Category Archives: personal growth

I just want to belong

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Frustration has set in.  I recently joined a support group.  The point of the group was to help everyone to follow and be motivated on a healthy eating nutrition system.  Isagenix.  I’m happy with the product and my success after week one is huge.  But I feel like an outcast.

A few days ago I posted a link here and and asked for comments.  NONE.  I post a success on insulin – TONS of likes etc.  I post another link here. NOTHING.  I post a post on how successful I was. TONS of comments.  I post a question about why a product that’s limited and sells out in a day, isn’t offered longer.  I said I felt manipulated.  Post was removed almost immediately.  NO EXPLANATION or anything.  I felt censored and belittled.  Today I post a legitimate question.  I wanted to gauge the success of this program for people like me.  People who have battled weight all their life.  It was deleted and I was messaged informing me my use of the word FAT is not allowed and only POSITIVE posts were desired.  So I realized I didn’t belong.  I can’t be on a site that censors posts.  To only keep things cheery and peppy is a great idea, but it’s not realistic.  ANY transition will have ups and downs.  To disregard the frustrations, you aren’t acknowledging the journey.  So I post a goodbye post.  AGAIN deleted. IMMEDIATELY.  SERIOUSLY.  WTF.  NOT COOL.  NOT COOL AT ALL.  I just want to belong.  I just want to fit in.

I already doubt my value and my life.  I don’t need total strangers adding to that self doubt and making me think my questions and comments aren’t acceptable.  I’m an educated person.  I don’t just follow along mindlessly.  I ask questions.  I assess situations.  I look at reality.  I’m not a mindless drone willing to accept only positive cheers and likes and think THAT is reality.  C’mon.  EVERYONE has ups and downs and questions.  Not permitting me to be REAL isn’t fair.  So now I need to tackle this somewhat by myself.  I just want to belong.  But again I feel like an outsider.  I’m still the FAT KID unwanted by society.  That’s a pretty tough pill to swallow from a weight loss support group.  THANKS FOR NOTHING.

I’ll take my big baggy granny panties and leave.  I’ll try and reach out to individuals who will accept me and my questions.  I want people in my life who trust my intentions and don’t undermine my own value.  I deserve that.  I just want to belong.

I did it

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I did it.  I completed a full week on isagenix.  I massively restricted my daily calories.  I avoided all sugar. I ate small healthy meals.  I drank over 4 Litres of water everyday.  I resisted temptations. I said no to cravings.  I powered  through nearly 4 days of headaches.  I continued trying when I wanted to stop.  I kept taking the ionix when it grossed me out.  I did a cleanse day when I thought I wouldn’t be able to. I reached out for help.  I saw my pain specialist and bravely had 42 needles without crying.

I don’t feel better.  My insulin intake is wayyyy down.  Logically, since I wasn’t saddling my body with bad choices, I would need less.   I’m not sleeping better.  But I didn’t expect too.  My sleep issues are quite possibly out of the scope of this product.  I don’t have any energy.  Again not likely to.  This isn’t touted as a cure for SEID or fibromyalgia.  But I’m not giving up hope.  All I’ve got is HOPE.  I will feel better-one day.

One week of victory.  I did it.

A New Me.

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I think everyone at some point in their lives (or several times actually) try to improve their health and lifestyle.  My big challenge has always been my weight. I have plenty to spare.  As far back as I remember, I’ve been fat and struggled with my self image.  I’ve been on all sorts of diets and programs with varying degrees of temporary success.

Am I delusional to think that trying again is a good idea?  EVERY single time, I’ve tried, I’ve ultimately failed.  WHY set myself up again for that?  I can just stay fat and not go through the agony of struggling to achieve a new me.   But I don’t like the current me.  I never have.  So I guess that’s why I keep looking for the miracle that will give me my NEW ME.

I want to be healthier.  I want to lose weight.  I DESPERATELY want energy.  I’m tired of feeling tired.  Having a chronic illness that saps every ounce of energy from your body and leaves you feeling like you have the flu every SINGLE DAY, is EXHAUSTING.  It leaves little energy to focus on new goals.

But I used that tiny ounce of energy that I had and made a leap of faith.  AGAIN.  But this time it WILL be different.  I have someone right beside me doing it too.  I won’t be alone.  I can share defeats and successes.

My first task was to write my goals for wanting to do this.  I thought it would be easy… lose weight… but in my head, deep down, I don’t even care about that anymore.  I’ve managed to maintain my current weight for the past 8 years and enjoy my food.  I was lighter once.  It was ok.  I was healthier.  But I gained it back – I became a failure.  Can I handle the mental mindset? So I can lose weight and gain it back and be a failure or I can not try at all and still be a failure.  I NEED to get out of my head.

My diabetes needs to be better controlled if I’m to live without losing my limbs etc  But again, I’m so sick and in pain these days, that the thought of living a long life seems horrifying.  WHY would I WANT to keep living like THIS?  I hate THIS.  I’m miserable.  But would being on a new lifestyle plan, improve my life?  Can it reduce my pain, my fatigue, and the hoards of side effects that I suffer daily?  If YES, then I’m ALLLLL IN!

So I guess my reason to do this is for HOPE.  I have nothing left to lose.  I have plenty to potentially gain.  So with HOPE for a better and healthier and less pained future, I’m venturing forward.

I’m bitching and whining.  I don’t like eating healthy.  I LOVE my sugars and carbs.  I don’t LIKE being restricted.  Who does?  I’m so used to using food as a comfort that I’m lost and feel stranded when I can’t.  I need to learn new survival methods.

Survival steps

  1. DRINK WATER.  lots and lots and lots of water.  and just use bladder pads.  Suck it up.  Nobody else needs to know you’re dripping.
  2. TALK it out.  use the support site, use family, use your coach, use your therapist.  See if anyone out there can move you from the funk and out.
  3. BLOG it.  Come here.  VENT away.  it won’t hurt anyone.  Nobody has to listen to your whining so you don’t have to bottle it up.  It’s ok to feel frustrated.  This is a life change.  Nothing good is ever easy.
  4. STOP watching Food Channel.  It always makes you hungry or crave food.  ALWAYS.  You know it does.  You know that your past with food is NOT actually about hunger.  So don’t tempt yourself.
  5. Tell the Drill Sergeant in your head to SHUT UP.  She’s not helping right now.  She’s trying to protect you with old methods that don’t work. Ask yourself – what am I afraid of right now? WHY is the Drill sergeant trying to protect me? RETRAIN your brain.
  6. DISTRACTION DISTRACTION DISTRACTION.  Your mind is your worst enemy right now.  You over think everything.  You are always looking for proof that you aren’t good enough.  STOP LOOKING.  Its ALRIGHT to love yourself.  You are AMAZING.  You’ve conquered a hell of a lot in your life.  You’ve overcome massive OBSTACLES that would have crushed many.  YOU CAN DO THIS!!
  7. ONE FOOT in FRONT of the OTHER.  ONE STEP at a TIME.   Don’t worry about tomorrow or even 2 hours from now.  Be PRESENT.  RIGHT NOW.  Slow your anxiety and perpetual fears and just focus on  THIS MOMENT.

I think I’ve successfully told myself where I need to be and what i need to do.  So time to go pee AGAIN, so I don’t wet my granny panties AGAIN.  I’ll refill my water AGAIN, so that I can ensure that my bladder will NEVER be empty.  And I’ll work successfully towards a NEW ME.

GP.

 

ADMIT YOU’RE SICK – STAY HOME!

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We’ve all encountered them.  The magnanimous people who can proclaim “I NEVER get sick, ” or “I have enough banked sick days to be off for years,”  or “I’ve got the perfect attendance record at school, ” etc etc etc.   And maybe they really and truly have the steel armour of immune systems and don’t get sick.  I somehow doubt it.

And there are the others on the opposite end of the spectrum.  “If I take another sick day I’ll be fired” or “I can’t afford to be off, ” or “I might miss something important if I’m not at school, activity etc,”  These people are often scoffed at for: “always being sick, ” “not healthy,” “weak” , and “milking the system.”.   It’s tough. I’m in this category. You’re always concerned you’ll catch what’s going around and pray you can put a bio bubble around yourself so you can escape the current plague and not miss ANOTHER day.

Of course there is the largest group of all not yet mentioned.  “If I take some cough medicine, tylenol,  nyquil (fill in your favourite remedy of choice here), I can tough it out”.   This is NOT a good practice.  YOU are the people that are causing the biggest problem.  ADMIT you’re sick!  Just admit it!  EVERYONE GETS SICK (well except for the freaks in the first paragraph) .  And when you’re sick PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE STAY HOME!!!

Some of us are fighting battles you don’t know about.  Our immune system is running on empty.  Maybe we have a cancer patient in our home that can’t be exposed to germs at all. Or an autoimmune disorder.  Or….you just don’t know but  YOUR germs put us at RISK. You might think “I’ve taken some tylenol so I my low grade fever is no big deal”  You ARE a BIG DEAL!  A fever is a sign you aren’t healthy.  And just sitting at your desk or watching a hockey practice might be OK for you – its NOT ok for the people AROUND you.  When you come in sneezing, coughing, or feverish – you are spreading GERMS!  For many, they can sanitize a bit more and they’ll escape your plague.  Maybe they do but they bring it home to their family.  And for anyone with a compromised immune system or even just NORMAL immune systems – you are taxing them.  Suddenly your bold gesture of SHOWING UP and PUSHING THROUGH  – is leaving someone worried that NOW they WILL lose their job because they are really sick and can’t possibly PUSH THOUGH!

I don’t WANT your germy kid in my classroom because you don’t have daycare.  IF *I* get sick I don’t have an income for my family as I don’t have any paid sick leave anymore.  I’m already on UNPAID disability.  And if your kid infects 2 others – I have weeks of sick kids in my classroom. When you send your kid to WATCH the practice/rehearsal etc – they are now infecting the entire team/company etc.  And suddenly we have weeks of “someone” absent. How can we actually accomplish anything productive? And what happens when the teacher/coach etc is sick – ALL THE HEALTHY KIDS are missing out as a substitute tries to fill in as best they can.  EVERYONE suffers when you go out sick.  STAY HOME!

