DON'T WORRY YOU'LL LEARN - EVENTUALLY - I THINK

I feel like I have changed since my surgery. I am calm. I am content. I have more energy. Generally I feel better about myself. I have learned to take my time and take in what’s around me. I am more aware of my actions and behaviors because I am more at peace. I am no longer living in a fog.




Let me explain.



Prior to surgery I never rested. I was always running the kids around or running after them, cleaning the house or cooking. If I wasn’t completely immersed in those two areas of my life I was working. I thought this is what people were supposed to do. Most women I know talk about all the activities their kids are in or how much work they have to do. It seems the only way we can validate our existence is by filling every minute of our lives with menial tasks. Frankly I was no different.



I thought that if I did enough, if I was busy enough and if I never stopped, one day I would be good enough. I never realized until surgery forced me to rest that no matter how much I filled my ‘to do’ list I would never feel good enough. It was for this reason and several others that I have decided to seek counseling.



Two weeks ago I went to see a councilor. Our first session was a ‘get to know you’ type of meeting where she asked me questions like ‘why are you here’, who is in your family’, and ‘what was your family like growing up’.



I explained to her that I was here because I was having trouble at home and in relationships both with others and with myself. I said that I have a wonderful husband and 2 lovely girls. I stated that my father was an alcoholic and after my parents divorce I became a latchkey kid.



After that we began to delve more into what was going on in my life and the changes that have occurred since my surgery. I told her that I was feeling better about myself in general. I wanted to go out and socialize more and do more in the community. I didn’t appear in public often before I lost weight and now I wanted to get my life back. I was finding it difficult because of the burdens I was feeling at home. Most days I felt over-committed and stretched thin. I felt burned out.



“Children of alcoholics tend to do that” is how the councilor responded.



At the time I thought that’s interesting and then we moved on to other issues. It wasn’t until after the session I really let that statement sink in.



Did my father’s alcoholism really affect me that profoundly? Is it possible that it is still doing it to this day? I decided to look up Adult Children of Alcoholics on the internet. I was curious what that meant.



The first thing ACOAs do is ‘guess’ at what normal is. It seems like a simple statement but for me it was a revelation.



I had been guessing at normal my entire life. I didn’t know what a normal marital relationship was. I didn’t know what a normal childhood was. I didn’t know what a normal home life was. I imagined. I saw other people’s home life and assumed that was normal and of course I saw images in movies and on television and dreamed that was normal. I still don’t know what normal is. The good news is that I also learned there is no such thing as normal – only functional and dysfunctional. The bad news is I am now stuck with the question “what is functional”?



Another important tidbit I discovered is that ACOAs are perfectionists BUT it is all or nothing. We are conditioned to believe that if we are perfect then our alcoholic parent won’t need to drink and will love us and approve of us. This behavior continues into adulthood. We think that if we are perfect then we are lovable.



This was like the ultimate aha moment. I finally began to understand why I was always ‘overachieving’. I was never happy with anything I did. Nothing was ever good enough and I never stopped to appreciate even the biggest accomplishment because I always felt I could do better. No wonder I was exhausted and unhappy. No wonder I suffered from depression. In constantly striving for perfection I was inevitably setting myself up for failure.



According to the books I have since picked up on the subject of Adult Children of Alcoholics; it is growing up in the alcoholic household that has the most profound effect on ACOAs. The addition of physical and sexual abuse made life much more difficult but it’s the conditioning I received because of the alcoholism that has had the most profound and lasting effects to my functionality at a fundamental level.





So yes I am again on a journey of self discovery. Frankly I don’t think I will ever stop. I am now realizing that my relationship with my husband is in fact ‘normal’ because it is functional. I am learning to appreciate what I have accomplished in my life without criticism. I am learning to stop that inner critic that tells me I am not doing enough or making enough money. I still have a lot of work to do but I am learning to take it slow.

