temping job, as Alex had got Scarlet Fever. I wanted to be at home looking after him, but I was resentful at having to give up my life for him. I felt trapped. Food, and painkillers, were my reward.
In September, I started Tony Ferguson. I was now up to 107kg, I hadn't been able to lose any weight long term with Weight Watchers. I decided that I needed a quick loss in time for Christmas, and that this would help me. It didn't. I was 107kg in the bathroom at home, but 110kg when I weighed in at TF. I managed to get back down to 108 on their scales, but as soon as I had a week where I put on weight, I decided that it wasn't working and stopped. I had a friend who was doing intuitive eating, where you listen to your body and eat whatever you like, as long as you are hungry.
I decided to start doing this, however, I kinda skipped the "as long as you're hungry" part. I was full of fear about my weight, and my brain was constantly telling me that I was revolting and disgusting. I stepped on the scales one day and saw 113kg. Disaster. I had a friend who was doing Jenny Craig, so I decided to go there. They were absolutely lovely and talked me through everything. I started doing all the things that I'd done with WW, and binged on vegetables and fruit. Even when I wasn't hungry, in case I got hungry. But for every 500g I lost, I put 600g on. I was getting bigger and bigger. When, after a particularly bad weekend, I saw the figure "115kg", I became fearful.
Over Christmas, I restricted what I ate and took a bag of snow peas with me everywhere. I hardly ate any chocolate. I went back to JC and I had put on 300g.
This was the point that I went...you know what? This is just not working for me. I read a friend's book about intuitive eating, again, and embraced the part about "only when I am hungry". What good is bingeing on lots and lots of vegetables when you are hungry for a bowl of popcorn? Why am I fighting my body so much? So I decided to stop fighting. I broke up with dieting. I'd love to tell you that I lost lots and lots of weight, and have the answers to all your questions. But I don't. I only have my journey. I have my body and my appetite and I have to honour that. I have to accept the way that I feel about my body. At the moment, I am a size 18, and I don't like that. I feel unacceptable. I saw myself on a video that my husband took today and my first thought was "My goodness, I'm fat!!". And I accepted that. I am practicing listening to my body....because when I was a little girl, I was skinny. Before the emotional minefield that was puberty, I listened to my body. I ran, I walked, I jumped and I ate. I didn't think about what to eat or when to eat, I just did it. And I was healthy. I wish I was smaller, but I have to accept that I don't know what is good or bad for my body.
I'd get so angry before weigh ins, when I'd eaten loads of vegetables and they wouldn't clear out. I became obsessed with my colon and because of all the codeine had blocked me up, I would take laxatives. I wouldn't drink or eat before weighing in, and I'd wear the lightest clothes I could find. It was no way to live long term - I'm surprised I lasted as long as I did.
So, I've broken up with dieting. My weight may not have changed much, but I am still adjusting to the "eat when you're hungry" thing. I still eat a lot when I'm not hungry, but it's getting less. I am practicing being loving and tolerant of myself and I think that when I feel that I am not going to be deprived of eating, that perhaps I will begin to have a regular relationship with food. I've done it a few times, not eaten til I was hungry, and the food, the food is so much nicer. So much more delicious on an empty stomach, than force feeding more comfort into a body that is already stuffed with the meal before.
My codeine addiction is quite common, especially among those with addictive personalities. There's a reason why it says "WARNING: CODEINE IS ADDICTIVE". Cause it blummen well is! I went to see my doctor to get some help with it, and have been slowly coming off it. In a week, I will be totally painkiller free. I realised that I couldn't tell if I was hungry or not if I was constantly fuzzy from painkillers. I thought I was in genuine pain....turns out the neck pain can be fixed by a hot shower, dencorub or a wheat bag. The headache - that was a rebound headache from taking too many painkillers - a sign that my body was dependent on them. I feel clear, happy and free. I had a lot of fear around giving them up and whether I would be able to sleep or not...and although it hasn't been the best week of sleep that I've ever had in my life, I accept that I am an anxious type of person and I need to do things like writing and exercising and talking to other AA members about my addictive personality, in order to sleep peacefully.
My mind is emptied of fat, kj, points, propoints, fats, grains, etc etc. I practice trying to love and accept myself. I soothe the voice in my head that tells me I am a fat loser and nobody wants to be my friend. I tell it that I am doing the best that I can and I am worthy. I have come so far. I know that the damaged, skeptical, addictive part of me still wants the Duromine that another doctor offered me, but the well, sane part of me, just wants me to be me. I am practicing loving myself back to health. How can I stay overweight if I eat only when I am hungry? It is a scary journey, but one that I am sort of excited about being on.
When I'm fully off the codeine, I will be picking another sobriety date. And instead of thinking that I've lost nearly 10 years of sobriety and being hard on myself, I will see that not drinking, one day at a time, for nearly 10 years, is an achievement....and that this is another phase of my recovery. Instead of thinking that I've lost and then regained 16kg, and that I am a failure, I see that I have learnt a lot through my weight loss journey. I was just as obsessed and crazy at 93kg when I was dieting. I didn't focus on life - I focused on food. It was my obsession and all I wanted was to be thinner, because perhaps then I would feel worthwhile. I am no better or worse than anyone who has an addictive nature. I am no better or worse than anyone who has ever struggled to lose weight and hated themselves because of it. I'm moving away from judging other people, because it makes me judge myself too, and I don't like that. I am no better or worse. I'm just me. Becoming Deborah.
This time about 4 years ago, I weighed 122kg. I hated myself. I felt revolting and inadequate, like I didn't have any value. It was hard to get around, I didn't have much energy, my size was 20....my self esteem was minus one thousand. I felt ugly and unattractive and that I was taking up way too much space. I felt that whenever anyone interacted with me, they'd whisper "you fat cow", under their breath. I was totally paranoid about my size.