NOTHING.  I repeat NOTHING is so important at work or school or dance or soccer etc that you can’t miss a day or two.  Ask yourself – if I died today – what would happen – would your company fall into chaos overnight? would the team/group be helpless?  NOT likely.  And the “oh but it takes so long to catch up” excuse… SORRY – who care’s? To those who’ve graduated already – are you suffering any long term damage from missing a day or two or even a WEEK OR TWO from being home sick?  I highly doubt it.  Does getting straight A’s seem important if you know that your germs may cause someone’s mom, dad, granny, sister, child to DIE?  I ask this seriously.  NO letter grade in school is worth more than having your health.  Trust me – I had straight A’s and I’d give them all up in a heartbeat to have my health back.  They don’t matter one bit!

Put it into perspective.  PLEASE.  If you’re sick, stay in your jammies,  drink hot tea,  sleep all day or watch Netflix and chill if you want!! wink wink .  Don’t tough it out.  Don’t put on your big girl panties and suck it up.  Most of us don’t admire you for showing up and not missing a day.  You’re making us madder.  (and sicker)  SO….

JUST ADMIT YOU’RE SICK.  and STAY HOME!!!!

Beef and Bouquets

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As a child I remember hearing a radio segment called “beefs and bouquets.”  I didn’t really understand what it was about. My mother explained it was a chance for people to leave a complaint or a compliment for someone to hear.  I still didn’t really understand how that had anything to do with steak and flowers but accepted the answer.

I realize now that in that time, pre social media, people still had a need to publicly share thoughts, both good and bad, so the radio was the medium used.  Now with Facebook, our need to publicly advertise or share has moved past compliments and complaints to bitching and bragging!  Not a healthy shift!

Status updates have become the way to share to the world how wonderful your child/partner/pet/life is. We post these highlights as if they are daily occurrences, leaving a delusion to society that our life is filled with unicorns and rainbows.

On the flip side, it has become a place to rant.  To bash, complain, abuse, and mock the things we dislike.  The safety blanket of social media has allowed too many to speak freely without concern for the ramifications of the hurtfulness of their words.  Injuring and scarring many as they go.

So a Facebook follower is left with this artificial world of extremes.  No longer is it a compliment or complaint on a radio show. It’s the augmented and asinine.  Bold and brave versus the badgered and bullied.

I’m guilty too.  In a desperate attempt to feel less like a total failure, I post the wonderful moments.  I savour the likes.  I relish the comments. The more I get, the better I feel.  I let others think I have a ton of friends or that things are going well.  It’s a lot easier to do that then post the dreary daily crap that is really happening. Or admit I can easily go a day or two with no human contact other than my two kids.

Unfortunately people start to believe that our Facebook lives are real.  That the highlights we share are the norm.  We start thinking less of ourselves as we notice all the wonderful shit others have happening.  Believing instead that we’re the only ones living with baggage and turmoil.   Noticing all the comments and likes others have and think they have a life full of great friends.

How many of those Facebook friends do you actually see regularly? Text daily? Or are they simply a cyber friend who occasionally is part of your real day to day contact?

How many of your posts are bragging?  How many are bitching? Is there a purpose? How often do you reveal the honest reality of your day? The days when you feel like a failure? Is your Facebook revealing a realistic picture? Or a touched up version where the imperfections are hidden?

I’ve often practiced the “if you don’t have anything nice to say…” policy, but that tends to leave me posting just the rosy highlights, perpetuating the very fake ideal I’m complaining about.

So I admit here, my life is full of dreary moments, arguments and some successes. I have tons of online friends who if I actually see or talk to once a year in person it’s a miracle.  I wear granny panties and I don’t care.   That’s  me!

 

 

Day 2

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Wow,  I did it.  4 blood tests, 3 insulin shots yesterday.  My eating was good – not as great as I wanted, but I did it.  Up this monring, another blood test, and another shot.  Having my shake.  I’m doing it.  One meal at a time.

I am so freaking tired.  I could just stay in bed.  I had to keep napping yesterday.  I don’t know HOW I’m supposed to go back to work.  Totally worried about that – but I have another week, so I need to stay present.  Stay positive – by next week I’ll feel better.

By next week, my kids will be better too.  My son will be feeling better.  My daughter will be less defiant and more cooperative.  My energy can be used on me.  I’m tired of the arguments. Tired of the conflict.

Oh man…I feel so guilty – sending the kids to school – dragging them out of bed, only to go back to bed myself.  But I took my meds.  Step ONE!   Gotta do this in baby steps. Gotta stop thinking of all the things I’m NOT doing.  I’m having my healthy shake.  I’m UP.

My actions will have positive effects.  I WILL feel better.  Give it time….Sigh.

And that’s me.  YAWNNN.

AH HA Moment

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I guess if I don’t write long enough, eventually something would happen and I would get my inspiration. Last night I think I may have finally hit my long sought “ah ha” moment.  I have NOT been able to motivate myself to test my blood for diabetes or take my short acting insulin.  I just couldn’t do it.  I’ve been taking my other meds. I’ve been taking the night insulin. But I had this road block.  I couldn’t get around it or over it.  It was this HUGE monumental block. No dr or therapist has been able to get me to concur it.  It had to come from ME, and I couldn’t do it.

I was watching the Biggest Loser as I’ve done in the past.  Seeing these others who are the same or SMALLER than I, pushing themselves and DOING it – yet I’d be on the couch only wishing I had that willpower.  I’d maybe get some water, but I’ve never been able to get to a point of making any changes.  LAST night, as I watched Dr. H tell one patient he stops breathing at night, I thought – I have that – and my apnea is quite bad.  Then he tells another their sugars are off the charts high – hmm I have that too and I dont’ test or eat right either.  Then he said the almighty words that have somehow resounded inside me and made me go ‘ah ha’  – “If you had cancer, would you take 2 hours out of each day to do chemo?”   DUH?! yeah.  Then he said – “this is almost worse – you are VERY VERY SICK and could die at any moment and you don’t recognize it”  HUH!  So true.

People, Dr’s etc have said for years – “you need to take care of yourself” “your kids need you” “you could lose a limb or go blind”.   And all I could say or do was “yeah yeah, I know” but I couldn’t bring myself to DO anything.  I just couldn’t find that inner strength to change.

I have said so many times to various therapists etc, that part of my frustration with depression etc is that nobody GETS the struggle.  I’ve SAID “its not like I have cancer”.  Somehow CANCER seemed more real – more important – more significant – more dangerous, more life threatening.   I’ve never really believed that MY diseases were that bad.  BECAUSE so many people LIVE day to day, years WITH these conditions.  So clearly they aren’t that big a deal.  But CANCER – that’s a big deal.  And I was LUCKY – i didn’t have Cancer so my issues were minor. And yet I am being disabled by them. Unable to live normally. Unable to enjoy life.  BUT unable to make a change.

I suddenly accepted that if the family and close friends who HAVE had cancer could have the surgeries and needles and treatments needed to get better, then I could do what’s needed to get better too. I knew that if I was told I had cancer, I’d do what I was told.  So why were my conditions making respond differently.  I went to bed last night telling myself – MY needles for treatment are much smaller – I don’t need a line installed.  So I can do that!.  MY treatment needs me to test my blood to see what dose of “chemo” I need at each meal.  Most cancer treatments involve lots of blood tests.  MINE can be done AT HOME.  I can do that. I WILL do that!

I woke up this morning with a mindset that I need to treat my diabetes and obesity like CANCER.  NOT to minimize the significance of what cancer has meant to those who HAVE it.  NOT at all.  But suddenly for me – because I respect the SIGNIFICANCE of cancer – I can treat “mine”.  MY treatments will involve blood tests and needles.  If I had cancer I’d suck it up and do it.  So I have to do that now.  MY treatments will involve a diet change – I’m sure MOST cancer patients have had to change how and what they ate, both during and after treatment.  MY treatment will involve exercise that I won’t feel up to doing.  I know MOST cancer patients have felt sick and not up to doing a LOT of things that they had to do.  I will feel exhausted – So do most cancer patients.

SO – for me – my defining moment of the day is treating my illnesses as a treatable Cancer.  Caught in early stages –  that with treatment can be fought and lived with.  I need to focus on each DAY in front of me – or each HOUR.  and get past THAT.  No further.

So today I tested my blood.  I loaded up my second insulin pen with my short acting insulin and took a shot.  I’m having my healthy breakfast.  At lunch I’ll do it again. And again at dinner.  My “chemo” will work.  I MUST do it.  Without it, my cancer will take over my body and kill me and I’m not ready for these granny panties to go to a coffin.  I will BEAT my CANCER and be healthy.

and that’s me.  Ah HA!

Reality check

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Have you ever thought you were about to die?  I don’t mean the casual, if I don’t get some chocolate NOW, I’m gonna die.  But the real deal.  THIS is it.  My time is up, I’m going to die.  It’s not a pleasant feeling.

After a week straight with some bad headaches I saw a clinic dr.  He sent me to emergency for tests.  He was worried if I could drive.  And didn’t want me to wait an hour to get my daughter from school.  He wanted me to go NOW.   Nothing like having a dr instill fear into you.   I sat in my car in the parking lot, making several phone calls – arranging daycare for my daughter,  cancelling an appt, texting my son, calling my daughter’s school to tell her her aunt will come for her. C’mon -get real – I can’t just drop everything and die right now. I’m a mom – I have stuff to put in order first!

But all the while, my dog is shaking nervously next to me.  WTF?  WHY is HE shaking? I’m the  one who’s head might explode any second.  Or does the dog know something? Does he sense it? That’s it – HE KNOWS – I’m gonna die!  Oh crap.  I better get him home, so that he’s not sitting alone in the van when I die.  He needs to be home where someone can care for him. Who thinks this stuff?  How totally illogical.  But this is what went through my pounding head. So I detour back home on my way to the hospital.

As I’m trying to decide how many hours to plug the emergency parking meter I’m thinking – I’m gonna die today.  My time is up.  So why am I worried about how long to park for?  Seriously?  If I die in 2 hours and paid for 4 what a waste.  But what if it takes a long time – I don’t want a ticket.  Ok – maybe its a good thing my head is going to explode- I’ve gone bat shit crazy.

