There are times when things that are frosted or glazed are just fabulous:
Frosty cold mug for root beer? Awesome
Glazed doughnuts? Yummy
Chocolate frosted cake? Delicious
Frosted glass to retain privacy while letting light into the bathroom? I am totally down with that
Then there are times when it just doesn’t work so well:
Frost covered windshield? Pain in the ass
Icy glazed streets, sidewalks and parking lots? Treacherous, and can be a literal pain in the ass if you don’t watch your step.
Welcome to my morning. . .
(No, I didn’t fall, but it took me forever to walk from my car to the building when I got to work. On the way to work I saw the aftermath of three different accidents, and as I drove by the local junior high watched several students sliding and falling on the sidewalk, some deliberately, some accidentally. Give me a foot of snow any day over this hovering-at-freezing-icy-cold-rain-maybe-sleet.)
Monday, December 08, 2008
Sunday, December 07, 2008
Busy? Who? Me?
What did I do this weekend?
Friday night - My company Holiday Party
Saturday - Attended Lego Robotic competition for several hours to watch N participate
Saturday night - BJ's company Holiday Party
Sunday morning - taught Sunday School to 5 & 6 year olds
Sunday morning/afternoon - watched N's basketball team in yet another tournament
Sunday afternoon/evening - started putting up the Christmas decorations at home
And now I'm tired. Wonder why?
Friday night - My company Holiday Party
Saturday - Attended Lego Robotic competition for several hours to watch N participate
Saturday night - BJ's company Holiday Party
Sunday morning - taught Sunday School to 5 & 6 year olds
Sunday morning/afternoon - watched N's basketball team in yet another tournament
Sunday afternoon/evening - started putting up the Christmas decorations at home
And now I'm tired. Wonder why?
Saturday, December 06, 2008
Chapter IX: Weight - Where Am I going?
Good golly. Where am I now and where am I going? “Messed up, but trying to get better” is the short answer, but if you’ve been following along for a while you know that I never stop at the short answer. If nothing else, I do know how to fill a page (or screen) with words.
I am working to put all the connections together, to really understand how my behavior was formed early on and that if I don’t think, don’t consciously choose not to do certain things I will do them without a thought or hesitation. I learned very early on that food equals comfort, food equals companionship, food is my friend. I also learned that I couldn’t count on my parents for hugs and kisses. They are not that kind of people. They do not hug anyone unless forced into it by some well-meaning unsuspecting person such as N. I could not count on them to love me if I didn’t meet their standards, and I seldom felt that I met their standards. To this day, if I feel like a failure (and anything less than perfection is a failure to me) my gut instinct is to comfort myself with food, and not just any food. It has to be junk food. Eating a plateful of zucchini is not going to be a satisfying binge for me. Well, not unless it is battered and deep-fried, preferably with ranch dressing on the side for dipping. To this day, when I am feeling a lack of affection or uncertain in my relationships, I prowl for the next man I might be able to attract so that I might fill the void physically, if not emotionally.
I have stunned myself by seeing that only once in my entire life have I maintained a monogamous relationship for any significant length of time, and that has been with W. W is the only person I’ve found so far that for several years made me feel protected, loved, and accepted. Only in the last few years of our marriage, as we drifted apart, did I start to feel those old yearnings to find the next man, or another man, or an additional man. Part of my regaining weight I believe was to make myself unattractive to other men, to protect myself from myself and my self-destructive ways with men. I have also realized how much I truly loved W at one time, and how much I had hoped I could get back to that place, that he and I could work together to get back what we used to have or to grow into an even better, healthier place. It has been a most difficult realization to accept that he and I are really through, that even with a counselor that was as much as either of us could have wanted a counselor to be we could not find enough common ground to make things work. I tired so much of hollow agreements made and then broken, of too often hearing that things would change only to have them stay just the same.
I realize that I have to find an alternative way to fill the void other than food and other than men, and that alternative needs to be a physically and emotionally healthy alternative. Not alcohol, not drugs, not smoking (yeah, I did for a while in my teens and 20s, and hadn’t been tempted since until the last couple of years, but I haven’t. It’s expensive, and unhealthy, and smells very bad). So this is where I am. I am looking for the alternative(s). As of this moment, I’m not sure what to substitute or how to find it. (I originally wrote these last few sentences a couple of years ago in the original series of posts. They still apply. Somehow I got stuck at this point.)
I realize that I need to refocus my priorities on my health. I need to focus on eating in healthy ways and not worry what the scale shows for a while. I need to focus on walking, swimming, playing ball with N, anything to get my butt out of the recliner and get me moving. I need to be more consistent in being active rather than letting the least little thing keep me from it. I need to focus on becoming more emotionally healthy, stopping the negative self-talk, trying to set for myself realistic expectations instead of the unattainable perfectionism.
I realize that having BJ in my life means that I have to find a different way of thinking about men, a healthier way. I try very hard to be independent and not to lean on him, and that is very difficult for me to do. I am one who has always leaned on a man, or multiple men, to help prop me up. BJ, unlike W, doesn’t want me to lean on him, and it is probably not healthy for me to do so. In situations where W would have just taken care of something for me, BJ encourages me to do it on my own. I hate that! Yet, at the same time, I appreciate it. It’s not easy standing on your own two feet when you haven’t had to for 20+ years, but it’s a good skill to learn.
I realize that now that I’ve found a job and a church in which I am comfortable I am quite likely headed down the right path to a tranquil and peaceful psyche once I get a couple more pieces in place (like finalizing the divorce for one), and I have to continue, for now, swimming through the shit to finally get there. This too shall pass, as they (whoever “they” are) say.
I still have a lot of work to do to make myself healthy again.
While this is the end of this series of posts on my history of weight related issues I certainly cannot say “The End” here because this is not the end. This is merely the beginning of the rest of the journey.
So I’ll simply end by saying:
To be continued. . .
I am working to put all the connections together, to really understand how my behavior was formed early on and that if I don’t think, don’t consciously choose not to do certain things I will do them without a thought or hesitation. I learned very early on that food equals comfort, food equals companionship, food is my friend. I also learned that I couldn’t count on my parents for hugs and kisses. They are not that kind of people. They do not hug anyone unless forced into it by some well-meaning unsuspecting person such as N. I could not count on them to love me if I didn’t meet their standards, and I seldom felt that I met their standards. To this day, if I feel like a failure (and anything less than perfection is a failure to me) my gut instinct is to comfort myself with food, and not just any food. It has to be junk food. Eating a plateful of zucchini is not going to be a satisfying binge for me. Well, not unless it is battered and deep-fried, preferably with ranch dressing on the side for dipping. To this day, when I am feeling a lack of affection or uncertain in my relationships, I prowl for the next man I might be able to attract so that I might fill the void physically, if not emotionally.
I have stunned myself by seeing that only once in my entire life have I maintained a monogamous relationship for any significant length of time, and that has been with W. W is the only person I’ve found so far that for several years made me feel protected, loved, and accepted. Only in the last few years of our marriage, as we drifted apart, did I start to feel those old yearnings to find the next man, or another man, or an additional man. Part of my regaining weight I believe was to make myself unattractive to other men, to protect myself from myself and my self-destructive ways with men. I have also realized how much I truly loved W at one time, and how much I had hoped I could get back to that place, that he and I could work together to get back what we used to have or to grow into an even better, healthier place. It has been a most difficult realization to accept that he and I are really through, that even with a counselor that was as much as either of us could have wanted a counselor to be we could not find enough common ground to make things work. I tired so much of hollow agreements made and then broken, of too often hearing that things would change only to have them stay just the same.
I realize that I have to find an alternative way to fill the void other than food and other than men, and that alternative needs to be a physically and emotionally healthy alternative. Not alcohol, not drugs, not smoking (yeah, I did for a while in my teens and 20s, and hadn’t been tempted since until the last couple of years, but I haven’t. It’s expensive, and unhealthy, and smells very bad). So this is where I am. I am looking for the alternative(s). As of this moment, I’m not sure what to substitute or how to find it. (I originally wrote these last few sentences a couple of years ago in the original series of posts. They still apply. Somehow I got stuck at this point.)
I realize that I need to refocus my priorities on my health. I need to focus on eating in healthy ways and not worry what the scale shows for a while. I need to focus on walking, swimming, playing ball with N, anything to get my butt out of the recliner and get me moving. I need to be more consistent in being active rather than letting the least little thing keep me from it. I need to focus on becoming more emotionally healthy, stopping the negative self-talk, trying to set for myself realistic expectations instead of the unattainable perfectionism.
I realize that having BJ in my life means that I have to find a different way of thinking about men, a healthier way. I try very hard to be independent and not to lean on him, and that is very difficult for me to do. I am one who has always leaned on a man, or multiple men, to help prop me up. BJ, unlike W, doesn’t want me to lean on him, and it is probably not healthy for me to do so. In situations where W would have just taken care of something for me, BJ encourages me to do it on my own. I hate that! Yet, at the same time, I appreciate it. It’s not easy standing on your own two feet when you haven’t had to for 20+ years, but it’s a good skill to learn.
I realize that now that I’ve found a job and a church in which I am comfortable I am quite likely headed down the right path to a tranquil and peaceful psyche once I get a couple more pieces in place (like finalizing the divorce for one), and I have to continue, for now, swimming through the shit to finally get there. This too shall pass, as they (whoever “they” are) say.
I still have a lot of work to do to make myself healthy again.
While this is the end of this series of posts on my history of weight related issues I certainly cannot say “The End” here because this is not the end. This is merely the beginning of the rest of the journey.
So I’ll simply end by saying:
To be continued. . .
Note to Self: Heed This Advice!!!
Hadn't posted anything from wikiHow lately, but this came along and I thought, "Hmm, that's something I ought to post. Maybe I'll do that some day." Yeah, that's exactly why I need to read and reread and take to heart and actually do some of the things they advise in this little gem.
from wikiHow - The How to Manual That You Can Edit
We’re talking to ourselves all the time inside our minds. Even when you’re not paying attention, these relentless mental debates deeply influence our feelings and, ultimately, our behavior.
The good news is that each time that you become aware of such mental dialogues and notice patterns and turn them into productive statements is an opportunity to overcome many unwelcome feelings and behaviors.
Let’s see how this can help us when it comes to procrastination.
How to Overcome Procrastination Using Self Talk
from wikiHow - The How to Manual That You Can Edit
We’re talking to ourselves all the time inside our minds. Even when you’re not paying attention, these relentless mental debates deeply influence our feelings and, ultimately, our behavior.
The good news is that each time that you become aware of such mental dialogues and notice patterns and turn them into productive statements is an opportunity to overcome many unwelcome feelings and behaviors.
Let’s see how this can help us when it comes to procrastination.
Steps
- Recognize the procrastinator's motto. Consider the following thought, which for sure has crossed our minds many times in the past, in one form or another:“I have to finish this long, important project. It should already be done by now and I need to plow through it.”This small, seemingly innocent thought contains almost every mental block that encourages procrastination. We all use the Procrastinator’s Motto (or variations of it) every once in a while. If you’re a chronic procrastinator, chances are you repeat it to yourself very frequently — daily, perhaps.But what’s so wrong about the Procrastinator’s Motto? In what ways do these words encourage procrastination so much — and what can we do about it? Now let’s consider each part of this statement in turn, replacing each of them with an empowering alternative. In doing that, we’ll turn the original motto on its head and create a productive call to action: a “Producer’s Motto”, if you like.
- Remember that you don't 'have to' do anything. ‘I have to’ is every procrastinator’s favorite expression. It’s also the most disempowering. Every time you say to yourself that you have to do something, you imply that you don’t have any choice, that you feel forced or coerced to do the task — that you don’t really want to do it. That perception, of course, elicits a strong feeling of victimhood and resistance towards doing the task. The solution to this problem is to replace ‘I have to’ with the immensely more empowering alternative ‘I choose to’ or 'I will'. Everything you do is ultimately a choice (yes, even completing tax forms). Using language that expresses choice reminds you of that and brings the feeling of power back.
- Focus on starting, rather than finishing. When you focus on finishing something, you direct your attention to a vague, highly idealized future. Visualizing a finished project is motivating for many people, but from the point of view of someone who’s having a hard time starting a task, visualizing a hard-to-grasp future can be overwhelming — even depressing at times. The solution in this case, then, is not to focus on finishing, but on starting. Forget for a minute about the finish line, just concentrate on giving your first step. Bring your focus from the future to what can be done right now. We all know that if you start something a large enough number of times, you’ll eventually finish any task. Starting — all by itself — is usually sufficient to build enough momentum to keep the ball rolling from then on.[1]
- Break a long project down into short tasks. Constantly reminding yourself how long and challenging the upcoming undertaking is only adds to the feeling of being overwhelmed, and thus of procrastination. Any undertaking, no matter how daunting, can be broken down into smaller steps. The trick is to, on each step along the way, focus solely on the very next smaller, doable chunk of work. Ignore the big picture for a while and just tackle that next short task. Make it in a way you can easily visualize the outcome coming about very soon. Don’t write a book; write a page. If it still looks intimidating, you may try committing to a time box instead. Of course, keep the big picture in mind, but use it for motivation and direction as needed, and not to frighten yourself before action.
- Don't place too much pressure on yourself. “This project has to impress everyone; I really can’t blow this opportunity.” Placing such high hopes on a project only adds to anxiety and fear of failure. Perfectionism arises and only fuels procrastination even more. The way to overcome this mental block is to simply give yourself permission to be human. Allow yourself to be imperfect just in this next small task. Focus on taking an imperfect step remembering that you can always refine your work later. If you’re a serial perfectionist, go one step further and commit yourself to doing a sloppy job on purpose, at least at first. This can be thought of as a step in working toward perfection, but not trying to be perfect in each step, i.e. write a page or two now, but proofread and correct it some other time.
- Stop thinking about the way things 'should' be. The expression 'should' is usually associated with blame and guilt. When you say you should be doing something (instead of what you’re actually doing), you focus on comparing an ideal reality with your current, “bad” reality. You focus not on what is, but on what could have been. Misused 'shoulds' can elicit feelings of failure, depression and regret. The solution is to focus not on how you feel now, but on how good you’ll feel after you begin to take action.
- Make some directed action — even the tiniest progress is success — moving towards a goal is the best motivator. The trick is to bring that expected feeling of accomplishment into the present — and know that the real joy of progress is only a small task away. That small step is success. Success is not the end of the process, but it is the actions that cause progress and lead you to your next step.
- Make it fun! “I’ve got to work all weekend”. “I am trapped in this laborious project”. Long periods of isolation can bring an enormous feeling of resentment. This feeling generates a strong sense of deprivation and resistance towards the task. The way to overcome this mental block is to not allow long stretches of work to creep into your activities. Schedule frequent breaks that will not take long or take you too far. Plan small rewards along the way. One idea is to work near a break area. Have something to look forward to — not far away and not at the end of a long stretch — but in the very near future. When rewards are small, frequent — and deserved — they work wonders. Truly commit to brief bursts of relaxation and leisure time. In fact, go ahead and make it mandatory. This “reverse-psychology” can by itself bring you to a whole different mindset, both more productive and enjoyable.
- Rephrase your internal dialog. Time to check what we’ve accomplished with all the word substitutions. We started with:“I have to finish this long, important project. It should already be done by now and I need to plow through it.”And ended up with:“I choose to start this task with a small, imperfect step. I’ll feel terrific and have plenty time for fun!” Quite a change, eh? Every time you catch yourself repeating the Procrastinator’s Motto or any of its parts to yourself, stop and rephrase it. Then check how you feel. While it may seem just a matter of word choices at first, when you try this simple way of reframing your thoughts, you’ll see how instantly it changes your attitude towards working on your tasks. Moreover, if you turn it into a habit, you’ll be slowly reprogramming your thoughts, leading to a positive, permanent change in your mindset.