So then, I decided to go to Weight Watchers. I embraced it with all the control freakery that is in me. I weighed and measured and counted points. I walked and thought and lived for my weigh in. I set up a reward list for when I lost the weight. I felt that people were more interested in me as I shrank. I became an inspiration. A thinspiration. And I kept it up, for a good year. In that time, I lost 24 kilos. I was, if not a shadow of my former self, looking pretty good. My friends and husband told me how great I looked. The doors of chain stores were open to me. I could wear Cotton On, Target,Sportsgirl and I was in a size 14, sometimes size 12. I was winning at life.
I lived and breathed Weight Watchers, I saw lives changed in those rooms as we shared our worries and our challenges about the week coming. We heard inspirational stories, we talked about strategies like filling up on vegetables so we wouldn't overeat. We exercised so that we could eat. Or, perhaps only I did.
I started working as a WW volunteer, handing out cards and helping. The next thing you know, I'd asked for, and received, a job as a weigher. Slight problem. Although I felt reasonably good about my weight, I was still 12 kilos outside my healthy weight range. People were coming through the doors at my height, wanting to lose 5kg, weighing less than I did as a weigher. I felt totally inadequate and that I should be at my goal weight if I wanted to take this shit seriously and become a leader. Which I totally did. I have a background in amateur theatrics (both on and off stage), and love the thrill of being in front of an audience.
So, because there was no manager in the area at the time, and as the other leader had quit, I got through as a Leader on a technicality. As long as I was committed to losing weight, I could become a leader. I had to submit to monthly weigh ins, as I did as a weigher. No worries, thought I. I've got this in the bag. I'm good at losing weight. Or so I thought. Until I had to.
My journey had stopped being about me and started being about numbers. I put a lot into my meetings, and would think about the clients and ways to help them. It was seductive to think that I had the capacity to help other people with their problems. Me, who only 4 years prior, had been suffering from crippling Post Natal Depression/Nervous Breakdown. I was useful. I had a function, other than mother, which often, I thought I did a pretty bad job. Sure, I love Alex, but I wanted something for me.
So, a couple of things happened. I started doing a lot of extra work to get my meetings going. I had to receive and count stock, and store boxes upon boxes upon boxes of stock in my spare room, and transport it to and from the meetings. I had to manage staff. I was really really crap at managing staff. I wanted them to just know what I was thinking and would feel annoyed if they didn't do things the "right" way, but felt unable to tell them, as by then, they were my friends. Awkward.
I had been struggling with my weight for a while. At 181cm, my goal weight is between 64-82kgs. At my lightest with WW, I reached 93kg. Still a way to go....and so I set about it. Only, I was a bit sick of counting so much. I was sick of being organised. Of weighing and measuring and counting and converting. My brain was full with so much information about food. And meetings, and ways to encourage people, the sales targets that I had as a leader, the information talk that I had to give to the new people, and what the product of the week was. I gained and lost the same 4kg many times. The leaders meetings that we had every second month became painful, when all my staff were at goal weight, and I wasn't. Worse still, the very thinnest, prettiest one of them all had decided that she would train as a leader. I was very supportive of her, but noticed that she had started to bring me up on some of the procedures that I wasn't doing properly. I should have talked to her about it, but I didn't know how to. I didnt' want to admit that I was jealous of her and her figure. She was getting married and I was jealous of that. Marriage is amazing and life changing, but at times it can be a slow plod, especially with young kids. I knew my husband loved me and that I loved him, but we were far from lovebirds, especially with my brain so full of weight watchers and points.
My son Alex was starting school and I was full of anxiety about him leaving me. He had been bullied at his kinder(preschool) and I was worried that the same thing would happen. School was not a pleasant place for me, and I couldn't help but project some of my fears onto him.
In short, my brain was too full and too busy. On top of that, I was a recovering alcoholic who hadn't been to an AA meeting in over a year. I had a nasty little secret too. After my sleeping tablets were ceased in 2008, I rediscovered my old friend codeine. I'd hurt my back and noticed that after I took the tablets, I was much more able to sleep. I filed that away for future reference.
In the midst of all this cray cray, mid 2011, I'd developed a horrible sinus infection, with a crippling headache. I started taking aspirin/neurofen based codeine painkillers along with panadol based codeine painkillers. I only took them 2 at a time, because that's what it said on the packet, but I totally ignored the part where it said "no more than 6 in 24 hours" and "do not take for more than a week at a time", and especially not "WARNING: Codeine is addictive". I was washing the painkillers down with lashings of Diet Coke and Skinny cappuccino, and hating myself for not losing more weight.
I told my coworkers at WW everything. Warts and all. (oh, except about the painkillers!!) I told them the things that I should have revealed only to other AAs, things about my past and my present and behaviours that I had that were far from healthy. I didn't really know much about appropriate conversations.
And so, it all came to a head. One Saturday morning in January 2012, all the hate and fear and anger that I felt towards my body, for not losing weight, my mind, for obsessing over how fat/thin I was, and how I compared to those around me, all the nasty, black, disgusting thoughts and feelings I had, erupted. A couple of things happened. I felt that the Thin and Pretty Leader in Training was disrespecting me. I felt that she wasn't listening to me. I felt jealous and horrible and ugly and fat and stupid, and I unleashed all of that on her. And she fled the room. The other girl looked at me in horror and said "This changes everything". I was still angry, so justified myself. Then a trickle of fear crept in. I went into the bathroom, where Thin and Pretty had fled to....and found her with a nosebleed, weeping in the aftermath of my vicious attack. I apologised, and we hugged. We all went out for a rather subdued coffee. Oh. And it was her birthday. Happy birthday - sorry for the verbal abuse, let me pay for your coffee.
Are you surprised to hear that they never spoke to me again? Are you surprised to hear that I was fired? They cut me loose and I was angry. I was embarrassed and ashamed and felt awful.
But, at least I could eat what I wanted now. Or could I? I pushed so much crap into my body in the next few days, that I almost immediately put on 3 kilos. Didn't worry about them too much. As long as I could still fit into my cool clothes, I was golden.
