onceafatgirl

Peace is better than chocolate

Archive for the tag “feelings”

No stoop for you

My threshold for settling or pivoting or accommodating is rapidly diminishing. 

A couple of weeks ago, I reached out to some painters and only one guy got back to me. And then he proceeded to be out of contact for a week. By the time he got back to me, I still didn’t have a painter. But I knew my painter wasn’t him. (I have since gotten my apartment painted by someone else and I love it!)

Then I needed someone to do a repair on the house we are selling. Since my husband and I live on the road in a different town, I had my sister-in-law let a handyman from a service in and ask him to call me so I could get explain exactly what the job entailed. He never called. He wrote up an estimate of “what he would do if it were his house.” 

At first I blamed myself for not traveling all the way there to talk to him in person. My sister-in-law then called me apologizing telling me she tried to get him to call me. That she wrote my number down and handed it to him.

That was when it occurred to me that there were two 40 something women apologizing for not making it possible for this man to do his job. A job he easily could have done if he had just followed directions. The first step was just to call me.

Needless to say, I didn’t even look at the estimate. If I can’t trust someone to listen I should not give them the job. I texted them that I would not be using them. 

But this was scary! Because this company is so well respected in our suburb. These are the 5 star people. So who am I to say they are not for me?

Anyway I have a different guy coming tomorrow to start taking out my bathroom sink and wall. 

Even my husband has felt this change. We were looking at air fresheners the other day, and he picked one and said, if we don’t like it we can change it. So I said ok. But then we got like 5 steps and I said to myself, Kate, you hate that brand and you most definitely don’t like “Ocean” scented stuff.  So I said sorry. Nope. Can’t do it. 

I want to be clear that I am very good at going with the flow. And marriage has taught me that I only need to have an opinion when I really have an opinion. If my husband had picked something tropical, which is not my favorite, but is lovely and is one we can both agree on, I could have not had an opinion. I wouldn’t need to say that I would prefer something more floral. It would have been fine and I would been content.

But I hate ocean. Why does it smell like the worst of the 90s???

I don’t need to settle for something that is just going to make me unhappy. I don’t need to be annoyed when I can just opt out. 

Resentment is poison for me. And it almost always happens because I knew better and I didn’t listen to myself. 

20 years of weighing my food and abstaining from my drug foods, like processed sugar and carbohydrates, has taught me to be my most authentic self. Every day I don’t eat compulsively, or eat to get high, is a day I have a clearer path to my truest heart. 

So every time I see that clear path and choose something else to please someone else, I get resentful. 

The truth is I have always been resentful. It’s just that having my eating under control lets me see that it’s not actually anyone else’s fault. That my resentment is a lack of responsibility. 

I take responsibility every time I say “no, that’s not for me.” And I end up getting what I want with out a bunch of extra steps.

Gentle parenting my little addict

At the beginning of this year I had no idea I would be moving out of our suburban house and into a city condo. And here it is, July, and before the end of the summer I will be out of a house that I love and into a high rise condo that I love.

And I am overwhelmed with feelings. 

I want this move. I want to go to the grocery store on foot. I want to go to fun places on the train and the bus. I want to just walk around the city as a pastime!

I used to walk around New York just to be out and about. I tried walking in the early days of suburban living, but walking the suburbs (not to mention when we lived in Texas or Mississippi) is not the same. It doesn’t feel like a solo date the way a city walk can. And now I will be close to both mundane and fancy shopping. The lake and river walks. The beaches. The museums. Little coffee shops. Beautiful views.

But I am also going to miss our house. We renovated it just to our liking. I had a double oven and a high capacity washer and dryer, and a rain shower head plus a handheld shower head, and a weeping cherry tree and a Japanese maple, and 4 tall grasses along our driveway, but one that was always shorter and wider and wilder that we called “Milo.” I had lots of room for clothes and crafts and just stuff in general. A garage. A swing in my back yard. A back yard.

A move like this is a big deal for me. It is a dream come true. It is also a kind of breakthrough in my self. Emotionally and spiritually. To understand “manifestation” differently. To understand how the world works differently. 

But in order to understand something differently, is to change. And change for me is a kind of crisis. Every time. Even now when the change seems to be a wonderful opportunity and a deeper understanding of the power of my own authenticity. 

Getting everything I want is, indeed, a crisis to my nervous system.

It’s just that I have made friends with crisis. 

In child development, they say a secure child is one who has a parent who is both warm and firm. One who can hold a boundary with love. And when I got my eating under control, I had to learn how to do that for the little addict in me, that terrified little girl who was going to DIE if she had to feel this feeling one more minute. 

