When my son was a baby, he would cry - inconsolably - like any other infant. If his dad was home during these crying episodes, he'd give Ben a little toss in the air and Ben would forget what he was upset over and award everyone around with a huge smile. My ex called the whole activity, "the re-set process." As in, "I'm hitting his re-set button."
At 39, I'm having to trigger my own re-set button more than I'd like. The thing with a food battle is this: you can claim you're done with the battle and then have a re-lapse. I've always said that food issues are harder to manage than drug or alcohol dependencies because we can give those up. We have to eat. Right?
Right. But not excessively and not inappropriately and that is where my learning is truly happening.
I have had set-backs since I declared that my life long struggle with food had ended. To err is to be human. Just today, coming off a wickedly busy week with work, I turned to several foods that I have on hand for Ben. Nothing unhealthy or junky, but the portions were large enough to feed Ben and a playgroup. Of five friends. Mommies, too.
I guess that the only thing I can do - and have been doing - is to re-set quickly before a backslide occurs. One sitting of inappropriate food portions does not equal a backslide to me. It's more like a reminder - of what I used to do - and why I don't want to do it anymore. In my mind, if I'm cognizant enough, the episodes will become fewer and my thought processes will actually override the desire to eat.
This is my hope.
In the meantime, I'm going to a birthday dinner tonight for an old, old friend at a super fancy restaurant in the Bay Area. We're all dressing up and while I'm not looking forward to the act of squeezing into a black skirt, I am looking forward to connecting with a group of old friends. Tonight is about the human connections and not so much the food. Which is good because I highly doubt I'll be hungry by dinner time.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Monday, February 1, 2010
Affirmation
I had an "ah-ha" moment today.
An older woman came to see me for a free consultation and session. She was referred by an acquaintance of mine who is a chiropractor. The woman brought a host of physical challenges into our session: postural issues, osteopenia, and an out-of-whack sacroiliac joint. Not your average person looking for "Pilates abs." The word "frail" comes to mind.
We worked hard in the session: me, watching her form carefully and modifying exercises; her, trying to control the machine and use her own body awareness to avoid any injury.
At the end of the session, she walked over to my bookcase where I have several items on display, including Hindu deities, framed quotes, business cards and several pictures. She pointed to a quote. "I love this," she stated. I looked at what she was pointing at. It was one of my favorites, too:
"Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?"
I walked her out of the studio and she reached to hug me while saying, "Well, you seem to know what you're doing with your one precious life. What a gift you have and what a wonderful little business you've built."
She went on to book two sessions a week.
After she left, I thought to myself, what if I am doing something with my life? What if I don't always need to be looking for so much change? What if this is enough, at least for now? And then it hit: maybe it doesn't need to be so wild; maybe, just maybe, it's absolutely precious just the way it is.
An older woman came to see me for a free consultation and session. She was referred by an acquaintance of mine who is a chiropractor. The woman brought a host of physical challenges into our session: postural issues, osteopenia, and an out-of-whack sacroiliac joint. Not your average person looking for "Pilates abs." The word "frail" comes to mind.
We worked hard in the session: me, watching her form carefully and modifying exercises; her, trying to control the machine and use her own body awareness to avoid any injury.
At the end of the session, she walked over to my bookcase where I have several items on display, including Hindu deities, framed quotes, business cards and several pictures. She pointed to a quote. "I love this," she stated. I looked at what she was pointing at. It was one of my favorites, too:
"Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?"
I walked her out of the studio and she reached to hug me while saying, "Well, you seem to know what you're doing with your one precious life. What a gift you have and what a wonderful little business you've built."
She went on to book two sessions a week.
After she left, I thought to myself, what if I am doing something with my life? What if I don't always need to be looking for so much change? What if this is enough, at least for now? And then it hit: maybe it doesn't need to be so wild; maybe, just maybe, it's absolutely precious just the way it is.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Ending
I originally started this blog as a way to journal about my lifelong battle with emotional eating. I've noticed that with time, I've careened off the path several times to divulge other personal issues and challenges. But in the end, most of my unhappiness stems from the struggles I've had with food.
In the interest of not sounding too egotistic or self-serving, I'm going to tell you this directly: that battle is ending for me. It hasn't been an abrupt ending or one that hasn't had its share of relapses. But is a solid ending. Closing the chapter of the book that wants to be re-written countless times. Shutting the door on all the demons and dragons that undermine my efforts to be a healthy person. Opening up to the possibility of change, acceptance, peace and self-love.