February came around, and I was anxious and twitchy at home. One of my friends got me a job at a fast food cafe. This was good news for the bank balance, but very bad news for my food. We were allowed to eat whatever we liked from the Bain Marie.... and so I did. The habits that I'd picked up over 2 years of WW were still ingrained and I binged on fruit and vegetables, but ate quite a few burgers from the shop, as well as the enormous fatty fries that tasted like heaven.
I joined a gym, because my pants were starting to get tight. This was April. My weight had hit 102kg and I was a little worried, because it wasn't coming off like it used to. I started drinking protein shakes from the gym and still eating crap. It didn't work. By the time I quit the cafe, in May, I weighed 105kg and was busting out of my size 16 pants. I had to go and buy a few size 18s. I couldn't fit into my size 12 or 14 tops any more. I started to feel paranoid about my size.
In June, I stopped going to the gym, and decided to go back to what had worked for me. Weight Watchers. I signed up for three months of online tracking so I could get back to tracking my points. But something was wrong. I couldn't control myself any more. I resented having to stop eating. I kept bingeing. I even threw up. The painkiller usage had continued on, with my headaches and backaches a part of everyday life. I had a hole in my tooth, so sometimes used that as an excuse for buying the daily painkillers. I started visiting different chemists after a chemist asked me "Have you been to the doctor for this? You've had a lot of painkillers recently!". I was full of fear, and self-righteous anger. He had no idea how I suffered! (Yeah, right).
Weight Watchers wasn't working. I took a couple of kilos off, but they'd keep coming back on. I started going back to AA meetings, as well as a new fellowship to help with some of my emotional problems. I quit another temping job, as Alex had got Scarlet Fever. I wanted to be at home looking after him, but I was resentful at having to give up my life for him. I felt trapped. Food, and painkillers, were my reward.
In September, I started Tony Ferguson. I was now up to 107kg, I hadn't been able to lose any weight long term with Weight Watchers. I decided that I needed a quick loss in time for Christmas, and that this would help me. It didn't. I was 107kg in the bathroom at home, but 110kg when I weighed in at TF. I managed to get back down to 108 on their scales, but as soon as I had a week where I put on weight, I decided that it wasn't working and stopped. I had a friend who was doing intuitive eating, where you listen to your body and eat whatever you like, as long as you are hungry.
I decided to start doing this, however, I kinda skipped the "as long as you're hungry" part. I was full of fear about my weight, and my brain was constantly telling me that I was revolting and disgusting. I stepped on the scales one day and saw 113kg. Disaster. I had a friend who was doing Jenny Craig, so I decided to go there. They were absolutely lovely and talked me through everything. I started doing all the things that I'd done with WW, and binged on vegetables and fruit. Even when I wasn't hungry, in case I got hungry. But for every 500g I lost, I put 600g on. I was getting bigger and bigger. When, after a particularly bad weekend, I saw the figure "115kg", I became fearful.
Over Christmas, I restricted what I ate and took a bag of snow peas with me everywhere. I hardly ate any chocolate. I went back to JC and I had put on 300g.
This was the point that I went...you know what? This is just not working for me. I read a friend's book about intuitive eating, again, and embraced the part about "only when I am hungry". What good is bingeing on lots and lots of vegetables when you are hungry for a bowl of popcorn? Why am I fighting my body so much? So I decided to stop fighting. I broke up with dieting. I'd love to tell you that I lost lots and lots of weight, and have the answers to all your questions. But I don't. I only have my journey. I have my body and my appetite and I have to honour that. I have to accept the way that I feel about my body. At the moment, I am a size 18, and I don't like that. I feel unacceptable. I saw myself on a video that my husband took today and my first thought was "My goodness, I'm fat!!". And I accepted that. I am practicing listening to my body....because when I was a little girl, I was skinny. Before the emotional minefield that was puberty, I listened to my body. I ran, I walked, I jumped and I ate. I didn't think about what to eat or when to eat, I just did it. And I was healthy. I wish I was smaller, but I have to accept that I don't know what is good or bad for my body.
I'd get so angry before weigh ins, when I'd eaten loads of vegetables and they wouldn't clear out. I became obsessed with my colon and because of all the codeine had blocked me up, I would take laxatives. I wouldn't drink or eat before weighing in, and I'd wear the lightest clothes I could find. It was no way to live long term - I'm surprised I lasted as long as I did.
So, I've broken up with dieting. My weight may not have changed much, but I am still adjusting to the "eat when you're hungry" thing. I still eat a lot when I'm not hungry, but it's getting less. I am practicing being loving and tolerant of myself and I think that when I feel that I am not going to be deprived of eating, that perhaps I will begin to have a regular relationship with food. I've done it a few times, not eaten til I was hungry, and the food, the food is so much nicer. So much more delicious on an empty stomach, than force feeding more comfort into a body that is already stuffed with the meal before.
My codeine addiction is quite common, especially among those with addictive personalities. There's a reason why it says "WARNING: CODEINE IS ADDICTIVE". Cause it blummen well is! I went to see my doctor to get some help with it, and have been slowly coming off it. In a week, I will be totally painkiller free. I realised that I couldn't tell if I was hungry or not if I was constantly fuzzy from painkillers. I thought I was in genuine pain....turns out the neck pain can be fixed by a hot shower, dencorub or a wheat bag. The headache - that was a rebound headache from taking too many painkillers - a sign that my body was dependent on them. I feel clear, happy and free. I had a lot of fear around giving them up and whether I would be able to sleep or not...and although it hasn't been the best week of sleep that I've ever had in my life, I accept that I am an anxious type of person and I need to do things like writing and exercising and talking to other AA members about my addictive personality, in order to sleep peacefully.
My mind is emptied of fat, kj, points, propoints, fats, grains, etc etc. I practice trying to love and accept myself. I soothe the voice in my head that tells me I am a fat loser and nobody wants to be my friend. I tell it that I am doing the best that I can and I am worthy. I have come so far. I know that the damaged, skeptical, addictive part of me still wants the Duromine that another doctor offered me, but the well, sane part of me, just wants me to be me. I am practicing loving myself back to health. How can I stay overweight if I eat only when I am hungry? It is a scary journey, but one that I am sort of excited about being on.