Tips
- Some other "procrastinator phrases" include:[2]
- "I just don't really feel like doing this right now. I will do it later."
- "It's no big deal if it doesn't get done."
- "It won't take me that long."
- "It's not fair."
- "I just don't really feel like doing this right now. I will do it later."
- Taking on a second-person view can also help. Tell yourself: "You know you’re just putting this off. Take the time right now and get it done. You’ll feel better and you won’t have to deal with it later."[3]
Related wikiHows
- How to Stop Procrastinating
- How to Be Punctual
- How to Develop Your Sense of Time
- How to Get Things Done Fast
- How to Wake Up On Time
Sources and Citations
- http://litemind.com/overcoming-procrastination-self-talk/ - Original source, shared with permission.
- ↑ This is what Mark Forster calls the “I’ll just get the file out” technique.
- ↑ http://livingwelltools.com/procrastination.htm
- ↑ http://www.catalystorganizing.com/articles/Later_Never_Comes.pdf
Article provided by wikiHow, a collaborative writing project to build the world's largest, highest quality how-to manual. Please edit this article and find author credits at the original wikiHow article on How to Overcome Procrastination Using Self Talk. All content on wikiHow can be shared under a Creative Commons license.
Friday, December 05, 2008
It Goes to Character Your Honor
I received the following email this morning. It was actually sent around 3:00 this morning. J is not the man I ever thought he was. This email has proven that beyond a shadow of a doubt. I will admit to being disappointed. I thought he was better than this.
As background he and I stayed in touch for a while after I moved to LNJ. We were friends, or so I thought. When BJ went through his Insanity last winter, and K dumped me, and W moved out, and I was feeling low and uncertain I did reach out to J, only to find out he was engaged so I backed right off and left him alone.
Now, several months later I get this email:
Hi TS,
Hi sweetie....How are you? I apologize for not writing very fast. The last two months have been hectic. I lost an aunt and uncle in a 9 day period. I put in about 120 hours of overtime. I have been tying up loose ends at church and trying to help with my mom. Then I didn't know exactly what to say when I did write.
I hope you had a decent Thanksgiving despite everything. I hope Christmas goes well somehow for you and N.
I really don't want to say anything that may even hint at being selfish. I agree with you. I don't believe you should be just a lay for anyone. I always hated you being married to W. I, yes I am going to say it, wish BJ would get lost. There I am, married again. We have been since the Spring. The thing is that I could be married to this one for the next 30 years, but I have come to a realization. I hope you feel the same way so I don't come off like some pansy. I love you, and will always. I always wish there was a way where we could at least hook up for a day, talk, hang out together, and make love to each other and show each other how we feel for one another again. I wish we lived a lot closer to each other. That is the reason I said something about you coming to [his town] sometime. If I wasn't married, I would come up there and sweep you off your feet. You deserve someone to do that. I just don't want to have sex with you. Making love to you and showing you the affection you need is important. I don't want you to think that where I am concerned. I know it may sound strange that I am saying this with being married again, but my feeling for you are never going to go away. We were married before and we met to hang out and make love. I went to LNJ with you and we spent the night together. If I had a chance to do it again, I would go with you. TS, I will always love you. I apologize for being the shy kid back in high school and not being outgoing. We could have married each other back then. Maybe we could have been able to maintain our girlish figures lol and all would have been great.
But we are here now. You and I are always going to stay in touch. I know what you are going through. I really do. If the opportunity arises I would like to see you. I hope to hear from you soon. I love you sweetheart. I always will.
Love always,
J
Not the man I thought he was at all. Not at all. Don’t think I can even remain friends at this point. May take some time to figure out what, if anything, to write back.
Are all men idiots?
As background he and I stayed in touch for a while after I moved to LNJ. We were friends, or so I thought. When BJ went through his Insanity last winter, and K dumped me, and W moved out, and I was feeling low and uncertain I did reach out to J, only to find out he was engaged so I backed right off and left him alone.
Now, several months later I get this email:
Hi TS,
Hi sweetie....How are you? I apologize for not writing very fast. The last two months have been hectic. I lost an aunt and uncle in a 9 day period. I put in about 120 hours of overtime. I have been tying up loose ends at church and trying to help with my mom. Then I didn't know exactly what to say when I did write.
I hope you had a decent Thanksgiving despite everything. I hope Christmas goes well somehow for you and N.
I really don't want to say anything that may even hint at being selfish. I agree with you. I don't believe you should be just a lay for anyone. I always hated you being married to W. I, yes I am going to say it, wish BJ would get lost. There I am, married again. We have been since the Spring. The thing is that I could be married to this one for the next 30 years, but I have come to a realization. I hope you feel the same way so I don't come off like some pansy. I love you, and will always. I always wish there was a way where we could at least hook up for a day, talk, hang out together, and make love to each other and show each other how we feel for one another again. I wish we lived a lot closer to each other. That is the reason I said something about you coming to [his town] sometime. If I wasn't married, I would come up there and sweep you off your feet. You deserve someone to do that. I just don't want to have sex with you. Making love to you and showing you the affection you need is important. I don't want you to think that where I am concerned. I know it may sound strange that I am saying this with being married again, but my feeling for you are never going to go away. We were married before and we met to hang out and make love. I went to LNJ with you and we spent the night together. If I had a chance to do it again, I would go with you. TS, I will always love you. I apologize for being the shy kid back in high school and not being outgoing. We could have married each other back then. Maybe we could have been able to maintain our girlish figures lol and all would have been great.
But we are here now. You and I are always going to stay in touch. I know what you are going through. I really do. If the opportunity arises I would like to see you. I hope to hear from you soon. I love you sweetheart. I always will.
Love always,
J
Not the man I thought he was at all. Not at all. Don’t think I can even remain friends at this point. May take some time to figure out what, if anything, to write back.
Are all men idiots?
Thursday, December 04, 2008
Next Up: Peace in the Middle West
Regarding this post I want to do a little follow up. I’m not sure it all came across the way I intended, and even if it did I want to share a little of the conversation W and I had that night about the issues I had, and some I didn’t even know I had.
The parts about that previous post that I thoroughly enjoyed were (1) finding out that his financial life isn’t all that he makes it out to be and (2) sending the Credit Card Guy to calling him way earlier than he cares to be awoken in the morning.
There were plenty of parts I didn’t like such as (1) finding out that his financial life is as much a shambles as it would have been for years had I not been the one in our marriage to rein in the out-of-control spending so I fear he will be broke almost as soon as I pay him for his share of the equity in the house, (2) realizing just how important it is to legally rid myself of him and his money woes, and probably most importantly (3) finding out that N was privy to what I considered way TMI with regard to Q. In addition, N had talked to me just the night before about issues he has with W and Q. I told him he would need to take up those issues with W to which he replied that Q is always around so he can’t talk to W privately.
All of that led to my final statement of the post that if I didn’t get what I considered appropriate responses from W regarding my concerns I would head straight into my attorney’s office and start handling things on a whole new level.
At lunchtime that day I tried to call W and naturally got voicemail. No surprise there. I left him a message asking that we talk that evening by phone over some issues that N had raised with me that had me concerned. In the middle of the afternoon, W called me at work, oblivious that I’d left him a message, said he’d never gotten it, to tell me he and Q were going out of town for the afternoon/evening. (like I care; I am not sure his point here other than liking to rub my nose in the fact that he has someone now; truth be told I could care less what they do when or where as long as it doesn’t impact N, and he wasn’t scheduled to have N that day at all so there was no reason to tell me his/their plans; whatever) I told him that in the message I asked if we could talk later that evening after N was in bed or sometime the next day. He agreed to talk later that evening.
(Okay, okay, I know this is a lot of detail, probably more than you want to know, but I’m kind of using this blog as documentation for myself in case I need it later in the divorce proceedings so bear with me here. (I almost wrote “bare” instead of “bear.” Heh, heh. Now that could lead to something more interesting.))
Fast forward to later that evening following N and I attending a heartbreaking Illini loss to Clemson in the ACC/Big Ten Challenge, returning home and getting N to bed. I call W. He starts the conversation by saying that he thinks he knows what I want to discuss. Really? He thinks it has to do with some bad language. I, having not a clue what he was referencing but assuming Q must have a mouth on her, played dumb and asked if N had been using language of which we don’t approve. Oh no, he assured me, N hadn’t said anything inappropriate. Ah, I said, so Q was the one? Yes, he explained that Q had used some language that has never been allowed in our family (at least in front of N) and that N had given W “the look” when it happened. W assured me that he had spoken to Q about it, and there would no longer be a problem. Okay, well there was one problem we had that I didn’t even know before, but at least it appeared to be resolved. (May I also say here and now that I have never had any problem at all with BJ acting and speaking inappropriately around N. BJ and I, when by ourselves, may talk with coarser language, but never in front of N. It wasn’t even something we ever had to discuss, ever.)
Moving on, I told W that wasn’t what I had wanted to discuss, but I was glad he shared it with me. I started with N’s complaint that he has no time when he can talk to W privately. I explained that I try to encourage N to take up issues he has with W or Q with W directly, but that N tells me he can’t because Q is always right there. W started to dispute that he and N have no time together without Q. However, he then went into how it will soon be better once she starts her job next week, and she won’t be around during the day so that when he has N after school it will be just the two of them. I told him that he needs to talk to N about it and provide N with a way to approach him to talk about things without Q’s participation. He agreed. (at least verbally he agreed, whether he follows through may be a very different story)
I then broached the subject of TMI being shared inappropriately. I told W that I have no interest in what his and Q’s relationship is or what other relationships Q may or may not have, but N needs to have good examples set for him. That may mean not talking about certain things in his presence. That may mean modifying behavior in his presence. It definitely means that I will not stand by and allow my son to be exposed to ideas and concepts that are beyond his years. While W argued that N misconstrued things that had been said (and I agree that N has a way of twisting things sometimes) I said that it is important that we help him understand when he misunderstands and do our best to keep his best interests as our #1 priority. He agreed. (at least verbally he agreed, whether he follows through may be a very different story)
My next issue for discussion was W and I needing to be able to discuss things related to N and our divorce without Q’s participation and input. I shared with him my discomfort when she was unable to stay out of simple discussions that take place when I pick N up at his apartment. I feel it is completely inappropriate for her to offer her input when W and I are talking about N’s welfare. I offered that perhaps it is because she doesn’t have children that she doesn’t understand boundaries (and that applies to most of the issues that I have with her). I also explained that if I am hesitant to engage in conversation with him in her presence that is the reason. I will no longer speak to him about such things in her presence and will defer any discussions that he tries to initiate in her presence. I reminded him that I always tried to stay out of his relationships with his first family, not interjecting into their discussions or disagreements. If I felt I had input to offer him I would do it only after the fact, in private just to him. I expect Q to show that same respect. He agreed and said he would address it with Q. (at least verbally he agreed, whether he follows through may be a very different story)
My final issue that I raised was Q living with W. I told him that it made me uncomfortable, particularly given the issues above. I told him that I have always made it very clear to N when he asks about BJ and me that I’m not willing to go there until the divorce is final. I told W that I think it is a very bad example to set for N to have a girlfriend (or boyfriend) move in when any of the parties are still married. At this point, W assured me that Q living with him is a temporary thing, until Q finds a place of her own. I guess I’m glad that this conversation was taking place over the phone so W couldn’t see my eyes rolling into the back of my head. I couldn’t help but think that when I moved up here it took me one weekend to find a place to rent. Of course, I was looking for cheap and temporary so it wasn’t quite the same thing. Even still she ought to find something in a couple of weeks I would think. We shall see.
I reminded him that I was trying to make this a cooperative thing, not an adversarial thing. Like it or not, we have to deal with each other for at least another eight years until N is no longer a minor.
The upshot is that W was cooperative enough (for now) to keep me from dragging the attorney into it (for now).
An uneasy truce has settled upon the land.
-----------------------------------------
Oh, and as an aside, there were several points in the conversation where I got the feeling that there may be trouble in paradise over at W's place. Hmm, perhaps being together 24/7 this last week or so isn't all it's cracked up to be. Can't imagine why that could be. I mean, after all, they've known each other for at least a month. That should be plenty of time to decide to live together, right? /snark
The parts about that previous post that I thoroughly enjoyed were (1) finding out that his financial life isn’t all that he makes it out to be and (2) sending the Credit Card Guy to calling him way earlier than he cares to be awoken in the morning.
There were plenty of parts I didn’t like such as (1) finding out that his financial life is as much a shambles as it would have been for years had I not been the one in our marriage to rein in the out-of-control spending so I fear he will be broke almost as soon as I pay him for his share of the equity in the house, (2) realizing just how important it is to legally rid myself of him and his money woes, and probably most importantly (3) finding out that N was privy to what I considered way TMI with regard to Q. In addition, N had talked to me just the night before about issues he has with W and Q. I told him he would need to take up those issues with W to which he replied that Q is always around so he can’t talk to W privately.
All of that led to my final statement of the post that if I didn’t get what I considered appropriate responses from W regarding my concerns I would head straight into my attorney’s office and start handling things on a whole new level.
At lunchtime that day I tried to call W and naturally got voicemail. No surprise there. I left him a message asking that we talk that evening by phone over some issues that N had raised with me that had me concerned. In the middle of the afternoon, W called me at work, oblivious that I’d left him a message, said he’d never gotten it, to tell me he and Q were going out of town for the afternoon/evening. (like I care; I am not sure his point here other than liking to rub my nose in the fact that he has someone now; truth be told I could care less what they do when or where as long as it doesn’t impact N, and he wasn’t scheduled to have N that day at all so there was no reason to tell me his/their plans; whatever) I told him that in the message I asked if we could talk later that evening after N was in bed or sometime the next day. He agreed to talk later that evening.
(Okay, okay, I know this is a lot of detail, probably more than you want to know, but I’m kind of using this blog as documentation for myself in case I need it later in the divorce proceedings so bear with me here. (I almost wrote “bare” instead of “bear.” Heh, heh. Now that could lead to something more interesting.))
Fast forward to later that evening following N and I attending a heartbreaking Illini loss to Clemson in the ACC/Big Ten Challenge, returning home and getting N to bed. I call W. He starts the conversation by saying that he thinks he knows what I want to discuss. Really? He thinks it has to do with some bad language. I, having not a clue what he was referencing but assuming Q must have a mouth on her, played dumb and asked if N had been using language of which we don’t approve. Oh no, he assured me, N hadn’t said anything inappropriate. Ah, I said, so Q was the one? Yes, he explained that Q had used some language that has never been allowed in our family (at least in front of N) and that N had given W “the look” when it happened. W assured me that he had spoken to Q about it, and there would no longer be a problem. Okay, well there was one problem we had that I didn’t even know before, but at least it appeared to be resolved. (May I also say here and now that I have never had any problem at all with BJ acting and speaking inappropriately around N. BJ and I, when by ourselves, may talk with coarser language, but never in front of N. It wasn’t even something we ever had to discuss, ever.)