THE GREAT DEPRESSION

I have been through a sea of change this year. Physically, emotionally, financially I have been tested and transformed.

The start of most of this change was my fiscal decline into bankruptcy. Yes I have joined the ranks of the unwashed masses who can no longer afford to repay the debt they have managed to amass. It would be easy to blame the failing economy and the bankruptcy of my principal client. I would love to say it’s all the government’s fault but in reality I had a hand in it too. I got caught up the purchasing fever we as a society all seem to suffer. I became consumer driven. I was so concerned about image and keeping up with the Jones’ I let it overcome who I am. I have never been focused on money. I don’t care what car people drive, the home they live in or the clothes they wear but for some reason I was measuring myself by those very parameters.

I know I am not alone in my delusion. Sure, some of you can say ‘well, that’s not me’ but be honest with yourself. Do you measure your self worth by a dollar value or is it measured in a way that is not tangible? How do you measure worth? How do any of us measure it?



I can pretend that I am all Zen and one with the cosmic universe and preach that value comes from within…but I cannot seem to convince the rest of me that this is true. Perhaps this is because I grew up in the 80s and material wealth was ALL that mattered. Perhaps it’s that we are constantly bombarded with imagery that defines value in terms of what we own and wear or how many vacations we go in a year or whether or not our vehicles are reducing our carbon footprint (don’t even get me started on the marketing of the environment). Maybe it’s the fact that as a society we idolize celebrities and sports stars and their lavish lifestyles. Ultimately I may be influenced by society but know I am the one who is left to decide how I let it affect me.



Which brings me to how this all makes me FEEL… well to put it bluntly it makes me feel pretty worthless.



Since last year my business has been reduced to a part time endeavor at best. Because of my business failing (yes FAIL – that’s how I see it) we can no longer afford vacations. We are always in the red. We drive crappy cars. We never eat out. I shop at Value Village and occasionally Winners when I can afford it. We need to do repairs on the house but the money is never there. I am back to losing sleep over finances. Sure I look after the kids and we don’t have to pay daycare. Plus I work from home so there’s no commuting cost. The best part is most of what we spend is a write-off so I don’t pay much in taxes. But even with all of these lovely perks it’s still not enough.



Now for the flip side to this melodramatic dark coin…drum roll please…I have lost 80 pounds!!!



Last July I asked to be referred to a surgeon for gastric bypass. After many tests and evaluations I was given the go ahead and was fortunate enough to have RNY on Wednesday February 23, 2011. In just 5 short months I have lost 80 pounds.



I know everyone is probably thinking ‘wow life must be perfect for you now’. Even I was gullible enough to believe this would happen once I lost the weight. I was sadly mistaken. Yes life has been markedly improved since the weight loss. My energy has improved. My knees don’t hurt anymore. I have gone down 10 sizes. I am smaller than I have been in 10 years. This is not to say it did not come with its own consequences. My hormones are ALL OVER THE PLACE. Just ask my husband. It’s like living with someone with an undiagnosed mental condition that is not medicated. That paired with low B-12 levels robbing me of my energy and drive makes me a miserable, lazy, emotional quasi-smaller emotional fuck-whit. Not a pretty picture for me, my husband or my kids.



So now between being broke and not having the energy or drive to do anything about it I am finding myself getting depressed again and again facing the same dark cloud I have faced time and time again. I always seem to think I have this thing licked. When things are good I think ‘I’ll never get sad again’ but sooner or later it happens and I have to battle my way out.



So this is why I am writing again. Like most creative freaks I cannot seem to write unless things are kind of shitty. I am at my most creative when I am in my darkest place. I guess the good news is that this past year has been a good one. Even though for the last 2 months I have battled daily to drag myself out of bed, convincing myself that taking a dose of morphine and going back to sleep for a few more hours is probably a bad idea.