Yes you are having a crisis. Yes it’s very scary and parts of this are going to be hard and painful. Remember all of the times you thought things would be hard and now you are good at them. No we can’t stop and quit right now. Yes you still have to sign all the paperwork. Maybe later we can go through two drawers and see what we can get rid of. You don’t have to do it right now. You’re doing a great job already. Why don’t you have lunch and then see how you feel. Go to sleep and tomorrow you can decide what you want to do next.

It turns out that gentle parenting my addict lets me take thoughtful action in the face of fear, instead of reacting (usually freezing – so my reaction was generally an entire lack of action.)

To have my feelings be in their proper place, as guideposts and stop signs, is a gift, but it took something. It took changing the way I thought, and the way I thought was enmeshed in the way I ate. I had a bad feeling, I ate a drug food that lit up my brain’s reward center, I was calm enough to not care and not take action, and then soon enough I was sober and still had the same problem, now for longer, and still no solution. And that felt yucky. So I ate a drug food to get rid of that bad feeling.

You can clearly see where this is going…(or can you? I am told there is a literacy crisis.)

By not ever eating drug foods anymore, I stopped using certain thoughts. They never got triggered by the reward cycle. The path got overgrown. New thoughts got used. More and more often. The rewards were for different things, like achieving long term goals, instead of instant gratification.

The reality is, that until we are entirely out of our suburban house, are mostly unpacked from the move, and the keys are in the new owners’ hands, I will not be chill. But on the other side will be a new kind of chill. One I have not experienced yet.

Also, if I can keep my eating boundaries for 20 years, I can manage to keep my shit together for 2 months while we do what regular people do all the time. Move. 

I can’t have my cake and condo too

As I get close to the end of my home saga, and everything changes, little by little until it’s one giant completed new chapter, I am so grateful that I am not shoving food in my face. Because this whole experience has been and continues to be *uncomfortable!*

If I were eating sugar and eating compulsively, I would be an absolute wreck. This whole process may have gotten done. But it would have come with costly mistakes, important things falling through the cracks, and my very bad attitude making everything worse and more difficult and frustrating and scary. 

And I would have been miserable. And even when the whole thing was done, it would have been filled with shameful memories of ways I behaved. 

And all that time I would hate myself. Eating compulsively makes me hate myself.

I don’t hate fatness. And I could be fat and happy. By some standards, I AM fat and I am certainly happy. But I cannot eat compulsively, eat drug foods, eat addictively and be happy. So if I were to let myself eat the way I used to, while I stuffed cake in my mouth I would simultaneously feel better (high/numb) and worse (ashamed) and I would hate myself the entire time. 

It’s not the body. It’s the eating. 

So IF I had the kind of life where I manifested my dream home while I was eating compulsively (doubtful) I still would have been filled with dread. I still would have been filled with bad energy! 

As we get closer to selling our house, and moving exclusively to our smaller condo, I get scared all over again. About space. About downsizing. My body panicks pretty regularly. And if I were in the food, I would be filled with regrets. 

But I am not! I am clear headed, capable, even tempered, genuinely excited and joyful! I know that 80% of the hard part is done. And while I have not enjoyed every moment of the process, all in all it has been a time of wonder. A dream come true. 

(Oh, and also I have been giving away as much stuff as I can when I have a moment. So you know…taking action helps.) 

“Are we playing Whiny Babies?” -Emily Henry

I was having a hard time coming up with a topic today because the main thing taking up my brain space is embarrassing to admit. Whiny. Cranky. Unenlightened. Bad vibes. 

Here’s the thing. I feel personally disrespected by a thing that happened recently. But when I look at it, in context of the situation, I have no right to expect literally anything. It is not for me, it is not about me. So I just backed out of a small event. And normally that would be totally cool. I usually appreciate that not everything is for me. 

So why am I still thinking about it? On a loop? I really don’t know. But I am not over it. I am still offended.

One of the things I know, partially because I am old, and partially because I am a spiritual seeker, is that ideas are nothing without hands. The most brilliant concept still needs a body to make it come true. Faith without works is dead. And there is no faith and are no works without tribulations.

So I can be over here on this side of my screen writing about a life beyond my wildest dreams, and talking about good vibes and the power of our minds, which I believe in wholeheartedly. But it doesn’t mean anything if you don’t know I am also petty and judgmental and can’t let go of a minor slight. (It really is so minor. I’m an absolute whiny baby.) 

