onceafatgirl

Peace is better than chocolate

Archive for the month “August, 2024”

Life, God and the Universe Conspiring

I found out this week that I did not get the job teaching art to kids. 

If I had gotten the news a week ago, I would have been devastated. But instead, I just remembered that I can’t get a job that isn’t for me. And I can’t lose a job that’s mine. 

See, I believe that. I know that. Ever since I put my drug foods down and stopped eating compulsively, I have had a level of peace and clarity that lets me see clearly, and choose my reactions. Now I understand that Life is always giving me better than I thought I wanted. I have very real examples of it throughout the 18+ years of having the sugar down. Men that dumped me and jobs that fell through, only to find out that there was something better waiting for me. Something and someone *right* for me.

But sometimes, when I am attached to something, a specific outcome, or just needing a *win* for once, whatever I have decided a “win” is, it feels so personal. So targeted. Like Life and God and the Universe are out to get me.

But in these little moments of clarity I can see that when I get my ego out of my own way, Life, God and the Universe have only ever conspired to give me the best. A life beyond my wildest dreams.

My mother-in-law sent me a picture of a crocheted potato this week. Right before I got the email about the art teacher job. And I asked if she wanted to learn how to make one. She did! I got excited and I have spent the past few days trying a bunch of different potato patterns. Accidentally made an egg pattern. Made an egg cup for a princess, and gave the egg a face and a tiara. Gorgeous and hilarious. A gift for a friend!

My creativity feels abundant. I am making art. I am writing a lesson plan to teach how to crochet a potato. I am feeling excited and inspired. 

I still don’t have a job. And I still want to make money. But I trust that the best way for me to do that is on its way. Maybe by teaching people how to crochet potatoes. Who knows? Not me. And I don’t need to worry about it. I can let Life, God and the Universe conspire without me.

This messy work of art that is my life

A friend broke up with me this week. That is not an entirely true. She ghosted me a while ago, and finally this week, she posted a personal text message from me on social media (without identifying me) and told everyone what a terrible and disappointing friend I am. 

It was pretty devastating. I cried about it for a couple of days. I have stopped crying. (Ok I’m crying now writing this, but only because I’m reliving it here for you…) I guess I just mean I’m still dealing with it, but I am, indeed, dealing with it.

It has been a real crash course in processing my emotions. You would think that 18+ years of having my eating under control and being forced to deal with my feelings would mean I had all the courses in relationships. Gotten my PhD, if you will. And then BOOM! Remedial homework! 

One thing that happened when I got my eating under control was I started to have to be responsible for myself. To others. To myself. It’s hard to look at yourself clearly when you’re high on sugar all the time. It’s just as hard to act irresponsibly when there’s no drug food to numb the anxiety irresponsibility brings. And that meant looking at my actions and how they affect both myself and others. And doing something about it.

Regarding the thing this ex-friend was talking about, she was right. I do owe her an amend for what happened. Because we were both friends with a guy who wronged her. And he did something shady. But he was different with me. And I stayed friends with him for a while after what he did to her.

Did I do what seemed like the right thing at the time? Obviously. But I was wrong about him. And I hurt her. And for me, amends is not about intention. It’s about impact. I impacted her life negatively. I did not want to do that. I was wrong. I owe her something for that. 

But now, I can’t have her in my life. Even if she were interested in communicating with me (which she is not) and I were to make my amends, now she would have to make amends to me too. Because what she did was cruel, immature, harmful to me, and not acceptable in my life. I don’t want drama. I choose to have no drama in my life. And drama is telling everyone something that could have been said to me.

So here are the things that I have gotten out of this pretty awful week. 

First, just like physical pain, my first reaction was to lash out and hurt her back the way she hurt me. To point out all of the worst parts of her. And it takes work on my part to let her go with love and not resentment. But resentment is poison to me. And this rage is only pain and grief. Because I loved her.

Second, that I am in this situation because of gossip. Because of MY GOSSIP! I sent my ex-friend a screen shot of someone who was also wronged by the guy that wronged her. I wanted together to have a fun little laugh at his expense. There was a grossness in my intention. It was nefarious.

And then I realized that I need to stop gossiping and that I DON’T WANT TO!!!!! That I love it! That it’s like “Righteous Indignation Lite” and I keep thinking about how “I’m not like other gossipers.” I’m special. I’m RIGHT! 

I know that I need to stop. And that I am resisting. Which means that I will probably make some kind of commitment about it soon…But not today and you can’t make me.