Part of the issue – is it was EXACTLY, to the day, the same age that DH was when he was rushed to the hospital with a brain hemmorhage and ultimately died.  Talk about irony.  I was FREAKING OUT.   This is how long he had – he wasn’t done living – he didn’t know his time was up.  But here I was, in the hospital with head pain.  OMG.  Dh was conscious and able to talk and laugh with the dr when he first arrived.  So being conscious wasn’t a consolation. My time was coming.  Any moment…

Time for my IV.  I hate needles,  so I begin my deep breathing that my therapists have taught me to use to calm myself.  The nurse is telling me to stop it! That I’ll hyperventilate and pass out.  Hmmm.  I told the nurse if I passed out at least I wouldn’t feel stressed anymore!  She didn’t find me amusing.  I didn’t find it amusing that I’m needle phobic and she had to do my IV twice!

Wait, wait, wait,  Still alive.  hmmm. I think I’m maybe overreacting?!  probably.  But logic is really easy to overpower with insanity!  Texting my son, my best friend – still here!  Time for the CT scan.  This is when DH actually passed out. He never regained consciousness.   Here it comes.  Into the machine, time to die!  THIS IS IT!

I was LOOKING for DH.  Seriously scanning the area thru my closed eyes for his angel to come get me.  Nope not here yet.  Ok, maybe in another minute.  Still looking.  Weird voice.  Was that the technician thru a speaker talking to me?  I’m floating in limbo – I’m almost dead – I’m waiting to be escorted to the afterlife. The technician touches me to get up.  WHAT?! I’m done?!  I’m still here?!  I didn’t die?  HUH. Go figure.

Waiting for results.  Nobody has rushed me to surgery.  I still haven’t passed out.  Maybe I am going to live.  GOOD.  Because I wasn’t ready to die.  I don’t want my kids to be orphans.  I want to see them graduate and get married and have kids.  I have too much left to do.  Dh was robbed of this opportunity, but I NEED to stick around.

Results – I’m completely fine. Really?  I guess the cuckoo crazy part doesn’t show up on these scans! The headaches are likely stress.  Do I have any stress?  HAHA.  Now THAT’S funny!!  I think worrying about dying is stressful! Don’t you?!  Well, try and relax and if it gets worse, come back. Sure no problem.  I’ll come die later. I’ll get back to you with a time.

So, I’m discharged and my ordeal is done.  Thank goodness I had on clean granny panties – you never know when you might end up in the hospital.  (not that anyone saw!)  So I went straight from the hospital to the soccer field.  My son was at practice. I have to pick him up.   I have to be a mom. I have lots to do.  I don’t have time to die.  Not this week at least.

And that’s me. GP

Judgement

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My insecurities about myself are so huge that I don’t even need others’ opinions – I’ve already decided what you are going to say. I judge myself so harshly that I’m convinced everyone must think that way about me too. And a lot of it revolves around my weight.

I’m not happy about my weight.  I don’t like being fat.  However I do like having friends who struggle with their weight too.  Then I don’t feel alone.  I REALLY like it when I have a friend who is as big or even bigger than I.  I feel more confident that they aren’t judging me.  That they aren’t thinking “what a fat lard ass” or something similar. I *know* that my skinny friends aren’t REALLY thinking that about me, but since *I* am – I project it onto others.

When I lose any weight at all, I feel really empowered.  Like superwoman. Yes look at me – I can lose weight. Aren’t I terrific?  WTG me!  Wahoo!!  It’s my own little happy dance in my head.  However its typically short lived, as I can’t seem to stick to anything.

However -if my friends lose weight, I have a very different reaction.  I’m jealous, angry and resentful.  How dare they lose weight? Now they won’t like me anymore. Now they will realize how pathetic I am because I’m still fat.  Again I *KNOW* it’s not what they are truly thinking – but I think that.  If they regain weight, I’m relieved.  Which is so mean – why can’t I just be happy for them losing?  Why do I get satisfaction out of their failure?  I hate that.  AND  – if I lose weight I assume others will say (and my FIL has, so I guess there is truth) “don’t get used to this, you will likely gain it back.”  So in some ways it has seemed pointless to try.  I’m just going to end up fat again so why bother going thru the cycle.  And if others gain their loss back – it proves that theory right.  And for those who have successfully lost and stay slimmer – they seem to have an obsession of exercise or calories etc.  God – I do NOT want to live like that. But the other part of me is also thinking that THEY are thinking “thank god I work out, or watch what I eat, or I’ll end up looking like GP”  or “if GP just got off her ass, she could look like me too”  And the worst one is “I better not hang out with GP anymore because she’s fat, and I don’t want her bad habits to wreck my hard work”  So as friends lose weight I’m convinced that they will cease being my friend because I’m still fat.  And if I lose weight I’m worried my heavier friends will be thinking that stuff about ME, and I’ll lose them.  And I don’t want to lose them – so I don’t want then to lose weight.

When I’m at a grocery store, I assume everyone is looking at my food choices and judging.  “oh no wonder she’s fat – she’s buying ice cream”  Or “geez there aren’t enough veggies there, that’s why she looks like that”.   And if I see someone with a healthy line up of food, I instantly think “that’s why they look great and I don’t”  But if I see someone else with a bakery cheesecake slice, or cookies, I don’t think anything about it. Well – I might think “mmmm, wish I was getting that!”

The projected judgement extends past food and weight.  Its on everything.  Right now, the biggest ones on my brain are about my ability to teach again and my competence as a parent.  I’ve been so critical and scared.  I’ve kept the truth about a lot of the struggles I’ve had recently a secret from many. I was convinced that my daughter’s struggles and our messed up home life was all my fault.  Only very recently have I been able to accept the real possibility that it was NOT my doing.  And I’ve started to let more know.  In fact NOW I’m afraid that if I don’t let others know what’s been going on, they will assume other things about me, and I’ll be judged incorrectly!  I didn’t want to tell any co-workers what’s happened, in fear of being judged as a bad parent.  NOW I want them to know, so that they will know that I wasn’t just in some lame depression for so long,. . I’ve already decided that THEY feel I won’t be a good teacher anymore and that THEY don’t want me back working with them.  But I feel that by being off work, that they are all thinking I’m useless, lazy and a drain on society.  I feel damned if I do and damned if I don’t.  And since basically none of them have even spoken to me in almost a year, I’m only guessing anyways.

And that’s the worst part.  Its ME.  *I* am the one making all these judgements.  Not ONE person has said, I won’t be your friend when you lose weight.  Or now that I’ve lost weight, piss off.  Or you are a drain on society. Or you are a bad parent.  Or you won’t be able to teach again.  It’s all ME saying that.  I convince myself that if someone sees my granny panties in the laundry, that they will laugh at me for wearing them.  That if I hung my panties on the line for the world to see, I would be shunned forever. SIGH.  I need to keep telling myself – if Walmart is selling them in 6 packs – I can’t be the only one wearing them, so what am I hiding?!  who’s judging who?

and that’s me. GP.

Spirits

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Do you believe in ghosts?  Do you believe in life in a parallel realm?  I do.  I am totally convinced that when our loved ones die, they continue to exist around us.

I always had a passing fascination with the notion, but its like God or Santa – where’s the evidence? How do you expect anyone to believe in something you can’t see or prove?

Several years ago a friend showed me “orbs” in photos. Many would argue its a dust spot on the lens, or a water droplet or dust particle caught by the light.  But I disagree.  Once I became aware of orbs, I looked more closely at them.  This same friend showed me that if you zoom in on them as much as possible, that many of them have a face or are a profile!  And its true!  Also – I have photos taken seconds after each other – some with the orb, some without.  Clearly NOT a dust particle or water moisture. Its a spirit.  I’m sure of that.

When DH died, an aquaintance’s daughter, who is blind and had never even met DH, had a visit from him.  She knew nothing about us and yet she had a couple of messages from him. When she asked him for proof to tell me it was him, he repeated the same word. It baffled her until she told me – it was out pet name for each other.   It was real and I was convinced.

During therapy sessions, for months and months on end, despite the forecast, day of week, or time of day, EVERY session, the sun came out and shone through the window into my eyes.  It was HIM.  It had to be.  There was no other explanation.  And as if to confirm this theory – on the anniversary of his death EACH year – by mid afternoon, the rain will stop, the clouds will part and the sun will shine in a blue sky WHILE we are at the cemetery.  Once we leave – it returns to rain. SERIOUSLY.  Its bizarre, but really cool. Its like he is saying “I’m here for you”

His favourite bird was an eagle.  One really tough day about 6 months after he died, I was sitting outside on the curb, trying to cool my temper.  I was so stressed and upset.  I prayed to him to guide me and give me strength.  An eagle appeared!  And just circled and circled over me.  At that moment it was him. It had to be.

I went to a tea leaf reading a year ago.  The reader was hearing him, and passing on messages  Again, she had information that she had no way of truly knowing.  It was real.

Now I’m obsessed with the show Long island Medium.   I’m so jealous that she gets to hear/see spirits from the other side.  I so want DH to pass me a message.  But then I think, no,  I don’t want a message PASSED to me – I want it MYSELF.  I don’t want someone else to see/hear him.  I want it directly.  He was MY husband. My life time partner.  I MISS him and I want that reassurance directly that he’s here, beside me, supporting me.

I’m always looking into the shadows for signs.  Anytime there is anything wonky with electronics – I wonder – did HE make it happen?  Is he in the room? Does he see me? Can he hear me? Is he happy or mad at me? Is he with my children? Does he go to school with them? or stay with me? is he able to be in numerous places? How does he feel? What does he look like? Is he happy?  Did he suffer when he died?

I have so many questions.  I’ll have to seek out a medium one day.  I want him to talk to me.  I just wish I could hear him again.  I’m forgetting the sound of his voice and laugh.  And that makes me sad.

And that’s me.

Lost

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I can’t believe its been a month since I’ve been able to post a thing.  I’ve just felt so lost.  I’ve wanted to.  I’ve thought about what I could say.  But nothing seemed to matter.  It all seemed too irrelevant to put to paper.  And honestly who would care?

Yet again October was a hard month.  I’ve felt like I’m just coasting through life, going through the motions, but not really knowing where I’m going.  Just lost.

I can’t really complain about anything specific.  Others have it far worse. And yet I’ve just felt incapable of accomplishing much.  Or don’t feel that what I have to say or have done was worthy of sharing.

So as I’ve bumbled along, I’ve not been as meticulous with my medicines or as good about my morning protein shake.  I’ve been binging on junk.   Sleeping more.  All the things I’m NOT proud of.