Moving on, I told W that wasn’t what I had wanted to discuss, but I was glad he shared it with me. I started with N’s complaint that he has no time when he can talk to W privately. I explained that I try to encourage N to take up issues he has with W or Q with W directly, but that N tells me he can’t because Q is always right there. W started to dispute that he and N have no time together without Q. However, he then went into how it will soon be better once she starts her job next week, and she won’t be around during the day so that when he has N after school it will be just the two of them. I told him that he needs to talk to N about it and provide N with a way to approach him to talk about things without Q’s participation. He agreed. (at least verbally he agreed, whether he follows through may be a very different story)
I then broached the subject of TMI being shared inappropriately. I told W that I have no interest in what his and Q’s relationship is or what other relationships Q may or may not have, but N needs to have good examples set for him. That may mean not talking about certain things in his presence. That may mean modifying behavior in his presence. It definitely means that I will not stand by and allow my son to be exposed to ideas and concepts that are beyond his years. While W argued that N misconstrued things that had been said (and I agree that N has a way of twisting things sometimes) I said that it is important that we help him understand when he misunderstands and do our best to keep his best interests as our #1 priority. He agreed. (at least verbally he agreed, whether he follows through may be a very different story)
My next issue for discussion was W and I needing to be able to discuss things related to N and our divorce without Q’s participation and input. I shared with him my discomfort when she was unable to stay out of simple discussions that take place when I pick N up at his apartment. I feel it is completely inappropriate for her to offer her input when W and I are talking about N’s welfare. I offered that perhaps it is because she doesn’t have children that she doesn’t understand boundaries (and that applies to most of the issues that I have with her). I also explained that if I am hesitant to engage in conversation with him in her presence that is the reason. I will no longer speak to him about such things in her presence and will defer any discussions that he tries to initiate in her presence. I reminded him that I always tried to stay out of his relationships with his first family, not interjecting into their discussions or disagreements. If I felt I had input to offer him I would do it only after the fact, in private just to him. I expect Q to show that same respect. He agreed and said he would address it with Q. (at least verbally he agreed, whether he follows through may be a very different story)
My final issue that I raised was Q living with W. I told him that it made me uncomfortable, particularly given the issues above. I told him that I have always made it very clear to N when he asks about BJ and me that I’m not willing to go there until the divorce is final. I told W that I think it is a very bad example to set for N to have a girlfriend (or boyfriend) move in when any of the parties are still married. At this point, W assured me that Q living with him is a temporary thing, until Q finds a place of her own. I guess I’m glad that this conversation was taking place over the phone so W couldn’t see my eyes rolling into the back of my head. I couldn’t help but think that when I moved up here it took me one weekend to find a place to rent. Of course, I was looking for cheap and temporary so it wasn’t quite the same thing. Even still she ought to find something in a couple of weeks I would think. We shall see.
I reminded him that I was trying to make this a cooperative thing, not an adversarial thing. Like it or not, we have to deal with each other for at least another eight years until N is no longer a minor.
The upshot is that W was cooperative enough (for now) to keep me from dragging the attorney into it (for now).
An uneasy truce has settled upon the land.
-----------------------------------------
Oh, and as an aside, there were several points in the conversation where I got the feeling that there may be trouble in paradise over at W's place. Hmm, perhaps being together 24/7 this last week or so isn't all it's cracked up to be. Can't imagine why that could be. I mean, after all, they've known each other for at least a month. That should be plenty of time to decide to live together, right? /snark
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
Chapter VIII: The Recent Past(ry)
All the previous chapters were originally written in June 2006 when I published them on my other blog. This chapter is about the time since then, the time covered by this blog so you’ve been witness (or had the opportunity at least) to what has gone on in my life.
Over the last two and a half years:
I struggled with depression.
I became an unfaithful spouse.
I fought to hold my marriage together.
I fought to get out of my marriage.
I fought to reconnect with J.
I realized J wasn’t the right guy after all.
I found BJ.
I lost BJ.
I found BJ again.
I left another unsatisfying job.
I finally found a job I like.
I became a member of a church that didn’t want me.
I finally became a member of a church that not only wants me but appreciates me.
I moved from LOH to LNJ.
I tried and gave up on weight management repeatedly.
I got hit by a car and sustained injuries to my right foot.
I fell down the concrete steps in front of BJ’s apartment building and sustained injuries that are still unhealed to my left leg.
I returned to within 10 lbs of my all time high weight.
I struggled with finances.
I struggled with living on my own and caring for myself.
To say that stress has played some part in my life the last couple of years would be akin to saying that Native Americans were pressured slightly by the Europeans a couple of centuries ago. When I look at the long laundry list of things that have happened (many admittedly self-inflicted) it is no wonder to me that I have often felt out of control and like I was losing my grip on reality. In the midst of it all, I repeatedly turned to my oldest, dearest and most faithful friend – food. Throw in a little alcohol consumption on the side of course, just for good measure.
So what are my stats now? I’m at about 335 lbs. and wearing a 28W or 30W depending on the brand of clothing and how stretchy it is. Ouch. I have a closet full of clothes I can’t wear because they’re too small, and when I was losing weight I gave away my old too big clothes. With finances such as they are, my wearable wardrobe is down to four pair of slacks, two skirts, one pair of jeans, three split skirts, half a dozen sweaters, three long sleeve shirts and about a dozen short sleeve tops. I have a few sweatshirts that sort of fit but are really too tight and a couple pair of sweatpants that are the same. I am back to having nightmares about not having enough clothing, similar to the nightmares that would haunt my nights when I was in high school and college and not allowed to buy new clothing just because I couldn’t fit in the old clothing. The answer is so simple. Eat less. Lose the weight. Then I would have a multitude of clothes that fit. I would have work clothes and dressy clothes and casual clothes. If only I could, or would, lose the weight.
To be continued. . .
Next Installment: Looking toward the future
Over the last two and a half years:
I struggled with depression.
I became an unfaithful spouse.
I fought to hold my marriage together.
I fought to get out of my marriage.
I fought to reconnect with J.
I realized J wasn’t the right guy after all.
I found BJ.
I lost BJ.
I found BJ again.
I left another unsatisfying job.
I finally found a job I like.
I became a member of a church that didn’t want me.
I finally became a member of a church that not only wants me but appreciates me.
I moved from LOH to LNJ.
I tried and gave up on weight management repeatedly.
I got hit by a car and sustained injuries to my right foot.
I fell down the concrete steps in front of BJ’s apartment building and sustained injuries that are still unhealed to my left leg.
I returned to within 10 lbs of my all time high weight.
I struggled with finances.
I struggled with living on my own and caring for myself.
To say that stress has played some part in my life the last couple of years would be akin to saying that Native Americans were pressured slightly by the Europeans a couple of centuries ago. When I look at the long laundry list of things that have happened (many admittedly self-inflicted) it is no wonder to me that I have often felt out of control and like I was losing my grip on reality. In the midst of it all, I repeatedly turned to my oldest, dearest and most faithful friend – food. Throw in a little alcohol consumption on the side of course, just for good measure.
So what are my stats now? I’m at about 335 lbs. and wearing a 28W or 30W depending on the brand of clothing and how stretchy it is. Ouch. I have a closet full of clothes I can’t wear because they’re too small, and when I was losing weight I gave away my old too big clothes. With finances such as they are, my wearable wardrobe is down to four pair of slacks, two skirts, one pair of jeans, three split skirts, half a dozen sweaters, three long sleeve shirts and about a dozen short sleeve tops. I have a few sweatshirts that sort of fit but are really too tight and a couple pair of sweatpants that are the same. I am back to having nightmares about not having enough clothing, similar to the nightmares that would haunt my nights when I was in high school and college and not allowed to buy new clothing just because I couldn’t fit in the old clothing. The answer is so simple. Eat less. Lose the weight. Then I would have a multitude of clothes that fit. I would have work clothes and dressy clothes and casual clothes. If only I could, or would, lose the weight.
To be continued. . .
Next Installment: Looking toward the future
Because It Is, After All, All About Me
It's BJ's birthday. (Go visit him at his blog and tell him "Happy Birthday" or send him birthday greetings at bjxxx AT yahoo DOT com)
I'm taking him out for dinner this evening, and I may just have a little present for him too. However, when he's blessed with someone like this:
what more could he want?
I'm taking him out for dinner this evening, and I may just have a little present for him too. However, when he's blessed with someone like this:
what more could he want?
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
I Enjoyed That Perhaps Just a Little Too Much
(It is morning in the Trueself household. N and TS are preparing to leave for the day. The phone rings)
TS: (grumbling) Who calls this early in the day?
(TS picks up the phone and sees on Caller ID that it is a credit card company with whom she has no credit card.)
TS: Hello?
Credit Card Guy (CCG) with strong Indian accent: May I speak to W please?
TS: I'm sorry he no longer lives here.
CCG: He is not at this number? Could I confirm the telephone number with you?
TS: Sure, it's [and I gave the phone number, and no, I'm not even coming close to giving it out here, but suffice to say it was a three digit area code, three digit local code, and four digit number so you go figure it out now]. Would you like his new number?
CCG: Hmm? Oh, okay sure. Hold on. . . (What did he need to do, go get a crayon and some paper? Doesn't he sit in front of a computer where he could just enter the information?) Yes, go ahead.
TS: Okay, it's [and I gave the phone number, and no, I'm not giving that one out either no matter how much I would love to share his number with the world so that he could receive harrassing phone calls at odd hours].
CCG: Do you know what time would be a good time to reach him?
TS: I'd say about anytime during the day (thinking to myself: since he doesn't work or anything)
CCG: So do you think this would be a good time to call him?
TS: (looking at watch, seeing that it is just after 8:00 a.m. and knowing W loves to sleep late, like 10:00 or so) Absolutely! I think this would be a very good time to call him.
CCG: Okay, I will get this in the database today. It may take up to 24 hours for this change to be recorded in the database so please ignore any further calls you may receive from Credit Card Co. in the next 24 hours.
(TS hangs up phone.)
N: Who was that?
TS: Just someone looking for your dad.
N: Who?
TS: I don't know. Just someone with a heavy Indian accent that made it hard to understand.
N: Dad's dating an Indian?
TS: No, Dad has Q. He wouldn't have more than one girlfriend at a time.
N: Q does. She's got a very bestest friend who's a guy and isn't Dad.
TS: Hmm, well I don't know about any of that (and thinking to myself that there can be a big difference between best friends and lovers so it may be nothing anyway), but no this was a business call not anyone Dad is dating.
(The scene ends as TS and N leave the house to begin their day.)
I will be speaking to W today and if I don't get adequate answers and cooperation, I will be speaking with my attorney forthwith.
TS: (grumbling) Who calls this early in the day?
(TS picks up the phone and sees on Caller ID that it is a credit card company with whom she has no credit card.)
TS: Hello?
Credit Card Guy (CCG) with strong Indian accent: May I speak to W please?
TS: I'm sorry he no longer lives here.
CCG: He is not at this number? Could I confirm the telephone number with you?
TS: Sure, it's [and I gave the phone number, and no, I'm not even coming close to giving it out here, but suffice to say it was a three digit area code, three digit local code, and four digit number so you go figure it out now]. Would you like his new number?
CCG: Hmm? Oh, okay sure. Hold on. . . (What did he need to do, go get a crayon and some paper? Doesn't he sit in front of a computer where he could just enter the information?) Yes, go ahead.
TS: Okay, it's [and I gave the phone number, and no, I'm not giving that one out either no matter how much I would love to share his number with the world so that he could receive harrassing phone calls at odd hours].
CCG: Do you know what time would be a good time to reach him?
TS: I'd say about anytime during the day (thinking to myself: since he doesn't work or anything)
CCG: So do you think this would be a good time to call him?
TS: (looking at watch, seeing that it is just after 8:00 a.m. and knowing W loves to sleep late, like 10:00 or so) Absolutely! I think this would be a very good time to call him.
CCG: Okay, I will get this in the database today. It may take up to 24 hours for this change to be recorded in the database so please ignore any further calls you may receive from Credit Card Co. in the next 24 hours.
(TS hangs up phone.)
N: Who was that?
TS: Just someone looking for your dad.
N: Who?
TS: I don't know. Just someone with a heavy Indian accent that made it hard to understand.
N: Dad's dating an Indian?
TS: No, Dad has Q. He wouldn't have more than one girlfriend at a time.
N: Q does. She's got a very bestest friend who's a guy and isn't Dad.
TS: Hmm, well I don't know about any of that (and thinking to myself that there can be a big difference between best friends and lovers so it may be nothing anyway), but no this was a business call not anyone Dad is dating.
(The scene ends as TS and N leave the house to begin their day.)
I will be speaking to W today and if I don't get adequate answers and cooperation, I will be speaking with my attorney forthwith.
Monday, December 01, 2008
Chapter VII: Weight Loss – End Success, Begin Fail
When we moved, most of the things with which I had been so comfortable no longer were: no job and little comfort about finding a new one, my home life was in turmoil and in boxes, finances were a huge question mark given the no job thing, and of course in leaving our home we were also leaving our church community. N remained a joy most of the time, but acted out from the stresses he felt at leaving behind friends from his preschool and adults that played a significant role in his young life. Life was definitely no longer comfortable.
We spent a bit more than a week driving two minivans halfway across the country to our new home. We took our time, stopping in several locations along the way to spend a day or two visiting with various family members. We were in no hurry to arrive in LOH because escrow on our house would not close until two weeks after we arrived even with our slow cross country journey. We would be living with my parents for those two weeks (yikes!) while we waited to get into our house. No need to prolong that living arrangement so we took our time getting there.
Amazingly enough, I was able to continue my WW success the first month or so after we arrived. I had not yet found a WW meeting to attend but had been doing it long enough that I knew what to do like the back of my hand. By the time I did return to a meeting I weighed in at 211 so I was still making progress. Over the next several months, I struggled to find a leader that I clicked with and never really did. For a while I did keep losing, and as earlier stated eventually hit 197, for one week. I really, really struggled right around the 200 lb. point. Under 200 lbs, the points allowed per day were significantly less than when I started. I struggled to stay within my points allowance and couldn’t bear to think of having to ratchet down again when I hit 175 and then 150. My focus shifted from health to the scale. It was a bad shift.
I don’t know if W and I were just incredibly busy and forgot about each other, or if we were struggling each in our own way to deal with the upheaval in our lives, but I do know that we were not as close as we had been in the past. There was very little physical affection between us, kisses were only light pecks on the cheek and sex occurred only when I would initiate it. I didn’t like the feeling that I was forcing myself on W so I would wait a long time from one time to the next, always hoping he would show some level of interest on his own. That didn’t happen. I started to feel that old urge to look for comfort in someone or something else.
My weight started to drift upward. I became sloppy about what I journalled. After our move, I had not continued my walking as I did not enjoy having to walk up and down the hills of our neighborhood (our old neighborhood had been flat and easy walking). I got one job where lunch was brought in for us from local restaurants every day sometimes, not always, making it difficult to find a low-point choice. Several months later, I left that job for a new job at a different company where I quickly learned that the stress was enormous, the CEO was (in my opinion) unethical, and the work hours completely outrageous (more than once I arrived home after 1:00 a.m. despite starting my day at 8:30 a.m.). I only lasted five months there and gained at least 30 lbs, an alarming rate of gain. I found a new job, again, and things leveled off for a while. The work was not demanding, and I could easily get it done with time left over. I didn’t gain, but also didn’t lose. I tried a new WW meeting, one that I liked okay, and I made a small amount of progress. I struggled to regain my old WW habits, and it wasn’t coming nearly as easily this time around. I started to see a therapist to discuss the issues that I have with eating, binging, weight, etc hoping that I could gain control before things got too far out of hand.
The next crisis hit. In the summer of 2005, W got sick, very sick, and spent a couple of weeks in the hospital. It was a scary time. I completely set aside all thoughts of weight control, and I lost control completely. Often I would leave the hospital only to hit the nearest drive-through on the way home. I binged on all manner of fast food, but my favorite was Long John Silvers fish, Steak ‘n’ Shake Onion Rings and Dairy Queen blizzards, not generally all in the same day though it wouldn’t completely surprise me if I did have all three of those things in one day a time or two that summer. I could barely drive by a fast food place without being tempted to pull through and get something, anything.