When I'm fully off the codeine, I will be picking another sobriety date. And instead of thinking that I've lost nearly 10 years of sobriety and being hard on myself, I will see that not drinking, one day at a time, for nearly 10 years, is an achievement....and that this is another phase of my recovery. Instead of thinking that I've lost and then regained 16kg, and that I am a failure, I see that I have learnt a lot through my weight loss journey. I was just as obsessed and crazy at 93kg when I was dieting. I didn't focus on life - I focused on food. It was my obsession and all I wanted was to be thinner, because perhaps then I would feel worthwhile. I am no better or worse than anyone who has an addictive nature. I am no better or worse than anyone who has ever struggled to lose weight and hated themselves because of it. I'm moving away from judging other people, because it makes me judge myself too, and I don't like that. I am no better or worse. I'm just me. Becoming Deborah.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
My six year old son wants a six pack
My beautiful son is in his first year of Primary school, and he is changing.
You see, my son is becoming his own person. He spends a lot of his time with his teacher and his friends at school, he has thoughts and experiences that I know nothing about. I can't limit his world any more (nor would I want to), and he has stories to tell me about the schoolyard that sometimes leave me in slack-jawed disbelief.
It all started last weekend, at a birthday party for one of his schoolmates. One of the ladies was telling us that her son, who has an older brother who is 14, goes into his room of a night and does sit ups and push ups so that he can get a six pack. I was amazed that a six year old would be so concerned with his body, but thought it was harmless enough. I mean, there's nothing wrong with a bit of hero worship and wanting to be healthy, right? Well....the conversation quickly continued about the boys in the playground ALL wanting six packs, with the boys deciding that those who had the six packs were good, and anyone who didn't was bad.
There is a bit of a gym culture at our school among the parents, but that's not unusual, and healthy as long as not taken to excess, right? I mean, I try to stay fit but I'm never going to be a gym junkie. Shopping is my cardio, and my beautiful hubby has a full on manual job, which means he doesn't have the time or the inclination to go to the gym.
Yesterday, my son came home and dragged the scales out of the bathroom. "Mum", he said "I need to see if I am fit or not. Am I fat?" What the actual heck? I thought that this was a conversation I would just not need to have with him, especially at the tender age of six! He pulled up his shirt and said "I don't have a six pack, it's good to have a six pack mum". I whipped out the laptop and fired up the Height and Weight charts for six year olds - and showed him that he was in the 100th percentile for height and the 75th percentile for weight. "You know what this means, mate - you are just right. Your weight is exactly what it should be for being healthy.".
I think I reassured him, but I was still confused by our conversation - so I brought it up with one of my friends at the school concert last night. She told me that her son had taken Christmas beads into his bed with him and was sleeping on them. She told him that it was dangerous to sleep with beads, and he said "But mum!! If I sleep on these beads they will go into my skin and in the morning I'll have a six pack". She was horrified!
Seriously? Is this a thing? If this is happening to the boys, what are the girls saying to each other? I guess there's a lot more images of physical perfection in the media and society as a whole feels a lot more compelled to be fit and chiseled. When I was six, all I can remember is running fast and playing with my friends. I certainly didn't worry about whether I was fat or not. All I can do is reassure my son that his body is strong and healthy. Are we too obsessed with bodily perfection? I don't know what the answer is.....but I'm fairly certain that it doesn't involve a six pack on a six year old.
You see, my son is becoming his own person. He spends a lot of his time with his teacher and his friends at school, he has thoughts and experiences that I know nothing about. I can't limit his world any more (nor would I want to), and he has stories to tell me about the schoolyard that sometimes leave me in slack-jawed disbelief.
It all started last weekend, at a birthday party for one of his schoolmates. One of the ladies was telling us that her son, who has an older brother who is 14, goes into his room of a night and does sit ups and push ups so that he can get a six pack. I was amazed that a six year old would be so concerned with his body, but thought it was harmless enough. I mean, there's nothing wrong with a bit of hero worship and wanting to be healthy, right? Well....the conversation quickly continued about the boys in the playground ALL wanting six packs, with the boys deciding that those who had the six packs were good, and anyone who didn't was bad.
There is a bit of a gym culture at our school among the parents, but that's not unusual, and healthy as long as not taken to excess, right? I mean, I try to stay fit but I'm never going to be a gym junkie. Shopping is my cardio, and my beautiful hubby has a full on manual job, which means he doesn't have the time or the inclination to go to the gym.
Yesterday, my son came home and dragged the scales out of the bathroom. "Mum", he said "I need to see if I am fit or not. Am I fat?" What the actual heck? I thought that this was a conversation I would just not need to have with him, especially at the tender age of six! He pulled up his shirt and said "I don't have a six pack, it's good to have a six pack mum". I whipped out the laptop and fired up the Height and Weight charts for six year olds - and showed him that he was in the 100th percentile for height and the 75th percentile for weight. "You know what this means, mate - you are just right. Your weight is exactly what it should be for being healthy.".
I think I reassured him, but I was still confused by our conversation - so I brought it up with one of my friends at the school concert last night. She told me that her son had taken Christmas beads into his bed with him and was sleeping on them. She told him that it was dangerous to sleep with beads, and he said "But mum!! If I sleep on these beads they will go into my skin and in the morning I'll have a six pack". She was horrified!
Seriously? Is this a thing? If this is happening to the boys, what are the girls saying to each other? I guess there's a lot more images of physical perfection in the media and society as a whole feels a lot more compelled to be fit and chiseled. When I was six, all I can remember is running fast and playing with my friends. I certainly didn't worry about whether I was fat or not. All I can do is reassure my son that his body is strong and healthy. Are we too obsessed with bodily perfection? I don't know what the answer is.....but I'm fairly certain that it doesn't involve a six pack on a six year old.