I have continued to advocate for my kids like a dog with a bone.  I won’t give up.  And there have been moments of success, that therapists have praised me for.  And yet their praise falls onto my deaf ears.  I don’t want to hear it.  I don’t accept it.  I ‘know’ its sincere and yet it feels fake.  I don’t deserve it.  Wouldn’t any mother do what I’ve done?

So now I’ve passed the 3rd anniversary of DH’s death, and its time to snap out of this fog and get on with it.  To be strong.  To stand tall.  To not feel so lost.  Sigh – and yet if feels like too much work.  There are so many things lying ahead and I’m not sure I have what it takes to get thru it.  And even that makes no sense – as I look back at what I’ve done in the past year alone, much less 3 years should prove that I can do it.  So why do I feel so alone?

Why am I convinced that I’m the only one with these feelings of inadequacy?  It seems the more I talk to others, the more I discover that there is a huge raft of us floating around lost, all convinced EVERYONE else has a map and we are the only ones without it.  But even discovering that so many of us are lost together isn’t reassuring.

My inner voice, drill sergeant, psycho bitch isn’t as loud.  And that fact alone is scary.  I told her to shut up – she listened – NOW WHAT?!  Fuck – I don’t want to listen to MYSELF!! I don’t have a CLUE how to do this thing called life.  Its scary.  I don’t have a map for the future.  I have a vague outline but its confusing and unclear.  I like things to be concrete.  I like to preplan my trip. KNOW where I’m going and how I’m going to get there.  The map I’ve got for the next few months even is barely a sketch.  Its got WAY too much not showing.  I’m going to get Lost.  I’m too tired.  What if something bad happens again? I don’t feel like I can keep doing this battle. Its exhausting.

I’m not sure how or why it seems that others have so much more stamina than I.   Or why I can’t appreciate the magnitude of the changes I’ve made that others would see or say I’ve done. But the fact is I feel totally and helplessly lost.  So I’m going to strip back down to my granny panties and climb back into my bed where I feel safe and secure.

And that’s me. FINALLY.

Grief and Loss

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I haven’t been able to write anything in nearly 2 weeks.  I’ve opened my blog a  few times, stared at it, and then closed it again.  I couldn’t find the words to express what I wanted to say.

Instead I physically shut down.  I ate. I zoned out. I slept a lot. I had soaks in the bath. Ate some more (and I’m not talking about healthy choices – I’m talking an entire apple pie).  I then berated myself for acting like this.  Then I reminded myself – its important to be kind to myself right now.  So I ate some more because that’s how I comfort myself.  I kept appointments I didn’t feel up to having.  I tried to act strong and faked it.  I didn’t want to see any of them.  I sat on my bed and cried.  I hugged my stuffed animal.  I hugged my dog.  I’d forget my meds.  I slipped further and further from good choices to bad ones.  And the whole time, I kept trying to remind myself. This is temporary.  Be strong.  Be better than this.  Push through it. You CAN make it.  It won’t feel like this every day.

But grief and loss are like this.  And I’ve found myself trying to recognize that and explain it to my kids too.  And remember that my daughter wasn’t really mad about not being able to find the pie crust in the freezer and that’s why she stormed to her room slamming the door.  Or fought and argued about cleaning and said “I hate my life”.  And later was just “sad” and didn’t know why but needed to sleep with me.  Or why my son had a sad vacant look all week and barely talked to me, but spent hours texting a friend.  It’s GRIEF.  And despite the time that has elapsed, the date, the time of year, Thanksgiving etc are all a reminder of what happened to us. And feelings are evoked. Feelings we truly don’t understand because grief isn’t logical.

I had NO idea prior to DH dying just how profound, the feelings of grief can be. So often you hear people talk of “the year of firsts” as if after that year – you’d be all better.  So I felt like such a failure for NOT feeling better after a year.  I’ve been told that sensory awareness, such as the leaves changing colour,  the air getting cold and crisp will trigger my brain to re-live moments.  That we don’t even need to SEE a calendar, but our bodies will KNOW – it’s that time of year – when DH went to hospital and never came home. Thanksgiving 2009, I sat at the family dinner, all of us painfully aware that Dh was fighting for his life and HOPING that NEXT year, he’d be at the table with us.  But he’s not.  So NOW each Thanksgiving marks a very painful time. He died early in the morning after Halloween. So all the candy and costumes, etc mark – “here it comes” THE DATE!

I honestly find this first week of October VERY VERY hard.  DH did apple day with the cubs/scouts on a Sat. He went to work all day Sunday. On the monday, we both went to work and then I rushed around with kid’s activities after dropping Dh off at a cub meeting.That was the last time he spoke to me.  I came to pick him up and he’d already left in an ambulance.  He was never able to talk to me again.  In many ways he died THEN.  He was a shell after that.  He was a body.  He was fighting to live. But it wasn’t truly HIM.  And I grieve that loss.  I never lay in bed with him again.  I never heard his laugh again.  I never saw his cheeky grin again.  He was covered with tubes and wires and machines.  And its still so VIVID.  I can still see it clearly.  And I get mad – it’s been 3 years- c’mon get over it.  But that’s not going to happen.  You can’t “get over it”  You can only learn to accept it. But the acceptance piece is taking a LOT longer than I ever thought possible.

Every single year Apple day happens and my brain thinks “oh oh – here it comes”. then Monday is a cub night.  And my entire body is prickly and sparking with memories of that fateful night.  I was reliving everything the entire week.  I don’t WANT to.  I can’t stop it though.

I keep hearing the wise words from my therapist, saying that its normal and to “be kind to myself”.  So I tried to not let it ‘scare’ me.  Just told myself – its ok – go rest some more. Take a bath.  As I ate and ate -I tried to remind myself – you are just comforting yourself – you will get back on track – this isn’t a permanent slip of behaviour.  But it sure feels like it.

I tried to explain this to my daughter – to help her make sense of what she couldn’t possibly understand.  Even though I don’t understand it either.  I tried to do things, to distract myself, but my brain isn’t interested in a distraction.  Its like there is some sick and twisted part of me that WANTS to go thru this agony every year.   I hosted Thanksgiving dinner this time. I wanted to make it different. But only my in-laws came.  So even THAT didn’t feel very successful.  We all sat there with the elephant in the room that we didn’t dare acknowledge as it would hurt all of us too much. DH wasn’t here and never will be.

Moving forward.  Falling backwards.  Getting up again.  Sitting most of the day in my pjs.  Wearing the same granny panties a couple of days in a row. Then I’d shake my head.  Dust myself off -have a shower, and get nice clean panties out and try again.  Hoping a new day would allow me to forget the past and be in the present.  And for a few hours it might work.  But this journey isn’t over.  Its life long.  I have realized that we will NEVER “get over it” nor do we want to.  That every October we will in some way, hurt on the inside. That our hearts will crack and break a bit again, but hopefully not as deeply as the year before. That our loss is profound and grief is not defined by time.  That it IS time. And Time doesn’t stop. 

and that’s me.  GP.

A photo inspiration montage.

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As I spend way too many precious hours perusing Pinterest, I find little gems.  I have a whole board of pins of quotes.  Some are just goofy.  Many parallel my sarcastic outlook on life, and others are pure inspiration and reminders of what life can be.

I know I have a very pessimistic view on things.  That I dwell on the negatives. That I put  myself down pretty much every waking moment.  But when I pause and read these inspirational qutoes, I’m able to stop the recorded loop of crap in my brain.  Even if its just for a second – and I can think YES, that’s right.  Or that’s what I’ll become. Or even have HOPE for a while that my future will be something much brighter than it currently seems.

Pinned Image

The first is simply about my writing.  I love how creating this blog has freed my mind of some of the thinking traps and allowed me to publicly question  my thoughts.

The next few I was instantly drawn to because of the ocean or water aspect.  They bring me right back to my opening blog about the storm of my life.  And how things are changing.  <3

Don't confuse your path with your destination. Just because it's stormy now doesn't mean that you aren't headed for sunshine.God knows

I get so frustrated trying to tell people what I’m experiencing, or dealing with and knowing they just have NO CLUE. https://fbcdn-sphotos-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-prn1/545278_4232053159360_876098963_n.jpgAnd really think that their pat answer or pithy response will help. It often just leaves me feeling worse or MORE isolated.  So I need to really keep these messages in my heart.

 

The next few I cherish because they remind me to look for the good, and that each day is what I make of it.  Their messages help me re-frame the “all or nothing” thinking into something more realistic and less foreboding. That perhaps I need to give myself more credit and respect myself more.  And I think that the mere fact that these are even printed suggests that others need this reminder too –  which is another important reminder to myself, as I often think that I’m the ONLY one ever thinking this shit about myself or my life.

True...

Let this be a source of encouragement for you today. :) (Click on the image to see more!)

There are so many more that I have.  But this seems like a lot of wisdom in a small space.  I intend to go back and read this each day, so that I can start with a smile.  roflol

And just because I really can’t end a post without some crazy reference to my underwear of choice…here is yet another reason I choose to wear Granny Panties. I do hope you don’t find yourself in the same predicament when presented with a thong! Remember the term FLIP FLOP!  (and NO that isn’t a reference to my boobs!!)

And that’s me! GP

That inner voice.

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Well this post is thanks to my wonderful therapist.  She has spent the last 2 1/2 years with me on this roller coaster of life.  She has seen me at my absolute lowest of lows and has been riding the waves every week on my journey of healing.

Today we spent a lot of time challenging my inner voice. I’m not talking about the one that guides you well. You know – the OTHER one – that negates everything good, by pointing out the bad.    Some call it the dog or man on their shoulder.  Michelle from the Cedric Centre  calls it “the drill sergeant,” in her book Food is Not the Problem.  http://www.cedriccentre.com/books/

Honestly, no matter what you call that voice – its annoying to hear. That incessant chirping in my head never shuts up. I referred to that voice today as “psycho bitch”.  I can’t give myself accurate credit for ANYTHING without my psycho bitch telling me how it isn’t good enough, or I didn’t do x,y or z, I “should” have done better. When the voice was called The Drill Sergeant, I could accept it, but I didn’t really feel a direct association to her. But Wow, when I called her a “psycho bitch”, that upset me. I DO associate myself with that voice.  So suddenly I was calling myself a psycho bitch, and I was hurting yet again.