After W’s illness and surgery, I told him that I would wait for him to be ready to resume intimacy in the bedroom and would wait until he initiated something. He never did.
W healed, and things started to look better. Then in early autumn of that same year W fell, breaking his shoulder. We were back in crisis mode, and my eating was back in binge mode. By the time I made my way back to WW that November, I weighed 275 lbs. Over the holidays, I would lose a little one week, gain a little the next. By the time I left WW in February I still weighed 275 lbs. W finally healed from the fall and started feeling better. W still had made no moves toward me regarding intimacy. His coldness was too reminiscent of the coldness I felt from my parents in my childhood. I ached for some attention, some touch, some comfort. I feel fortunate I only gained 10 more lbs. during my most severe bout with depression in early 2006, bringing me to a hefty 285 lbs, wearing 26W again after having been in sizes as small as 16 (without the W) around the time I started this blog as J reentered my life, and as I’ve well documented in my archives here all manner of chaos ensued.
To be continued. . .
Next installment: My Weight the Last Couple of Years
We spent a bit more than a week driving two minivans halfway across the country to our new home. We took our time, stopping in several locations along the way to spend a day or two visiting with various family members. We were in no hurry to arrive in LOH because escrow on our house would not close until two weeks after we arrived even with our slow cross country journey. We would be living with my parents for those two weeks (yikes!) while we waited to get into our house. No need to prolong that living arrangement so we took our time getting there.
Amazingly enough, I was able to continue my WW success the first month or so after we arrived. I had not yet found a WW meeting to attend but had been doing it long enough that I knew what to do like the back of my hand. By the time I did return to a meeting I weighed in at 211 so I was still making progress. Over the next several months, I struggled to find a leader that I clicked with and never really did. For a while I did keep losing, and as earlier stated eventually hit 197, for one week. I really, really struggled right around the 200 lb. point. Under 200 lbs, the points allowed per day were significantly less than when I started. I struggled to stay within my points allowance and couldn’t bear to think of having to ratchet down again when I hit 175 and then 150. My focus shifted from health to the scale. It was a bad shift.
I don’t know if W and I were just incredibly busy and forgot about each other, or if we were struggling each in our own way to deal with the upheaval in our lives, but I do know that we were not as close as we had been in the past. There was very little physical affection between us, kisses were only light pecks on the cheek and sex occurred only when I would initiate it. I didn’t like the feeling that I was forcing myself on W so I would wait a long time from one time to the next, always hoping he would show some level of interest on his own. That didn’t happen. I started to feel that old urge to look for comfort in someone or something else.
My weight started to drift upward. I became sloppy about what I journalled. After our move, I had not continued my walking as I did not enjoy having to walk up and down the hills of our neighborhood (our old neighborhood had been flat and easy walking). I got one job where lunch was brought in for us from local restaurants every day sometimes, not always, making it difficult to find a low-point choice. Several months later, I left that job for a new job at a different company where I quickly learned that the stress was enormous, the CEO was (in my opinion) unethical, and the work hours completely outrageous (more than once I arrived home after 1:00 a.m. despite starting my day at 8:30 a.m.). I only lasted five months there and gained at least 30 lbs, an alarming rate of gain. I found a new job, again, and things leveled off for a while. The work was not demanding, and I could easily get it done with time left over. I didn’t gain, but also didn’t lose. I tried a new WW meeting, one that I liked okay, and I made a small amount of progress. I struggled to regain my old WW habits, and it wasn’t coming nearly as easily this time around. I started to see a therapist to discuss the issues that I have with eating, binging, weight, etc hoping that I could gain control before things got too far out of hand.
The next crisis hit. In the summer of 2005, W got sick, very sick, and spent a couple of weeks in the hospital. It was a scary time. I completely set aside all thoughts of weight control, and I lost control completely. Often I would leave the hospital only to hit the nearest drive-through on the way home. I binged on all manner of fast food, but my favorite was Long John Silvers fish, Steak ‘n’ Shake Onion Rings and Dairy Queen blizzards, not generally all in the same day though it wouldn’t completely surprise me if I did have all three of those things in one day a time or two that summer. I could barely drive by a fast food place without being tempted to pull through and get something, anything.
After W’s illness and surgery, I told him that I would wait for him to be ready to resume intimacy in the bedroom and would wait until he initiated something. He never did.
W healed, and things started to look better. Then in early autumn of that same year W fell, breaking his shoulder. We were back in crisis mode, and my eating was back in binge mode. By the time I made my way back to WW that November, I weighed 275 lbs. Over the holidays, I would lose a little one week, gain a little the next. By the time I left WW in February I still weighed 275 lbs. W finally healed from the fall and started feeling better. W still had made no moves toward me regarding intimacy. His coldness was too reminiscent of the coldness I felt from my parents in my childhood. I ached for some attention, some touch, some comfort. I feel fortunate I only gained 10 more lbs. during my most severe bout with depression in early 2006, bringing me to a hefty 285 lbs, wearing 26W again after having been in sizes as small as 16 (without the W) around the time I started this blog as J reentered my life, and as I’ve well documented in my archives here all manner of chaos ensued.
To be continued. . .
Next installment: My Weight the Last Couple of Years
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Curiouser & Curiouser
In the past week things have certainly taken some interesting twists and turns. The following items are reported without organization but just as they pop into my head.
Q has moved in with W. Yep. Just like that. Just that quick. W asked me for "permission" to live with Q on Tuesday. "Permission?" I asked. "I don't really think I have any say in the matter, do I?" W replied that he thought I did since we're still married sort of. I laughed, and that was the end of the conversation. She moved in on Wednesday. Okay, so call me a prude and/or a hypocrite, but I just don't think it is setting the right example for N for W and Q to live together when N spends some nights at W's apartment. I do not ever have BJ sleep over with me when N is around. BJ and I are in agreement that it is inappropriate to do so at this stage of the relationship.
N and I spent Thanksgiving with my parents. Dad is doing surprisingly well. Apparently the chemo is doing its job, and the tumor in his liver is shrinking significantly. Mom is tired, chronically tired, although she won't come close to admitting it. As expected, she wouldn't let me help in the kitchen. Not as expected, she didn't make as big a dinner as in the past. She's tired. Dad gave me money to help me out a bit with my finances, not a lot, but enough that at least I now feel like I can afford a bit of a Christmas for N.
Friday night (well Saturday morning really) I was up around 3:30 for my nightly stumble into the bathroom. On the way back to bed I noticed through the window an SUV stop in front of the house two doors down. Three teenage boys got out, and the SUV drove away. The three boys proceeded to drag bag after bag of leaves from the two houses next door out into the street positioning the bags in a sort of blockade the full width of the street. As I watched them working I dialed 911 and reported their vandalism. Although the police arrived fairly quickly the boys were gone by the time they arrived. Yes, I'm becoming one of those grouchy old ladies that reports teenage pranks to the police.
W brought Q to church with him today. For no reason that I can understand, they were there early, early enough that they were there before I was, and I had to be there 15 minutes before Sunday School started as I'm serving a rotation as teacher for some of the kids. There she was, waiting to say hello as I hung up my coat. It took all my inner strength to stay for the service after Sunday School. I wanted to bolt out the door, but I didn't. I stayed. I stayed long enough to watch as W introduced Q to people while he had his arm around her waist. I stayed long enough to be greeted by her one more time during the passing of the peace. I stayed long enough to be nauseous. As soon as the service was over, I checked with W to make sure I knew that time he would be bringing N home (he had N this weekend), and I bolted out the door and home to BJ.
I had a meltdown this afternoon on the phone with W. I am so incredibly frustrated by his refusal to respond to me when I leave messages for him. The only time I leave messages for him is when it pertains to N or the divorce or our finances, all issues that are important. I never call him just to talk or for frivolous reasons. I am sick and tired of him not responding to me, and I let him know that in no uncertain terms. While he didn't apologize (no surprise there) he did acknowledge that he had been doing that and said he would change (yeah, wouldn't be the first time I've heard that about any number of things only to have things stay exactly the same).
Q has moved in with W. Yep. Just like that. Just that quick. W asked me for "permission" to live with Q on Tuesday. "Permission?" I asked. "I don't really think I have any say in the matter, do I?" W replied that he thought I did since we're still married sort of. I laughed, and that was the end of the conversation. She moved in on Wednesday. Okay, so call me a prude and/or a hypocrite, but I just don't think it is setting the right example for N for W and Q to live together when N spends some nights at W's apartment. I do not ever have BJ sleep over with me when N is around. BJ and I are in agreement that it is inappropriate to do so at this stage of the relationship.
N and I spent Thanksgiving with my parents. Dad is doing surprisingly well. Apparently the chemo is doing its job, and the tumor in his liver is shrinking significantly. Mom is tired, chronically tired, although she won't come close to admitting it. As expected, she wouldn't let me help in the kitchen. Not as expected, she didn't make as big a dinner as in the past. She's tired. Dad gave me money to help me out a bit with my finances, not a lot, but enough that at least I now feel like I can afford a bit of a Christmas for N.
Friday night (well Saturday morning really) I was up around 3:30 for my nightly stumble into the bathroom. On the way back to bed I noticed through the window an SUV stop in front of the house two doors down. Three teenage boys got out, and the SUV drove away. The three boys proceeded to drag bag after bag of leaves from the two houses next door out into the street positioning the bags in a sort of blockade the full width of the street. As I watched them working I dialed 911 and reported their vandalism. Although the police arrived fairly quickly the boys were gone by the time they arrived. Yes, I'm becoming one of those grouchy old ladies that reports teenage pranks to the police.
W brought Q to church with him today. For no reason that I can understand, they were there early, early enough that they were there before I was, and I had to be there 15 minutes before Sunday School started as I'm serving a rotation as teacher for some of the kids. There she was, waiting to say hello as I hung up my coat. It took all my inner strength to stay for the service after Sunday School. I wanted to bolt out the door, but I didn't. I stayed. I stayed long enough to watch as W introduced Q to people while he had his arm around her waist. I stayed long enough to be greeted by her one more time during the passing of the peace. I stayed long enough to be nauseous. As soon as the service was over, I checked with W to make sure I knew that time he would be bringing N home (he had N this weekend), and I bolted out the door and home to BJ.
I had a meltdown this afternoon on the phone with W. I am so incredibly frustrated by his refusal to respond to me when I leave messages for him. The only time I leave messages for him is when it pertains to N or the divorce or our finances, all issues that are important. I never call him just to talk or for frivolous reasons. I am sick and tired of him not responding to me, and I let him know that in no uncertain terms. While he didn't apologize (no surprise there) he did acknowledge that he had been doing that and said he would change (yeah, wouldn't be the first time I've heard that about any number of things only to have things stay exactly the same).
Chapter VI: Weight Loss – Success!
A little more than a month after N turned three, I joined Weight Watchers. I wish I could say I had some great revelation, some big turning point that told me I was ready to embark on the weight loss journey. I did not. I was not keen on the idea of joining, but a coworker kept trying to talk me into it. She was part of a WW group at work, and to keep the group going they had to keep a certain number of paying members. She was trying to round up anybody she could talk into it into joining. I had tried WW a few years before and found it to be too difficult for me to get in the right number of servings of this and that. However, Coworker assured me it was different now, much more flexible. I finally gave in and decided to give it a try.
At the introductory meeting, I was impressed by the Leader of the group. She had lost 40 lbs. on WW. She was enthusiastic, but realistic about the struggles people go through with weight loss. I felt an instant rapport with her, unlike the leader I’d had on my previous WW attempt. The program described was indeed flexible, much more so than the previous version I had tried. I decided to give this thing a try. On my very first weigh-in the scale read 343.4. No wonder I was almost too big for my 32W clothing (not an easy size to find, BTW). I believe I gasped or groaned. I know I gave some indication that I was taken aback by the enormity of the number. Leader said to me, “It’s okay. You’re never going to be that weight again.” I don’t know why, but that was the perfect thing to say to me at that moment. Somehow I felt deep down that she was right, that I was going to be able to make a difference in my weight this time. Wanting to really do it right, to be really committed, I bought the optional books with points for practically every food known to man, the dining out guide, the 12 week journal for tracking my points and the handy dandy carrying case for all of it.
There were three factors that probably contributed to my readiness to lose the weight at that particular time:
*My recognition that my weight was significantly impacting my health and happiness, but this was not enough without the second and third factors.
*I was comfortable in my life – my job was good, my home life was good, finances were good, N was a joy, I was actively involved in my church. Life wasn’t perfect, but it was comfortable. I was comfortable.
*My focus was on being healthy and eating healthy, not losing weight. I used the WW rules as a guide to healthy eating (limiting calories and fat while including fiber, eating veggies and fruits, drinking water, getting 2-3 servings of dairy per day) and focused on that rather than on the scale.
The weekend after joining WW, I left on a two week vacation to Las Vegas and Flagstaff. Maybe this wasn’t the best time to try a new weight loss thing. Maybe it was. The journaling aspect of WW was right up my alley. I’m a list maker by nature; tracking points fit right in to that nature. At my weight, I was allowed a substantial amount of points (don’t remember exactly how many, but I believe it was around 34 or 35 at approx. 50 calories/point) per day. I quickly learned how to choose lower point options in place of some of my high point favorites. I won’t say it was easy all the time, but for the most part it was. I was not struggling to stay within my points range on most days. I was not feeling deprived most times.
I returned home from vacation, and at the next WW meeting (having missed two while on vacation) I had lost 11 lbs. What a great start! I was so buoyed by this early success that I started to really believe that I could do this. And I did. I even started walking about 30 minutes a day through our neighborhood. N loved our walks together. So did I. I did very well for two years, eventually hitting an all-time post-college low of 197 lbs.
Then life became much, much less comfortable. I lost my job due to the company filing bankruptcy. Since N’s arrival, W and I had discussed the possibility of moving closer to family. We took the job situation to be a sign that the time was right to move. We decided to move back to LOH, the city where I started my adult life, close to my family. This would give N the chance to have a closer relationship with his grandparents than the once or twice a year visits we could manage when we lived so far away. Ten months after the company first declared bankruptcy I was laid off. I had known for about six months what my layoff date would be so we had planned our move as well as we could. I had no job to go to but had made several contacts on two trips to LOH. On one of these trips, we house hunted and purchased a nice, but affordable, home. Our old house sold quickly which was a blessing, but also a curse as it gave us less than 30 days from my layoff date to be out. That last month was a whirlwind of activity. I did manage to stay on WW throughout all of this, partly due to the wonderful support of Leader and partly due to the fact that it was the only thing in my life I felt I had any control over. I had not yet reached my low of 197 but was at about 220 when we made our move.
To be continued. . .
Next installment: Turning the corner from weight loss to gain, again
At the introductory meeting, I was impressed by the Leader of the group. She had lost 40 lbs. on WW. She was enthusiastic, but realistic about the struggles people go through with weight loss. I felt an instant rapport with her, unlike the leader I’d had on my previous WW attempt. The program described was indeed flexible, much more so than the previous version I had tried. I decided to give this thing a try. On my very first weigh-in the scale read 343.4. No wonder I was almost too big for my 32W clothing (not an easy size to find, BTW). I believe I gasped or groaned. I know I gave some indication that I was taken aback by the enormity of the number. Leader said to me, “It’s okay. You’re never going to be that weight again.” I don’t know why, but that was the perfect thing to say to me at that moment. Somehow I felt deep down that she was right, that I was going to be able to make a difference in my weight this time. Wanting to really do it right, to be really committed, I bought the optional books with points for practically every food known to man, the dining out guide, the 12 week journal for tracking my points and the handy dandy carrying case for all of it.