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Christianity and Halloween
So, Halloween has got me thinking about what I believe…and
whether I have to justify it or not. I’m
a Christian, but I think my sub-category is radical/liberal. Identifying as having a faith is a bit of a
minefield these days. So, yes….. I’m
always going to be one of the first to say that I am a bit of a radical – that my
Christianity is kinda left field. I
believe in Marriage Equality, I am pro choice, and I recently - *gasp* - took
my son and a friend trick or treating.
In some people’s eyes, that makes me a Christian in name only. Really?
I’d understand this attitude if I took to the streets with a
sign saying “the Devil ROOLS OK!” and was dressed in a devils suit. I wasn’t. I had black on, with funny glasses,
and my son and his friend were dressed as ninjas. Because we haven’t gone trick or treating
before, I took a huge bag of lollies for the neighbours to give the kids…. For me,
it was more about the lollies and having fun.
I understand that life is serious, and that there is evil lurking. But, must we imbue every fun childhood
tradition with EVIL and SATAN where there is really only a bit ‘o’ fun? For me, the important thing about
Christianity is that Jesus was a dude who loved us sooooo much, that he died
for us and the rest of the world, so that we would have everlasting evidence of
how much God loves us. It was all
planned. It’s something that sustains me
when crappy things happen. God’s love…it’s
strong. It’s a lot stronger than a pair
of devil’s horns and a plastic bucket with a pumpkin on it.
So much of what’s wrong with faith these days is making judgements
about how we worship the big guy in the sky, or if we believe in him at
all. My gorgeous mum knows how much I
struggle with the attitude of “you must believe or it’s the fiery furnace for
you” – she says that only God knows what is in a person’s heart and what their
relationship with him is. That makes me
feel better – God is the one who is in control – not me. It’s not my place or
anyone else’s to judge where God fits into another person’s life…or to dictate
what they believe or the choices that they make.
A couple of years ago, my husband Richard and I attended the
funeral of a loving, kind, Christian woman who lived a gorgeous life of love
for others, regardless of their faith. A
perfect opportunity to tell the non-believers there more about the God who
helped her live such an amazing life. ….But unfortunately, one of the members
of that congregation used the opportunity to address the captive audience about
the small matter of their un-savedness.
Fiery furnaces and eternal damnation were mentioned, along with a
sprinkling of saliva as the fervent and fired up speaker doused this dear lady’s
memory with lashings of guilt and judgement.
I don’t think many of those people will return to church. To me, that’s not what God is all about. God is love!
I recently wrote in my blog about my two younger sisters and
their approaches to their personal walk with Jesus. The upshot of it is that our views are vastly
different – but we haven’t yet come to blows over the Christmas dinner table. Despite our differences, or perhaps because
of them, we all still worship the same God. We believe that God has his hand on
our lives, that he sent his son Jesus to die for our sins, and that he is the
way to have a relationship with God. Same God, but very different people. So,
please don't switch off when you hear that we're Christians. We may have the
same core beliefs, but there are many different flavours.
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Different flavours of Christianity
So - once upon a time, there were three sisters. The eldest had red hair and was prone to anxiety. The middle sister also had red hair, and was very private. The youngest had blonde hair and was a happy girl, with a touch of worrying.
These three girls are my sisters and I - we are 36, 34 and 33 respectively. We are all Christians, although we are all very different Christians, with very different lives. I was thinking about Christianity and how a lot of times, it gets a bad rap for hate, scandal and greed. I wanted to let you in on how it's possible to worship Jesus and God in a way that is genuine and honest to you, and yet to be very very different in the ways that you approach your faith.
Let's start with me, because let's face it - talking about me is one of my favourite things to do. I had a lot of years away from the church - where I was out living the party life, drinking and kissing boys and getting myself into terrible trouble. During times of terrible trouble, I'd turn to God and start going back to church. I'd try to repent and to stop making rude jokes, to help out with the youth group and stop binge drinking. I lived a bit of a double life, advising the girls to wait for their true love, then going home and getting changed into lurid outfits and hitting the town. I had a spiritual awakening about nine years ago, when I realised that I had to stop living a double life. I'd been praying for a husband and yet my younger sister was the one who got engaged first. I was terribly angry with God, but didn't realise that my partner in the bridal party would go on to be my husband. It was like God said to me "huh, do you think I'd leave you all alone to make this decision? Here he is, the one you were waiting for - I had it planned all along. Why didn't you just trust me?"
So, I've learned to trust God and during the time when I had intense and severe Post Natal Depression, my faith developed. I realised that God had a plan and a purpose for my life, and that I had to stop thinking that I could know what was best for me - that I had to trust him and just do my best - learn to stop trying to control everything...to surrender and let go absolutely.
These days, I attend church with my hubs and son, teach Sunday school, support gay marriage, am pro choice, love dirty jokes and movies with Kirsten Wiig in them. I've learnt that I don't have to say goodbye to my racy sense of humour - God gave it to me for a reason....but that I do need to learn where to unleash it. I am very open to other religions, and have seen lots of people have spiritual experiences that don't involve Jesus. I struggle with the idea of one true faith, but I know that I can't not believe in Jesus.
The next sister had a period of illness in her early teens, where she suffered terribly with Chronic Fatigue. During those dark times, her faith developed, and she was one of those well balanced girls, who concentrated more on her books and her faith than boys. Our mother's faith was also an amazing example to her, as it has been to all of us. She got her license before I did, and had a wide circle of friends. She was always interested in other cultures, and wanted to travel. Funnily enough, as the one who didn't really care about boyfriends, she ended up with the most interest. Perhaps it was because she wasn't interested? Perhaps because she trusted God with the outcome? She studied hard, became a vet, and whilst she studied, she traveled the world, had lots of adventures and lived in America for a year.