Now before you go calling the men in the white coats try to remember that throughout my twisted life I have learned to identify when I am spiraling – and believe me I am spiraling. That is why I have spoken to my doctor and asked to see a councilor before it gets any worse. I may be a basket case (insert crazed laugh here) but I am not an idiot. I am also not self-destructive so don’t worry about coming to my house and dumping my morphine down the sink. Besides if you do I MAY go postal – smile!



So there you have it folks. I look happy. I feel physically good but I am an emotional wreck. ‘nough said. Regardless I know things will get better. They always do. It’s just a bit harder this time because of the hormonal issues and the B12. This time the battle has become more than emotional it has become physical as well. But don’t you worry. It’s nothing a bottle of tequila and a shotgun won’t fix…kidding. Settle down:)

DIARY OF A WIMPY MIDDLE-AGE SUBURBAN HOUSEWIFE

I've been considering this blog for quite some time now. You see my girls have both had their experiences with bullies over the past year. I have had friends whose children have had the same problem.

When I first heard my youngest daughter was being bullied on the bus I wanted to smack the kid that was doing it. I know this is wrong and I have since changed my perspective but my first instinct is to physically protect my child. You see the boy that was bullying my then 4 year old child was 9 years old. He made a rhyme saying he was going to 'put a gun to her head, pull the trigger and  she's dead'.

The most perplexing aspect of this case of bullying is that the boy is our neighbour. Prior to this we had had him over to swim and roast marshmallows. I invited him into our home and he managed to charm us all. Then, when I heard what he said to my youngest child I was devastated. I felt betrayed but most of all I was frightened by the level of cunning displayed by a boy so young. I couldn't help but think about incidents like Columbine. No one suspected those boys were capable of committing such atrocities. This may seem far fetched for me to be considering now but imagine if the someone had thought the same thing before those boys shot all of those poor innocent children. It may have been prevented.

It's this sort of thing that stokes the fire in my belly and causes me to seethe with anger. I want the kid to be punished. Someone needs to pay. My children should not have to tolerate this abuse and I sure as hell am not going to allow this to happen...BUT it's not always that simple.

In the case of my 5 year old - now that I have had time to digest it and get to know the boy I can honestly say I don't think he understood the gravity of what he was saying. Plus I think he was being pressured by other boys on the bus. My daughter wanted to sit with the boy and paid him a lot of attention. As a result some of the other boys started making fun of him. To protect his own ego he started making fun of my daughter. Although he should not have done that regardless there was a reason for what he was saying. I am trying to understand his position more but still - if he was my son there would be some serious consequences for what he did. As it is, he did not recieve any punishment besides a talking to and a call home.

Now this year my eldest daughter was being made fun of and once again we knew the person. Because they are friends of ours I won't go into details but suffice it to say, once again, I was furious. I wanted to step in and protect my child. Especially when my daughter is BEGGING me to step in. She is also having nightmares. So I do the only thing I can do - I talk to the teacher and the child's mother.

At this time I believe the situation with my eldest daughter has been resolved but I still worry. I don't want her to feel centred out by others. I don't want other kids to laugh at her. Especially when frankly I don't see anything to laugh at. My daughter is beautiful and brilliant and kind. The only reason for the bullying that I can think of is jealousy. Often when people are trying to make others feel bad it is in a twisted attempt to make them feel better about themselves. It's also deflecting and it happens quite a bit with children (and adults that never truly grow up).

The hardest pill to swallow is the advice that I am forced to give my children. I tell them to ignore it. To turn the other cheek and be the bigger person but how can I ask them to do something I could not do myself. You see I myself was bullied when I was a child. Boys from my school would follow me home and call me fat. I retaliated by saying something to this day I feel terrible about. I also had to pretend I was okay when I got home so my father wouldn't go off the deep end and go run the boys down with our car. I suppose that is why I am telling my children to do just the opposite of what I did. I don't want them to regret hurting someone else's feelings. I also don't want them to think that bullying back will solve anything. I know I am telling them the right thing to do but when I remember how hard it was to be a kid being bullied I wonder if I am giving them the right advice. How can you explain to a playground full of 10 year old boys and girls that YOU are taking the moral high ground and that in 10 years everyone will realize that you are doing the right thing. PLEASE! In 10 years there is a good chance most of those kids will STILL be bullies they'll just be bigger, older and better at it.