And it feels great.
Now I know what it's like to be in control, to have boundaries and to respond to my emotional needs with integrity and respect. I know what it's like to feel good in my skin and to look at food as a source of nourishment and enjoyment. I know how to exercise less and to live more. I know that lunch and dinner and all the time in between is like a big, huge "danger zone." I know that dark chocolate can always be in my kitchen and that ice cream cannot. I know that packaged food - crackers, pretzels, chips, cookies, bars - have no place in my world, not even for convenience purposes.
What I didn't expect is how much I would learn about myself. I didn't expect to have little break-throughs every day. I didn't expect to be this present, this aware.
I'm not out of the woods yet. In reality, I'll never be. But where I'm at now feels pretty damn good. Conscientious eating is perhaps one of the biggest roadblocks to "being in the moment." I may have missed my share of moments up until now, but I'm ready to be around for many, many more.
In the interest of not sounding too egotistic or self-serving, I'm going to tell you this directly: that battle is ending for me. It hasn't been an abrupt ending or one that hasn't had its share of relapses. But is a solid ending. Closing the chapter of the book that wants to be re-written countless times. Shutting the door on all the demons and dragons that undermine my efforts to be a healthy person. Opening up to the possibility of change, acceptance, peace and self-love.
And it feels great.
Now I know what it's like to be in control, to have boundaries and to respond to my emotional needs with integrity and respect. I know what it's like to feel good in my skin and to look at food as a source of nourishment and enjoyment. I know how to exercise less and to live more. I know that lunch and dinner and all the time in between is like a big, huge "danger zone." I know that dark chocolate can always be in my kitchen and that ice cream cannot. I know that packaged food - crackers, pretzels, chips, cookies, bars - have no place in my world, not even for convenience purposes.
What I didn't expect is how much I would learn about myself. I didn't expect to have little break-throughs every day. I didn't expect to be this present, this aware.
I'm not out of the woods yet. In reality, I'll never be. But where I'm at now feels pretty damn good. Conscientious eating is perhaps one of the biggest roadblocks to "being in the moment." I may have missed my share of moments up until now, but I'm ready to be around for many, many more.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Three
is the number of dates I've had in the new year. Three different guys. Three different days (still not courageous enough to try "back to back" dates!). Three pretty similar experiences. Sadly, the term "three strikes" comes to mind.
I decided to jump back into dating, wholeheartedly, because living with my mom has made me realize that I don't want to be alone. Bad things happen when you're alone too long. You get too comfortable with yourself. You have conversations with the dog. You start dragging the dog from room to room in the house, so that you NOR the dog, have to be "truly" alone for too long. You have a routine that involves eating early, on a TV tray, in front of the TV. You eat the same thing every night. You eat the same dessert. You retire to bed after dinner and of course, you take the dog. Your life involves so much routine that the thought of deviating from it, only for a day, is paralyzing. You require a menu before you'll eat at a restaurant (even a casual establishment which is inexpensive and fairly "mainstream."). You sometimes don't leave your bedroom for hours - in the afternoon - and you're NOT napping. Your life is the same. Day in. Day out. Change is terrifying.
After living with my mother for nearly a year, I've realized that I soooooooo don't want this. One of my favorite authors, Anne Lamott, writes that you need to spend no more than 50% of your time alone. Otherwise, as she puts it, "You just go a little crazy." I'm not going to call my mom crazy but I am going to go out on a limb and say that she needs to get out more.
So in the interest of not turning into a woman who is terrified of what a man might bring into her life, I decided to pull the trigger - yet again - and give the dating world another try. I haven't met anyone horrible - so far - but I haven't made anyone remotely captivating, either.
Christmas and the entire month of December were really hard for me. So was the first week of January. I'm finally feeling now like I have more strength. December didn't kill me; and I do believe that it made me stronger. Christmas nearly killed me, but again, I'm so much stronger on the other side.
I certainly feel like my life is a big Pandora's box and with any decision I make right now, a slew of uncertainties could arise. It's going to be like that for awhile. I know that. I like the control that I have over dating right now. Pursuing, if I want; backing off, if that's appropriate and being aware, which is always the key to making good, sound decisions.
The funny thing about dating- online dating, in particular - is that as a female, I can pretty much date all I want. There's no shortage of men on the dating sites. It's unfair, I think - the ratio is truly not kind. Regardless, my activity can only be dictated by my energy and my schedule. No way am I going to go out on a first date on Ben's time. No f-cking way. No way am I going to tie up my three days without Ben, just for the purpose of having dates. I'm quickly learning that my emotional "tank", when it comes to dating, is quickly depleted and only really "full" when I'm feeling rested and focused. Knowing this keeps me reigned in. Which is where I need to be.