I don’t want to be a psycho bitch.  I don’t want to BE that voice.  And yet I’m guided or rather “mis”guided constantly by her.  I don’t get how she’s “protecting me” or “helping me get thru anything”.  She’s pushing and shoving and knocking me down every time I try and make a single step.  She’s my storm wrecking my beach, and hiding my shells.  She’s breaking up the shells and leaving jagged edges for me to cut my feet on.  And I’m fed up.

I don’t want to be this negative, this jaded, this distrustful.  I don’t want to be lazy or useless.  I don’t want to be fat, or diabetic.  I don’t want to be mentally unstable and depressed.  And yet it feels like EVERY single time I make a step in the direction of something “better”, or “healthier” or more balanced, good ole psycho bitch is there to make sure I end up back on my ass on the ground. And THEN points, laughs and tells me how useless and crappy I am.  That I’ll never be better or successful and that I’m a FAILURE.

It has happened so often that that feels normal. So I’ve just come to accept that I’m a failure.  That I AM this psycho bitch who can’t do anything right.  And that makes me sad, so I cry on the inside, and often those tears leak out. So now I’m a blubbering psycho bitch.  GREAAAT.  Just what i wanted.  How attractive. NOT!!!!

My counselor says that the role of the drill sergeant has value and a purpose, but needs to let my other parts – the ones that see the good things – have more time and space.  Ok.  So we made a list of things I’m proud of doing.  Not monumental life changing things – everyday stuff.  And EVERY time I wrote something down, my psycho bitch was pestering me with the “yeah but you didn’t do….” or “Yeah but you SHOULD be doing…”.   SHUT UP!!! Just SHUT THE FUCK UP!!  I don ‘t want to hear it anymore.  I’ve HEARD you long enough.  JUST SHUT UP!!! PLEASE!

There isn’t enough room for that attitude.  She’s hogging all the space.  She’s controlling every move and every thought.  I want to be able to sit in my LR right at this moment and see the 4 piles of folded towels and linens and think “good job – you did the laundry”  But instead I’m hearing “lazy lazy lazy you STILL haven’t put those away.  Are you EVER gonna get off your ass and do it?”

Instead of looking at the pile of mail, bills and flyers beside me and thinking “Geez I’m a slob – those need to be put away and/or in the garbage” I WANT to be able to think “Yeah – you sorted all the mail, and paid the bills. Great job”   But I just CAN’T.

And even though the thoughts are bringing me down, and it would take all of 5 minutes to get the towels put away, or the mail into the recycle bin.  I can’t do that either! It’s like I WANT to be stuck – so the psycho bitch can be right and at least then I can have something to believe that’s true.  YUP I’m a lazy useless no good failure.  Psycho Bitch has known it all along and now I can see she is right.

I can’t seem to find that switch to change my thinking.  I feel so stuck and I’m so frustrated.  If you don’t live with an overbearing inner voice, I can’t explain it.  Just imagine your worst enemy following you around NON-STOP nitpicking at EVERY single thing you do. Relentlessly trying to push you into an abyss from which there is no return. Until finally you just fall into it and say “there” “you got me”.

I guess its the same thing as parents and teachers being told “don’t label kids with negative associations, or they may just achieve them ”  Is that what happened to me?  Was I told “you are so smart, you can do better”  “Nothing lower than a B is acceptable” too often, and now I can’t be happy with average?

Everyone has inner voices, just like everyone wear’s underwear.  (OR should!!).  But our voices seem to have different sizes.  Some drill sergeants are small and don’t occupy much space – like wearing a thong I guess!  My drill sergeant’s voice is like my panties – OVERSIZED and dominant.  But unlike my granny panties which are comfortable, my inner voice is NOT comforting.  So I’m going to keep working at hearing her comments and telling her to step aside and let others speak.  That I’m NOT INTERESTED in her feedback THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

And that’s me! GP

 

Scrapbooking Tips.

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Last week I was at Michael’s buying a few scrapbooking supplies and the lady in front of me asked “What advice you would give a brand new scrapbooker?”

GREAT Question. I instantly gave her the advice “don’t over analyze your page.  You will be your worst critic. Just leave it. Its better on the page than in a box.”    I don’t know how many times I’ve wanted to redo a page or am just “not happy with it” but have left it.  It may not be great or a work of art, but those photos are now out of the box.

Then I added “Let your photos be the focus, don’t overdo it with stickers and embellishments”.  Its easy as a beginner to be sticker happy in an attempt to make it fancy. Its just clutter. I’ve been guilty of it and I’m usually even more disappointed in the result

As she was paying for her purchase, my mind kept racing with ideas to share.  I called out one more “don’t be overwhelmed with the magazine pictures.  You don’t have to make each page a work of art.”  At that moment the lady behind me said “that is such fabulous advice.”  And I was struck with a thought – maybe I am better at this then I give myself credit for. I’ve been scrapping for 11 years, but I don’t think of myself as that good.

So the entire way to my destination I was thinking – If I was to teach a scrapbooking class – what would it look like? What would I say? What would the focus be? But I also realized that I’ve already helped at least 4 others, become scrapbookers. Each with their own style.

I don’t take classes – I’ve done a couple of short workshops – but I’ve always found that even as an experienced scrapbooker I get frustrated. I hate measuring and trying to keep up.  I also hate having a result that I then have to find the pictures for.  I don’t scraplift from magazines.  I MIGHT use something as an inspiration but virtually everything I’ve done is MINE.  MY idea.  As a result, my pages aren’t the stunning works of art that are in the magazines.  But that’s OK.  They are MINE.  ALL MINE. And if “I” like it, then that should be all that matters.  Ohhh, but it’s sooo hard not to compare.  When the lady beside you has just spent 6 hours painstakingly making flowers to adorn her page and the result is exquisite, its hard to look at your own and be satisfied with mediocre.  But I digress – back to what *I* would recommend.  I’m virtually self taught.  So I’ve learned from my mistakes and from talking and watching others – and that leads me to my first tip…

  • Don’t be afraid to experiment.  The result may not be exactly what you hoped for, but LEARN from it.
  • Don’t pull it all apart   – its fine to fiddle and tweak something, but leave it!  Make the NEXT page better – but don’t spend hours redoing this one.  MOVE ON – you may never LOVE this page – but someone else might.  And honestly those pictures are off the computer and onto a page. Even if you think its ugly its BETTER than it was.
  • Let your pictures be the focus – in years to come is the viewer going to spend more time looking at your fancy flowers or your picture? Yes the embellishments etc can make the page look AMAZING, but is the time worth it?  That’s a personal choice. For me, I don’t have the time. I have way too many pictures waiting for me and kids etc using up all my time.  I still like the KISS rule – Keep it simple stupid.
  • Throw away the ruler – this one will get some people just cringing.  I use it occasionally but honestly you free yourself when you allow “eyeballing” to be your guide.  Eyeballing will not be perfect!  That’s right!!  EXACTLY.  It doesn’t need to perfect!  Its faster, its less fiddly. It’s EASIER. When I mat a photo – I stick my picture onto a chunk of paper – lining up 2 edges with an eyeballed border – then I use my trimmer and cut the other 2 sides to be “about the same”.  You get pretty good at knowing how much to trim etc.  None of this “cut a piece 5 5/8th’s by 4 3/4 etc.”  NOPE – stick cut cut. done!  Easy peasy.

BUT – that doesn’t help a newbie get started.  HOW do you begin? What is the FIRST step? Here’s what I’ve suggested:

  1. Pick 3 to 5 photos of one event/theme that you like, but aren’t of a major event – you don’t want to mess up or experiment with your baby photos, or your great grandma’s portrait.
  2. When choosing photos remember you don’t need ALL of them.  If 3 or 4 are similar, pick ONE of those.  If you have a close up – USE it!
  3. Look at photos – is there a colour you want to highlight or enhance – this will guide you to what background or mat colours for the paper.
  4. If the photo is busy – use plain – if the photo is simpler – you can use patterns more easily.
  5. Putting photos straight onto a pattern is often harder to look at – too distractin. Mat them first with a solid colour.
  6. You want the viewer to look INTO not OFF the page – so faces, gestures etc should face inwards not out to margins.
  7. You want the photos to FLOW – so the eye is led around the page – allow something to overlap to another item -whether its a bit of ribbon, or a strip of paper or a flower.  If your pictures are all “floating” you will feel something is missing.
  8. JOURNAL! At least add the date and a name.  You don’t have to put a long description.  AND don’t be afraid of your writing.  Just do it. Don’t wait to use the computer, unless you really will. (I’ve left too many pages with blank spots waiting for the jouranling and never got to it)  In years from now, others seeing your book will be glad to see your own penmanship – whether its good or bad. If you really really hate your writing – you can use sticker or stamping or hide writing under a flap.  BUT please please – LABEL IT!! And do it NOW.
  9. Empty space is OK.  You don’t need to fill it.  If you add something – ask yourself – is this ENHANCING my photos.
  10. When you are ready – add a technique – for each layout, try a new one – such as paper tearing, inking, brads, ribbon, different colours, multiple patterns etc.  THEN start adding them together. Play until you find what you YOU like. Look at magazines for IDEAS.  But don’t feel you have to measure up to what’s been published. If you constantly compare yours to theirs – you’ll never be happy.

And that’s MY style.  Keep in mind I wear Granny panties, so those who prefer briefs or thongs, may have an entirely different approach.  And that’s OK.  Nobody should be the same! That’s why Scrapbooking is an art form.  It’s unique – just like me.

And that’s me! GP.

 

Tears of Love

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It seems I’m destined to cry.  A LOT.  For so long I’ve wept or sobbed tears of grief. Then tears of endless frustration and exhaustion.  Now its seems I am crying over good things.  I’m like a permanent  fountain of tears set to ON.  All the time.

Lately anytime anybody does or says anything good to me or about me, I cry.  I just instantly well up. If I can’t dodge the comment or change the subject I end up crying.  I’m embarrassed.  I feel like I’m being overly sensitive and silly.

I think I’ve struggled so long thinking I was alone, or being negatively judged, that when someone shows compassion and understanding I just burst.  I’m too tired to be strong by myself.  But I’m not willing to believe that others value me or honestly WANT to help.  So whenever it happens I’m overwhelmed by the love and support.  Then WHOOSH. Tears.

They are like a relief I guess.  An outward release.  I’m NOT alone.  I am loved.  I’m not imagining this burden.  It is real.  It is hard.  But I NEED an off switch.  I’m out of kleenex.

