onceafatgirl

Peace is better than chocolate

Archive for the tag “self-care”

15 Sep 2024

Taking my doctor’s advice

I had a doctor’s appointment this week. And to prep for it I had to get a fasting blood draw. I, as many of you know, have a lot of awful past experiences with having my blood taken. But I found a lady at the hospital who is amazing at it, and I know what days she works. (Also, even as good as she is and painless as it was, I still ended up with a 2” bruise.) 

So my labs came back a few days before the appointment and I learned that I have high cholesterol. And I was worried. About what? Who knows! About letting down my doctor? About having to have a conversation about what I am eating? About being put on more drugs?

But what happened is my doctor looked at all of the other factors in my life, did some special doctor calculations, and told me that my lifestyle is enough to counteract my cholesterol. The fact that I don’t drink or smoke, that I exercise regularly, that I get enough sleep and stay hydrated, means that my chances of having a stroke or heart attack are 0.6%. So she said “you can just keep doing what you are doing.”

Look, I do want to keep an eye on it. Maybe eat more eggs and chicken and less bacon and sausage and pork rinds. Maybe. 

But the point is, that I *can* keep an eye on it. Because when I got my eating under control 18+ years ago, I started really looking at what I was eating. I started knowing exactly what and how much I would be eating in a day. Everything that was going in my body.

When you start a diet or with a nutritionist, usually their first assignment is for you to write down everything you eat in a day. And when I was eating compulsively and eating my drug foods, I RESISTED!!! I didn’t want to know. I didn’t want to see. I didn’t want facts and figures. I liked keeping it muddy for myself. If I didn’t acknowledge the truth of the situation, I could fail to see the solution. 

But in retrospect I think I did that mostly because I knew on some level that I was not capable of implementing the solution. If the solution was to eat less, which it was, I was not able. 

I am an addict. Telling me to not eat sugar is like telling an unhoused person to just get a home. I’m not saying that the end result is good. I’m saying I need support. I need a paradigm shift. I need a community to understand. It takes me doing the work, yes, but the work is not easy. And the work is not a thing that just happens. 

I have high cholesterol because I’m still a food addict. Because I’m still afraid of being hungry (hence all the fatty meats.) Because I’m afraid of having a disappointing meal. Because I am worried that if I don’t eat enough calories while I am building so much muscle during my workout that I will be sick or lightheaded. 

But I am also a *recovering* sugar addict and compulsive eater. So I live a generally healthy lifestyle because I am too present not to. Because I am fully aware of how the little things I do every day, add up to a good and happy life, and the opportunity to make a better choice in the future.

But for today, I’m going to take my doctor at her word and just keep doing what I am doing.

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18 Aug 2024

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.

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11 Aug 2024

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.

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04 Aug 2024

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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28 Jul 2024

To die trying

I have always had my own internal game of tug of war with non-conformity and people pleasing. I was not a kid who fit in. Or who wanted to fit in. Or to do the stuff other kids were doing. I liked adults. Or I liked intellectual stimulation. And I can remember being 8 and realizing that not all adults were capable of intellectual stimulation…

But I was also fat, and a girl, and boy crazy and funny, and clever. Which gave me a fear of being shamed, plus a desire to be liked and approved of, and a couple of ways to get that. 

When I got my eating under control, I really let go of most of my people pleasing. And I think I thought I had gotten rid of all of it. Or at least any active people pleasing. 

But the more I get right down to the nitty gritty of myself, I can see that there is an underlying fear, that *nobody* will love me if I don’t pull it back, calm it down, be more quiet, smaller, easier, less annoying or abrasive, not so loud, and for heaven’s sake, not so damn sure of myself. 

Even if most people don’t like me, I don’t care. I don’t like most people. But what about my people? What about the ones I care about losing? 

Look. I already know the answer. The answer is I become my most authentic self and my real and truest people will show up, and the rest will either level up, or give up. And that is how it always has been anyway. And that is a blessing! I know.

But this is the terror of a child. I am bumping up against a very old boogie man. But knowing that doesn’t make it any less scary. 

But you know what kind of does make it less scary? That I did this before. With my terror that I would never have love and partnership. I spent the first 35 years of my life not only single, but without any hope that I could have the kind of companionship and love that I have now. And now I don’t just have it, I know that I deserve it. 

And that took 7 years of having my eating under control and doing the work to become a person I wanted to be, before I even found my husband. (Or re-found him.) And then over a decade together changing. So now, 18 years in of keeping my compulsive eating under control, and doing the spiritual work and continuing to do it, whatever is on the other side of this fear of myself, is worth it. I already know.