So here I am - a wimpy middle-aged suburban  housewife doling out advice to my kids like fortune cookies but not able to really help them. I feel let down by the system and societies rules and niceties. We are not permitted to defend our children. We aren't even supposed to tell them to defend themselves. The problem with this theory is that there are more bullies out there and we are continuing to teach our children to be victims. Be brave. Stiff upper lip. Turn the other cheek. What we are really telling them is " Just try to take as much as you can without letting it destroy your self image or ruin your childhood until the adult world can get their heads out of their asses and deal with these bullies, and their parents, because the parents are the REAL problem'.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!

This Cake is from Cake Opera Co. in Toronto.
Check them out at cakeoperaco.com

Today I am 39 years old. 39. Say it. Let it wash over you. Let it sink into your subconscious and bounce around for a while. Is age just a number? Is it a mark of us getting that much older?

No.

It's a reason to celebrate another year of successes and failures. It's a day to remember the joy in life as well as the pain. A birthday is like New Year's eve. Say thanks to the universe and celebrate your blessings and wash away the negative to emerge anew and take another path.

Today I think about the people in my life. I think how lucky I am to have them and to know that, through thick and thin, I can count on their support. I think about my family and how blessed I am to have them in my life. To feel their love everyday. I am blessed with 2 wonderful children and a truly caring and understanding husband. I am blessed with supportive friends who want nothing but the best for me.

So today is not about the wrinkles and sags and whatever 'perceived' signs aging provides. I am reminded of the years spent having joy in my life. The fact that in spite of all the obstacles and difficulties I have faced over the year, I am here, still smiling. And if next year when 40 approaches I can say the same thing - I will welcome that birthday with open arms.

Thank you everyone for a wonderful year!

YOU'RE GOOD ENOUGH, YOU'RE SMART ENOUGH, AND GOSH DARN IT, PEOPLE LIKE YOU

I started reading a new book last night. "Women, Food and God". I had a good friend recommend it to me. When I went to find it and discovered that it was $28 to purchase it at Coles..well that put me off  of it for a while. Not to mention the use of the word God in the title. That will scare most of us 'spiritual' types away everytime. I imagined it was going to be yet another journey to find the one true higher power. A concept I whole heartedly do not believe in.

So a few days ago I found my self at the wal (AKA Wal-Mart) where my eldest daughter was on a search for the next Vampire Diaries novel. And there the book was again. Staring me in the face saying "well I am 30% off here. Are you going to read me or not?" I decided to take my meager allowance and splurge on my first hardcover book since the Twilight series. As a reward for my troubles I found at the cash register the book was actually half price. Bravo you bargain diva!

So I took the book home and placed it on my nightstand to read before I went to bed. For the entire evening I thought "I need to get up there and start reading so I can start healing myself and get on with my life." So by 9pm I was in my jammies and snuggled up with my new book and within a few pages I realized that it was not what  I had been expecting.

Right away the author explains that this book is about our 'divine' relationship with food. She uses the term God because it is one that is universally recognized as a 'higher power' but not THE higher power. Phew. What a relief. I can read on. She also goes on to discuss food and diet and our need to 'fix' ourselves through whatever means but usually  along the route of weight loss. She also talks about always rushing to get to the next thing. I am doing it right now. I am rushing my description of the book so I can get to the next paragraph. Even as I make a lasagna I am rushing the cooking of the meat so I can move on the the layering and then the cooking and then, of course the eating. Rush. Rush. Rush.