There were three factors that probably contributed to my readiness to lose the weight at that particular time:
*My recognition that my weight was significantly impacting my health and happiness, but this was not enough without the second and third factors.
*I was comfortable in my life – my job was good, my home life was good, finances were good, N was a joy, I was actively involved in my church. Life wasn’t perfect, but it was comfortable. I was comfortable.
*My focus was on being healthy and eating healthy, not losing weight. I used the WW rules as a guide to healthy eating (limiting calories and fat while including fiber, eating veggies and fruits, drinking water, getting 2-3 servings of dairy per day) and focused on that rather than on the scale.
The weekend after joining WW, I left on a two week vacation to Las Vegas and Flagstaff. Maybe this wasn’t the best time to try a new weight loss thing. Maybe it was. The journaling aspect of WW was right up my alley. I’m a list maker by nature; tracking points fit right in to that nature. At my weight, I was allowed a substantial amount of points (don’t remember exactly how many, but I believe it was around 34 or 35 at approx. 50 calories/point) per day. I quickly learned how to choose lower point options in place of some of my high point favorites. I won’t say it was easy all the time, but for the most part it was. I was not struggling to stay within my points range on most days. I was not feeling deprived most times.
I returned home from vacation, and at the next WW meeting (having missed two while on vacation) I had lost 11 lbs. What a great start! I was so buoyed by this early success that I started to really believe that I could do this. And I did. I even started walking about 30 minutes a day through our neighborhood. N loved our walks together. So did I. I did very well for two years, eventually hitting an all-time post-college low of 197 lbs.
Then life became much, much less comfortable. I lost my job due to the company filing bankruptcy. Since N’s arrival, W and I had discussed the possibility of moving closer to family. We took the job situation to be a sign that the time was right to move. We decided to move back to LOH, the city where I started my adult life, close to my family. This would give N the chance to have a closer relationship with his grandparents than the once or twice a year visits we could manage when we lived so far away. Ten months after the company first declared bankruptcy I was laid off. I had known for about six months what my layoff date would be so we had planned our move as well as we could. I had no job to go to but had made several contacts on two trips to LOH. On one of these trips, we house hunted and purchased a nice, but affordable, home. Our old house sold quickly which was a blessing, but also a curse as it gave us less than 30 days from my layoff date to be out. That last month was a whirlwind of activity. I did manage to stay on WW throughout all of this, partly due to the wonderful support of Leader and partly due to the fact that it was the only thing in my life I felt I had any control over. I had not yet reached my low of 197 but was at about 220 when we made our move.
To be continued. . .
Next installment: Turning the corner from weight loss to gain, again
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Chapter V: Growing Up (or at Least Out)
W and I started to develop a fairly “normal” life. I stayed home, took care of things around the house. He went to work each day. We rented a house with room for a garden. That summer we grew more vegetables than we could ever hope to eat ourselves and donated some to the kitchen at St. Vincent de Paul. We also got the landlord’s permission to get a dog so we got the cutest little basset hound puppy to keep me company during the day. The dog went everywhere with me and enjoyed sharing my junk food habits of Jack in the Box ultimate cheeseburgers.
Of course, this wasn’t a totally normal life. W was still married, though in the process of a divorce. His wife was doing her best to fight the divorce, insisting that they could work things out if he would come home. On other occasions, however, she threatened to kill both W and me. These threats weighed heavily on my mind. Neither W nor I was sure she wouldn’t follow through on them. Eventually, after a couple of years, W’s divorce was final. A few months later we were married, in a very private ceremony because there was nobody to invite. Nobody would have been happy to know we were getting married on his side or mine so we just didn’t tell anyone until after it was already done.
With W’s accepting attitude of me, I stopped worrying about my weight. I ate what I wanted when I wanted, not caring that my size was increasing steadily. In the back of my mind, though, I knew that being too heavy was not healthy, that I was not able to do certain things because of my weight, that I was often embarrassed in situations where I could not fit, at least not comfortably, in seats provided in a variety of situations from waiting rooms to theaters to airplanes.
Shortly after we married, I received a letter from J (apparently Mom & Dad had given him my mailing address) saying that he was now ready to think about marriage, and, if I remember right, asking me to return home to him. I cried when I received the letter. I cried and cried and cried. It was too late. I had loved J so much for so long and never felt that he returned that love (which, I believe, is at least part of the reason I continued to turn to other men throughout our relationship). Now he wanted me, but I had already moved on. I was already married to W. I couldn’t turn back. When I looked at the way W accepted me for who I was, making no judgments, just loving me each and every day, and compared that to how J had treated me, teasing me about my weight and about the facial hair I hadn’t yet learned to get waxed on a regular basis, and always holding back from giving me the love and acceptance I so coveted; I had to choose to stay with W. I didn’t think I could ever live up to what J would want me to be, and I never gave him the chance to prove otherwise. I wrote to J explaining that I had married. I don’t know what else I said in the letter, but I do know there was a pain in my heart when I put it in the mail. I loved W, but I also loved J. I don’t remember for sure, but I’ll bet you anything I binged big time the day I mailed that letter.
I moved on, putting J out of my mind (most of the time) and focused on my relationship with W. We shared everything with each other, told each other our deepest, darkest secrets, and accepted one another just as we were, imperfect by far but neither worse than the other. I felt that I was okay, good enough, for the first time in my life. Somehow, somewhere in the back of my mind continued the nagging feeling though that I wasn’t. I was good enough for W, good enough for this new life half a country away from my roots, but I would never be good enough to return to my family. I would never be truly okay.
Through the years, W and I had our ups and downs. I patiently stood by him when he left his job only to be unable to find another, at least another at a similar level. I found a job and became the main breadwinner of the family. W worked when and where he could, never turning down a job as too menial but doing what was necessary so that we could make ends meet which sometimes was a real struggle. As stress increased so did my weight. All through the years when we struggled with infertility, and I was told several times losing weight might help, I continued to gain, having only moderate success when I would try the diet du jour which I did fairly often. For several years, I hovered around the 275-285 lb. mark.
There came a point where I felt W was pulling away from me, and I think he may have felt the same way about me, but we rarely talked about it and looked to the outside world to be the happiest of couples. Most of the time we even convinced ourselves of it, at least on the surface. My weight started upward again.
Giving up hopes of ever having our biological child, we finally adopted. I was convinced that adopting a child would be the glue that would hold us together, bring us back to the closeness we once had. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Although we had discussed childrearing beforehand, the actual practice was far, far different from anything we had expected. This whole childrearing thing was harder, more time-consuming, and far more intrusive into our lives than we ever thought possible. Yet we both love N more than life itself. We would do anything for him. Unfortunately, W and I rarely agreed on what the right thing to do was. I found myself often deferring to W just to keep peace, and I believe he sometimes did the same. Far from bringing us closer, having N pushed W and me even farther apart. Food, my faithful friend, was truly the only comfort I could count on.
Having N changed my thinking about some things. With W’s parents both dead, the only chance N had for grandparents were my parents, the people I had cut so completely out of my life. They had never given up on me completely, though, and a few years before had tracked me down to where we were living at the time. After both FU and Mom came out to visit, we had resumed minimal contact through the mail. Three months after N was born, I wrote to my parents to tell them about him. They were thrilled to finally be grandparents.
We made arrangements to fly back to visit my parents when N was a few months old. It had been 13 years since I had been back there, and I was absolutely terrified. What would we say to one another? How would my parents react to my weight? I set down rules before we arrived. There was to be no mention of my weight, none at all, or we would leave immediately. I can’t imagine how many questions my parents wanted to ask when we were there, but they never asked anything at all about the missing 13 years. To this day, they have never asked me why I disappeared or anything about the intervening time. We stayed with them for a week on this first not-entirely-comfortable visit and focused all of our attentions mainly on N. I was starting to reconnect with my past, but was still safely ensconced in my new life far away.
By the time N turned three, my weight was at an all-time high of 343 lbs. N was (and is) the joy of my life. He was at an age where I needed to be on the floor playing with him or chasing him down when he ran (and he always ran, never walked) towards danger. At my weight, both were darn near impossible. When I did get down on the floor getting me up was a major effort. Running after N left me breathless, not to mention that he could move much faster than I could. For N, I did what I had never done for anyone else, not even myself. I joined Weight Watchers and lost over 140 lbs.
To be continued. . .
Next installment: Losing the weight
Of course, this wasn’t a totally normal life. W was still married, though in the process of a divorce. His wife was doing her best to fight the divorce, insisting that they could work things out if he would come home. On other occasions, however, she threatened to kill both W and me. These threats weighed heavily on my mind. Neither W nor I was sure she wouldn’t follow through on them. Eventually, after a couple of years, W’s divorce was final. A few months later we were married, in a very private ceremony because there was nobody to invite. Nobody would have been happy to know we were getting married on his side or mine so we just didn’t tell anyone until after it was already done.
With W’s accepting attitude of me, I stopped worrying about my weight. I ate what I wanted when I wanted, not caring that my size was increasing steadily. In the back of my mind, though, I knew that being too heavy was not healthy, that I was not able to do certain things because of my weight, that I was often embarrassed in situations where I could not fit, at least not comfortably, in seats provided in a variety of situations from waiting rooms to theaters to airplanes.
Shortly after we married, I received a letter from J (apparently Mom & Dad had given him my mailing address) saying that he was now ready to think about marriage, and, if I remember right, asking me to return home to him. I cried when I received the letter. I cried and cried and cried. It was too late. I had loved J so much for so long and never felt that he returned that love (which, I believe, is at least part of the reason I continued to turn to other men throughout our relationship). Now he wanted me, but I had already moved on. I was already married to W. I couldn’t turn back. When I looked at the way W accepted me for who I was, making no judgments, just loving me each and every day, and compared that to how J had treated me, teasing me about my weight and about the facial hair I hadn’t yet learned to get waxed on a regular basis, and always holding back from giving me the love and acceptance I so coveted; I had to choose to stay with W. I didn’t think I could ever live up to what J would want me to be, and I never gave him the chance to prove otherwise. I wrote to J explaining that I had married. I don’t know what else I said in the letter, but I do know there was a pain in my heart when I put it in the mail. I loved W, but I also loved J. I don’t remember for sure, but I’ll bet you anything I binged big time the day I mailed that letter.
I moved on, putting J out of my mind (most of the time) and focused on my relationship with W. We shared everything with each other, told each other our deepest, darkest secrets, and accepted one another just as we were, imperfect by far but neither worse than the other. I felt that I was okay, good enough, for the first time in my life. Somehow, somewhere in the back of my mind continued the nagging feeling though that I wasn’t. I was good enough for W, good enough for this new life half a country away from my roots, but I would never be good enough to return to my family. I would never be truly okay.
Through the years, W and I had our ups and downs. I patiently stood by him when he left his job only to be unable to find another, at least another at a similar level. I found a job and became the main breadwinner of the family. W worked when and where he could, never turning down a job as too menial but doing what was necessary so that we could make ends meet which sometimes was a real struggle. As stress increased so did my weight. All through the years when we struggled with infertility, and I was told several times losing weight might help, I continued to gain, having only moderate success when I would try the diet du jour which I did fairly often. For several years, I hovered around the 275-285 lb. mark.
There came a point where I felt W was pulling away from me, and I think he may have felt the same way about me, but we rarely talked about it and looked to the outside world to be the happiest of couples. Most of the time we even convinced ourselves of it, at least on the surface. My weight started upward again.
Giving up hopes of ever having our biological child, we finally adopted. I was convinced that adopting a child would be the glue that would hold us together, bring us back to the closeness we once had. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Although we had discussed childrearing beforehand, the actual practice was far, far different from anything we had expected. This whole childrearing thing was harder, more time-consuming, and far more intrusive into our lives than we ever thought possible. Yet we both love N more than life itself. We would do anything for him. Unfortunately, W and I rarely agreed on what the right thing to do was. I found myself often deferring to W just to keep peace, and I believe he sometimes did the same. Far from bringing us closer, having N pushed W and me even farther apart. Food, my faithful friend, was truly the only comfort I could count on.
Having N changed my thinking about some things. With W’s parents both dead, the only chance N had for grandparents were my parents, the people I had cut so completely out of my life. They had never given up on me completely, though, and a few years before had tracked me down to where we were living at the time. After both FU and Mom came out to visit, we had resumed minimal contact through the mail. Three months after N was born, I wrote to my parents to tell them about him. They were thrilled to finally be grandparents.
We made arrangements to fly back to visit my parents when N was a few months old. It had been 13 years since I had been back there, and I was absolutely terrified. What would we say to one another? How would my parents react to my weight? I set down rules before we arrived. There was to be no mention of my weight, none at all, or we would leave immediately. I can’t imagine how many questions my parents wanted to ask when we were there, but they never asked anything at all about the missing 13 years. To this day, they have never asked me why I disappeared or anything about the intervening time. We stayed with them for a week on this first not-entirely-comfortable visit and focused all of our attentions mainly on N. I was starting to reconnect with my past, but was still safely ensconced in my new life far away.
By the time N turned three, my weight was at an all-time high of 343 lbs. N was (and is) the joy of my life. He was at an age where I needed to be on the floor playing with him or chasing him down when he ran (and he always ran, never walked) towards danger. At my weight, both were darn near impossible. When I did get down on the floor getting me up was a major effort. Running after N left me breathless, not to mention that he could move much faster than I could. For N, I did what I had never done for anyone else, not even myself. I joined Weight Watchers and lost over 140 lbs.
To be continued. . .
Next installment: Losing the weight
Friday, November 28, 2008
Chapter IV: Weighting to Grow Up
Finally, I was an adult, at least that’s what it looked like on paper. I’d graduated college, earned two degrees, and finally after five months out of school I’d landed my first real job as a government auditor for the grand sum of $16k/year (plus $65 per diem expenses when out of my domicile which I often was).
I moved to my first apartment, in a bad part of town, with no air conditioning, but it really was okay because, as I said, I was often out of my domicile area staying in hotels or short-term apartments. The men in my life at the time were J and FBF (the boyfriend from the last couple of years at college). I don’t believe that J and FBF ever knew about each other, but I could be mistaken. I may have told one or the other of the other’s existence. The fact that one lived about 70-75 miles away from me and the other maybe 200 miles away from me in the opposite direction made it fairly easy to keep them from knowing of one another. FBF and I had become engaged while we were still in college, but I never told my family, or J, or any of my friends at home. I took off my engagement ring when I moved home at the end of college and tucked it away in a hidden place at the bottom of a drawer. Something tells me I wasn’t as serious about this engagement as FBF was. Certainly if I had been truly committed to FBF I would not have continued to date J. So here I was, in two long distance, sort of relationships, living completely on my own for the first time, traveling across the country for my job. I spent a good deal of time by myself, along with my best friend, food.
On one assignment, in Dallas for six months, I started dating Iranian Guy who lived upstairs from me and also spending weekends in Austin with a high school acquaintance with whom I became much more closely acquainted. Oh yes, I still had J and FBF back home. Did I even give a thought to the fact I was dating four different men at once? Nope. Not one. In spite of the attention of four men, I felt completely unloved and unlovable. It seemed that nobody could ever give me enough comfort, enough love, enough reassurance to make me feel good about myself. It would be a long time before I would come to the understanding that I had to look inside myself for that, not out to the rest of the world, or the next unlucky guy that asked me out on a date. By the time the Dallas assignment ended, I could barely fit in my 24W clothing. I left Dallas bigger, no wiser, and with no regrets that I was leaving Iranian Guy and Austin Guy behind. I had little feeling for either of them, but they had filled time if not the void in my life.