These days, she lives in a small country town, and attends church with her husband and five children, was the first of us to be married and have a baby. Although she's settled down, she has by no means settled, she took her first born to Japan and is always scheming the latest trip to visit friends far and wide. She supports a number of organisations that ensure the rights of unborn children, mothers in need and those who have had terminations and who need counselling. She's loving and giving and prays endlessly for the members of our family. She holds a bible study in her home and sends her children to a Christian school. Her husband preaches in their church and they frequently discuss the bible and how to better follow God. They don't observe the traditions of Santa, the Easter Bunny or the Tooth Fairy, and have requested that the family not give their children any characters that could be seen to have magic at their core. No Power Rangers, No Ben 10, No Fairies.
I don't always agree with all their decisions, and they don't always agree with mine, but our Venn Diagram of faith overlaps in many areas, and we are able to respect the other's opinion, even though we may not agree with it.
Moving on to youngest sister. She and the middle sister attended many christian camps and workshops in their teen years. Youngest sis is a very talented cook, and catered for many church camps, and was happy and cheery and loved organising her friends into races and active things. She got her drivers license earlier than I did, and was often the designated driver to parties. She was more social than middle sister, but still studious. She studied hard and excelled at Uni. Her faith developed during a difficult time, when she was the only child left at home and things were very busy in the family business. She would probably have liked a boyfriend, but I think the cautionary tale of my unhappiness with chasing boys and her faith made her content with what she had.
These days, she is an Assistant Minister at an Anglican church in Sydney. She's an accomplished cook and is a very caring lady. She wears the full frock and collar (when necessary), but when she was ordained, she wore a pink shirt and high heels, when everyone else was in black. She is moderate, and believes that life is hard but that God is grace. She is a big fan of Harry Potter, Dr Who, The Big Bang Theory and Legally Blonde. She often runs 14km a day, lost 40kg over two years and is addicted to the bustle of city life. She loves technology and is incredibly funny. She has a black cat, Max, who she adores, and lives with two very cool flatmates. She is infectiously happy and loves "Miranda" more than I do.
Despite our differences, or perhaps because of them, we all still worship the same God. We believe that God has his hand on our lives, that he sent his son Jesus to die for our sins, and that he is the way to have a relationship with God. Same God, but very different people. So, please don't switch off when you hear that we're Christians. We may have the same core beliefs, but there are many different flavours.
What is your experience of Christianity?
These three girls are my sisters and I - we are 36, 34 and 33 respectively. We are all Christians, although we are all very different Christians, with very different lives. I was thinking about Christianity and how a lot of times, it gets a bad rap for hate, scandal and greed. I wanted to let you in on how it's possible to worship Jesus and God in a way that is genuine and honest to you, and yet to be very very different in the ways that you approach your faith.
Let's start with me, because let's face it - talking about me is one of my favourite things to do. I had a lot of years away from the church - where I was out living the party life, drinking and kissing boys and getting myself into terrible trouble. During times of terrible trouble, I'd turn to God and start going back to church. I'd try to repent and to stop making rude jokes, to help out with the youth group and stop binge drinking. I lived a bit of a double life, advising the girls to wait for their true love, then going home and getting changed into lurid outfits and hitting the town. I had a spiritual awakening about nine years ago, when I realised that I had to stop living a double life. I'd been praying for a husband and yet my younger sister was the one who got engaged first. I was terribly angry with God, but didn't realise that my partner in the bridal party would go on to be my husband. It was like God said to me "huh, do you think I'd leave you all alone to make this decision? Here he is, the one you were waiting for - I had it planned all along. Why didn't you just trust me?"
So, I've learned to trust God and during the time when I had intense and severe Post Natal Depression, my faith developed. I realised that God had a plan and a purpose for my life, and that I had to stop thinking that I could know what was best for me - that I had to trust him and just do my best - learn to stop trying to control everything...to surrender and let go absolutely.
These days, I attend church with my hubs and son, teach Sunday school, support gay marriage, am pro choice, love dirty jokes and movies with Kirsten Wiig in them. I've learnt that I don't have to say goodbye to my racy sense of humour - God gave it to me for a reason....but that I do need to learn where to unleash it. I am very open to other religions, and have seen lots of people have spiritual experiences that don't involve Jesus. I struggle with the idea of one true faith, but I know that I can't not believe in Jesus.
The next sister had a period of illness in her early teens, where she suffered terribly with Chronic Fatigue. During those dark times, her faith developed, and she was one of those well balanced girls, who concentrated more on her books and her faith than boys. Our mother's faith was also an amazing example to her, as it has been to all of us. She got her license before I did, and had a wide circle of friends. She was always interested in other cultures, and wanted to travel. Funnily enough, as the one who didn't really care about boyfriends, she ended up with the most interest. Perhaps it was because she wasn't interested? Perhaps because she trusted God with the outcome? She studied hard, became a vet, and whilst she studied, she traveled the world, had lots of adventures and lived in America for a year.
These days, she lives in a small country town, and attends church with her husband and five children, was the first of us to be married and have a baby. Although she's settled down, she has by no means settled, she took her first born to Japan and is always scheming the latest trip to visit friends far and wide. She supports a number of organisations that ensure the rights of unborn children, mothers in need and those who have had terminations and who need counselling. She's loving and giving and prays endlessly for the members of our family. She holds a bible study in her home and sends her children to a Christian school. Her husband preaches in their church and they frequently discuss the bible and how to better follow God. They don't observe the traditions of Santa, the Easter Bunny or the Tooth Fairy, and have requested that the family not give their children any characters that could be seen to have magic at their core. No Power Rangers, No Ben 10, No Fairies.
I don't always agree with all their decisions, and they don't always agree with mine, but our Venn Diagram of faith overlaps in many areas, and we are able to respect the other's opinion, even though we may not agree with it.
Moving on to youngest sister. She and the middle sister attended many christian camps and workshops in their teen years. Youngest sis is a very talented cook, and catered for many church camps, and was happy and cheery and loved organising her friends into races and active things. She got her drivers license earlier than I did, and was often the designated driver to parties. She was more social than middle sister, but still studious. She studied hard and excelled at Uni. Her faith developed during a difficult time, when she was the only child left at home and things were very busy in the family business. She would probably have liked a boyfriend, but I think the cautionary tale of my unhappiness with chasing boys and her faith made her content with what she had.