So I will get to the bottom of this, or die trying. But I guess there will always be another part of myself to grow, so maybe the goal is to die trying *something.* 

Put that on my tombstone. Here lies Kate, who died trying. 

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21 Jul 2024

My most complicated relationship (cue the Whitney Houston)

I often think about the 12 step idea that being good at life means that I  pedal while Life steers. And so much of pedaling for me is just keeping my sugar addiction and compulsive eating under control. 

When I abstain from simple sugars and carbohydrates and weigh my food, I quiet the noise in my head. I have noise about food, about fear, about eating, about my body, about losing weight and gaining weight. And I can keep control over all of that noise when I am not feeding it drug foods and obsession. 

When the food is down , I can also listen. To myself. To the part of Life or God or The Universe that is inside me. To the people around me that Life sent my way to pass on a message or a clue or a blessing.

So much of a great life seems to be seeing the opportunities in front of me, choosing them, using them, doing something about them.

Over the past year or so, I have started to fix and reconcile the most complicated relationship I am in. The one with myself.

I have some choices that I need to make. Personal choices. And I am coming to terms with the fact that my life has been filled with people who didn’t and don’t understand or approve of me. No. Not ME. My choices. My wants. My DREAMS! 

And that *I*, in my lifetime of fear and self doubt, have been agreeing with everyone who told me I was wrong for being impractical, or silly, or picky, or any of the things that did not make me an easy companion.

So I have been doing what I want. Without a thought to other people. Little things at first. The clothes I want. How I want to spend time and energy. But I have been coming full up against a wall. A wall I built so that other people could approve of me. Easily. Without any work on their part.

But to tear it down is to expose my underbelly. To give an easy, soft target.

I took an action the other day. Reached out to someone for something. But before I did, I wanted to ask all of the people who have opinions about me what their opinion would be about this. 

But I didn’t. 

I meditated. And I remembered that I was not looking for clarity. I was looking for answers. Answers about me and what I wanted. And whether I like it or not, I’m the only one with those. 

I always thought that being a good person was about the ways you impacted others. But right now I can see that I have been impacting myself in harmful ways. As if that were OK. As long as it wasn’t someone “important.”

The last thing I want to say is that I believe that being my most authentic self can only make the world better. Even for all of the people I have been trying to accommodate. Even if it’s an inconvenience. Even if it changes the way they feel about me.

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14 Jul 2024

The good and bad news is you never get the same Kate

Becoming a different person is hard. Even though I have done it many times before.

A thing happened this week where we had a family issue that required a delicate conversation with a family member and it was complicated. Or…we thought it was going to be complicated. And it was not. 

But nobody involved knew that. And the lead up to the solution (which was so graceful and easy it was kind of hilarious) was highly dramatic. Apparently, though, all and only in our own minds.

But here’s the thing. We created drama. And it needed somewhere to go. Some sort of outlet. And it did. And I ended up in an argument with one person and we are still in that argument. 

My best friend reminds me of something all the time. She had a therapist who said that people sometimes get involved in “a game of kick me” (figuratively) and the game doesn’t end until SOMEONE gets figuratively “kicked.” You can kick them. They can kick you. Or either one of you can kick yourselves. But the game won’t end until one of those things happens. 

That is what this feels like. It feels like a whole bunch of people decided that someone needed to get kicked and I, personally, absorbed all of that drama so the rest of them didn’t have to. Calling us back to honesty and integrity over pity and fear. Recalling us to the fact that we did not know what would happen and that our emotional projections were unhelpful. 

And now that very high drama needs an outlet and apparently I and this other person are the people who get to get kicked. Or get to kick each other. Or ourselves. And I don’t even know how to dissipate it. Except maybe to kick or be kicked. And both of those sound like really shitty options to me.

I am constantly trying to grow. I am consistently working on being my most authentic self. With the firm and lasting belief that *that* is my very best self. I am always working to peel back the layers of inauthentic protection that I have put up around me. And that means not being the person I was yesterday. And that means the people around me getting a new person all the time. 

I guess that is the good news, but also the bad news.

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23 Jun 2024
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Am I being…sane about this????

My dad’s mom was the love of my life before my husband. She got sick when I was 33. And in the few months that she was in the hospital before she died, in my mourning, my body got small. 