I returned home, and very soon thereafter met W. We were assigned to the same job in my home area, but not his. He and I both started arriving early at work to have breakfast together in the company cafeteria. We talked at length. I knew he was much, much older than I, and married, but he definitely seemed interested in me. I was never one to turn down attention. We went out a couple of times, and I even went back to his apartment once, but nothing happened, not even a kiss, not even a handshake. At the end of that job, W and I were both assigned to the same job in another city, outside of both of our domiciles. He and I stayed in the same hotel, ate dinner together every night, and eventually started spending the night in only one room instead of the two we were paying for. For whatever reason, W’s wife got suspicious and drove the couple of hours it took to get to the city of our assignment, talked the hotel personnel into letting her into W’s room, and she surprised us when we returned from dinner one evening (Okay, yes, it was dumb to be staying in his room instead of mine. Don’t know what we were thinking. Maybe we wanted to be caught on some level.) Much screaming ensued. As soon as I could, I returned to my own room. I didn’t turn to food that night. I was too terrified to have an appetite, but in the ensuing weeks as the turmoil continued I did binge many, many times.
It wasn’t long before W left his wife, and we moved in together. My next assignment was to take me to a city far away from W’s next assignment. Showing an utter lack of maturity, common sense or wisdom of any form, I called my boss and quit. Just told him I wouldn’t be showing up for the next assignment and basically gave him no reason. At the same time, I followed W to his next assignment and ended all contact with my family and friends, including J and FBF. What was I thinking? How could I do this? I believe I was running scared. I knew that I had pushed the boundaries beyond what anyone I knew and cared about would see as acceptable. I had done unthinkable things: taken up with a married man, a much older married man with children older than I, broken up his marriage, quit my job to be with him. Nobody could possibly understand those choices. I’m not sure I understood those choices. So I chose to disappear with no forwarding address.
W eventually was able to talk me into staying in some meager level of contact with my parents through a mailbox service in a completely different city that would forward mail to me without revealing my location. I was so ashamed of my behavior that at that time I really didn’t want to have any contact with them at all. I didn’t want to have to admit to them any of the wretched things I’d done, nor did I want them to have the chance to talk me out of it either. Mostly I wrote them on a sporadic basis just to let them know I was still alive, and almost never even read the letters they sent to me. I couldn’t bring myself to read them, to see what a disappointment I surely was in their eyes.
As I followed W from one assignment to the next, food and TV were my constant companions and best friends. I stayed home, watched TV, ate and waited for W to come home each day. That was my life. My weight rose steadily though W never, ever, ever said anything to me about it, and never indicated that I was anything less than beautiful. In W, it seemed I had found the love, the comfort, the affirmation that I had sought my entire life. He loved me no matter what, no matter how big I became, no matter how irrational I acted at times, no matter what I did or said, he stuck by my side and loved me.
To be continued. . .
Next installment: I finally start to grow up
I moved to my first apartment, in a bad part of town, with no air conditioning, but it really was okay because, as I said, I was often out of my domicile area staying in hotels or short-term apartments. The men in my life at the time were J and FBF (the boyfriend from the last couple of years at college). I don’t believe that J and FBF ever knew about each other, but I could be mistaken. I may have told one or the other of the other’s existence. The fact that one lived about 70-75 miles away from me and the other maybe 200 miles away from me in the opposite direction made it fairly easy to keep them from knowing of one another. FBF and I had become engaged while we were still in college, but I never told my family, or J, or any of my friends at home. I took off my engagement ring when I moved home at the end of college and tucked it away in a hidden place at the bottom of a drawer. Something tells me I wasn’t as serious about this engagement as FBF was. Certainly if I had been truly committed to FBF I would not have continued to date J. So here I was, in two long distance, sort of relationships, living completely on my own for the first time, traveling across the country for my job. I spent a good deal of time by myself, along with my best friend, food.
On one assignment, in Dallas for six months, I started dating Iranian Guy who lived upstairs from me and also spending weekends in Austin with a high school acquaintance with whom I became much more closely acquainted. Oh yes, I still had J and FBF back home. Did I even give a thought to the fact I was dating four different men at once? Nope. Not one. In spite of the attention of four men, I felt completely unloved and unlovable. It seemed that nobody could ever give me enough comfort, enough love, enough reassurance to make me feel good about myself. It would be a long time before I would come to the understanding that I had to look inside myself for that, not out to the rest of the world, or the next unlucky guy that asked me out on a date. By the time the Dallas assignment ended, I could barely fit in my 24W clothing. I left Dallas bigger, no wiser, and with no regrets that I was leaving Iranian Guy and Austin Guy behind. I had little feeling for either of them, but they had filled time if not the void in my life.
I returned home, and very soon thereafter met W. We were assigned to the same job in my home area, but not his. He and I both started arriving early at work to have breakfast together in the company cafeteria. We talked at length. I knew he was much, much older than I, and married, but he definitely seemed interested in me. I was never one to turn down attention. We went out a couple of times, and I even went back to his apartment once, but nothing happened, not even a kiss, not even a handshake. At the end of that job, W and I were both assigned to the same job in another city, outside of both of our domiciles. He and I stayed in the same hotel, ate dinner together every night, and eventually started spending the night in only one room instead of the two we were paying for. For whatever reason, W’s wife got suspicious and drove the couple of hours it took to get to the city of our assignment, talked the hotel personnel into letting her into W’s room, and she surprised us when we returned from dinner one evening (Okay, yes, it was dumb to be staying in his room instead of mine. Don’t know what we were thinking. Maybe we wanted to be caught on some level.) Much screaming ensued. As soon as I could, I returned to my own room. I didn’t turn to food that night. I was too terrified to have an appetite, but in the ensuing weeks as the turmoil continued I did binge many, many times.
It wasn’t long before W left his wife, and we moved in together. My next assignment was to take me to a city far away from W’s next assignment. Showing an utter lack of maturity, common sense or wisdom of any form, I called my boss and quit. Just told him I wouldn’t be showing up for the next assignment and basically gave him no reason. At the same time, I followed W to his next assignment and ended all contact with my family and friends, including J and FBF. What was I thinking? How could I do this? I believe I was running scared. I knew that I had pushed the boundaries beyond what anyone I knew and cared about would see as acceptable. I had done unthinkable things: taken up with a married man, a much older married man with children older than I, broken up his marriage, quit my job to be with him. Nobody could possibly understand those choices. I’m not sure I understood those choices. So I chose to disappear with no forwarding address.
W eventually was able to talk me into staying in some meager level of contact with my parents through a mailbox service in a completely different city that would forward mail to me without revealing my location. I was so ashamed of my behavior that at that time I really didn’t want to have any contact with them at all. I didn’t want to have to admit to them any of the wretched things I’d done, nor did I want them to have the chance to talk me out of it either. Mostly I wrote them on a sporadic basis just to let them know I was still alive, and almost never even read the letters they sent to me. I couldn’t bring myself to read them, to see what a disappointment I surely was in their eyes.
As I followed W from one assignment to the next, food and TV were my constant companions and best friends. I stayed home, watched TV, ate and waited for W to come home each day. That was my life. My weight rose steadily though W never, ever, ever said anything to me about it, and never indicated that I was anything less than beautiful. In W, it seemed I had found the love, the comfort, the affirmation that I had sought my entire life. He loved me no matter what, no matter how big I became, no matter how irrational I acted at times, no matter what I did or said, he stuck by my side and loved me.
To be continued. . .
Next installment: I finally start to grow up
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Happy Thanksgiving
Taking a break from the Weight Series for the grand champion holiday of eating today. N and I are at my parent's house meaning no internet meaning I wrote this and set it up to publish today because I just know y'all want to know how Trueself spends Thanksgiving. BJ is spending the day with his parents and his kids too. Maybe next year we'll be celebrating together. W is spending his holiday with Q. It's the first Thanksgiving W and I have been apart in 24 years.Today's itinerary:
Sleep in
Watch Macy's Parade on TV while drinking coffee and perusing massive pile of ads in the morning newspaper
Sit around playing board games while my mom slaves in the kitchen and refuses all offers of assistance
Eat mass quantities of starchy and delicious traditional Thanksgiving foods
Sit around moaning and groaning about the mass quantities of food ingested
Nap
Watch some TV, chat with my folks, try not to think about reality for the day
Happy Thanksgiving coolest blog readers in cyberspace. Hope you enjoy your day.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Chapter III: Gaining more in College than an Education
With college came immense amounts of freedom – no one looking over my shoulder to see what I was eating, no one to monitor what time I came home, no one to whom I had to be accountable. The very first night I was there, a high school friend of mine who also went to U of I and I went to a bar and drank beer for the first time. I hated the taste but loved the buzz and the way all my problems disappeared in a haze of alcohol induced euphoria. Soon I moved on to mixed drinks, finding them to be much more to my taste plus it took less volume to achieve the same buzz. This is not to say I didn’t take my studies seriously. I did – from Sunday afternoon through Friday afternoon. Friday nights and Saturdays were normally spent wasted followed by a huge hangover on Sunday morning. I guess what is truly amazing is that almost every Sunday I still managed to make the 10:30 church service (had to keep the illusion up to myself that I was still the good girl). In addition to all the added calories of my alcohol consumption, the dorm cafeteria provided me with ample opportunities to eat in unlimited quantities. I gained every bit of the “freshman 15” and then some. Every time I would go home on a break, Mom (and sometimes Dad) would give me a hard time about the weight I was gaining. When I started to outgrow my clothes they refused to buy more I guess because they thought that would force me to lose weight. It did not. Instead I wore the few things that still fit and squeezed in the best I could to some that didn’t.
The summer between freshman and sophomore year I found out exactly how much I weighed when I went to the student health clinic asking for a prescription for birth control pills (yes, I had discovered the joys of the one thing I never ever did in high school). I weighed in at 165 lbs, making me too overweight for them to prescribe birth control pills (which is actually kind of laughable as I was later on the pill for menstrual problems when I weighed much more) so they fitted me for a diaphragm instead. I went back to my room and cried over how “obese” I was. My roommate (I spent every summer at school going to summer school to finish quicker) and my boyfriend tried to comfort me and tell me I wasn’t that big, but I knew better.
In the fall of my sophomore year I went and got a part-time job so I would have my own money to spend. That way I had even more freedom to spend money on going out to bars and to buy my own clothes in ever larger sizes. My grades slipped that year, probably as much due to the time I wasted with the loser I was dating (practically living with) at school as to the 20-hour-a-week job I had. Cooking for the loser at his apartment meant further weight gain for me as I tried to become the perfect little “housewife” for him and cooked all his and my favorite southern (high fat, high calorie) foods. BTW, this boyfriend earned the name "the loser" because at one point he tried to hit me (only losers hit), but a friend of his (bigger and stronger) stepped in and stopped him. I immediately broke up with him. I may have self-esteem issues, but I have never allowed anybody to hit me. In my world you only get one strike, and you are out.
The next two-and-a-half years netted me the following:
Both a bachelors and masters degrees
A new college boyfriend, very overweight, (who told me on one of our first dates that he had to settle for a fat girl like me because the skinny ones wouldn't date him) who became a great eating buddy, but couldn’t drink alcohol due to a congenital kidney problem so he also helped me control my drinking
Lots more weight (I wouldn’t have dared step on a scale so I have no idea what I weighed when I finished college, but I was wearing size 22W)
A series of yoyo dieting that didn’t really seem to affect my weight all that much
The discovery of the “women’s” section of stores where I could actually find clothes that fit my new larger body
I finished school mid-year, in January, and moved back home with my parents as I didn’t yet have a job. I spent my days job-hunting, and reading, and watching TV, and pretty much being a bum. Back under watchful eyes, I managed to control my eating somewhat, enough that I didn’t gain more but not enough to actually lose either.
To be continued. . .
Next Installment: Life as an Adult
The summer between freshman and sophomore year I found out exactly how much I weighed when I went to the student health clinic asking for a prescription for birth control pills (yes, I had discovered the joys of the one thing I never ever did in high school). I weighed in at 165 lbs, making me too overweight for them to prescribe birth control pills (which is actually kind of laughable as I was later on the pill for menstrual problems when I weighed much more) so they fitted me for a diaphragm instead. I went back to my room and cried over how “obese” I was. My roommate (I spent every summer at school going to summer school to finish quicker) and my boyfriend tried to comfort me and tell me I wasn’t that big, but I knew better.
In the fall of my sophomore year I went and got a part-time job so I would have my own money to spend. That way I had even more freedom to spend money on going out to bars and to buy my own clothes in ever larger sizes. My grades slipped that year, probably as much due to the time I wasted with the loser I was dating (practically living with) at school as to the 20-hour-a-week job I had. Cooking for the loser at his apartment meant further weight gain for me as I tried to become the perfect little “housewife” for him and cooked all his and my favorite southern (high fat, high calorie) foods. BTW, this boyfriend earned the name "the loser" because at one point he tried to hit me (only losers hit), but a friend of his (bigger and stronger) stepped in and stopped him. I immediately broke up with him. I may have self-esteem issues, but I have never allowed anybody to hit me. In my world you only get one strike, and you are out.
The next two-and-a-half years netted me the following:
Both a bachelors and masters degrees
A new college boyfriend, very overweight, (who told me on one of our first dates that he had to settle for a fat girl like me because the skinny ones wouldn't date him) who became a great eating buddy, but couldn’t drink alcohol due to a congenital kidney problem so he also helped me control my drinking
Lots more weight (I wouldn’t have dared step on a scale so I have no idea what I weighed when I finished college, but I was wearing size 22W)
A series of yoyo dieting that didn’t really seem to affect my weight all that much
The discovery of the “women’s” section of stores where I could actually find clothes that fit my new larger body
I finished school mid-year, in January, and moved back home with my parents as I didn’t yet have a job. I spent my days job-hunting, and reading, and watching TV, and pretty much being a bum. Back under watchful eyes, I managed to control my eating somewhat, enough that I didn’t gain more but not enough to actually lose either.
To be continued. . .
Next Installment: Life as an Adult
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
A Meme - Better Late Than Never
I saw this meme over on Fusion's blog and told him I'd post my answers this past weekend. Well okay I didn't quite make the weekend, but here it is, better late than never.
Do you watch college football?
Why yes, yes I do, and that is a rather recent phenomenon.
Where was the last place you went shopping?
Meijer. I love that store since they opened one close to where I live. It totally rocks, has wide aisles, is very clean, and the prices are good. Given how much I like it I will probably soon find out they pay their employees in rocks and get their goods from slave labor in third world countries.
Do you wish you were someplace else right now?
Yes.
Do you have any expensive jewelry?
Depends on what you mean by expensive. My watch cost maybe $250 and my wedding set (not sure what I’ll do with them now except leave them in my jewelry box) cost about $1,000 I think. Those are the most expensive pieces I have.
How many hours on average do you work a week?
Forty. I’m an 8:30 to 5:30 girl.
Do you watch The Olympics?
Yes, although I probably watched less the last time they were on than I have in the past.
What is the last restaurant you went to?
Monical’s Pizza, with N as a treat this past week. I kicked myself afterwards because there’s $25 that could’ve been better spent.
Last time you did volunteer work or made any donations?
The very last time? I guess it would be donating cupcakes to the PTA fall festival. Either that or my offering at church.
What do you spend the majority of your money on?
Mortgage payment (including property tax and insurance escrow), 64% of my net income every month, which totally sucks and must change soon, and will as I spent much time yesterday afternoon working on the refinancing. The new payment will be a little less than 40% of my net income every month, and that will be a blessing.
Where does your family live?
Midwest and South USA
Are you an only child or do you have siblings?
One younger brother, FU, who could fall off the face of the earth for all I care.
Ever been called a bitch?
Oh yeah.
Do you have any wealthy friends?
