onceafatgirl

Peace is better than chocolate

Archive for the tag “feelings”

Not right. But just right

This week my husband and I had a talk about money and how he wants to move some around. 

The truth is I disagree with his plan. But entirely intellectually. And his plan is not bad. Just different than what I think we should do. What I think would make *his* long term money goals a reality. Because if we are honest my only long term money goal is to continue to never be stressed about money ever again.

But there is a part of me that is sort of trained to want to be recognized as right. Don’t you see…if we do it MY WAY you will get what you want. 

But I don’t do that.

What it comes down to is that honestly, I don’t actually care. Not the way my husband does. I don’t have the same kinds of *feelings* about money that he does. And there are very few money hills I will die on. 

Obviously I tell him what I think. But not in depth. If he pushes back even a little, I drop it. Because I am not emotionally invested the way he is. I don’t think about it the way he does. It does not affect my quality of life the way it does his. 

But I do have my own hills. Food of course. But also other things. After we ended up having to drag our kitten out from under furniture to get her on the road twice in 24 hours last week. My husband asked if I wanted to try to leave her home next time. It’s less than 24 hours. 

I said I was not comfortable with that and probably wouldn’t be for a while. That I would come up with some strategies for making it easier, but I was willing to drag her out if need be.

And he said “fair enough.”

There is voice in my head that says it’s stupid to care more about leaving my cat for a day than money. That money is objectively more important. More valuable. There is a voice in my head that says that it’s easy for me to not care about being poor while I am not poor. 

But I remember that I was poor for my pre-married adult life. I didn’t have high paying jobs. I did what I had to do to get by. (Like a quintessential xennial, I was participating in the gig economy before it was cool…) When I got married I stopped worrying about money. And when I stopped worrying I stopped having most feelings about money.

(Wow, I just realized that’s also true of fatness and Valentine’s Day. Maybe I should look into that pattern.)

But ultimately I most want to enjoy the peace of knowing I don’t need to be right. I don’t need to force my ideas on someone else’s feelings. I don’t need to judge myself for not caring about the things that most people care about. And I know how to take care of myself, and ask for what I need. 

So maybe not right but still just right.

I probably won’t stop, but I can learn

My husband and kitten and I all packed ourselves into the truck for an hour and a half yesterday, to spend less than 24 hours at our house, and then drive an hour and a half back to our apartment this morning. 

The other day I packed all of my food for those next meals. Then I packed the cat’s toys and food. The cat’s water fountain. Then my clothes. Craft stuff. 

I could have literally just packed my food and Harlow’s cat fountain. (When I type it out even that seems a little overkill. No I will not stop bringing her fountain.) 

We were barely there to need anything. I never opened the suitcase. I never made anything. Food or craft wise. I went from one home to another and anything I brought to one was already in the other one.

Really I just hung out with family and ate the meals I brought. Then we left this morning. After repacking all of the cat stuff. And dragging the kitten out from under furniture…

But even though I can see that I’m a little obsessive, I know I feel better when I am prepared. For eventualities. I feel better when I know I have taken care of my own comfort, peace and happiness. It keeps me from being mad, at myself or anyone else, if things DO go pear shaped. When I am prepared I know I did what I could, so I can just shrug and say “that’s life,” and do what I can to fix it. 

So I will still probably over pack two weeks from now when we go back for less than a day. 

But also. I can learn. That I don’t need to bring two outfits a pair of pajamas, and 4 pairs of underwear for 20 hours at home….

Harlow Gold on the road in her harness giving me the ears

Right now that doesn’t seem too bad

My kitten, who is almost a cat, is a very independent girl. She has a limit to how much touching she likes. And how. There is generally more wrastlin’ (pronounced RAS-lin) and more games of “bite the mamma” and fewer snuggles and pets.

But she loves to sit on my lap while I am eating. 

She doesn’t try to eat my food. Usually. She is occasionally interested in knocking my silverware off the table. But in general she doesn’t need anything. Not pets or scritches or even my attention. She just wants to be there.

I was a nanny for several years and I love babies. Like *baby* babies. I know how to communicate with them. To have them understand the important things at the very least. I love you. I see you. I care. I’m here. I’m happy when you are happy, and I want to soothe you when you are not.

And communication with a cat is similar. They don’t know words. They know energies. They drink intentions, feelings, experiences. 

And I can imagine that my meal times create a kind of palpable joy in me. A peace and also an excitement.

And here is the other crazy thing. I LET HER! I let her sit in my lap during my most treasured time: meal time!

