Sitting With It

I had 3 days last week where I spent a considerable amount of attention on just having compassion for how hard some of my shit is. I used these three sentences. This is hard. I am so sorry. I love you.

Sounds totally inane when I write that. But it is amazing how well it worked. As you all know through the facebook, this has been a very stressful week with my husband, best friend and majority of my exercise time gone. Tuesday, Wed and most of Thursday I used these sentences and felt such peace and support. Friday, I felt the backlash and binged. I ate a TON of gluten Friday and Saturday. Last night and this morning i have a burning pain under my right upper arm and for about 2 hours had myself convinced this was breast cancer. The fast deadly kind that kills in a year. Then I noticed that the sore on my chin wasn't healing. And I was crazy tired. And remembered exactly how much gluten I had eaten. ALL of these things are gluten. ALL OF THEM.

So today, I spent 5 minutes sitting with that peaceful feeling when it came over me this morning for some random reason. I do not feel comfortable with this feeling of peace and well being. There I said it. So usually I just find a way (numb with food and make myself sick with that huge volume of food) to push it away and make myself feel bad agaon.

So now my focus is on accepting that feeling and learning how to be comfortable with it, because it is one of the best feelings in the world.

The fog is clearing

So for the last week or so I have been IN IT.
I spent 5 days with my parents.
In that time I went from strong, clear, confident and happy to small, shamed, terrified and insecure.
I came home not feeling sure footed at all.
I came home and laid down (and I do not care if that is grammatically correct.)
Then Jerry went on his 2 week motorcycle camping vacation.
And Stephanie went on maternity leave so my work load at the clinics quadrupled.
And did I mention the puppy?
Anyway.
With all of this there has been a paucity of time for walking. And it has reminded me how much I need my walking. Exercise dvds do not fill the void.
Also food has been blech.
While at my parents, I developed a HORRIBLE stomach problem. I could not eat but oddly managed to drink.
I spent the better part of one morning trying to figure out where the gluten was coming from and could not.
Then I realized it was stress.
I was witnessing something I had always numbed myself from.
My father's shitty behavior.
He is a bully.
He is insecure.
He is a narcissist.
He is NOT as intelligent as he thinks he is.
He is STUBBORN.
He is mean.
He is judgemental.
He is cold.
He is isolated.
He is rigid.
He is shaming.
He does revisionist history.
And the hardest one of all...

He is threatened by me.

God that is hard to write and I am choking up just seeing it in black and white.
Because it is true.
And when my dad is threatened...he attacks.
Not overtly.
Just constant and undermining and with looks of disapproval.
A general vibe, if not an outright statement, that you are "doing it wrong."

As long as he undermines the confidence of the person he is threatened by he is dominant. As long as he can engage you (as long as YOU are one of his children or his minions) in an argument, he will always have the upper hand because NO ONE wants to lose to him.
I remember some innocent Monopoly and chess games of my youth that resulted in the silent treatment when he didn't win.

What I noticed last week, was, well, how little I allowed myself to notice before.
And in being aware, being present, being in it...I felt it.
I was sad and hurt and scared.
I remembered what it felt like to be a child with him.
A child with a fragile and developing sense of self...not good.
It scared the piss out of me.
Trust me, it is ALWAYS hard to see one's parents flaws under a harsh light.
What is harder is to see my own tendencies to these traits.
Watching my dad is like holding a mirror up to my worst self...and it stings.

So as soon as I got home, by day 2 my stomach had calmed down. And I stopped walking and started eating...binge eating. And thinking about dieting because I am never gonna lose this weight yadayadayadayada. And this made me eat more. This was a week ago. Since all my "people" are gone, I have been absolutely beside myself about the walking. How will I train? I am never gonna be able to do it! I suck!

So all in all, I picked up where my father left off.
I am telling myself I am doing it wrong.
So yesterday, when I really realized it (thank you Tara Brach) I stopped.
Every time I found myself judging my general suckitude, I stopped and said, "Wow, this is really hard." Then I said, "I am so sorry. I love you."

It is amazingly effective.
Yesterday I was able to avoid food as a numbing agent for the first time in a LOOOOOOONG time.
Today I am going to try the same.
I am also going to be kinder to myself about the walking.
If I get time to do it...I will. I will bring walking clothes with me and have them. If I don't, Jerry will be home in a week and a half and I will be able to pick up where I left off. I will be fine.
Better than fine.
I will be loved.