Acquaintances yes, real friends no.
Ever met anyone famous before?
Not really, none that I can think of at the moment.
Ever had to take a sobriety test?
Nope.
Do you have all your wisdom teeth?
No, two out when I was 19 and the other two ten years later.
Last piece of mail? Not personal, junk, or bill.
Okay, please tell me what kind of mail would not fall into at least one of those three categories?
What is the best city of the state you live in?
Goodness, well I have been partial to Chambana all my life having been enthralled by the great big University there with all of its architectural marvels. Plus it’s big enough to have most everything you need but not so big as to be intimidating. I like that in a city.
What do you think about before you go to bed?
The sudokus that I work to quiet my mind enough to fall asleep.
What would the world be like if everything was in neon colors?
Blinding.
Have you ever made out in a bathroom?
Just a little more than a week ago as a matter of fact.
Are you afraid of spiders?
Not as long as they leave me alone.
Do you like Chinese food?
Yes, as long as it isn’t overly oily.
What is the last movie you saw in theatres?
Madagascar 2. Not nearly as good as the original, but N loved it. The popcorn was good though so I was happy enough to be there.
Is there anyone you wish was still in your life?
Several, but the reason they aren’t is that they died so it would be hard to change that.
Do you get distracted easily?
Hmm? What was the question again?
Would you live with someone without marrying them?
Not only would I, but I have.
Do you have any friends you have known for more than 10 years?
Friends. . . now there’s a concept. No, most people can’t tolerate me that long.
Does the number of people a person sleeps with affect your view of them?
Only if there are a number of people they’re sleeping with at the same time they’re sleeping with me.
Are you a good tipper?
Yes, if the service deserves it. When I sit down at the table the waitperson starts at 15% and as the experience progresses I add to and subtract from that amount for good and bad things that happen. I’ve tipped as much as 25% for truly exceptional service although that’s been rare. Even rarer have been the times when I’ve left a penny tip for truly awful service that didn’t improve no matter what.
Have you ever had a crush on a teacher?
Yes.
Do you walk around the house naked?
Yes, as long as it isn’t too cold.
If you were an animal, what would it be?
A sloth.
What do you do as soon as you walk in the house after work?
Hang my keys and ID badge on the rack in the utility room.
Do you like horror or comedy?
Comedy.
If you weren't straight what person of the same sex would you do?
Paula Poundstone. I have had a mad crush on her for years.
Have you ever gone fishing and caught a fish?
Gone fishing yes, caught a fish no.
Who is a person your age you can count on most?
Just me.
Where do you want to live when you retire?
Even though I’d love to live somewhere warm, I really would like to live in Chambana so I could keep my season football and basketball tickets. Plus they have an awesome public transportation system and some great retirement communities. Not to mention it is my ideal to live somewhere with an intellectual atmosphere.
Do you watch college football?
Why yes, yes I do, and that is a rather recent phenomenon.
Where was the last place you went shopping?
Meijer. I love that store since they opened one close to where I live. It totally rocks, has wide aisles, is very clean, and the prices are good. Given how much I like it I will probably soon find out they pay their employees in rocks and get their goods from slave labor in third world countries.
Do you wish you were someplace else right now?
Yes.
Do you have any expensive jewelry?
Depends on what you mean by expensive. My watch cost maybe $250 and my wedding set (not sure what I’ll do with them now except leave them in my jewelry box) cost about $1,000 I think. Those are the most expensive pieces I have.
How many hours on average do you work a week?
Forty. I’m an 8:30 to 5:30 girl.
Do you watch The Olympics?
Yes, although I probably watched less the last time they were on than I have in the past.
What is the last restaurant you went to?
Monical’s Pizza, with N as a treat this past week. I kicked myself afterwards because there’s $25 that could’ve been better spent.
Last time you did volunteer work or made any donations?
The very last time? I guess it would be donating cupcakes to the PTA fall festival. Either that or my offering at church.
What do you spend the majority of your money on?
Mortgage payment (including property tax and insurance escrow), 64% of my net income every month, which totally sucks and must change soon, and will as I spent much time yesterday afternoon working on the refinancing. The new payment will be a little less than 40% of my net income every month, and that will be a blessing.
Where does your family live?
Midwest and South USA
Are you an only child or do you have siblings?
One younger brother, FU, who could fall off the face of the earth for all I care.
Ever been called a bitch?
Oh yeah.
Do you have any wealthy friends?
Acquaintances yes, real friends no.
Ever met anyone famous before?
Not really, none that I can think of at the moment.
Ever had to take a sobriety test?
Nope.
Do you have all your wisdom teeth?
No, two out when I was 19 and the other two ten years later.
Last piece of mail? Not personal, junk, or bill.
Okay, please tell me what kind of mail would not fall into at least one of those three categories?
What is the best city of the state you live in?
Goodness, well I have been partial to Chambana all my life having been enthralled by the great big University there with all of its architectural marvels. Plus it’s big enough to have most everything you need but not so big as to be intimidating. I like that in a city.
What do you think about before you go to bed?
The sudokus that I work to quiet my mind enough to fall asleep.
What would the world be like if everything was in neon colors?
Blinding.
Have you ever made out in a bathroom?
Just a little more than a week ago as a matter of fact.
Are you afraid of spiders?
Not as long as they leave me alone.
Do you like Chinese food?
Yes, as long as it isn’t overly oily.
What is the last movie you saw in theatres?
Madagascar 2. Not nearly as good as the original, but N loved it. The popcorn was good though so I was happy enough to be there.
Is there anyone you wish was still in your life?
Several, but the reason they aren’t is that they died so it would be hard to change that.
Do you get distracted easily?
Hmm? What was the question again?
Would you live with someone without marrying them?
Not only would I, but I have.
Do you have any friends you have known for more than 10 years?
Friends. . . now there’s a concept. No, most people can’t tolerate me that long.
Does the number of people a person sleeps with affect your view of them?
Only if there are a number of people they’re sleeping with at the same time they’re sleeping with me.
Are you a good tipper?
Yes, if the service deserves it. When I sit down at the table the waitperson starts at 15% and as the experience progresses I add to and subtract from that amount for good and bad things that happen. I’ve tipped as much as 25% for truly exceptional service although that’s been rare. Even rarer have been the times when I’ve left a penny tip for truly awful service that didn’t improve no matter what.
Have you ever had a crush on a teacher?
Yes.
Do you walk around the house naked?
Yes, as long as it isn’t too cold.
If you were an animal, what would it be?
A sloth.
What do you do as soon as you walk in the house after work?
Hang my keys and ID badge on the rack in the utility room.
Do you like horror or comedy?
Comedy.
If you weren't straight what person of the same sex would you do?
Paula Poundstone. I have had a mad crush on her for years.
Have you ever gone fishing and caught a fish?
Gone fishing yes, caught a fish no.
Who is a person your age you can count on most?
Just me.
Where do you want to live when you retire?
Even though I’d love to live somewhere warm, I really would like to live in Chambana so I could keep my season football and basketball tickets. Plus they have an awesome public transportation system and some great retirement communities. Not to mention it is my ideal to live somewhere with an intellectual atmosphere.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Chapter II: Teen Angst and Weight
I got through with grade school, knowing I was too fat, too slow, too klutzy, too smart, and too nerdy to ever be one of the cool kids, part of the "in" crowd. I moved on to junior high, but I didn't go to the public school as I had in grade school. If I went to the public junior high my dad would be one of my teachers. That is generally a no win situation because if he gave me good grades (and being a smart nerd I would probably make good grades) he would be accused of playing favorites, but if he were to set higher standards for me he might put our relationship at risk. Therefore, I went to the only alternative in our small town, a Lutheran school. We weren’t Lutheran, a rarity in the small town in which we lived, nor were we of German descent, another rarity there. This Lutheran school had never had a non-member request to attend prior to my family so they had no tuition set up as they charged none to their members being supported solely through church giving and the occasional fundraiser. So Mom and Dad decided we better attend the Lutheran church and put something in the offering plate on Sundays so that we would be paying our fair share. How does any of this impact my weight? All of it made me feel more and more like an outsider. My teacher used me as an example several times in religion class (and when I look back I am appalled at his behavior and realize I should have told my parents which I never did) like when he pointed out that because I had not been baptized as a baby if I were to die I would be going to Hell unlike the others who had all been baptized as infants and were guaranteed to go to heaven. Hmmm, yeah. I was definitely an outsider, a misfit, just lucky anybody paid me any attention at all. I tried to fit in. I tried really, really hard. I joined the girls' softball team, but rarely got to play due to my lack of athletic ability. I joined the pompom squad, and almost forgot to be embarrassed by my really fat legs under the short, short skirt. I was one of only two girls in the class who had matured early and started our period, and wouldn’t you know it, the other girl was also an outcast. We were the class oddballs. I believe the only thing that kept me from becoming obese at that point was my bicycle. Once I had learned to ride a bike, I loved to ride. In the summer, I would ride for hours and hours, up and down every street in our little town. I can’t even imagine the number of miles I rode on a daily basis. Even during the school year, after school and on weekends I would ride and ride and ride. But anytime I was at home, I was on the prowl for something to eat, always looking to sneak a snack behind Mom’s back, always figuring how big a piece of cake I could take without it being noticed, always seeking out the comfort of my best friend, food.
The summer before eighth grade, Dad got a new job in a new town. I believed that this was my chance to start fresh, to finally be accepted, to be part of the group. (This was the first of a pattern on this line of thinking. I arrived for the first day of school in a quite short mini-dress (it was the mid-70s after all) feeling confident and eager to meet my classmates. Imagine my horror when I learned upon arriving that the “uniform” for my class was jeans, t-shirt, and oversized plaid flannel shirt on top. Everyone, boys and girls, were dressed this way except me. How dare I almost forget that I was a nerd, an outcast? How could I have thought things would be different here? I didn’t even own a pair of jeans, much less a plaid flannel shirt. After school, I went home and ate. I begged my mom for new clothes, clothes that would help me fit in but to no avail. The clothes I had were fine, they fit, and were in good shape. She wasn’t about to waste money on new ones. About halfway through the year I was able to talk her into one pair of Levis although the shopping experience was dreadful as the size she picked for me at first was hideously too small, the next size up still too tight, and finally when the third pair would only zip if I sucked in really, really hard I was in tears. Mom went on and on about how she had no idea I would need such a large size, on and on and on. This shopping trip occurred while we were visiting my Grandma (Dad’s mom) and when we returned to Grandma’s house I headed straight for the kitchen and my best friend, food.
In eighth grade I also learned to find comfort in something other than food, boys. I learned that boys would pay a lot of attention to you if you would let them kiss you and touch you in places that felt pretty good to be touched. Thus began a long line of relationships and encounters that brought me comfort, but apparently (I found out much later) also brought me quite a reputation, and not a good one at that. I pretty much felt that I was a good girl because even though I would do a lot, there was one thing that I never ever did (at least not until much later). Others didn't see me that way. They either saw me as a huge tease, or based on exaggerated stories by some boys, a huge slut.
Somehow, I survived eighth grade. Next year would be different, I thought. I’ll be in high school, a large school with an abundance of diversity. Surely I would fit somewhere there. Or not. I was too smart for the popular crowd, too offbeat for the nerdy crowd, too straight for the stoner crowd. I couldn't find my niche no matter how hard I tried, and I tried and tried and tried. I got involved in every club, every organization from yearbook to drama. I was incredibly busy during my high school years, juggling many extracurricular activities, boyfriends, and academics. As a freshman in high school I was diagnosed with an ulcer and put on a bland diet by my doctor. In spite of having to give up some favorite foods like pizza, French fries, and chocolate, I enjoyed the fact that I was now required to eat snacks at certain times of the day, a fact I loved bringing to my mom's attention. She just knew that this was going to cause me to gain weight. I believe it did, but not a significant amount. In my high school years, I probably went from 125 to 135 - 140 and most of that after the ulcer healed, and I returned to my junk food ways.
I was actually probably happier in high school than at any other time in my life even though I knew I was still too smart, too fat, too klutzy, too much of an outsider. I was happy because I was busy and because I had the respect of many of my teachers even if not of other students. I was not happy with my weight. I knew I was fat. I was 5' 6" and never weighed more than 140 lbs in my high school career, but I knew I was fat. How? Because I wore a size 11 instead of a 9 like my mom, because I had always been fat, because Mom and Dad both often made derogatory comments about my weight, and truth be told when I look in the mirror I don't see much difference between me now and me then. When I looked in the mirror then I saw fat, same as I see now, in spite of the fact that I weigh more than twice as much now as then. Clearly, I have very, very distorted vision when it comes to myself.
To be continued. . .
Next Installment: The Freedom of College
The summer before eighth grade, Dad got a new job in a new town. I believed that this was my chance to start fresh, to finally be accepted, to be part of the group. (This was the first of a pattern on this line of thinking. I arrived for the first day of school in a quite short mini-dress (it was the mid-70s after all) feeling confident and eager to meet my classmates. Imagine my horror when I learned upon arriving that the “uniform” for my class was jeans, t-shirt, and oversized plaid flannel shirt on top. Everyone, boys and girls, were dressed this way except me. How dare I almost forget that I was a nerd, an outcast? How could I have thought things would be different here? I didn’t even own a pair of jeans, much less a plaid flannel shirt. After school, I went home and ate. I begged my mom for new clothes, clothes that would help me fit in but to no avail. The clothes I had were fine, they fit, and were in good shape. She wasn’t about to waste money on new ones. About halfway through the year I was able to talk her into one pair of Levis although the shopping experience was dreadful as the size she picked for me at first was hideously too small, the next size up still too tight, and finally when the third pair would only zip if I sucked in really, really hard I was in tears. Mom went on and on about how she had no idea I would need such a large size, on and on and on. This shopping trip occurred while we were visiting my Grandma (Dad’s mom) and when we returned to Grandma’s house I headed straight for the kitchen and my best friend, food.
In eighth grade I also learned to find comfort in something other than food, boys. I learned that boys would pay a lot of attention to you if you would let them kiss you and touch you in places that felt pretty good to be touched. Thus began a long line of relationships and encounters that brought me comfort, but apparently (I found out much later) also brought me quite a reputation, and not a good one at that. I pretty much felt that I was a good girl because even though I would do a lot, there was one thing that I never ever did (at least not until much later). Others didn't see me that way. They either saw me as a huge tease, or based on exaggerated stories by some boys, a huge slut.
Somehow, I survived eighth grade. Next year would be different, I thought. I’ll be in high school, a large school with an abundance of diversity. Surely I would fit somewhere there. Or not. I was too smart for the popular crowd, too offbeat for the nerdy crowd, too straight for the stoner crowd. I couldn't find my niche no matter how hard I tried, and I tried and tried and tried. I got involved in every club, every organization from yearbook to drama. I was incredibly busy during my high school years, juggling many extracurricular activities, boyfriends, and academics. As a freshman in high school I was diagnosed with an ulcer and put on a bland diet by my doctor. In spite of having to give up some favorite foods like pizza, French fries, and chocolate, I enjoyed the fact that I was now required to eat snacks at certain times of the day, a fact I loved bringing to my mom's attention. She just knew that this was going to cause me to gain weight. I believe it did, but not a significant amount. In my high school years, I probably went from 125 to 135 - 140 and most of that after the ulcer healed, and I returned to my junk food ways.