I am forever and eternally obsessed with my food. I have never wanted to divide my attention between my meal and literally anything. Not even with those beloved babies I nannied. And here I am eating one handed with a cat in my lap and I am not even annoyed or begrudging. 

Here is the thing about babies. They are only babies for a year. Those babies I nannied are in their late teens and early 20s now. Grown ups or close to it. 

But having a cat is like having a baby forever. So maybe it’s me eating my meals one handed for the rest of my life. Which right now doesn’t sound too bad.

Snipped Threads

This week my account on my favorite social media platform (Threads) is glitched. I cannot get on to access it but it seems to still exist. I have been getting notifications but I can’t access them. And the truth is I don’t really want to do anything to get my account back. And I don’t even know if it’s possible. And actually taking action about it doesn’t appeal to me right now. 

So I have been on social media significantly less. And I am all the happier for it.

I am not one of those people who think the internet is “not real.” There is plenty of real news and information there. Plenty of interesting perspectives backed by science and educated experts. There are plenty of real people there.  And I have made real, true, lasting friendships there.

But it has been so peaceful to not be dealing with personalities this week. Because another thing that is on the internet is bait. To be enraged. To be mean. To be justified. To be brutal. And even after years of personally taking steps to protect and regulate my mind and body when I am on social media, that is a lot of work! I still have to stop. Breathe. Remember I get to choose my actions. I don’t need to react. I don’t want to react.

One thing that is not really on the internet is accountability. A friend of mine (whom I know through social media) says that the internet eliminates “reputation” in a way that those of us who are over 40 *had to* learn because all of life was in person. (Ok, fine. Cyrano was managing to catfish in the 1890s. But it was harder and you had to be really smart…) On line, you can disappear after you make a mess. You can hide behind a blank profile picture. You can pretend to be someone you are not. You can have a thousand different accounts presenting a thousand different personas.

I, on the other hand, didn’t take accountability in the 3D world until I got my eating under control. For the first 28 years of life I was just ruining my reputation right there in the open. I didn’t have the skills or the confidence to be honest, take responsibility, or make amends. And when I began to learn 20 years ago, I learned that you can’t really be accountable for anything if you don’t have accountability as a way of being. The way you do anything is the way you do everything. That I can really only be the one me that I am.

I couldn’t be accountable for my food and then lie about my work, or my responsibilities. And conversely, I couldn’t be a liar and keep my eating under control. 

When I stopped eating sugar and eating compulsively, it became clear to me that I couldn’t compartmentalize my life and be content. I couldn’t only be myself when it was convenient for other people. So I became more and more myself. Unapologetically. Joyfully. And it continues to this day. 

Because I am accountable to myself first. Because I care about reputation. Because I choose my actions based on my own thoughts and beliefs. Not as a reaction to rage or hurt or difficult feelings. And when I fail I make amends. 

I am not accountable *for* others. To be liked o admired or praised. I do it because it makes my life easier, better, more peaceful. Because it makes me LIKE myself. I am accountable because when my words thoughts and actions all align that way of being makes me feel free.

I may get back on my favorite platform. I may not. But I am going to enjoy this break for as long as it lasts. 

A 20 year wish come true

I had my photo shoot for that magazine this week and one thing it reminded me of is how comfortable I am in my body. Just really IN it, as opposed to trying to see what others see and judge as I think they are judging. Which was my experience the first 28 years of my life.

The photographer sent me a pic for myself to keep that will not be used in the magazine, and you can see the outline of my belly in my clothes. Not my favorite, but not emotionally devastating.

But when I was posing, I was not thinking about my belly. Or my chins. Or my arms. I was not thinking about anything but following directions. Or maybe that I am pretty. And when it was done I sent that picture with the belly to a couple of people. Because I did not feel the need to hide it or hate it. (Ok I didn’t and wouldn’t send it to everyone…a girl still needs to know her audience and hold her boundaries.) But I did not hate my body for having a belly. And that is a miracle. 

When I got my eating under control, I had been volunteering in a self help seminar, and the leader asked me what I wanted to get out of the seminar. And I said “for my body to stop being an issue.” And literally 20 years later I live every day in a body that is not an issue.

The problem when I was eating compulsively was that I made my body my enemy for a long time. I didn’t give it what it needed and I expected it to give me what I wanted. And instead it gave me what I needed. And I was ungrateful. 