It's in that chapter that I realize part of my problem. I have never lived in the moment. I have never stopped to enjoy the hear and now. I am always working my way to the next goal. I can remember rushing projects in school because I became anxious about missing the deadline. I remember feeling resentful towards people who handed everyting in late but stil got better grades. Lets face it. It's because they took their time. I was so consumed by the deadline I didn't put the time into the project and given it 100% of myself.

As I child I was always worried about being late. I was like the white rabbit running around checking my watch constantly but never seeming to arrive anywhere. Off to school! Don't be late! You have an appointment don't be late! Let's do lunch! Don't be late! The problem with obsessing with my potential tardiness has led me to being excessively early to everything. I am always early for appointments, meetings, dinner. Once I have arrived at my desitnation I spend those extra 10 or 15 minutes contemplated whether the person I am meeting will be late too. It seems no one is safe from my obsessing.

So here I am peering at this book wondering "Is it really that simple?" Do I just LET GO and be free and stop obsessing? Do I just learn to love myself and everything will be fine? Probably not but I will say one thing. It is one hell of a place to start.

Imagine if everyday you looked in the mirror and instead of seeing all that you perceive to be wrong with you physically and instead you saw all of the beauty your love ones and friends see.

 I remember one day in science class my teacher brought in one those mirrors that lets you see yourself as other see you. Normal mirrors reverse what is actually there whereas this mirror reversed it again so that you could see your actual likeness. I could not believe how different I looked through that mirror. Most of our perceptions of ourselves are equally as distorted. We judge what we see. We concentrate on what we perceive as broken. Imagine seeing past the celulite and the saddle bags and the beginnings of crows feet. Imagine having the ability to peer deep insider yourself and recognize and appreciate the person you are without all of that emotional baggage that has manifested from an unhealthy body image. Imagine how free and liberated you would be if you could see that you don't need to fix you because you are not broken.

I spoke to a good friend today about another one of my obsessive behaviours. You see I have never considered myself to be a particlularly nice person. I am always concerned that I haven't been as tolerant or as forgiving as I should be. Once again I have found something else to fix. But I have come to realize that I will never be a saint but I am certainly no devil either. I am realizing that I can be kind but not allow myself to be taken advantage of either. I can assert myself in other ways.

All this enlightenment. All this realization and I am only 100 pages in! Normally I would try to anticipate 'What's next! What's next!'. Instead I am going to work on what it in front of me now. I have made some intense realizations about myself. Whether or not they all stem back to my relationship with food remains to be seen but I have an inkling they will. But that is not for me to speculate about now. Now I am going enjoy the quiet of my home. I am going to enjoy the smell of the beef as it simmers on the stove. I am going to listen to the bird that is singing in outside my window. And somewhere, deep inside myself, I will try to find the serenity to not kill the fly that continues to buzz around my head and drive me crazy! Hey, even Gandhi would be rolling up the newspaper right now...or would he...either way he can decide for himself and so can I.

NO MORE!

On the morning of September 20th I go for my first appointment before I have my bariatric surgery. There are 4 to 6 appointments I must go to which can take up to 9 months. It's been a long road to get this far. 3 years of trying to get on a list for surgery. This was always 'my last option'. I joined a gym, hired a trainer, went to meetings, spoke to nutritionists, starved myself, reduced carbs, fat, dairy, stopped eating red meat, stopped eating white flour, stopped eathing all together, drinking more water...you name it, I have done it all.

Food isn't just food for me. It's comfort. I have been an emotional eater all my life. I can remember my parents would order KFC on Thursday when dad got paid and every Friday we would get a treat from the store. These were the best days of the week. I won't talk about the bad stuff that went on in my house but it left me clinging to anything that brought even the most minute ounce of joy. This is the beginning of my obsession with food.

I was always a chubby child especially when compared with my rather thin sister. People including my family would comment on my weight. It was so bad they sent me to Weight Watchers when I was 8 years old. At the meeting they told me that I needed to eat more just healthier choices. That was possibly the most idiotic thing I had ever heard. What choices was I able to make. I ate what I was given and I was FORCED to clean my plate every time I sat at the table. So now I am completely confused. I am told that I should not eat so much by my family but here were the experts telling me I didn't eat enough. I just didn't know what to do.