I was actually probably happier in high school than at any other time in my life even though I knew I was still too smart, too fat, too klutzy, too much of an outsider. I was happy because I was busy and because I had the respect of many of my teachers even if not of other students. I was not happy with my weight. I knew I was fat. I was 5' 6" and never weighed more than 140 lbs in my high school career, but I knew I was fat. How? Because I wore a size 11 instead of a 9 like my mom, because I had always been fat, because Mom and Dad both often made derogatory comments about my weight, and truth be told when I look in the mirror I don't see much difference between me now and me then. When I looked in the mirror then I saw fat, same as I see now, in spite of the fact that I weigh more than twice as much now as then. Clearly, I have very, very distorted vision when it comes to myself.
To be continued. . .
Next Installment: The Freedom of College
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Chapter I: Born Thin But That Didn’t Last Long
I have not been fat my entire life. I was born a long, thin baby. Although I've been told the stats many times I don't remember my length or weight at birth, but pictures show me as a long thin baby with a mass of black hair.
As a small child, my mom was afraid I wouldn't eat enough to grow (little did she know!). She encouraged me to eat. She encouraged snacks. My earliest memories are of snacking on potato chips, Fritos, Jell-o, popsicles, Kool-aid, Ritz crackers. Oh yes, I was a healthy eater, but I certainly wasn't eating healthy. It wasn't all junk food though. I ate other things too, like cottage cheese which I found made a great dip for Fritos or spread for Ritz crackers.
By the time I was four or five, I was a big girl. Looking at pictures of me back then I was certainly not obese but definitely chunky, a little heavier than your average kid. I was also a klutz, not coordinated, and afraid of getting hurt. I became the original couch potato kid spending more time watching TV and later reading books than engaging in actual physical activity. I remember knowing by the time I went to school that I was overweight and a klutz and an outsider.
When I was entering second grade, we moved to a new town. I started at a new school with strangers to me. I knew that I was fat, a klutz and would definitely be an outsider here. Mom continued to feed me to comfort me, always having a snack on hand when I arrived home from school. I tried to fit in with the other kids but never did. I was too smart, too fat and too unathletic. I was a nerd. So I ate. Food was my only friend, my comfort.
I had a huge turning point in sixth grade. Each quarter at report card time, we would march down to the school office where we would step on the scale, and the school secretary would record our height and weight on our report cards. One quarter end, I weighed in at 122 lbs, and 5' 1" tall. My mother had a fit. Apparently she had not recognized me as fat until this weighin, and she was appalled. I weighed almost as much as she did (of course, I was also only 2 inches shorter than she was). She immediately put me on a diet. No longer was I allowed to eat what I wanted but only what she dictated. She told me I could not be trusted to dip up my own portions at dinner, and she started doling out what she deemed were appropriate amounts. She altered my lunches that I took to school so that sandwiches no longer had two slices of bread, but just one. There were no more between meal snacks. In reaction to this I became the world's best food sneak. I learned how to sneak snacks up my shirt sleeve, in my pockets, tucked in the waistband of my pants. I learned how to eat a few spoonfuls from a container, and stir it up so it didn't (in my mind anyway) look like there was anything missing. Whenever I had extra money (like birthday money or something) I would go buy chips and/or candy with some of it, and tell Mom that whatever toy or book or clothes I bought with the rest were more expensive than they really were. When the next quarter end came, I stayed home "sick" the day I knew we were to be weighed at school. However, when I returned the next day the teacher sent me down to the office to be weighed anyway. Drat. I have no memory of my actual weight that day, but it wasn't significantly different from the prior weigh in. The secretary wrote it down on a piece of paper and sent me back to class. I crumpled up the paper, threw it away, and reported to the teacher that my weight was 110 lbs. She wrote it on my report card, and Mom was thrilled with her success at having gotten my weight under control. Even then, I wondered that nobody could see that my weight was not significantly different, but nobody ever questioned the numbers as reported on the report card, so I suppose people see what they want to see.
To be continued. . .
Next installment: the fun junior high and high school years
As a small child, my mom was afraid I wouldn't eat enough to grow (little did she know!). She encouraged me to eat. She encouraged snacks. My earliest memories are of snacking on potato chips, Fritos, Jell-o, popsicles, Kool-aid, Ritz crackers. Oh yes, I was a healthy eater, but I certainly wasn't eating healthy. It wasn't all junk food though. I ate other things too, like cottage cheese which I found made a great dip for Fritos or spread for Ritz crackers.
By the time I was four or five, I was a big girl. Looking at pictures of me back then I was certainly not obese but definitely chunky, a little heavier than your average kid. I was also a klutz, not coordinated, and afraid of getting hurt. I became the original couch potato kid spending more time watching TV and later reading books than engaging in actual physical activity. I remember knowing by the time I went to school that I was overweight and a klutz and an outsider.
When I was entering second grade, we moved to a new town. I started at a new school with strangers to me. I knew that I was fat, a klutz and would definitely be an outsider here. Mom continued to feed me to comfort me, always having a snack on hand when I arrived home from school. I tried to fit in with the other kids but never did. I was too smart, too fat and too unathletic. I was a nerd. So I ate. Food was my only friend, my comfort.
I had a huge turning point in sixth grade. Each quarter at report card time, we would march down to the school office where we would step on the scale, and the school secretary would record our height and weight on our report cards. One quarter end, I weighed in at 122 lbs, and 5' 1" tall. My mother had a fit. Apparently she had not recognized me as fat until this weighin, and she was appalled. I weighed almost as much as she did (of course, I was also only 2 inches shorter than she was). She immediately put me on a diet. No longer was I allowed to eat what I wanted but only what she dictated. She told me I could not be trusted to dip up my own portions at dinner, and she started doling out what she deemed were appropriate amounts. She altered my lunches that I took to school so that sandwiches no longer had two slices of bread, but just one. There were no more between meal snacks. In reaction to this I became the world's best food sneak. I learned how to sneak snacks up my shirt sleeve, in my pockets, tucked in the waistband of my pants. I learned how to eat a few spoonfuls from a container, and stir it up so it didn't (in my mind anyway) look like there was anything missing. Whenever I had extra money (like birthday money or something) I would go buy chips and/or candy with some of it, and tell Mom that whatever toy or book or clothes I bought with the rest were more expensive than they really were. When the next quarter end came, I stayed home "sick" the day I knew we were to be weighed at school. However, when I returned the next day the teacher sent me down to the office to be weighed anyway. Drat. I have no memory of my actual weight that day, but it wasn't significantly different from the prior weigh in. The secretary wrote it down on a piece of paper and sent me back to class. I crumpled up the paper, threw it away, and reported to the teacher that my weight was 110 lbs. She wrote it on my report card, and Mom was thrilled with her success at having gotten my weight under control. Even then, I wondered that nobody could see that my weight was not significantly different, but nobody ever questioned the numbers as reported on the report card, so I suppose people see what they want to see.
To be continued. . .
Next installment: the fun junior high and high school years
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Prologue: Weight, Weight Don’t Tell Me
The title is a play on words from one of my favorite NPR shows (if you don't listen to NPR you really, really should, particularly on the weekends), but this post is the introduction to a series of posts all about my weight and my personal history with my weight.
I originally put this series of posts (minus this Prologue) over on my private blog (which was originally my public blog with this being my secret blog, but over time and for various reasons the two blogs kind of switched purposes and I took the original blog private) so some of you may have read these before. Feel free to read them again, or to ignore them.
I started rereading them the other day when I wanted to share my story with someone and wanted to point them in the right direction so they could read the series. I realized as I skimmed through them that I needed to take heed to some of the things I said in them, particularly the posts about recent years. So I thought I would read them, edit them as need be (I may not have been 100% honest in places since W was a reader of the other blog at the time I originally posted them so I will try to correct that along the way), and post them here. Maybe something I say in them will strike a chord with someone who reads them, and if anything I say can help someone else put their weight issues in perspective then posting is well worth it.
There were eight chapters (posts) originally. I imagine that will turn into nine by the time I’m finished here as the ninth chapter will carry the chronology up through the present time.
This series will be tagged with only one label, Weight Weight Don’t Tell Me, thereby making it easier to go back and read the series as a series once it is completed.
Coming soon: the early years
I originally put this series of posts (minus this Prologue) over on my private blog (which was originally my public blog with this being my secret blog, but over time and for various reasons the two blogs kind of switched purposes and I took the original blog private) so some of you may have read these before. Feel free to read them again, or to ignore them.
I started rereading them the other day when I wanted to share my story with someone and wanted to point them in the right direction so they could read the series. I realized as I skimmed through them that I needed to take heed to some of the things I said in them, particularly the posts about recent years. So I thought I would read them, edit them as need be (I may not have been 100% honest in places since W was a reader of the other blog at the time I originally posted them so I will try to correct that along the way), and post them here. Maybe something I say in them will strike a chord with someone who reads them, and if anything I say can help someone else put their weight issues in perspective then posting is well worth it.
There were eight chapters (posts) originally. I imagine that will turn into nine by the time I’m finished here as the ninth chapter will carry the chronology up through the present time.
This series will be tagged with only one label, Weight Weight Don’t Tell Me, thereby making it easier to go back and read the series as a series once it is completed.
Coming soon: the early years
Friday, November 21, 2008
Better Than the Jelly of the Month Club?
We got our holiday bonuses at work today -- a whopping $15 gift card for a local supermarket. Well, we also got the obligatory letter telling us how valued we employees are and that the gift card "is a simple gesture to contribute to your enjoyment of the holidays and to say Happy Holidays to you and your family."
Heh, it's not even the gift that keeps on giving the whole year through, Clark. I can spend $15 at the supermarket in the first aisle alone.
No bonus points if you know the movie reference, but demerits to anyone who doesn't.
Heh, it's not even the gift that keeps on giving the whole year through, Clark. I can spend $15 at the supermarket in the first aisle alone.
No bonus points if you know the movie reference, but demerits to anyone who doesn't.
I've Done It Before, But It's Probably Time Again
I hate the results I got. However, I think I hate them because they make me uncomfortable and feel all too real.
 | Trueself took the free ColorQuiz.com personality test! "Longs for a tender and sympathetic bond and for a ..."
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Thursday, November 20, 2008
The Preachin' Poll
After my experience in the pulpit I decided to put up a poll to see how my readers would react if invited to preach. For the first few days the poll was up everybody was responding that they had no church. I'll admit that freaked me out just a little. Great, I thought. Here I am asking a question that will have a 100% answer of "Not Applicable." Well, apparently the churched among us just took longer to answer. Perhaps they had to think harder about their answer than the unchurched. The unchurched, much like vegetarians at a steakhouse, only really had one option. The churched had a whole menu from which to choose.
What the poll eventually showed is that I am every bit the freak of nature I claim to be. Not one person chose the option I would have had I voted in the poll. Oh well. . .
The final results:
If you were invited to preach at your church, would you?
Absolutely! I'd love to. 0 (0%)
Probably, if they were persuasive enough. 2 (10%)
Maybe, but I doubt it. 2 (10%)
Not a chance! 6 (31%)
I don't have a church. 9 (47%)
To the almost half of you without a church I'd just like to say I'd love to see you at mine anytime, whoever you are, whatever you are, wherever you are.
____________________________
Late edit (11:35 a.m.):
Okay, this has bugged me ever since I posted this earlier this morning. The percentages above, although exactly as reported on the Blogger poll, don't add to 100% due to rounding. They aren't just one off though. They are two off. It only adds to 98%. So I recalculated and found that they didn't round, they truncated. If I had designed the poll results format the percentages would round rather than truncate. Also I probably would have run them out to one decimal place.
So here are the real results:
Absolutely! I'd love to. 0 (0%)
Probably, if they were persuasive enough. 2 (10.5%)
Maybe, but I doubt it. 2 (10.5%)
Not a chance! 6 (31.6%)
I don't have a church. 9 (47.4%)
Now they add to 100%. I feel better. (Damned accountant's brain.)
What the poll eventually showed is that I am every bit the freak of nature I claim to be. Not one person chose the option I would have had I voted in the poll. Oh well. . .
The final results:
If you were invited to preach at your church, would you?
Absolutely! I'd love to. 0 (0%)
Probably, if they were persuasive enough. 2 (10%)
Maybe, but I doubt it. 2 (10%)
Not a chance! 6 (31%)
I don't have a church. 9 (47%)
To the almost half of you without a church I'd just like to say I'd love to see you at mine anytime, whoever you are, whatever you are, wherever you are.
____________________________
Late edit (11:35 a.m.):
Okay, this has bugged me ever since I posted this earlier this morning. The percentages above, although exactly as reported on the Blogger poll, don't add to 100% due to rounding. They aren't just one off though. They are two off. It only adds to 98%. So I recalculated and found that they didn't round, they truncated. If I had designed the poll results format the percentages would round rather than truncate. Also I probably would have run them out to one decimal place.
So here are the real results:
Absolutely! I'd love to. 0 (0%)
Probably, if they were persuasive enough. 2 (10.5%)
Maybe, but I doubt it. 2 (10.5%)
Not a chance! 6 (31.6%)
I don't have a church. 9 (47.4%)
Now they add to 100%. I feel better. (Damned accountant's brain.)
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Self Confidence (or a lack thereof)
It shouldn’t come as a shock to anyone who reads this blog with any frequency that I often suffer from a lack of self confidence. I am always surprised when I succeed at anything. I am rarely surprised when I fail in the eyes of others. I expect people to expect me to fail.
I had a dream last night that was very much about my lack of self confidence. I went through this dream apologetic and clingy and desperate. I awoke relieved to be rid of the dream but not so relieved when I thought about what that dream said to me about me.
The message of the dream came through loud and clear. I am not good enough for anyone. I am not good enough as a friend. I am not good enough as a loving partner. I am not good enough as a bus driver. (Okay that one was weird, but in the dream I ended up with the bus parked cattywampus on the lawn rather than on the street where it should have been so obviously I’m not a good bus driver. Besides that I didn’t get the bus back on time. And no, in real life I have never driven a bus.) “I am not good enough!” shouted my dream at me.
It left me shaken, that dream of mine did. It has continued to haunt me throughout the day today. Clearly I need to work on my self confidence and self esteem. Clearly I need to be a little less hard on myself. On the other hand, maybe I just need to accept that I’m not ever going to be any more or better than I am and stop beating myself up for it. Maybe it is time to accept what a flawed and pathetic individual I am and instead of berating myself for it just accept it. Give up the fight to be more than I can be and just accept myself as I am. I still haven’t said it right. What am I trying to say here? I don’t know.
And that is why I continue to have these dreams. My subconscious is trying to work through that which I can’t articulate and/or face in my conscious mind.
And somehow it is all about self confidence, or a lack thereof.
I had a dream last night that was very much about my lack of self confidence. I went through this dream apologetic and clingy and desperate. I awoke relieved to be rid of the dream but not so relieved when I thought about what that dream said to me about me.
The message of the dream came through loud and clear. I am not good enough for anyone. I am not good enough as a friend. I am not good enough as a loving partner. I am not good enough as a bus driver. (Okay that one was weird, but in the dream I ended up with the bus parked cattywampus on the lawn rather than on the street where it should have been so obviously I’m not a good bus driver. Besides that I didn’t get the bus back on time. And no, in real life I have never driven a bus.) “I am not good enough!” shouted my dream at me.
It left me shaken, that dream of mine did. It has continued to haunt me throughout the day today. Clearly I need to work on my self confidence and self esteem. Clearly I need to be a little less hard on myself. On the other hand, maybe I just need to accept that I’m not ever going to be any more or better than I am and stop beating myself up for it. Maybe it is time to accept what a flawed and pathetic individual I am and instead of berating myself for it just accept it. Give up the fight to be more than I can be and just accept myself as I am. I still haven’t said it right. What am I trying to say here? I don’t know.
And that is why I continue to have these dreams. My subconscious is trying to work through that which I can’t articulate and/or face in my conscious mind.
And somehow it is all about self confidence, or a lack thereof.
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