I wish I could accept in my heart that my challenges are not a sign of my inadequacies. Each time a family member or friend supports me and points out that its not me, I want to fight it.  Because inside its easier to blame myself than to just accept life as it’s been dealt to me. And now as I’m clawing my way up into the land of the living – I keep getting overwhelmed with the LOVE.  And I have a hard time accepting that love too.  Why would anyone want to love ME?    I’m messed up.  What makes me worthy of their time, love and efforts?

So then because DESPITE me being messed up – I’m being given tidbits or huge chunks of love and my heart melts and LEAKS freaking tears!  So I’m just a crying machine.  I should be given a role on TV as “crying person”  because I have it mastered.  Cry now – OK! Easy.  I just have to think of something sad, something that makes me mad, or something that makes me HAPPY and I can cry.  BOOM.  Open the flood gates!

People talk about tears of joy, and sure we see them at weddings etc.  But honestly – reading an email makes me cry. BOOM.  Or when a friend argues with me that I’m justified being on LTD and not a burden on society. BOOM.  Or that yes dealing with my family’s issues is tough. BOOM.  or seeing my daughter’s smile light up the room as she tries her new dance class. BOOM.  or having a wonderful heart to heart with my son, and seeing his maturity. BOOM.  or realizing just how much I’m considered part of my husband’s family. BOOM.

So hoist up your pants right to your panties, because my tears are leaving puddles everywhere I go.  At least for once it’s tears of love.

And that’s me. GP

 

 

 

Death

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Being out of town and on the road for a month gave me lots of time to think.  I also got to see many of my very closest friends; had many heart to hearts, shed tears, and got some rest. Several times during the month I’d think about a blog post, but  I like posting in solitude with no distractions.  In a tiny trailer with 2 kids, there isn’t true private time.  I often shed tears while writing, and certainly didn’t want to have to explain that to my kids. So now I’m home with several “ideas” to write about.

Over the years, I’ve had many long term bouts with depression.  I’m on medications and trying to get control.  But because of that, drs often have to ask “have you thought about dying” (they are actually asking “are you gonna off yourself”).  Well the answer to have I THOUGHT ABOUT IT is YES.  Will I off myself – NO. Am I suicidal right now NO.  Do any of you reading this need to get worried. NO!!!! So relax and keep reading.

The truth is I’ve had many thoughts about dying and killing myself and disappearing etc.  At times I’ve had more serious thoughts.  As a teen, twice I took too many Tylenol.  Or thought I had.  When the dose is 1 pill, 9 seemed like a lot!  I had the intent to kill myself. Part of me wanted to die.  But there was another part that I guess stopped me from taking more and more.  Granted – that was the last 9 in the bottle.  Who knows.  I didn’t even pass out.  Nobody even really knew about it.

In university I was bulimic.  I was so desperate to be thin, but I just needed to eat.  I had to eat.  I’d try and not eat but by the end of the day I’d scarf down whatever.  Then I’d feel guilty so I’d puke.  I got good at it.  I didn’t really care if it would harm my throat etc.  I wanted to lose weight.  And I did.  And I got compliments.  It was great.  Until I passed out at the toilet one night.  SCARY.  I realized I had to change my ways.  So I began eating, and occasionally puked.  I stopped myself from puking.  Eventually I just gained weight and tried to accept it.  But by then I had my DH (my dear husband) and I wasn’t as worried about being THIN to be accepted.  DH loved me.  I didn’t want to hinder my health or die, so I vowed never to induce my vomiting again.  I’ve stayed true to that vow.  Unfortunately the binge eating still exists.  Another battle, another blog.

For years my dad has said he isn’t afraid of dying. He said, he didn’t WANT to die, but wasn’t afraid of it.  I always found that statement very unsettling and upsetting.  How can you NOT be afraid of dying?  its DEATH!  I couldn’t comprehend how ANYONE, young or old, healthy or terminal could accept death peacefully.  I just found the whole idea SCARY.

On TV I’ve seen plot lines where someone has died and the loved one touches the body or lies with it etc.  I distinctly remember the Grey’s anatomy character Izzy lying in bed with just died Denny and I thought EWWW.  How can you touch a dead body? Isn’t that gross?

Then DH died. I was so grief stricken.  I immediately crawled into his hospital bed. I had waited 3 weeks to lie with him.  Now I was never going to again.  I wasn’t concerned about the dead body.  I was just with my DH.  I didn’t ever want to leave him.  I had to be dragged away.  At his viewing I kissed him. I touched him.  it wasn’t gross or morbid. These were going to be my last moments EVER with him. I loved him.  Suddenly Death was something different.

In the time since he’s gone I’ve had a couple of psychic messages from him.  He is existing in a realm outside of our understanding.  Suddenly I don’t fear death at all.

I don’t WANT to die.  I’ve thought about it.  There have been some very troubled moments.  I even have a plan.  Heck I’ve had more than one plan.  But a plan doesn’t mean action. It merely indicates that I’m a methodical, organized, over thinker of things.  But knowing that I’ll see DH again, puts me at peace about dying.  I’m not scared of it.  I get what my dad says now.  He’s not ready, but he is prepared.

In the past year I refused to take a lot of my medications.  I’m diabetic. I NEED to take these meds.  So my one therapist told my I was “passive suicidal”.  I didn’t care. My response was “ok sure, whatever”  I was too depressed to care.  I didn’t really enjoy living. I knew I had to live for my kids. At times that seemed like a small concession when if I actually died I could be with DH and NOT deal with all the crap being dished out at me in the here and now. But I kept living. Probably slowly killing myself with poor health.  But I didn’t want to die. So I changed.  I started to care.  I started to take my meds again. I’m working on improving.

Each day I’m working on living.  I’m trying to lose weight so I’ll need smaller granny panties.  But I’m startled to realize that I don’t fear or even dread death.  It really doesn’t scare me at all anymore.  It’s no longer a black ominous void.  So although I’m not yet ready to die, I am at peace with the idea.

And that’s me.

 

 

God and Faith

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I grew up believing in God.  I grew up with Christian values.  My family occasionally went to church.  I remember a few brief stints in Sunday school.  I remember a couple of summer’s going up the street to a neighbour’s house for a week in the mornings and learning a bible verse, hearing bible stories and doing crafts.  I learned the Lord’s prayer in school and happily recited it until it was banned. I like traditional Christmas Carols.  I believe in Easter and Christmas to celebrate the life of Jesus – not Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. I’m still offended that Christmas concerts need to be Winter concerts and that as a music teacher I can’t teach any songs that mention Jesus.  I’m not trying to convert my students; I’m not preaching; I’d be willing to teach hebrew songs etc too.  What’s the big deal?

It was a huge deal to me to be able to attend Easter Sunday services at St. Paul’s cathedral in London when I was in high school.  In grade 11 I set out to read the entire bible.  I made it through 1/2 the old testament.  I made the choice to be confirmed as an adult and began attending regular services when I went to university.  I even became a regular member of the church choir and an assistant Sunday school teacher. I made sure both my children were christened in my church.  I was proud of my faith. But I stopped going.  The church didn’t fit anymore – the sunday school wasn’t working out; the congregation snarky; the politics ugly. I tried a new one.  It was better, but then the only time for swimming lessons conflicted and I got out of the habit of going.

Suddenly as the kids were getting busier, Sunday was the only day left to sleep in.  I NEEDED my rest.  I didn’t NEED church did I?  I can believe and have faith without being IN the church couldn’t I?  My husband didn’t believe in God.  He believed in the Christian morals and values but not the God almighty etc.  He wouldn’t attend with me.  I accepted that, but it made it that much easier to stop going.  I could let him take the kids for a hike and I could sleep and have some time to myself.  THAT was heavenly at the time.

But now I’m confused.  I’m jaded.  Life threw me a curve and I didn’t duck in time. I got hit HARD in the chest. My heart got broken.  I prayed and prayed at the time.  I prayed that God would help heal my husband. I prayed that I wouldn’t be left alone as a widow.  But I was.  It was an impossible reality.  How could I survive this?  WHY did God do this to me?

At that moment I figured, it was a waste of time.  I believed with all my heart that a miracle would come. That God would help me.  And it felt like he didn’t.  I feels like he just dropped the ball.  A big freaking bowling ball, right on ME.

Ok, I’ve been blessed with a fabulous therapist who I would never have met if my spouse didn’t die.  A good thing.  Through a couple of psychic sources I’ve had a couple of messages from him.  One message said that He is in Heaven because of my belief.  He had a place to go. I was right – there is a heaven.  WOW.  Powerful stuff. But I still want my spouse back.

 I find myself now praying more to my husband than I do to God.  I’m still not convinced in God’s love for me. There is the long standing part of me that clings to what I’ve always known. But there is this other part of me – the one that feels like its been burned over and over – that can’t possibly stand the idea anymore.

How can God take my husband from me knowing that I already suffer severe depression and low self esteem?  How can God then allow my daughter to be so mentally unstable and miserable? How can God take such a good man like my husband (here on in known as DH) and leave murderers and low lifes alive? WHY? WHY take DH?  Why was it his time?  WHY was I not able to live my life with him?  Why must my children suffer without their loving and involved dad?  WHY would God allow someone to report us to Social services in the midst of all our sorrow? WHY? Why were we put through that ordeal only to be totally vindicated and cleared of all accusations?  It didn’t strengthen me – it knocked me so far down I could have died.  HOW would THAT have been helpful for my kids?

The phrase “god only gives you what you can handle”  is ridiculous.  I’m unable to work.  I’m unable to enjoy my life.  Is this HANDLING IT?  Certainly NOT in my mind.

I have two close people in my life who have both been affected by cancer.  They both used to believe in God.  Now both of them – not so much.  Again – I don’t think either WANTS to lose faith, but neither feels overly joyous.  Ok – so the cancer is gone in one case and hopefully gone in the other.  But that journey has scarred them.  And scarred their outlook.  And made them question God.

I have another friend who tried to say it wasn’t God who “let bad things happen”.  That its our “freewill” that he’s given us.  But I can’t buy that.  My DH didn’t freewill his brain hemorrhage.  I didn’t freewill my daughter’s mental illness or the SW investigations.  They happened.  Beyond any control I had.  But if God is all powerful HE did have control.  Couldn’t he stop it?  I just don’t know what to think.

