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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Unleashed

I always joke that I'm on a short leash. A very short leash.

Bedtime for me is around 9pm. I only drink alcohol once a week, more recently, it's been like once every couple of weeks. I avoid sugar. I read before bed. I take a long, hot shower. I don't dare turn on the television. All this to get a decent night's sleep. If I'm lucky.

My sister getting married was a major departure from my beloved and predictable leash. And I'm still paying the price of being "unleashed" for the long weekend. Here's how the leash came off, swiftly and without any regard to consequences:

Thursday night: Arrive Indy at 10:30pm. Gather bags and drive an hour to Columbus. Entire family congregates at midnight (my mom, my dad, stepmom, Alisa, Alec and mother-in-law) for a meal. At freakin' midnight! I go to bed with a stomachache.

Friday night: Dinner with friends and relatives. I have a glass of wine, some Chateaubriand (steak), lasagna, more Chateaubriand, and start to lap the dessert table. Have two of each of everything. There were four desserts. Yes, I indeed have eight desserts. And two cups of coffee. At 9pm, not decaf, because the bachelorette party is assembling and I need some pep.

Friday night, part 2: We're at the Columbus Bar. We order three rounds of kamicazes (I slip most of mine to a friend) and then order another two rounds of martinis. Then vodka shots. Again, I'm passing off most of my drinks. Then a platter of nachos. Loaded nachos. A plate of deep fried pickles. A basket of fried cheese balls. Two more platters of nachos. More pickles. Three more baskets of chesse balls. I'm right in the action, devouring the nachos like I hadn't just had steak, lasagna and eight desserts. EIGHT F-ING DESSERTS. We leave the bar at 2am and I'm doubled over in abdominal pain. I go to bed in fetal position, tossing and turning all night with nightmares of GI distress all through the wedding.

Saturday morning: Attempt a run in the park. Not happening.

Saturday night: Reception buffet. Who goes for seconds on the salmon? Who goes for seconds on the ice cream? Who has TWO pieces of cake? Who thinks that they are going to be admitted to the hospital at the end of the night? One redeeming fact: I didn't drink.

Sunday morning: We get up at 1am, Cali time, to make our 8am flight out of Indy. I am miserable. Jeans won't zip. Exhausted beyond belief. Snack all the way home since Delta no longer offers any kind of food service. Arrive home and finish up the weekend of gluttony by having three cookies and a chocolate bar.

Monday morning: Put my leash back on.

Tuesday morning: Took the leash back off to make cookies and eat four.

Wednesday morning: Leash stays off to eat cookies for breakfast and throughout the day. Sneak into the cornbread stuffing after class; oh yes, indeed, I am unleashed again.

Might as well keep it off now, seeing that Thanksgiving is tomorrow.

Neanderthal

You would think I would know better. After 38, going on 39 years of being my dad's daughter. But no, I am an idiot.

Just one week before the big wedding in Indiana, I got all psyched up about our Presiding Bishop being in town (at my church!) and I sent off a message, with a link to the Sac Bee article which covered her visit, to some close friends and to my family members. The subject line read: "Our fabulous Bishop!"

And what was my dad's response? A scathing message back about how "scary" she is as a leader and "how could his own daughter's Christian faith have gone so awry?" Which was followed up by multiple phone calls today (he goes weeks without talking with me and THIS is the reason that he actually attempted to track me down?) and two more nasty emails which detailed what a *problem" she is as a leader and once again, how could I possibly call myself a Christian?

To that last question, my response was: "Oh, let me just count the ways. Let's start with communion. EVERY single Sunday. Liturgy. Prayer. Baptism. And lest we forget, that age old book that we ALL study: the Bible.

But beyond that, to me, Christianity carries a certain sense of responsibility to our community. Like feeding the hungry. Check. Housing the homeless. Check. Taking care of our neighbor. Check.

Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. CHECK.

I'm embarrassed to write the full scope of what my dad put in the email. It's intolerant, narrow-minded and downright wrong. It's nothing I would ever want Ben to know about. There wasn't a hint of compassion, love or understanding in his messages.

I don't know what I was thinking when I sent the link to him. Oh wait, yes I do. I was thinking, actually, I was reveling in the experience of being with our Bishop. I wanted to share the details with anyone, everyone. I wanted everyone I care about to be sitting with me in church during her message. It was that powerful.

Every child looks for validation from their parent/s. Even when the child is 38 years old. Of course I want my dad to approve of my choices - how I raise Ben, how I make money, whom I choose to date, how I experience faith and spirituality. But once again, he disappointed me. This time around though, I'm not taking that disappointment to heart. It's kinda helpful to look at him like a neanderthal; like someone who cannot even try to be evolved. And then it makes me feel that much MORE evolved.

He thinks we're going to have this great "sit down" in Indy; he's told me he'll pull out the book of John and show me the error of my ways. Good thing I have an ally in my lovely sis. Somehow, an incredibly big job involving tons of bows and candles and I-don't-know-what-else has materialized and my name is all over the task. I'm assured that it will take the better part of two days so any talk of religion will just have to wait until the next family get-together. Which happens to be next week: Thanksgiving. I don't care if I have to pluck the feathers off the turkey to keep busy, I am SO. NOT. HAVING. THIS. CONVERSATION. WITH. HIM.