I guess this means that there is something that I need to look at, change, figure out. Because I firmly believe this is a gift and a lesson. A sign. Or why would I still be thinking about it?

And it has to be about me, because I honestly don’t have a relationship with the person I’m upset with. And I literally may never see some of the people again in my life. 

But I believe emotions are sign posts. And while I was eating all of my be feelings, I couldn’t read any of directions. But now, 20 years of feelings later, I can feel them, analyze and evaluate them, and then get to work. 

Whatever it is, it’s not a moral issue

There is a way of thinking about life that I chose after well over a decade of having my eating under control. And it is that whenever I don’t get what I think I want, I choose that Life or God or The Universe is protecting me from something I will never know. And it has changed everything in my experience.

Now, if I drop or mis-weigh some expensive food, I assume it would have given me food poisoning. It’s actually easy to “give up” poisoned food. When I missed my exit driving back home this morning at first I was super annoyed. And then I decided I got saved from an accident or an emergency. Driving an extra 11 or 12 miles to avoid pain and harm is a no brainer. It would not make me feel bad. But missing my exit because I made a mistake? That would have been my “fault.”

Nothing changed about the circumstances. The only thing that changed was my framing. But what that framing does, is take morality out of the equation.

Because it “feels bad” to make a mistake. And that makes me feel bad about myself. But there is no real morality in it. It is just an unmet expectation. I expected to get home 20 minutes before I actually got home. Sometimes I expect to eat some particular tomatoes, but then I drop them and those tomatoes end up at the bottom of a dirty garbage disposal. I’m not going to eat them either way. So I can feel bad about it or I can reframe it.

I used to go looking for the meaning and morality in all things. And now I trust that as long as I keep my eating under control and don’t eat my drug foods, the meaning will find me. I trust that Life is looking out for me. And that as long as I am living according to my conscience, whatever it is, it’s not a moral issue. 

And as for the reality of the actual individual situations, I can’t prove that I was spared something , but you also can’t prove me wrong…

Giving Nature a vaccuum

As of Wednesday, my husband and I are the proud and happy owners of a high rise condo in the South Loop of Chicago. Today we went to just be there and enjoy it. There is nothing there. But it’s beautiful and it makes me so happy.

We also just finished moving from one town to another for my husband’s job because he finished one construction job and started another.

And BOTH places are MUCH smaller than their predecessors.

We gave ourselves a week to move from one work apartment to the next. And it was not the wisest decision we ever made. Because instead of packing efficiently and throwing away the overflow, I just moved everything one car load at a time. And too much came with me. And now I have to cull.

This is actually good. I know. I am reminded that clearing space, internal or external, makes room for what’s next, what’s better, what’s currently unimaginable.

Historically, when I have gone through my clothes to see what I want to keep or toss, there were a number of things that I didn’t like or really want that thought I “should” keep. It’s a basic piece, so everyone should have one type of thing. But I don’t wear plain white shirts. Because I spill coffee on myself regularly. So I would have a white shirt simply taking up space. But I had the space.

I no longer have space, and that is so freeing. I don’t need to keep pants because they are cute and new and I have never worn them. In fact, I NEED to give them away because I don’t have room for them.

Here’s the thing. I know that I always feel better after I get rid of things. But it doesn’t always feel like that before I let it go. It feels like “but what if I *need* it?” Which is how change always feels.

Since I got my eating under control, I have experienced first hand the ways that letting go of difficult things is worth it. Every time. And it still isn’t easy. I just have a past reference that if I give it a shot, it will probably work out for the best.

So the people I know are about to get some free high quality clothes. (And yarn.)

It’s not called a super chill system for a reason

I have had an absolutely insane week. Before we went to sleep last Sunday, we heard that our offer on a high rise condo with amazing Chicago city views had been accepted.

One thing a lot of people don’t actively think about is the fact that when we change, especially when we grow into people we have been hoping to become, our brains don’t cheer us on. They send our nervous systems after us. Like thugs in flat caps with tire irons. (My nervous system is apparently Irish.) 

So I have been managing a series of mini panic attacks in between filling out paperwork, signing electronically, and uploading documents. 

But there is a thing that having my eating under control for 20 years has done: it has taught me that I can act through my fear and my panic. That I can just take the next right step. I don’t have to feel like it to do it. I don’t have to be ready. 

What I am talking about is not just worry that I made a mistake or missed something. It’s not just about the process of buying a condo. It’s worry about all of the things that come from this change. For example, downsizing. 

