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.

In between

I feel like I am straddling a HUGE abyss. I have been eating mindlessly lately. And bingeing. And eating gluten. And I feel like shit. But I know I am doing it. I am watching. Like a mom watches a child struggle while learning to tie a shoe.

I have one foot in a very old, well worn, well known (well loved?) old place and one foot in a very unfamiliar, very bright, very hopeful, very solid new place.

And nothing but sky in between.

And when I look to see, in my body, how I feel when I reflect on each of these places they are vastly different.

The left side, the old place, is heavy, bogged down, blurred and well, heavy. I have trouble breathing fully and feel like I am in a heavier gravity. Like I am wearing a lead suit. The vision is very blurry and slow and almost medicated. Yet I feel comfort here. I feel layered under something so the "bad" can't get to me. No wait, comfort may not be the word because even as I write this I feel as if I am suffocating, my chest tightens and my throat constricts. And though I feel away from the bad and technically protected from it, I feel like I am inside something that is safe but just sort of. I feel extremely uncomfortable as I write this. Edgy, pain in my shoulder, anxious, tight in my chest and shallow breaths. My shoulders draw up and I can feel my face shift to a frown. I can feel tears well up and fear rise in my throat. I am not sure what this is but the more I sit with it, the less comfortable it becomes. I cannot feel my belly and all I want to do is bolt. It feels hard to breathe.

I had to step away from the computer.

I can take deep breaths now.

As I look to the right, the new place, I feel a lot of space and my shoulders drop and my chest opens up and I can feel my belly. My breath is easier. The colors are bright and crisp and all kinds of blue sky and space. There is a huge sense of comfort but it is different than any comfort I have felt before. It is light and airy and spacious and feels happy. Almost giddy. I feel some tears but they feel like relief.

As I sat to write this I had a whole big story about the left and the right. The left was all comfort and protection from old wounds and it would be hard to let go of that. But I realized while writing this that the old behaviors that i used for comfort and safety in the past from some pretty horrific things, they have become the horrific things in and of themselves. Not at all what I expected.

Which reminds me that I saw the part of me that eats the other day.

I had a story about that too. I believed that that was a kind and loving and protecting part of me that saw that this was the only comfort I had during some difficult times. That she stroked and loved and cared and protected me and let me soothe myself with food.

Not so much.

When I really let myself look at the part of me who starts to eat for anything other than hunger, I see a very stoic, robotic, rigid entity. One that is almost devoid of emotion. It is very white and resembles the figures in the old Rock 'em Sock 'em Robots game. It is also not threatening, or even aware of me. It has a job to do. And when told to start, it just goes. It feels almost impossible to stop. Programmed. Cold. Distant. Mindless. Unapproachable.

When I try to put this part in the world on the right, I can see there is NO WAY I can get it to go there. That place is too high and light and airy. I don't feel dread or fear when I see this visual. I feel relief. Relief that there is no place for mindlessness there.

Tho I know there is a use for this world on the left, I am certain there is no need to live there and there is certainly no need to eat there.

I feel drawn to the right.
But I have parts that are attached to the left. Loyalty maybe? Guilt? Obligation? Not sure. But I can feel myself wanting to pick up the foot on the left and move it to the right. There is also a part of me screaming to GET RID OF THE LEFT! BLOW IT UP! THEN YOU WILL BE FIXED!!! It is also clear this is the voice that was head cheerleader in every diet I ever tried. All or nothing.

Another voice, more of a whisper, no a feeling, has no need to destroy the left. Just let it be there. She knows it is difficult for me to be in the right all the time. Even if I want to.

The left is mindlessness. Binge eating, dieting, binge exercising, dropping out. Disconnecting. This path is well worn and easy. Habit.

The right is mindfulness. Presence. This part is simple. Simple yes,  but easy, no.

Five days at Mount Madonna starting Tuesday will give me some space to be present in both of these worlds and see what comes up. From here, I do not want to keep choosing mindlessness, yet it seems that every time I feel threatened (in even the mildest ways) I don't even consider the mindfulness path. I resort to the default behavior of mindlessness. And though it does not FEEL safe and secure, I am telling myself at this very minute, "well of course you do because that path keeps you safe."

It kept me safe. Not anymore.

It reminds me that my worlds have shifted.

Being my best self was a huge threat to my mom when I was young. Dumbing it down, hiding my light under the proverbial bushel, destroying myself before she could, all these kept me safe.

Now it is that behavior that threatens my happiness. Seems to bring up some shame when I see this. That I "should have" seen it long ago and just "fixed it" because it is so obvious. Shame that it still has such a hold on me. But that's old coping mechanisms. Shame doesn't seem to have as much a hold lately. Which might be why I am trying so hard to drop out lately. When I see the old tools are futile in this new world, I might just move there and only visit the other world on the rare bad day.

...and there's the threat.

But I don't feel trapped in it. I feel like I am sitting here looking at all the things in front of me. And from here I can spend some time examining. Safely.