Food saved me when I needed it. I could not manage my feelings and emotions as a small child. I really thought they might kill me. That is not an exaggeration. I was terrified of not being capable of living with so much pain. And food got me through. Right up until it started to kill me. 

Now I give my body what it needs. Not as an ultimatum. Not like training an animal. Like nurturing a plant. Water and light. Exercise for strength and mobility. Good food for both energy and pleasure. Rest. Learning.

No where in there is anything about my weight. I am perfectly comfortable in this body. Happy to make it bigger with muscles. Not worried about making it bigger with fat. 

So I am grateful to have the shoot over and done. It was more thinking about my body than I like. But I am even more grateful that I got to experience myself just being, even when the focus *was* on my body.

Patience is an ingredient

I was reading a multi-post social media thread about how to make the best banana bread, which is unusual for me. I don’t generally read posts about food. As a conscious  choice. 

But I was reading this one for whatever reason. And right there a few posts down were the words “patience is an ingredient.” And then I stopped reading. Because that was what I was there for. 

Not the process of how to make banana bread. The reminder that time does not move at my whim, that things worth doing are often done by process over long periods, that time takes time. 

These are all part of my personal “spiral staircase.” The lessons I am here on Earth to learn. That I keep coming around to but at a new level and with a new perspective, and a new understanding. But keep coming back to nonetheless.

I was a precocious child. Very clever. Quick on the uptake. And I expected to be a prodigy. I was not. 

And I likewise expected Life to come easily to me. Again, it did not. 

I had to learn delayed gratification, and slow and steady, and bare minimum for myself in what I can only assume is the most difficult way. Withdrawal.

But what I gained was a sense of time. 

When I first started putting boundaries around my eating 20 years ago, (January 2, 2006) I would look back at 1 month, 3 months, 6 months, and think really??? No cheating? Not even once? And it was so hard to believe that about myself. About my own integrity. Because I was so used to being untrustworthy. Like maybe for a day, or a week, I could do something. But months? And then years???

But the rules were clear. And I couldn’t trick myself if I broke them. So YES! I could confidently say yes. And getting those months and years took months and years. 

Every day that I keep my addiction and my compulsive eating under control, I know better that I am that trustworthy. That I have been. I no longer think it’s weird that I don’t cheat. And I don’t think it’s “unlike me.”

And every day that I keep my eating under control is a day to build on my learning, my making, my art, my craft, my relationships, my communities, the things that matter to me. 

So this year I am choosing Patience Is An Ingredient as my mantra. I am going to try to remember to honor where I am in all of my many processes, and also that old wisdom:

If you pray for patience, expect to be tested. 

Twenty years ago and a lifetime ago

Twenty years ago today I was pretty miserable. 

I don’t think about it much at all now. Not even as my anniversaries approach year by year. 

But someone said something to me recently that reminded me that 20 years ago right now, I was 28 years old, I was an exercise bulimic and a regular old stick a toothbrush down your throat bulimic, I had gained 30 pounds since Halloween two months earlier, and I was terrified because I could not see a way out. 

But also, it was good for me. A kind of shock to my system. I had hit a bottom. 

Once I started trying to make myself throw up, I could not pretend that I didn’t have a problem. We had reached After School Special levels of not okay.

As I approach my 20th anniversary this week, I get to really remember the excruciating pain of existing in the food. I could not stop eating. I could not stop punishing my body for it. With laxatives, with bulimia, with exercise to the point of and past injury, with harming myself any way I thought I had to so I could be in a different body. BUT STILL I COULD NOT STOP EATING!

So yes, it basically comes down to the fact that I am grateful for the ability to stop eating. Food thoughts don’t plague me. All of my eating is guilt free. I have a life beyond my wildest dreams. I have the ability to live a life between my meals. And love my meals 3 times a day. 

These boundaries are freedom. This freedom is liking, loving, and trusting myself. This is nearly two decades of increasing peace.

So here’s to my gratitude for the past almost 20 years and here’s to a lifetime more. 

An almost 20 year head start

I got my eating under control at 28. And that is a miracle. For me. But also, it’s not common. 

Most people (definitely not all) who come into food recovery are women. And most women come in about my age now. I’m 48. Essentially, when their hormones are changing. And when that need to please is greatly reduced.

I heard a woman say that society calls menopause “The Change” because that’s what it is for men. Their wives and mothers change. The women they relied on for everything are no longer as reliable, and some of the wives just LEAVE! (Can you imagine????) 

The older I get, and the less “reliable” my body gets, the MORE reliable my heart and soul and passion are. The more creative I am. The more proud I am of the time I spend learning and making and the product of my work. The more inspired and excited I am.