I have been changing my wardrobe over the past year or so. Entirely switching up my style. And while I have had an apartment on the road and big house in the suburbs, I have not been thinking about space. I just get the new clothes I want. But there are still so many old clothes. Or new clothes that I realize I am just kind of meh about. So after a series of panic attacks about downsizing my wardrobe, I just took some steps. And it was a relief. I literally just made some piles to give away and packed them up. 

I have a problematic amount of craft supplies too. And this little voice in my head that sees something that inspires me, but that I have no current need for, and thinks “you have room.”

Guess what, voice, there is no more room for potential. 

So the purging of the craft supplies will be coming soon to a suburban house near me. (Mine.) 

Every time my nervous system tells me we are making a big mistake, I remember that it is fighting for the status quo. Because it knows we are surviving here. But survival and thriving can’t live in the same place.

As a person who wants more, who wants it all, love and friendship and joy and contentment without complacency, I can make friends with the panic, and move forward anyway. As long as I weigh and measure my food and keep my drug foods out of my body, I’m available to show up and do things, big and small, mundane and life-changing.

I set myself up

There is a concept/dichotomy that has come up for me in two different contexts lately.

Internal vs external. 

First it was an Instagram reel about tight hips.

I have very tight hips, particularly my right one. It has been an issue since my late twenties. I have lived in pain on and off since then. And over the past 5 or so years, I have found more and better stretches to get them to release. But there was a portion of my right hip, deep in the joint, that never got any real satisfaction. 

And then I saw this video a couple of weeks ago, of a woman saying if you have tight hips and you get a “cramp” kneeling, it’s not a cramp. 

It turns out it was the end of my range of motion for my “internal rotation.” The same with the top of my right foot. All of the stretches I have been doing up until now are working, but only for part of my motion, my external rotation. And then she demonstrated stretches for internal rotation. 

And if that didn’t change my life! It took more than one session of these new stretches for my hip to get full range. But I have finally managed to hit the spot!  THE SPOT!

Since then I have been doing my new stretches with every workout. And additionally any time my hips are paining me. I have the most relief and least hip pain I have ever had in my adult life.

The other thing was a reel about the differences in the brains of people who live by internal validation vs external validation. That there is a difference in their brains. But it’s not about parts. It’s about practice. That the rewards and the reward systems are different. And lead to very different life experiences.

And this made perfect sense to me because what the reel described was the difference between me before getting my eating under control and after. 

And it also made other people come into clearer focus for me. It made strangers on the internet make just that much more sense.

I definitely didn’t know when I got my eating under control that what I was *doing* was engaging in less external validation seeking and more internal, but I ABSOLUTELY knew I was rewiring my brain. 13 years ago I was writing blogs about it. 

One thing I know from 20 years of having my eating under control. That my brain is as elastic as I let it be. My hormones are not entirely in my control, but they are not entirely out of it either. That when I make a choice to remain calm, I can take actions to remain calm, and I can stop from brain from flooding my body with hormones. I can make friends with my body. I can retrain my brain. I can choose peace. I can set myself up for the best experience.

Available for connection

Last night I went to a party with a dozen or so awesome ladies, about half new to me. And it was a delicious delight. (And I didn’t even eat the party food!)

There was so much laughter, candor, humor, insight, and love. There was a spirit of mutual respect and appreciation. There was the desire to support each other.

A few years ago I made the deliberate choice to cultivate my friendships. Especially with women. I felt like I had lost my connections to people who liked me, and whom I liked. Not for any other reason than grown up life doesn’t have a lot of built in structures for relationship that aren’t partner and kids. As an individual, one has to make it a priority. Or not as the case may be.

13 years ago, I moved away from my friends when I left New York City to be with my husband. And we were all already grownups. Navigating partnerships and parenting while we were in the same city was hard enough. From long distance, it takes even more. And I am inconsistent. And so are my long distance friends. This is not a judgement. It’s an observation. Life gets lifey fast and sudden.  

So when I noticed the lack of everyday friendships in my life, I took actions to change that. To reach out to old friends. To make new friends. To be an asset to communities. To find new people that I like, that like me back.

When I was heavy in my addiction and depression, I would isolate for long periods of time. I would hide away in my room and binge eat and avoid my friends. And then when I was better or lonely or ready to be back in the world, I would have to go mend the friendships I had harmed. And that made friendships feel like a kind of burden. And it made me feel bad about myself. And all of those feelings led me to want to isolate more, eat more, hate myself more. 

By keeping my food boundaries and bringing my own food to this party, I looked a little weird at first. But I got to be authentic and funny and fully present. And that is when I can be part of the community. That is where I can make a difference. Just by being there, available for connection. 

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.

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