I’m excited that DH is in heaven.  I believe in heaven. I believe in ghosts, angels, orbs, spirits or whatever you want to call them.  I believe that there is another dimension co-existing with us.  Is God in charge?  I’m not so sure.

Will I go back to church again?  Probably at some point.  I feel a slight tug in that direction.  However I think my son will never go.  He is adamant that the whole church, creationism etc is crap.  And that devastates me that he feels this way.  Which tells me I guess I still believe and want to believe.  But I really don’t know how to go back to church and TRUST in God, when I feel like I tried that and it didn’t work out.  I don’t even feel like god picked me up and carried me through the hard times.  So even if I could accept that God had to have DH with him, then WHY did everything else feel like it was crumbling too?

My daughter didn’t even remember the Christmas story.  She was Jesus in the pageant! She was a little lamb.  But I stopped going to Church when she was 3 or 4.  And at 7 her Dad was gone.  By 9 she’d forgotten about Jesus.  I feel like I’ve failed her.  Again – I must still care and believe if this matters to me.

I guess its just that God is like a long time family member that I’m really really pissed off at.  I blame him for what’s happened and having a hard time forgiving him.  I don’t want to stay mad, but I just don’t know how to move past it.  Just like when a loved one betrays you; how do you trust him again?  How can you believe that it won’t happen again?  My heart is still broken – I can’t afford to have the broken bits shattered more.  There isn’t enough left.

So as I pray to my husband, I look for guidance and strength.  I seek courage and wisdom.  And I pray that the elastic in my granny panties doesn’t break, so that I can march forward in dignity.

And that’s me.

 

Little sponges

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I’ve had my eyes opened dramatically in the past 24 hours.  I have my 5 year old niece visiting us.  This is her first time to our home.  And as most 5 year old kids, do, she says what she is thinking with no filter.  Her comments are a reflection of what she sees based on her own perceptions.

As I noted a few blogs ago, I didn’t remember “teaching” my own daughter my ways of thinking.  But suddenly I am seeing my warped ideals and misconceptions being repeated in her thoughts. I didn’t want my child to suffer the same frustrations I have. I didn’t TRY to influence her in those negative thought patterns, and yet somehow she absorbed those problems like a sponge.

I’m seeing trends already in my niece that are no different.  She is clearly a sponge too.  As soon as my niece got in my van, she right away said “you really need to clean this”.   Sure there is some garbage in the van – a take out bag, a disposed bag of chips from the beach last week, a towel, some misc. stuff – but actually – compared to what we sometimes have – its pretty darn good!   Within 10 minutes of being in our home, she commented on my LR “why is it so messy?”  I told her it wasn’t – sure the throw cushions and blankets were tossed on the floor – so what?! we USE this room.  and sure there is a laundry basket with a couple of towels waiting to be put in the linen closet, and my daughter’s camping bin with her clothes ready to take to the trailer (she had just packed them for our upcoming trip).  And the room was vacuumed about 5 day ago -so relatively tidy.  So she pointed to the stains on our 10 year old carpeting – “but that’s dirty”

Since when does a 5 year old comment on house keeping and carpet stains?  Where did she learn this “standard”  Who TAUGHT her that a room has to be “perfectly tidy” and essentially immaculate?  I bet her mom (my sister-in-law) didn’t intentionally sit her down and tell her that clean is good and messy is bad.  etc.  But this little sponge has figured out that value.

I’ve spent YEARS agonizing over the “perfect home” syndrome and not living up to it. Worrying what if someone shows up and judges me.  Thinking that I’m a worthless person because I can’t keep the spotless home AND live in it too.  That I’m not a neat freak and don’t clean and tidy all the time.  I have wished at times for a bit of the OCD cleaning vibe some of my friends have.  I struggle daily.  I don’t want to live on fake pretenses.  I want to believe that the state of my home is NOT what i’ll be judged on – that I’ll be judged on my morals and values and actions, and not whether I have a laundry basket in my LR.

But then WHAM – a FIVE year old reinforces my warped message.  NOPE – not good enough.  MUST CLEAN MORE.  I don’t measure up.  BUT WAIT.. I need to say STOP. I need to halt the thinking.

I’ve been continually frustrated by my SIL (her mom) for this VERY issue.  I’m not allowed to visit my brother unless her house is perfect.  They are out of town. I may only see them 1 or 2 times a YEAR.  And I HAVE to give ample warning if I want to show up at their home, so that it can be “clean enough”.  My brother has had to be secretive if I come over when the house has not been “ready”.  I don’t care about their home.  I really don’t.  I want to see them!  I suffer the same self doubt as my SIL – the “what will others think of me” if something isn’t right.  I GET it.

But to hear my niece comment in a disgusted tone, on a yard full of dandilions “that yard has lots of weeds” (thankfully NOT mine! 🙂 is sad too.  She has already developed that perception that outward appearances is important.  Like a sponge, she has absorbed that message.  And I bet, like me and her mother, it will haunt or trouble her as she grows older and tries to continually strive to meet that unattainable high standard.

It makes me cry when I see my daughter getting therapy to help her break her distorted thinking.  I feel guilty.  I blame myself.  But my therapist pointed out something critical – “she is breaking that pattern NOW.  She has not spent 40 years thinking this”

I’m trying to break the thinking traps.  I’m trying to replace distorted thinking with realistic thinking.  I’m trying to ignore the messages of a 5 yr old and remember that a Social worker was just in my home a week ago (for other reasons) and says I’m doing absolutely fine.  That there are no concerns with my home. I have to believe this.  I have to take it to heart.  I do NOT (and nor does my SIL) have to have a spotless home, to be a worthy person.  And my little sponge next to me, is learning valuable lessons every second – whether I “teach” it consciously or not.

She needs to learn that we are OK – granny panties and all – and that perfection in our home or life is NOT going to happen and trying to achieve that will only lead to continual disappointment.

My personal goal is to accept it AS IS.  and be HAPPY with that.

That’s me.  GP

Trust and Friendship

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For a couple of days, I haven’t been able to write.  I haven’t found something “inspiring” or “worthy”.  I didn’t want just drivel.  I wanted something more profound.  Today I realized, that I am the only one in my way of finding the profound.  I needed to reach deeper, past the surface and into my heart and truly “see” what’s hiding.

I’ve also been inspired by some of the comments that have appeared on my blog.  To realize that my words, thoughts or ramblings, have impacted others, was exciting.

Exciting because it challenges one of my core beliefs of being a failure and unworthy.  I never believe that I have any value or that my life matters much to others.  I know I have kids and I matter to them.  But when a disgruntled kid tells you “I hate you”, I take it to heart and believe it.  So discovering and allowing myself to believe that my voice and actions matter is exciting. To think that I might have friends or people around me who WANT to be there in spite of my own insecurities is exciting.

I took a risk today.  I impulsively invited a few close friends over for a swim and a BBQ.  I like to be social, but I’m always afraid that I won’t be good enough.  That my house won’t be clean enough, or the situation interesting enough.  Since my husband died 2 years ago, I have rarely had people over.  I’ve been too embarrassed. Too depressed. Too scared to take a risk (even with close friends) to be vulnerable and let them in my home.  All the voices in my head of “you are a failure” “you aren’t good enough” have been too loud.  My husband was someone who lifted me up emotionally and I had more confidence when he was alive.  But since then, its all been on me – I have had to be the one to lift myself up.  And I just haven’t had the strength.  I’ve wanted to, and have had to plan and plan, so that I could be “ready”. and so often, I end up just “not ready yet”.

Today as I was vacuuming the swimming pool, I got thinking.  Thinking that I hadn’t seen enough of my friends lately. (we have a close knit group of several families who’ve kids have grown up together for the past 14 years).  And my kids haven’t seen their friends.  Thinking that we will be leaving for a month of holiday and I won’t see them at all.  So I suddenly thought – I’d love for them to come over and swim and have a BBQ. And today would be a perfect day.

What is so unusual though, is instead of instantly thinking of every excuse why this was a BAD idea – such as the lawn needs mowing, the patio isn’t finished, the house isn’t clean (meaning that there are dishes, laundry and vacuuming to be done!), etc etc etc.  I grabbed my phone.  I went for it.  I took a plunge.  I jumped into the ocean wave, uncertain of what was waiting for me.  I was not exactly confident.  I was hopeful for a moment that, I would in fact have a “party” of my friends/kids.  I was excited at the prospect.

First call = most likely, but later on.   I felt a bit of disappointment that it would be “later”.  Second call = no answer (suspected family out of town for son’s tournament) – More disappointment.  I really wanted to include them.  And also knew that first person was more likely to come if 2nd was there too. Sigh.

Feelings of self doubt and self worth began.  What the hell am I thinking? I can’t host anything.  Nobody is going to want to come here.  But I still braved the waters again.  I made a third call.  And she was going to check with her son and husband but sounded like a definite yes.  Ok – feeling a bit empowered. I got a life vest on.  I can do this.

I called the fourth.  Another Yes, but later on.  Ok, this will happen.  So called back first person to let her know about the others!.  And off to the store I went, excited that i was going to see my friends and host a “pool bbq”.

I now suddenly wanted to be the hostess with everything.  I wanted to be prepared.  I wanted to be worthy.  I didn’t want to let anyone down.  I didn’t want to disappoint.   In years gone by, that would have meant preparing everything from scratch.  I didn’t have time or energy and suddenly I was ok with that.  I’m not sure where that bit of confidence came from.  But I will sure take it.

But by the time I finished shopping I have a text from one saying – nope she has a friend coming over.  What?  Instantly I was crushed.  I was thrown on the shore by my wave and dumped in the sand.  The message in my head was “she’d rather see someone else. She got a better offer.”   But I had to GET UP.  Shake it off.  Dig deeper inside.  check the facts.

I decided Whatever… She doesn’t want to see me, Fine.  don’t.  I’ll see the other 2 families and she won’t.  Her loss.  But there was that inner voice knocking me down.  Saying – bet the others will cancel too.  Nobody really wants to see you.  You aren’t worthy of their time. They will be no shows.

I jumped into my pool and enjoyed the water.  I put on some music outside.  I encouraged my kids (ok I forced my kids) to come outside too.  And we hung outside and waited.  And hoped the others would still come.  I got a text from the out of town one. – was on a ferry and MIGHT come by.  The others still haven’t cancelled.  I remained hopeful. But the voices in my head kept trying to pull me under and drown me.