Happy

So today I noticed, as I was driving, I have this odd sensation. It is a feeling I am not quite used to. It is this core of contentment. It isn't blaring JOYJOYJOY or giddy happiness about "something." It is just this soft sigh of "hhhHHHHHmmmmmm" and a tiny little smile.

I think it means I am happy.

I have had it at some point in the day for the last 3 or 4 days. It definitely sends off bells and whistles of warning. I seem to know somewhere in my heart that being happy, content joyful in my youth resulted in an attack.

Even has I write that, I have feelings of denial and guilt. YOU ARE SO FULL OF SHIT!!! They only wanted you to be happy you selfish egocentric bitch! You need drama and a way to victimize yourself to even BREATHE most days.

But, no.

I know it is true. I know I have trouble with good and well and successfull and attractive and thin, so of course I have trouble with happy.

I look for every opportunity to lick the red off that lollipop. Not today.

Today I am going to let myself be aware that I am happy with my life. Period. No exceptions. No only ifs. No footnotes.

Just be OK with happy.

Bad with good.

It's June.
It is hot as balls.
I am not walking as much as I want to. And it is mainly because I won't let myself have it.
Why?
Because I feel good when I walk. And I don't do so good with good.

Today I wrote a very well worded, professional email and dealt with a subject I have been avoiding for about 3 years (one year actively avoiding.) And after a week of getting numbers together and allowing myself to really see that I do understand the business side of my job, today I composed the email and sent it.

And then I binged like there was no tomorrow. And I binged on gluten.

And right now I am letting myself sit with the feelings. I am being with the bloating and discomfort and full as a stuffed tick as well.

I am sitting with the good.

No matter what happens from this email, I know I am right for myself.
No matter if they tell me I am wrong and don't know what I'm talking about, I won't react, I won't freak.
I don't need them to tell me I am OK. Or that I am good.

I am good.

Blisters

Damn blisters.

I had one of the worst physical experiences on my walk this morning. I hurt. Not a little, a lot. By about 2 miles in, it was so bad i was almost nauseated. As soon as I bitched about it out loud, it got better. Shocker. A lot of it in my head? Probably around 50%. I loved the time with my walking partner Lauren, but I think her long legs may have made me push myself a bit more than I was able to do.

Oh, and the blister.

It was as big as the one from the 1/2 marathon. And is feeling meaner.

bastard.

But I am gonna keep going. Keep walking, because when I go at my pace, I feel wonderful. And so happy. I will baby my blister and do some cross training and yoga and return to 3 miles on Wednesday.

We'll see.

joy

So now I am back in Knoxville from a week at Mount Madonna. A week of awareness, mindful eating, hiking for miles and miles, meditation, fellowship and thinking.

And now? Not so much. Transition/re-immersion is a bitch. I spent the last week in a backlash of trying to eat my way into a numb place. And I didn't move...for a week.

Until today. Today I walked. For 5.5 miles! And I ate to a hunger level of 5. And stopped.

And I felt happy. I walked to enjoy it...not to get in x number of miles, not to burn x number of calories, but to just enjoy moving and walking.

Misty water-colored meeeeeemories!

OK, so I am not Striesand.

I had to go through pictures today to take to the retreat. My assignment is to bring pictures of myself in various stages and moods. Was I happy, sad, scared, etc.

So I went through the photos I have. All as an adult. The few I have as a child my mom has cemented into a scrapbook. I have a very hard time removing them so I am not able to use them. Dammit.

I also noticed that looking at my adult pictures I realized I never look at my pictures of me. Pictures taken when I thought I was unhappy because I was fat, pictures I avoided because I thought I was fat, pictures I hid because I thought I was fat. Pictures of me hiding behind people because I thought I was fat. Pictures of just my head because I thought I was fat. Well, you get the picture.

I noticed something. I noticed I was a lot happier than I realized at the time. And that upset me a bit. I feel like I missed the moment because I was telling myself a story about hoe that particular moment was not important or good or happy because I wasn't where I wanted to be with my weight.

I was quite weight-centric.

Anyway. Today I noticed i had joy in my life regardless of my size. I laughed with my husband, giggled with friends and family, danced with a dolphin (OH YES I DID!) And enjoyed it.

And then obviously talked myself out of it.

I am going to remember those pictures. And how shocked I was that I was happy. Like I got caught doing something that would get me in trouble.