BOY do I not wanna hit post. But I will.

ick

I have a food hangover. I have been eating gluten for the last 5 days (stopped yesterday because the symptoms were KILLING me) but then binged yesterday. Every single meal I ate I ate to WAY past full. I have not done that in a really long time. My first instinct is to white knuckle it and MAKE myself stop. My true instinct is to sit with it and be open and see what is going on. Even when I type that it feels warm and kind and fresh. Attractive even. I am VERY grateful that I have the retreat at Mt Madonna coming up Tuesday.
More on this later. Just needed to get it down.

ahhhhhhhhh...

My husband turned on the air tonight.

Without me asking.

I think he has a tumor.

It is 90 frickin frackin' degrees today.

I am wrestling with some worth demons. Had a long and frustrating meeting last night but am extremely proud that I held it together and spoke up for myself and was able to articulate my points wether they listened or not.

Now I need to accept that I am worth the effort to fight for myself. And accept that I am OK and safe when I speak up in my own best interest. Not sure when this became so difficult but am guessing it was a long long time ago.

Oh, and I walked 3.5 miles today. YAY ME!!!

Harrrruuuuummmmph.

Tired, cranky, post call.

But...

I had a very good session with Lauren yesterday and had a very real vision of the part of me who eats. She looked NOTHING like I thought she would. And she is definitely a VERY old part. And she is not threatening and I think her skills would be very well suited in another position in my life. It was quite earth shattering. I was a bit shocked. But in a good way.

Big meeting tonight with my group and part of me is very much looking forward to it...part of me, not so much.

So it has been a MONTH since I last posted??? Wow. And I have to say it has been quite on purpose. This avoiding thing. So my new goal, for me and just me, will be to post daily. Even if it is just a sentence. To keep myself company. Over the last month the backlash took over. Ran amok as one might say. I stopped doing things that kept me present. I am going to try and be there for me in this form.

The transition...

So now I am trying to train to learn how to run. Actually the body work seems basic. Do this for x amount of days, increase running by small increments. Eventually take x days to be able to run for 30 min at a time. Long enough to finish a 5K running. And the x...it is variable dependent upon how my body takes to this. The unknown.

Another unknown? My mind. It is NOT handling this well. It is still a wee bit freaked out and backlashy about the half marathon. But we will keep showing up. Keep dealing with the little bumps in the road.

I am realizing that my biggest road block is my weight. Not just for the running, but for everything.

The half marathon showed me one thing very clearly. I can accomplish physical challenges. I am an athlete. I feel FABULOUS when I use my loyal and trusty body to accomplish physical challenges.

And this threatens everything I believe myself to be.

So my next task is to redefine those beliefs and start living based on them. The other task is to fight myself (my old self) and figure out how to get this weight off.

And on to the next...

WOW! it has been almost a month since I last blogged and I want to start doing this again and again to keep myself present and positive.

So one week ago I completed the half marathon!!!!!!!!

It was one of the greatest, most satisfying experiences of my life.

Arriving in that swarm of people was awesome. I got very choked up. Even at the playing of Rocky Top.  The support was amazing, the hills were CRAZY! And the satisfaction of completing this goal was something I haven't experienced in a very long time.

I had some difficult emotional moments the mornings of the race. I was reminded of the mornings before skating competitions. I had a memory of a memory in the past. I knew that something was unpleasant about competition mornings. I knew I always felt trapped and hopeless. And panicky. Very panicky. But never knew why.

Well now I do. The morning of the half marathon I remembered viscerally. I remembered feeling trapped. No matter what I did, it would be wrong. If I lost, I was a failure. If I won, it would be a threat to my mom. If I placed middle of the pack I would be ordinary (probably a message I got from my parents.)

Sooooooo.

That morning I let myself have it. All of it. The experience of the support, both personal and anonymous. The experience and commeraderie of the race. The satisfaction of setting a task and completing it. And showing up for myself. I let myself have that, too.

And I can't stop looking at the pictures!

http://www.asiorders.com/view_user_event_video.asp?EVENTID=79255&BIB=2836

Almost quit.

But almost doesn't count now, does it?

Last week was particularly difficult. Lots and lots of old thought patterns and very little rational thinking. Not really sure what happened but had a good idea what triggered it.

About a week and a half ago I had multiple people comment on my weight. The fact that there was less of it. One of them being my husband who thinks I am beautiful and sexy no matter what size I am (do you know how hard THAT sentence was to write?)He commented how good all this walking was looking on me. Add to that a couple patients who had no idea I was walking and some nurses at work and it was probably something I should have prepared for.

I can remember at one point actually hearing myself say, "huh, these comments haven't triggered me. Maybe I am better?!"

Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelllllllllllllllllllll...

Not so much.

I had a few days where I was feeling all of my old Judgy McJudgerson self. And at one point last week was very, very tempted to quit. I even missed 3 days walking in a row (one being a 6 mile walk) and refusing to count the 9 hours of shopping I did one Saturday and was quite sore from the next day (NO that didn't count!)