And the last thing I want to say is that a few people on social media commented to my ex-friend about my personal text that there was “no loyalty in friendship anymore.” And I need to say: My loyalty is to my integrity, my authenticity and my dreams. I think the idea that I would be loyal to a person regardless of actions in the name of friendship is not how I want to live my one and only Life. 

I *was* wrong about what happened with that guy. And I can admit that I was wrong. But I am still going to make my own decisions and some of them are going to be wrong. 

But they are and will continue to be mine. Not for my ego. For my heart. For my peace. For this messy work of art that is my Life.

No pictures please

It has been almost two years since I started walking stairs to work out because I couldn’t run because I couldn’t breathe. It’s about a year and 8 or 9 months since I started treat my new breathing problems (adult onset asthma) and learned that I have always had exercise induced asthma. And about a year and a half since I have been able to breathe while working out. All of this while in perimenopause. 

The changes in my body have been extreme. I have more than doubled the size of my butt with muscle, while simultaneously losing weight in my lower body and dropping multiple pants sizes, but also having barely any change in my upper body.

It has changed the way I walk. The way I stand. The ways I have to stretch. The kinds of clothes I want to wear. 

It has changed enough to change everything.

But my body has always been so changeable. Resilient and strong and adaptable.

I was 300 pounds at 19 years old. 130 pounds at 34. And since then I have stopped weighing myself. But in my life I have gained and lost hundreds of pounds. Sometimes when I was dieting before I got my eating under control. But after too. The changes when I had my eating boundaries were not as drastic, but what is drastic compared to 150 pounds?

The truth is for most people, especially women, 20 pounds is a lot. Even with my eating boundaries in place, firm and honored, I still have gained and lost more than 30 pounds at a time. 

And I have never felt so good, so free, as when I stopped caring about my weight. Let it fluctuate. Let it go where it wants. I don’t eat sugar because it’s poison to me. I don’t eat compulsively because I do not have a “done” button. But I love to eat. I live to eat and once I made friends with that, I let it be what it is. And what it is is lots of bacon and ice cream. 

I have a thought every once in a while that I should be taking pictures of my butt to mark my progress. Because there is so much change. And I’m proud of it. I like the way it looks. I like that I did it. I like that I knew what I wanted, and I put in the work and I get what I get. Which is as close to what I want as genetics will allow.

But then I remember that the kind of scrutiny that a picture a day welcomes turns on me quickly. It’s not too big a gap for me between the moments of “I love this milestone” and “HOW CAN I GET MORE AND QUICKER RESULTS????”

I am remembering to be present in my body. To let that hour in the morning be my time to care for it, enjoy it, push it, and admire it. And then go about my day not thinking about it.

I hope I can remember how much of my life was spent obsessing about my body, specifically how much I hated it, when I was eating compulsively. And that not having to think about my body is a luxury that comes from keeping my sugar addiction and compulsive eating under control and not letting my body dysmorphia get a good hold. Which means not taking pictures of my butt every day. Even if it is spectacular.

It’s all downhill from here 

I feel different this week. Energetically. Emotionally. Freer. Less tense. 

Two weeks ago I interviewed to teach art to little kids at a parks and rec. With the possibility of planning and teaching some one night adult classes. I am waiting to hear back about a second interview.

But either way, whatever happens, this feels right. To teach art. To teach craft. To hone my own skills. Of art and craft and teaching. 

I am actually not saying that this is my dream job. Or the ultimate goal for me. It’s true I am fascinated by both art and craft and the interplay of them. I have a lot of ideas for classes I want to create. But I am also a performer at heart. And in the past few years I have found my voice again for the first time since I was 20. (I mean literally. I am hitting notes I haven’t hit since I was a kid.) And I want some of that too. I want a lot, and lot of everything.

But teaching at a parks and rec seems like a really enjoyable and exciting way to make some money and express my creativity and foster creativity in someone else, while I explore all of the possibilities for my talents. 

One thing I really learned to appreciate when I got my eating under control was that humility was not about underrepresenting what I could do. It was about really honoring what I could do. But recognizing that it was not a thing that had much to do with me, per se. I kept sugar out of my system and abstained from eating compulsively, and I got a clear head and the motivation to do things, make things, be a certain kind of person, be committed to certain things. 

And the longer I kept my eating under control the more I became excited about the commitments I made. The more I loved my life.

I feel like I have crested the hill of a new way of thinking. A real shift in the way I see myself and the world. And while the way down may (will) be rocky, I plan to take it easy and trust the process. After all, if it’s all downhill from here, there is plenty of room to coast.

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