These days, she is an Assistant Minister at an Anglican church in Sydney. She's an accomplished cook and is a very caring lady. She wears the full frock and collar (when necessary), but when she was ordained, she wore a pink shirt and high heels, when everyone else was in black. She is moderate, and believes that life is hard but that God is grace. She is a big fan of Harry Potter, Dr Who, The Big Bang Theory and Legally Blonde. She often runs 14km a day, lost 40kg over two years and is addicted to the bustle of city life. She loves technology and is incredibly funny. She has a black cat, Max, who she adores, and lives with two very cool flatmates. She is infectiously happy and loves "Miranda" more than I do.
Despite our differences, or perhaps because of them, we all still worship the same God. We believe that God has his hand on our lives, that he sent his son Jesus to die for our sins, and that he is the way to have a relationship with God. Same God, but very different people. So, please don't switch off when you hear that we're Christians. We may have the same core beliefs, but there are many different flavours.
What is your experience of Christianity?
Friday, October 19, 2012
A message from an ex-dancing queen to Em Rusciano
I have been thinking a lot about Em Rusciano's post on Mamamia yesterday. - http://www.mamamia.com.au/parenting/im-not-a-mother-first-and-a-person-second/
And, it brought up a lot of stuff for me. I'll admit it, first I went all judgey, and wondered why she was still going out when she had kids. And then, I realised that she was right - she has the perfect right to dance on a podium, get dressed up and enjoy a night out. Why does it bother me so much?
Why?
Because I can't be that mum. And, that comes with a bit of grief for me. As readers of my blog know, I'm nine years sober and mostly happy about that. But, to have a sustained sobriety, I have to avoid the old places. I have to check myself before I literally wreck myself....it would be all too easy to fall back into drinking to make me feel good about myself, then ending up a messy wreck, doing things I don't like with people I hardly know, losing my self respect, probably losing my marriage and perhaps even access to my son. Yes, it was that bad at the end. My husband and son have never seen me drink, and I never want them to.
I know from my friends in AA, that if you go to places where the drinks are flowing, that sooner or later, you'll drink. As the saying goes, "there's only so many times that you can sit in the hairdresser's chair before you get a haircut". My life has had to change because of my illness, and mostly, I'm okay with that....but it makes me feel different! Which, I guess I am....but I realised that I had a message for Em, as I read her article.
Em - you are foxy, and go girl, for going out and partying. That's great that you can do that without compromising your family and relationships. (Apart from those nosey parkers who judge!) But, just because I'm not on a podium dancing, or because I can't have drinks with the girls, doesn't mean I'm a party pooper. My life is different to yours, but I like to think that I'm still fun. So, even though you say that you have little in common with the 40 something mums at school, try sharing a racy joke with them occasionally. You might be surprised....we might have been waiting for the opportunity to make you laugh. Don't judge a book by it's un-sequined, non-podium dancing cover.
Love,
Deb xx
And, it brought up a lot of stuff for me. I'll admit it, first I went all judgey, and wondered why she was still going out when she had kids. And then, I realised that she was right - she has the perfect right to dance on a podium, get dressed up and enjoy a night out. Why does it bother me so much?
Why?
Because I can't be that mum. And, that comes with a bit of grief for me. As readers of my blog know, I'm nine years sober and mostly happy about that. But, to have a sustained sobriety, I have to avoid the old places. I have to check myself before I literally wreck myself....it would be all too easy to fall back into drinking to make me feel good about myself, then ending up a messy wreck, doing things I don't like with people I hardly know, losing my self respect, probably losing my marriage and perhaps even access to my son. Yes, it was that bad at the end. My husband and son have never seen me drink, and I never want them to.
I know from my friends in AA, that if you go to places where the drinks are flowing, that sooner or later, you'll drink. As the saying goes, "there's only so many times that you can sit in the hairdresser's chair before you get a haircut". My life has had to change because of my illness, and mostly, I'm okay with that....but it makes me feel different! Which, I guess I am....but I realised that I had a message for Em, as I read her article.
Em - you are foxy, and go girl, for going out and partying. That's great that you can do that without compromising your family and relationships. (Apart from those nosey parkers who judge!) But, just because I'm not on a podium dancing, or because I can't have drinks with the girls, doesn't mean I'm a party pooper. My life is different to yours, but I like to think that I'm still fun. So, even though you say that you have little in common with the 40 something mums at school, try sharing a racy joke with them occasionally. You might be surprised....we might have been waiting for the opportunity to make you laugh. Don't judge a book by it's un-sequined, non-podium dancing cover.
Love,
Deb xx
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Total Control
Does anyone else out there remember a movie called "She's Out of Control"? It was a totally awesome 80s movie, featuring a makeover that made a shy, bookish girl totally irresistible to the opposite sex. Her father, played by Tony Danza, freaks out about this, and tries to stop it by a tactic that he calls "Total Control".
Like most control freaks, he's doomed to failure. And I was thinking about poor old Tony Danza in this film, and how "Total Control" doesn't work. At all. In fact, it makes things a lot worse.
You know there's a metaphor coming, don't you? Yes, well...those who know me, will know that I am somewhat of a control freak. Not the control freak who has to have a clean house. That would be nice. Mess, I can live with, but when people start doing things in a way that I don't like, I'm not so cool.
And I have learned to evolve from this. Back 15 years ago, I was a very very judgemental 21 year old, who thought that most people were "sheep" and that "it would be so much easier to be stupid, as I wouldn't be troubled by all these agonising thoughts". I was also a grammar Nazi of the highest degree and judged books by their covers. Needless to say, life wasn't easy, as I catapulted into many other people living their lives and doing things that I didn't think were right. I judged, I judged hard. And the one I judged the hardest, was myself. I hated lots of people, places and things, but the one I reserved the most hatred for, was myself. I never knew why. But from the age of about 8, I can remember viciously hating myself and who I was. Wanting to be someone else. Watching other people and finding out the right and wrong ways to do things. Trying to imitate them. Not trusting myself, not knowing who I was, but knowing that whatever it was that lurked inside me, it was damaged and untrustworthy. Other people had the answers. But not the stupid people.