Wish me luck.
I decided to jump back into dating, wholeheartedly, because living with my mom has made me realize that I don't want to be alone. Bad things happen when you're alone too long. You get too comfortable with yourself. You have conversations with the dog. You start dragging the dog from room to room in the house, so that you NOR the dog, have to be "truly" alone for too long. You have a routine that involves eating early, on a TV tray, in front of the TV. You eat the same thing every night. You eat the same dessert. You retire to bed after dinner and of course, you take the dog. Your life involves so much routine that the thought of deviating from it, only for a day, is paralyzing. You require a menu before you'll eat at a restaurant (even a casual establishment which is inexpensive and fairly "mainstream."). You sometimes don't leave your bedroom for hours - in the afternoon - and you're NOT napping. Your life is the same. Day in. Day out. Change is terrifying.
After living with my mother for nearly a year, I've realized that I soooooooo don't want this. One of my favorite authors, Anne Lamott, writes that you need to spend no more than 50% of your time alone. Otherwise, as she puts it, "You just go a little crazy." I'm not going to call my mom crazy but I am going to go out on a limb and say that she needs to get out more.
So in the interest of not turning into a woman who is terrified of what a man might bring into her life, I decided to pull the trigger - yet again - and give the dating world another try. I haven't met anyone horrible - so far - but I haven't made anyone remotely captivating, either.
Christmas and the entire month of December were really hard for me. So was the first week of January. I'm finally feeling now like I have more strength. December didn't kill me; and I do believe that it made me stronger. Christmas nearly killed me, but again, I'm so much stronger on the other side.
I certainly feel like my life is a big Pandora's box and with any decision I make right now, a slew of uncertainties could arise. It's going to be like that for awhile. I know that. I like the control that I have over dating right now. Pursuing, if I want; backing off, if that's appropriate and being aware, which is always the key to making good, sound decisions.
The funny thing about dating- online dating, in particular - is that as a female, I can pretty much date all I want. There's no shortage of men on the dating sites. It's unfair, I think - the ratio is truly not kind. Regardless, my activity can only be dictated by my energy and my schedule. No way am I going to go out on a first date on Ben's time. No f-cking way. No way am I going to tie up my three days without Ben, just for the purpose of having dates. I'm quickly learning that my emotional "tank", when it comes to dating, is quickly depleted and only really "full" when I'm feeling rested and focused. Knowing this keeps me reigned in. Which is where I need to be.
Wish me luck.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Deliberating
I have some big decisions to make. And I need to make them soon. If I want this year to be different, there needs to be change. Change requires decisions and I'm in the middle of what feels like a great big pool of deliberation.
For starters, I have to change my living situation. Since B of A can't work with me on a new loan, the house has to go. But that's OK, really, because if I think long and hard about what this house means to me, I can't come up with much.
Also, my mother has lived here for 10 months, which is to say that she has lived with me 10 months longer than what is healthy for a 39-year-old female, a 66-year-old female and a 6-year-old male. She has to go, as well.
My head is spinning today from the enormous amount of information that I acquired about short sales in general, and mine, in particular. I'm also reeling from the shock of what my home will be listed for. I knew the market was bad, really bad, but I had no idea that the houses in my neighborhood are selling for next to nothing.
I'm also trying to embrace the fact that I'm going to have to go against my nature - and my policy - of paying everything a few days early so that I can qualify for a short sale. Basically, I have to "look like" I'm a deadbeat - or at least someone who can't pay her bills - so that the bank will consider a short sale. I'm having a hard time with this and might have to be physically retrained next month when it comes time to include the mortgage payment in my outgoing mail.
It's now a matter of me pulling the trigger and executing this process. But once I do, a whole new list of unknowns unfold, the biggest being: "where will we live?"
My mom said to me yesterday: "I don't know why you couldn't just get married and live happily ever after." As if it was so easy. I'm sure she didn't mean it to be condescending and I didn't take it as such. Yes, there are lots of things that would be much easier if I had stayed married. Without question. But there would be just as many challenges and I'm certain that would have been the easy way out for me.
Being unmarried and saddled to a house I can't afford means that I get to be strong and capable and decisive and responsible. It means that I have to surrender to a relatively large amount of uncertainty and hope that the choices I make are good for Ben, and for myself. That feels like an enormous burden to shoulder. I hope and pray that I can do this.