And I have all of this because in January of 2006 I decided that my sugar addiction had such a hold on me, that it would be better to give up all of my joy (I really thought that food was my only joy) than to live the rest of my life with the compulsion to eat and all of the shame that came with it.

A thing I hear a lot now is “I love your energy.” And they are right! I have great energy. I know I do because I WORK at it. And it’s a product of a lot of things that most people don’t actually like when it’s happening to them. 

You love my energy? I say NO to things that drain my energy. I limit my interactions with negativity and greed. I limit my interactions with drama. Even if I like you. Even if I love you. I say NO! I protect myself first, my family second, my friends third. 

And all of this is cumulative. I am just weeks shy of 20 years of taking care of my eating and letting that be the first step in taking care of the rest of my life. All of the rest of my life. So I have an almost 20 year head start of loving my body, of choosing my own peace and my own path, of living without resentment for the way I failed to measure up to someone else’s standards. An almost 20 year head start on so many women addicted to food, to sugar, to the idea of a perfect woman and the perfect body, or at least a “better body” that someone wants to sell us all. And I refuse to take that for granted. 

Being just to be with another being

One thing I have noticed since getting my kitten, Harlow, is that she pulls me back to the present all the time. Which alerts me to the fact that I am not in the present a lot of the time. 

There are some things that I have learned over the past 19+ years of having my eating under control that go against the modern conventional wisdom. Like that I should be eating to live not living to eat. If a food program is going to be sustainable for me, I am going to have to be obsessed with the food. Or that the goal in life is to be present all the time. I am an artist and a creative. I do my best work in my fantasy world. Literally. 

But there is something that I don’t get in my daydream world. And that is peace. And Harlow brings me peace. A new kind of peace that I don’t have a lot of experience with. Being just to be with another being. 

Sometimes it is too much peace. I have literally never in my life slept so much in the day by accident. And I am not a good napper. I just wake up tired and disoriented and then have to make dinner…

Don’t get me wrong. I have a lot of worries and anxiety about her. Doing accidental harm is my biggest personal fear. But the relationship is easy. And being in the moment with her is easy. And that brings me a lot of peace in my everyday.

The other thing I have to remind myself of is that she has been so easy that I expect her to be easy about everything. And that makes me nervous to do things she won’t like. But we are both still capable. For example, she hasn’t  taken to harness training the way she has to all of the other things, like car rides and exploring 2 houses. And I have to actually do the work like I would have to with a cat with a difficult personality. 

And honestly. The worst she does is give me the side eye! She doesn’t even cry! So I am just that spoiled! 

I have lived my life for myself. And I have zero shame or regrets. It kept me from taking on responsibilities I didn’t want. It means I have a life I love that I chose for myself. But there is something special that I have never had before BECAUSE I didn’t want responsibility for another life. That I am now so grateful to have. 

Tomorrow everything changes. Like usual.

Tomorrow everything changes. 

Philosophically speaking, you could say that everything is always changing. But my life is very much built on routine and the comfort of sameness. Especially as someone who moves around so often. I keep touchstones with me always. I travel with a kitchen. With the same bedding and the same bathroom accouterments. I have my favorite mug at our house, and my favorite mug at our apartment. I have my ramekins at our house and my ramekins at our apartment. 

But tomorrow we go pick up Harlow Gold (we are keeping her shelter name, Harlow, and I love the line in Bette Davis Eyes “her hair is Harlow gold. Also she is black with dark grey underfur. So not gold at all. Anyway…) And that is a new personality. That is a new being with needs and wants and desires that must be honored and addressed. That is the start of 15-20 years (Life willing) of relationship.  

Once I got my eating under control, I got clarity. And I got to learn who I was and what I wanted. And what I didn’t. And I didn’t want kids. I could see that the societal assumption that I did want them, along with the assumption that the man I ended up with would necessarily want them, made me assume that it would all happen. That one day it would be “time” and I would know. But I didn’t. And he didn’t. And that was amazing. And we have spent almost 13 years enjoying our lives together.

And now, at 48, I am finally, for the first time, ready for a pet. And that feels good. It feels right. It feels just the right amount of life changing. 

I suspect that Harlow Gold will just slip right into our lives like she was always there. That my new normal will be normal pretty quickly. Having my drug foods down and my eating under control means that I am good at going with the flow and rolling with the punches. But no matter what, tomorrow, everything changes. Like usual. 

Post Navigation