All these years of denying my body food or overindulging resulted in obsessing. Even when I wasn't eating  I was worried about when I was going to eat next, what it would be, how many calories I would be consuming. It just never ended. And when I did not obsess about what I was eating and tracking my food consumption I began to gain weight. Let's face it - weight and food have ruled my life ever since that first Weight Watchers meeting 30 years ago.

I guess I am just tired of everyone telling me what I NEED to do to lose weight. The last thing I NEED is for someone else to parade their ignorant assumptions about me and my weight by telling me how to diet, what new fad I should try, and how I should live my life. Really it all measures up to the underlying message that is contained with each sentence. The message that says "You are fat. Stop eating." Trust me I've even tried the starvation route and that doesn't always work out.

It also seems that if I am not constantly 'dieting' people look at me with suspicion. Like 'are you sure you should be eating that fatty?' It's not like I am scarfing down fries every chance I get. I only eat fast food MAYBE 6 times a year. I have a chocolate bar once a week. I am not a huge chip fan. I can live with just a cup. I eat fruit and veg every day. Yes I could eat more of them AND drink more water but who couldn't. I mean the majority of our society does not eat right, excercise and watch their food intake but because they are not fat then it doesn't seem to matter.

I am sick to death of feeling like I have to EXPLAIN myself because I am fat. I am sick of  feeling like I am the only one at the birthday party that is not ALLOWED to have cake because I am fat. I am sick to death of feeling like I have to EXPLAIN myself everytime I eat something that might be bad for me. Most of all I am sick to death of living my life by what rules everyone else thinks I should follow.

From now on I am going to make healthy choices as much as I can. Yes I will have bad days but that is no one's business but mine. If you catch me eating a piece of cake or a donought I DON'T OWE YOU AN EXPLANATION! I don't owe you shit. It's my life. I don't tell you how to live yours so don't tell me how to live mine. And don't  tell me you are 'concerned' about my health. If you were concerned about me you would ask me how I am feeling not WHY, WHAT AND HOW MUCH I AM EATING!

So I am done with being told how to live my life. I am done being judged by others. I am done with that condescending voice both in my head and out of it telling me what to do. From now on I am going to make decisions not based on what other people will think but what I will think because really I am the one who has to live withe consequences...no one else. And for the record, my kids and husband NEVER obsess about what I am eating. They love me just the way I am. They don't see me as fat - they see me as me. So what does that tell you?

English Speak Making Hardness

Wow - what a week. I am exhausted. On Tuesday the girls went back to school and I started a new part-time job. On top of that I had 5 commercials to finish by end of day Friday. Not to mention I have a presentation to finish this weekend AND it's my 12 year wedding anniversary on Sunday. I confess I have nothing left. I am drained, beat, done. All I want is a soft fluffy pillow, a good book, my fuzzy jammies and a cool autumn breeze wafting through my bedroom window. Now that's my idea of heaven.

But it is not to be quite yet. I am still working. Right now I am waiting for a file to upload for a client who emailed me 2 hours ago and said "by the way this start monday. Can you make sure it gets to the right people? Thanks". What she should have said was "Can you finish this job for me because I am already sipping Marguerittas from my ocean view on the westcoast and I couldn't possibly pull myself away from such joy. I mean it's not like you have a life outside of your basement. You only have 2 kids, 2 dogs, 3 rabbits, a husband, a home to clean, mounds of laundry to do and other deadlines but hey...I'm the client and that's not my problem."

Whoa did I spiral there or what?

So now I am going to spend a few pleasant hours with my friends and hopefully I will be able to maintain a somewhat intelligent conversation without causing them to further question my intelligence based on my slaughtering of the English language due to sleep deprivation.

I don't even know what I am saying anymore.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Talk soon! Love ya!!!!