For starters, I have to change my living situation. Since B of A can't work with me on a new loan, the house has to go. But that's OK, really, because if I think long and hard about what this house means to me, I can't come up with much.
Also, my mother has lived here for 10 months, which is to say that she has lived with me 10 months longer than what is healthy for a 39-year-old female, a 66-year-old female and a 6-year-old male. She has to go, as well.
My head is spinning today from the enormous amount of information that I acquired about short sales in general, and mine, in particular. I'm also reeling from the shock of what my home will be listed for. I knew the market was bad, really bad, but I had no idea that the houses in my neighborhood are selling for next to nothing.
I'm also trying to embrace the fact that I'm going to have to go against my nature - and my policy - of paying everything a few days early so that I can qualify for a short sale. Basically, I have to "look like" I'm a deadbeat - or at least someone who can't pay her bills - so that the bank will consider a short sale. I'm having a hard time with this and might have to be physically retrained next month when it comes time to include the mortgage payment in my outgoing mail.
It's now a matter of me pulling the trigger and executing this process. But once I do, a whole new list of unknowns unfold, the biggest being: "where will we live?"
My mom said to me yesterday: "I don't know why you couldn't just get married and live happily ever after." As if it was so easy. I'm sure she didn't mean it to be condescending and I didn't take it as such. Yes, there are lots of things that would be much easier if I had stayed married. Without question. But there would be just as many challenges and I'm certain that would have been the easy way out for me.
Being unmarried and saddled to a house I can't afford means that I get to be strong and capable and decisive and responsible. It means that I have to surrender to a relatively large amount of uncertainty and hope that the choices I make are good for Ben, and for myself. That feels like an enormous burden to shoulder. I hope and pray that I can do this.
Friday, December 25, 2009
Empty
I don't like spending Christmas without Ben. It doesn't matter where I'm off to tonight (that would be New York City, in case you didn't know). What matters is that my son is celebrating Christmas - possibly the most amazing day in a child's year (next to their birthday) with my ex and his girlfriend and I am feeling terribly lost without him.
Convincing myself that Christmas Eve day and Christmas eve would be just as good was the name of the game yesterday. I didn't play the game very well. Every time I talked about Christmas day, I teared up. "What's the deal?" my dad asked. "You're going to NEW YORK CITY! Your favorite place!" He didn't understand. I didn't expect him to.
Maybe only a mother can understand. A mother who walks the dog on this brilliantly sunny and clear day and watches other families enjoying the weather in the neighborhood. Kids rollerskating, biking, chasing dogs...all the things that Ben would be doing here with me today.
"I'll miss you," I told him this morning as I dropped him off with his dad. "I won't see you for a week, do you understand?" He gazed up with me with those big brown eyes and sad, "I get sad when I'm not with you Mommy. A week is a long time."
I had to get in the car quickly so that he wouldn't see my tears.
We all make choices in life and sometimes, life makes choices for us. We stay in marriages when we're not happy. We leave marriages when children are young. We leave when they are old. Children leave us. We compromise when we have to, especially where the holidays are concerned. We desperately wait for the light to shine through the darkness. And we wait. And it does.
But it's so fucking hard today.
Convincing myself that Christmas Eve day and Christmas eve would be just as good was the name of the game yesterday. I didn't play the game very well. Every time I talked about Christmas day, I teared up. "What's the deal?" my dad asked. "You're going to NEW YORK CITY! Your favorite place!" He didn't understand. I didn't expect him to.
Maybe only a mother can understand. A mother who walks the dog on this brilliantly sunny and clear day and watches other families enjoying the weather in the neighborhood. Kids rollerskating, biking, chasing dogs...all the things that Ben would be doing here with me today.
"I'll miss you," I told him this morning as I dropped him off with his dad. "I won't see you for a week, do you understand?" He gazed up with me with those big brown eyes and sad, "I get sad when I'm not with you Mommy. A week is a long time."
I had to get in the car quickly so that he wouldn't see my tears.
We all make choices in life and sometimes, life makes choices for us. We stay in marriages when we're not happy. We leave marriages when children are young. We leave when they are old. Children leave us. We compromise when we have to, especially where the holidays are concerned. We desperately wait for the light to shine through the darkness. And we wait. And it does.
But it's so fucking hard today.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
December
My grandma used to tell me, "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all." Does that count for writing too?