By Fat Tuesday I was about ready to cut and run. Then everyone on Facebook started talking about what they were giving up for Lent.

Now I do not really fancy myself a Christian in the true sense of the word. Especially when it comes to the hoop jumping and rules of the whole thing (being raised a Catholic kind of put me off that.)

BUT...something here tickled my little brain.

from Wiki...
The traditional purpose of Lent is the preparation of the believer — through prayer, repentance, almsgiving and self-denial — for the annual commemoration during Holy Week of the Death and Resurrection of Jesus, which recalls the events linked to the Passion of Christ and culminates in Easter, the celebration of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ.

So here's how I read this...

The new tradition of Lent is to prepare THIS believer, through presence, awareness, kindness and denial of the nasty selves, for the annual commemoration of the death of old beliefs and long accepted "truths" and the rebirth of true beliefs...and the resurrection of the authentic self.

The kind self. The loving self. The patient and happy self.

The self who doesn't believe all the smack talk that has been programmed over the last 40 odd years.

so.

Where to start. Well, with my Catholic upbringing, Lent always meant relentless dieting. I had to give up food I loved or things I loved to do and then get guilted when I got to do them again.

NOW what I am giving up are all those things that prevent me from being that true self.

This lenten season I will be giving up the idea of giving up.
No more quitting.
No more I can't.
Not an option.
I will do these things (training for my walk, listening to my body, not beating myself up) and give less space for the tear down voices.

And maybe I will reward myself with a pretty new Easter outfit! And a coconut egg!

ick

Just not feeling it this week.
Spent the weekend with the girls and walked all day Saturday shopping but trying not to count that.
Sunday was nothing more than a day of vegging out.
So of course I am in the midst of "you suck" and will never do this.
Sooooo...I am going to make sure I walk tonight.
I am going to try for 6 miles but will be happy with anything right now.

My feet have been bothering me a lot and right now am trying to convince myself that this is all because i am to fat to walk a half marathon. It is actually (likely) due to the fact that I needed new shoes. So I bought 'em Friday and will hopefully be able to disprove all the nasty voices in my head and walk without pain tonight.

So much to tell!!!

So it has been a very very busy week since I last blogged. Katy's birthday and way too many sick people. BUT I had to blog today.

I just finished an 11+ mile walk in 3 hours and 20 minutes (20 of which were spent in coffee shop and under a tree in the middle of a downpour.)

I have done found me a walking partner!!!

My friend Lauren is in! And this child has some long legs so my time has drastically decreased. AND she is a chatty cathy with THE BEST stories. I am so happy I could wet myself.

But in even bigger news...I have my next goal.

I have signed up for the Susan G Komen 3 day walk for the cure in Philadelphia October 13-15th. It is 3 days, 60 miles.
And I am doing it with 2 amazing friends all of us training in different cities. Nat in Philly, Margo in NYC and me in little ole Knoxvegas.

It is amazing how this worked out. I have a Geneen Roth retreat that week in San Francisco and thought this was absolutely out of the question because the retreats usually run Tues through Sunday. But when I checked the retreat dates something didn't add up. I checked and rechecked and sure enough the retreat schedule for this retreat is Sunday through Thursday. This means I can fly to Philly Thursday to walk Friday.

It was meant to be.

I am becoming someone who misses exercise and moving my body when I don't get to do it. Screw becoming. I AM the someone who likes to move my body. I never would have thought I could spend a lazy Sunday morning off call out in the pouring rain with thunder and lightening ENJOYING good company and an 11+ mile walk.

Lovely lovely gift for the beginning of my 46th year.

7 miles! And the next challenge is shaping up!

Today I kicked butt. And on a day I was on call after a Saturday of utter chaos, I made time for myself...and I walked my 7 miles. I did it in 2 hours and 4 minutes and I finished the last three miles between 3.5 and 3.7. I am CRAZY pleased with this.

So I have really been enjoying this process and have been looking for the next challenge and the universe has shuffled and arranged and I think I will be able to go to my fall retreat (which is oddly Sunday through Thursday) and then be in Philadelphia to walk the Susan G. Komen 3 day walk for the cure!!! I am nervous and excited. I sent away for my info packet just now and am looking forward to the chance to walk for another 8 months of training!

I Zumba'd!

And it was a blast and I was a sweaty mess. I am so glad I went. Now I need to get up and go to the Y in the morning. I have been sleeping through my alarm for the last two mornings. Early bed time tonight and hopefully no major phone calls!

ZUMBA!!!

Oh, and tonight I am spending my rest day from training trying a Zumba class with a friend of mine. I am noticing I don't want to go. I love to dance and I love fitness classes that are fun. So what the heck is going on with my reluctance?

Probably because Zumba is like playing. And some part of me feels like I am not supposed to have fun and play.

I am going. We'll see what comes up.