Layer by layer, I peel back the anger, the irritability, and the need for isolation only to find fear, heartbreak, sadness and loneliness... an empty shell some days and becoming more and more so as the days pass by. I know why this is. I know all the reasons why. Of them all, there is only one that I can change... myself.
The first thing I think about in the morning, the last thing I think about before I fall asleep, and every other second in between is occupied by my weight, my body shape, the fit of my clothes, the dimples in my... the dimples everywhere. I look in the mirror when necessary to check my teeth or to steal a quick glance at my hair but never do I stop and pose like I used to as a teenager. My turns and spins in front of the mirror are now out of horror rather than admiration of how my butt looks in my jeans. I've finally stopped the madness and just quit spinning.
When I was in grade school I had a typical body image, suck it in at all the right times whether I needed to or not but then prance around in my bathing suit with reckless abandon. Into high school I was constantly called "cute" and I waited for the day that I would grow out of that image into being "lovely" or "beautiful" but today at 36 years old, I'm still "cute". I've decided that in order to be beautiful at my age, one has to be thin, maybe blonde, and have a strikingly outgoing personality. I'll go on being "cute" in my pursuit of finding beauty.
Today is the end of day 4 of gluten free eating which was a fairly smooth transition into better portion control and even perhaps a paradigm shift of attitude. I've made the commitment to purchase an UP band that will help me track my movement vs. my caloric intake as well as a nutritional supplement to boost my efforts. I'm still feeling defeated despite 4 days of success but I can tell that I'm feeling more energy and more control than I have in a long time.
I'm hoping that Monday will be an "all in" week with all my forces in place. I need this. I need this for me. I need to rediscover that "cute" teenage girl in the mirror who had so many great expectations of what this life would hold. She's in there. I know she's right where I left her. I just have to unbury her from the pounds that have piled up and the bumps and bruises from the baggage that she carries. No one can rescue her but me. Time to start digging her out.
"My grace is sufficient for you for my power is made perfect in weakness." 1 Corinthians 12:9
Thursday, May 15, 2014
Thursday, February 27, 2014
"Wish I could wrap up this very cozy moment."
All alone, a big cup of decaf coffee, dimmed lights, scented candles filling the air, Frank Sinatra or Nat King Cole crooning in the background.... It's a sensory vacation for me. It soothes my soul and calms my mind. All is right with the world, even when everything around me seems wrong. This is my happy place.
Someday my girls are going to leave my home and yearn for their own bedroom, their mom in the rocking chair, and the sweet memories of my home. Too many times I feel like I let them down through the natural role of being the mom. I have to make sure they learn life lessons such as kindness and responsibility, work ethic, table manners, how to love and forgive, and so, so many others. Some of these things I am still working on myself.
I have a mixed batch of memories of my childhood. There are the times that I spent with the neighbor boy who I babysat but also befriended. We did silly things like wear panyhose on our heads and dance and sing to We Sing Together. One time I had to hold a dead squirrel by the tail as my dad skinned it. There's the time I sat in my closet and cried at the death of my grandma. I had the greatest 15th birthday party that friends still remember to this day. There's the time I ran to my bedroom in fear at the headlights pulling into the drive. A vivid memory was sitting in the ER and telling a lie to the doctor about how I tripped over my shoe laces at 10:00 at night. There was that first kiss behind a tree. A belt. Making Madrigals. My first car. Another fight. A first true love. A first true heartbreak. And so many memories in between.
I want my girls to have more happy, joyful memories than not. Somedays it seems like I should just give up now. Do they know how easy they have it? I can't help but wonder if we just manage to adjust to our circumstances where the bad is bad and the good is good and the degree doesn't really matter. I know that doesn't sound very eloquent, but I'm not sure how else to put it. No matter how "not bad" my children have it, it still seems "bad" in comparison. They really have no idea. Today this thought makes me sad. Other days, I will admit, it makes me angry that they don't appreciate how lucky they are.
The reality is, my girls have friends with semi-privileged upbringings. Not necessarily in the financial realm, but in the spoiled, "you're not my mom" kinda way. Does a mom share glimpses of her own childhood so her children can appreciate their own? It's a struggle of mine. My aim isn't guilt, though some would call it that. My aim isn't manipulation, though others would call it that. My aim is only to reveal all that they have to cherish despite having to clean their rooms.
I continue to ponder....
Someday my girls are going to leave my home and yearn for their own bedroom, their mom in the rocking chair, and the sweet memories of my home. Too many times I feel like I let them down through the natural role of being the mom. I have to make sure they learn life lessons such as kindness and responsibility, work ethic, table manners, how to love and forgive, and so, so many others. Some of these things I am still working on myself.
I have a mixed batch of memories of my childhood. There are the times that I spent with the neighbor boy who I babysat but also befriended. We did silly things like wear panyhose on our heads and dance and sing to We Sing Together. One time I had to hold a dead squirrel by the tail as my dad skinned it. There's the time I sat in my closet and cried at the death of my grandma. I had the greatest 15th birthday party that friends still remember to this day. There's the time I ran to my bedroom in fear at the headlights pulling into the drive. A vivid memory was sitting in the ER and telling a lie to the doctor about how I tripped over my shoe laces at 10:00 at night. There was that first kiss behind a tree. A belt. Making Madrigals. My first car. Another fight. A first true love. A first true heartbreak. And so many memories in between.
I want my girls to have more happy, joyful memories than not. Somedays it seems like I should just give up now. Do they know how easy they have it? I can't help but wonder if we just manage to adjust to our circumstances where the bad is bad and the good is good and the degree doesn't really matter. I know that doesn't sound very eloquent, but I'm not sure how else to put it. No matter how "not bad" my children have it, it still seems "bad" in comparison. They really have no idea. Today this thought makes me sad. Other days, I will admit, it makes me angry that they don't appreciate how lucky they are.
The reality is, my girls have friends with semi-privileged upbringings. Not necessarily in the financial realm, but in the spoiled, "you're not my mom" kinda way. Does a mom share glimpses of her own childhood so her children can appreciate their own? It's a struggle of mine. My aim isn't guilt, though some would call it that. My aim isn't manipulation, though others would call it that. My aim is only to reveal all that they have to cherish despite having to clean their rooms.
I continue to ponder....
The Protector in Me
As you can maybe tell, I've been doing a lot of self reflection lately. It's a coping mechanism that forces me to hold a mirror in front of my face and to look at all the ugly and to try to understand why I do the things I do. This week I've had two major revelations about my life. I've realized that my "lost puppy syndrome" runs deep and keeps me in a painful place because of my need to protect those around me. I've also realized that this is part of the reason why I keep friends at a distance... Because it's too hard to invest in them all when they could turn around and hurt me in a way that will take years to recover from.
All I want is to be everything to someone. Impossible.
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