I'm going to assume that it doesn't and say that if I make it through this month without completely melting down, it will be a huge miracle. There. That's a dose of optimism.
I think this is the hardest December I've ever had. On every level. Scratch that. This IS the hardest December ever. Ever. EVER.
I'm questioning everything from my health to my job to my role as a mother all the while putting on the happiest face that I can for Ben. Every day, it's something new for him: another item in the stocking, a present under the tree, cookies to be decorated, multiple visits to Santas, holiday crafts. Yet at the same time, I'm feeling like it's not enough; it's never enough.
Is it wrong, when you feel like this, to set aside time to cry? I have been, every day. It's the only way that I can really be OK with myself; to be authentic and real and have some reassurance that everyone goes through difficult times and it will all work out. Eventually.
I already know that major changes need to occur next year.
My mother needs to move out. Our "situation" has now moved into the "unhealthy" category and it's simply not bearable. At times, her world terrifies me. Mostly, it mystifies me but in all honesty, it completely devastates me. That means, that I have to move. Which means that I need to find a studio space. Or a new job. And that I need to convince the bank to move forward with a short sale. Or not.
No easy answers in the mortgage world, I'm finding, with my daily calls to B of A. How much can you plead with a lender? How long will you spend on hold? How many people can you talk with in one phone call? Come spend an afternoon here and you'll find out.
Back to my mother because it's so damn complicated that the topic deserves another paragraph and more words than I could ever articulate. She and I need to re-establish our relationship as mother-daughter, not as roommate vying for mother role. I've lost my sense of being a daughter and at the same time, I don't know where my alpha female role is either. It's all lost and murky.
My ex-husband needs to keep his place in the past and let go of the idealized future he has for me and for Ben and for our family. The guilt keeps me up at night as does the sadness and the confusion...he's pining for me yet he's completely immersed with his girlfriend? I don't understand. But, nor do I want to.
Something has to change with my career. We simply cannot sustain a household with me in this job. There are too many downsides. The heavy reality of absolutely needing to provide for my child is crushing at times.
I didn't like our Christmas card at all this year. I look stressed. And I've been stressed, for way too long. The biggest challenge for me right now is to take some little steps out of this storm of stress that I've been under. I wish I knew where - and how - to start.
I'm going to assume that it doesn't and say that if I make it through this month without completely melting down, it will be a huge miracle. There. That's a dose of optimism.
I think this is the hardest December I've ever had. On every level. Scratch that. This IS the hardest December ever. Ever. EVER.
I'm questioning everything from my health to my job to my role as a mother all the while putting on the happiest face that I can for Ben. Every day, it's something new for him: another item in the stocking, a present under the tree, cookies to be decorated, multiple visits to Santas, holiday crafts. Yet at the same time, I'm feeling like it's not enough; it's never enough.
Is it wrong, when you feel like this, to set aside time to cry? I have been, every day. It's the only way that I can really be OK with myself; to be authentic and real and have some reassurance that everyone goes through difficult times and it will all work out. Eventually.
I already know that major changes need to occur next year.
My mother needs to move out. Our "situation" has now moved into the "unhealthy" category and it's simply not bearable. At times, her world terrifies me. Mostly, it mystifies me but in all honesty, it completely devastates me. That means, that I have to move. Which means that I need to find a studio space. Or a new job. And that I need to convince the bank to move forward with a short sale. Or not.
No easy answers in the mortgage world, I'm finding, with my daily calls to B of A. How much can you plead with a lender? How long will you spend on hold? How many people can you talk with in one phone call? Come spend an afternoon here and you'll find out.
Back to my mother because it's so damn complicated that the topic deserves another paragraph and more words than I could ever articulate. She and I need to re-establish our relationship as mother-daughter, not as roommate vying for mother role. I've lost my sense of being a daughter and at the same time, I don't know where my alpha female role is either. It's all lost and murky.
My ex-husband needs to keep his place in the past and let go of the idealized future he has for me and for Ben and for our family. The guilt keeps me up at night as does the sadness and the confusion...he's pining for me yet he's completely immersed with his girlfriend? I don't understand. But, nor do I want to.
Something has to change with my career. We simply cannot sustain a household with me in this job. There are too many downsides. The heavy reality of absolutely needing to provide for my child is crushing at times.
I didn't like our Christmas card at all this year. I look stressed. And I've been stressed, for way too long. The biggest challenge for me right now is to take some little steps out of this storm of stress that I've been under. I wish I knew where - and how - to start.
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