It wasn't much fun being trapped in judgement like that, and over the past 15 years, I have sought various therapies to combat these disordered ways of thinking. And I like to think that I'm fairly evolved...but do you know what? I'm still a victim of "Total Control". I don't like just going with the flow...unless I decide to. I hate surprises. It has been brought to my attention by my brilliant psychiatrist, Dr Chakrabarti, and my clever mama, that I still try too hard to manage the way that other people see me. I love myself these days, but I still want to control the way that you see me. I still want a barrier between us. I still hide. I still want people to behave the way that I want, but I reserve the right to change what that way is at any given moment. No wonder it is confusing to be in my head, let alone in my life.
My past is littered with friends who I have totally confused by my inability to be real with them. My insistence on managing how often we contact each other. My insistence on the interactions that we have. My anger when things don't go my way. My repeated attempts, when we grow apart, to bring us closer together, to prove that I am cool and funny and interesting....that end up looking needy and even frightening. I am scared of how much I want to be liked, how much I need social interaction and roles in society to prove my worth and my function. I must manage socialising or I fear I will cease to exist. I don't trust that at my essence, I will be satisfactory.
I realised yesterday that I think if I don't chase people and convince them to be my friend, that I won't have any friends. How screwed up is that? A friend of mine recently withdrew from friendships and obligations, and I didn't understand her thinking. How could she do that, how could she trust that people would still remember her. I remember her saying that it was a way of trusting God more. And I now totally and completely get that. God does not want me to live in isolation, he has made us for relationships with each other. But the thing is, that he wants to be first. He has amazing, wonderful, beautiful things in store for us that way outweigh the pitiful attempts that we make to manage and control our own lives. And I think I've reached that point. I keep ending up at the same spot..and saying "If I do the same thing, perhaps I'll get a different result"...which, as we know, is in-freakin-sanity!
I'm scared, but I'm ready to let go. I want God in control of my life and I want to stop being Tony Danza. No more "Total Control".
I want to give God all of me and see what he has in store when I stop orchestrating my life and the way people see me. I have been made this way and put in this place for a reason. Time to start living in the sun and stop hiding in the dark.
Love
Deb :)
Like most control freaks, he's doomed to failure. And I was thinking about poor old Tony Danza in this film, and how "Total Control" doesn't work. At all. In fact, it makes things a lot worse.
You know there's a metaphor coming, don't you? Yes, well...those who know me, will know that I am somewhat of a control freak. Not the control freak who has to have a clean house. That would be nice. Mess, I can live with, but when people start doing things in a way that I don't like, I'm not so cool.
And I have learned to evolve from this. Back 15 years ago, I was a very very judgemental 21 year old, who thought that most people were "sheep" and that "it would be so much easier to be stupid, as I wouldn't be troubled by all these agonising thoughts". I was also a grammar Nazi of the highest degree and judged books by their covers. Needless to say, life wasn't easy, as I catapulted into many other people living their lives and doing things that I didn't think were right. I judged, I judged hard. And the one I judged the hardest, was myself. I hated lots of people, places and things, but the one I reserved the most hatred for, was myself. I never knew why. But from the age of about 8, I can remember viciously hating myself and who I was. Wanting to be someone else. Watching other people and finding out the right and wrong ways to do things. Trying to imitate them. Not trusting myself, not knowing who I was, but knowing that whatever it was that lurked inside me, it was damaged and untrustworthy. Other people had the answers. But not the stupid people.
It wasn't much fun being trapped in judgement like that, and over the past 15 years, I have sought various therapies to combat these disordered ways of thinking. And I like to think that I'm fairly evolved...but do you know what? I'm still a victim of "Total Control". I don't like just going with the flow...unless I decide to. I hate surprises. It has been brought to my attention by my brilliant psychiatrist, Dr Chakrabarti, and my clever mama, that I still try too hard to manage the way that other people see me. I love myself these days, but I still want to control the way that you see me. I still want a barrier between us. I still hide. I still want people to behave the way that I want, but I reserve the right to change what that way is at any given moment. No wonder it is confusing to be in my head, let alone in my life.
My past is littered with friends who I have totally confused by my inability to be real with them. My insistence on managing how often we contact each other. My insistence on the interactions that we have. My anger when things don't go my way. My repeated attempts, when we grow apart, to bring us closer together, to prove that I am cool and funny and interesting....that end up looking needy and even frightening. I am scared of how much I want to be liked, how much I need social interaction and roles in society to prove my worth and my function. I must manage socialising or I fear I will cease to exist. I don't trust that at my essence, I will be satisfactory.
I realised yesterday that I think if I don't chase people and convince them to be my friend, that I won't have any friends. How screwed up is that? A friend of mine recently withdrew from friendships and obligations, and I didn't understand her thinking. How could she do that, how could she trust that people would still remember her. I remember her saying that it was a way of trusting God more. And I now totally and completely get that. God does not want me to live in isolation, he has made us for relationships with each other. But the thing is, that he wants to be first. He has amazing, wonderful, beautiful things in store for us that way outweigh the pitiful attempts that we make to manage and control our own lives. And I think I've reached that point. I keep ending up at the same spot..and saying "If I do the same thing, perhaps I'll get a different result"...which, as we know, is in-freakin-sanity!
I'm scared, but I'm ready to let go. I want God in control of my life and I want to stop being Tony Danza. No more "Total Control".
I want to give God all of me and see what he has in store when I stop orchestrating my life and the way people see me. I have been made this way and put in this place for a reason. Time to start living in the sun and stop hiding in the dark.
Love
Deb :)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)