I didn’t spend my time washing every last dish, wiping down the counters and table and mowing the lawn.  I played in the sun.  I was allowing myself to just BE.

And the 2 families who could come “later” DID!  And we had a great time.  And the ones who were on the ferry came too!  WOW.  honestly I was so pleased.  And I served a simple menu and everyone was happy.  And I wasn’t 2nd guessing my housekeeping status every second.  I just allowed myself to visit.  And it made me happy.

The profound thing was that I TRUSTED my friends with myself AND…  I TRUSTED myself with my friends. Its one thing to hear “we aren’t here to visit your kitchen (house etc), we are here to visit YOU’.  But its hard to believe it.  Society has trained so many women to think that we have to be the perfect hostess etc.  And then it becomes hard to enjoy the company we have.  Tonight I was able to live that.  My friends were here to see ME  They WANTED to come. And I got to visit them.

There is still that horrible voice in my head saying “why would they want to visit you?”  But I took a leap of faith.  A leap of spontaneity and opened myself up.  Made myself truly vulnerable and triumphed.  I honestly think every person, including the kids had a good time.  Nothing was perfect. It was all impromptu.  And it didn’t matter.  Because everyone was there for FRIENDSHIP.

I conquered that voice for a few hours today.  I conquered those beliefs for a brief time.  I took that plunge into the wave of unknown, and came out riding it.  I know that there will be many more waves ahead.  Many more chances to succeed and fail.

But I have to trust that my friends don’t care if my home/life is perfect or if I wear granny panties.  I have to trust that they are my friends because they care about ME.  All of me. Just as I am.  And that’s a profound lesson for me to truly accept.

And that’s me. GP.

WHY?

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I’ve never understood why I’m much more willing to help someone else than I am to help myself.  And I suspect I’m not alone on this.

It applies to almost every aspect of my life.  I am way more critical of what I do, say, etc than I ever would be of ANYONE else.

Yesterday is a perfect example.  I was more than willing to help pack and move boxes for a friend (who didn’t even ASK me for help), than I am to do virtually any task at home for myself.  I took a friend’s child over for a sleepover, so those parents could have an evening off.  But am I able to ask for the same help? Nope.  Do I think I should ask for help? Nope.  Do I think I deserve the help? NOPE!  and yet I feel the others deserve it.  I think they are worth it.  I think they’ve earned it.

On more than one occasion, I’ve had a therapist ask me “what would you do/think if this was a friend in this situation?”  “What advice etc would you tell them?”  and I am HONESTLY stymied that I can’t treat myself with the same respect and rights as I’d give my friends.  One therapist went so far as to have me contact a friend, and have her write out some reasons WHY, she liked me as a friend.  The list made me cry.  But the realization that I can’t create that list for myself is upsetting. I truly can not fathom WHY people like me. Or what good they see in me. Or why they want to be around me.

Its so hard to give myself accurate credit for what I do.  I dismiss things too easily or negate them.  Rather than thinking “good for me, for packing over 1/2 my friends kitchen into boxes” I think “what a  procrastinator you are, you should be cleaning your own kitchen, you lazy ass”

Instead of acknowledging that I did something nice for someone, I’m too busy criticizing myself for something I haven’t done.  Or “should” have done.

I WANT to like and respect myself.  I envy those who have (or appear to have) self esteem.  I’m trying desperately to re-think the way I do and see things, so that I will change.  But it just seems that I end up more critical of myself.  I end up comparing everything and I come up short. (which is easy when you are only 5’3 1/2).

When I try to lose weight, I end up comparing my success with someone else. And if she has lost more, then I think well its because she’s better than me. She’s more committed to the goal. And if she’s more committed to the goal, its because she’s better than me at dieting. And since she is better at dieting, its obviously because she’s a better, stronger, more capable person.  Its because I’m a failure and I suck at stuff. I can’t just stop and let it be that we lose at different rates. It’s black and white – all or nothing.  Since I’m not doing perfectly, i don’t want to at all.  If I am not the best, I’m the worst.  There is no 1/2 way.

And somehow without realizing it, I’ve taught my daughter the same messed up perception.  So now I’m ruining her life too.  Apparently it’s not bad enough that I see everything all askew…now my daughter gets to see it that way too.  I hadn’t even known I’d said anything or done anything, for her to get this messed view.  Why do I have these perceptions?  I don’t remember being “taught” them.  Just like I certainly don’t remember “teaching” them to my daughter.  So WHY does she see things so black and white too?

Why can’t I accept help as readily as I’d offer it?  Why do I feel needing help is weakness? I certainly don’t think any of my friends are weak. I feel they are all much stronger than I, and yet I’m willing to give them help.  And I don’t think they are weak for accepting it.  Why is it, that if someone takes my kid for the day or a playdate etc, I think I will OWE them big time.  And yet, when the shoe is reversed, I don’t think they’d owe me anything at all.

I just don’t know WHY I have this totally unattainable, unrealistic, high standard for my life. But don’t expect anyone else to have to strive to it.  I’ve mentally collected all the positives that everyone else does, and put them ALL into ONE package deal.  And I can’t do it.  (I’m not sure if anyone actually does) But since I can’t – I’m a failure. AT EVERYTHING.  And since I’m gonna fail, why start? why bother?

So once in a while, I’ll help someone else, and I feel good for a few moments. I like the positive feedback – the “oh thank you so much” etc.  And for a moment I smile and feel proud of myself. Even to a point, where I allow myself to feel smug because “I” did that “whatever it was” and not someone else.  But just as quickly I wipe out that feeling, and replace it with a negative reminder of a failed aspect in my day to day.  WHY?  does it make me feel better? Nope. But I’ve become more used to being miserable on the inside.  And the warped perception I have, tells me that I deserved the bad things.  That I’m being punished for being bad.  Why? who knows…

So, day by day I need to acknowledge and ACCEPT some things I’ve done that are GOOD and worthwhile and stop there.  NOT negate them.  NOT replace them.  And maybe one day I can stop asking Why.

And that’s me.  GP

 

 

 

MYOB

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Ok Pet peeve vent here.  Decades ago, it was believed “it takes a community to raise a child”.  People borrowed a cup of sugar from a neighbour. Maybe it was idealized. Maybe it wasn’t real? But now, it seems judgement is passed far more readily than help or encouragement.

Just today I saw a FB post from a friend, trying to solicit others to criticize another person’s  (also a friend of mine) parenting.  And lots of others jumped on that bandwagon with both feet without knowing the facts. They cast judgment. Most didn’t ask for more facts.  It drives me crazy. Firstly, what business is it of anyone of them? Nobody asked for this advice, comments or opinions.

Why have we become so willing to cast stones against others?  Who made us so much better than our neighbours?  Do you know what they battle each day? When did our “story” become irrelevant?

I’m so sick of it.  I had to stop putting a lot of things on FB as it became too hurtful.  I used to trust most people.  I used to trust that my friends and acquaintances were all essentially good.  I believed in being open and honest.  No facades. (well other than hiding that I personally felt that everyone else was better than me, and I was a failure – but that’s a post for another day). Now I’m jaded, and distrustful.  I’m wary of others’ judgements on me and my life.

Now it seems the only time many want to HELP – is to criticize.  Seeking out the truthful people, the ones who DO care, is challenging. I have many great friends. I have many I trust and who do care.  But its so hard to discern who the “others” are. Who are the ones who are secretly casting judgements and throwing stones behind my back?

Why is it so hard to communicate honestly?  If you are concerned for someone, or their kids then TALK to them.  BE OPEN. BE HONEST.  don’t hide behind FB or ministry Social workers.  Man up.  Don’t gossip.  If we truly want the best for others, then isn’t it up to us to provide it personally? Honesty IS the best policy.  I still believe that.

I WANT a community to help me raise my family.  I WANT to be part of a community that helps raise my friends’ kids.

When I see a friend’s child doing something inappropriate, I’ll tell that child to stop. (heck I’ll tell a total stranger) I’ll tell the parent I did so.  But know what? I’m not judging that parent.  I LOVE my friends’ kids.  I TRUST their parenting.  I know that there is a story for their actions and why they parent as they do, and why the kids may act as they do.  Does that mean I agree with everything all my friends/kids do? Of course not!  Nor do I expect my friends to agree with all my choices.  But if there was something BIG, that I was concerned about, I’d say so. and I would want them to say so to ME.  Don’t hide. Honesty!

Be True, Be real. Hang your Granny Panties on the line for others to see! And if you can’t be honest and true, then MYOB.

and that’s me. Granny Panties and all! 🙂

 

My life as an Ocean Storm

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Ok, so I have this space so I can write, vent, and generally be too verbose about all the twirling thoughts in my head.  So now I can’t decide what to write about first.

I like the picture I picked because to me it represents my life. I have something beautiful (ocean, landscape) but my thoughts or the actions of my life (the storm clouds) are lurking just above threatening to make it miserable. Or worse, the storms HAVE hit and unleashed fury on our landscape and made a mess. But once the storm passes, there will be beauty again.

I feel like I’m living in a constant storm.  I am waiting for that calm.  and waiting and waiting and waiting…  OK already, enough of the storms. I want the beautiful sunset part now.

Time will tell what the storm washed ashore.  What treasures and what demise.  But right now I’m still slogging through the puddles of mud and water and my boots are leaking.  I need to find a rock to climb on, but I just keep tripping on the stones. Occasionally I’ve found a beautiful shell, but its either broken or gotten lost.  I know they are there though.  I see glimmers of them, peeking out at me. Offering me hope.  Today the rains have stopped and the clouds are parting, and it seems like calm seas may lie ahead, but I fear another storm is brewing just beyond the horizon ready to rear its ugly head, when I’m least ready.

and that’s me today. Granny Panties!

 

You found me!

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Well if you are here, that means either:

a) I’ve trusted you into this private space, or

b) you’ve inadvertently stumbled into my crazy vortex.  Either way – Welcome.

This is my place to reveal the real me.  so here it is – I am a mom. I have 2 kids. I am a widow.

When I’m mad, I swear, even in front of my kids. Oh well. (lock me up now!). I think a clean house is when both the laundry AND dishes are done at the same time as the LR is vacuumed. And oh yeah, I wear Granny Panties. This is me.