I don’t mean I did anything to make it small. It was not like I was so sad I didn’t eat. I was already in my food program and had my eating under control. But that didn’t mean eating “up to” a certain amount, it meant eating an exact amount. Whether I wanted to or not. And I often did not. But I ate it. I choked every meal down for months. And still by the time she died, I was by far the very tiniest  had ever been.

The person who helped me deal with my eating boundaries was worried how small I was getting and how quickly, and made me eat another piece of fruit every day. And still I was over 5’6” and in a U.S. size small (4/6.) 

A few years later on my 35th birthday, 12 years ago this month in fact, I quit smoking and I gained weight. So much weight. Not only did my new extra fruit get taken away but my vegetable portions were cut. I was eating quantifiably less and less nutrient dense foods, and still gaining weight. 

That kicked off my body dysmorphia in a whole new and exciting way! I had crazy nightmares about getting on the scale. I started to dread weigh day 28 days before it happened each month! I started to think about all of the ways I could diet and lose this weight. And since all of the normal ways were already not working, they were some crazy thoughts. Bulimic thoughts. 

And then I realized that at that moment I had absolutely zero control over my weight. Like none. And that was the beginning of my understanding the difference between hating my sugar addiction, and my internalized fat phobia and fat hatred, and separating them for and from myself. 

And so from that time on I made a point to think of my weight as “none of my business.” I have not been on a body scale in over a decade. I even just say no at the doctor’s office. And since nobody has had to give me medication by weight, it has never been an issue. I look in the mirror, I think I’m gorgeous. No matter what size. And though my weight fluctuated, I never ever got back to that skinny girl.

But here we are 12 years later and I am approaching, or maybe even am, a U.S. 4/6 again right now. And not because my body is eating itself in mourning this time either. I am not entirely sure why but I do know that I have changed the size and shape of my butt by building muscle and that I can now breathe when I work out, which are two really important aspects of my daily routine that directly coincide with the timing of my weight loss that I did not have when I was in my 30s.

But this is what I want to point out, to you and to me. This is the absolute SANEST I have ever been around my body and weight loss. This sanity is the result of years of curating my media/social media to see a full gamut of people and bodies. This is a result of actively changing my thought patterns around my body and other people’s bodies. Literally noticing a thought, stopping it, and redirecting my brain. This is the result of taking direct actions, having explicit conversations, making deliberate choices to consider bodies the sacred vessels they are, rather than the targets of judgement and ridicule. 

I’m not immune to the ingrained thoughts. I do still get a little zing of happy at “small” “skinny” “finally.” 

But I also know I don’t have to do anything about it. Don’t have to romance thinness as an ideal. Don’t have to feel proud of something that is a side effect of a certain other goal (the butt was on purpose, the weight loss was not.) Don’t have to do more or eat less or try this or that.

I just have to love my body the way it is. And I do. 

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09 Jun 2024

A welcome homecoming

I have had many complaints about perimenopause in the past several years. Because it has its annoyances. Brain fog, memory issues, hot flashes – especially at night, plus irregular and more painful periods. 

But there are some things that I positively adore about my life right now and I am starting to understand that perimenopause is actually a part of that. 

I have heard a few stories over the past year or so that have had an impact on me. 

First I saw some speaker (maybe a Ted Talk?) say that when women go through menopause we call it “the change” like we are turning into monsters. But really we are just returning to the same hormones we had before puberty. In other words, I realized that would mean I am reverting back to my 9-10 year old self! That’s fantastic! That’s so fun!

Then my best friend and I were talking. And she is an award winning director of singers. And she said that there was an experience she had. A woman of a certain age has raised her kids and she and her husband are empty nesters, and now she has an itch to be on stage. And as she gets deeper into it, and she’s good at it, her husband gets more uncomfortable. “Where did this singing come from? She never sang before!” And it was not once. But repeatedly. And she and her piano playing partner would say “here we go.” So is it a coincidence that this is also the time most women are going through perimenopause? Is it a coincidence that I am feeling more creative, more confident, more excited about doing things now even though I don’t have kids? There was no nest to empty.

And then a friend who does spiritual work told me that one very particular message for me was to revert back to the time when I was free. And she said that it was told to her that it was when I was 10 or 11. Is it possible it’s a coincidence I was last “free” around early puberty and now am being told to find it again after my baby making hormones are almost done? Of course it’s possible. But would it really be that crazy?

The idea that my changing hormones might affect the way I interact with society feels like an important bit of information. For me if no one else. It feels more connected than not. 

Because truly, I am feeling content and free and unencumbered in a way I don’t remember ever feeling. And It feels like a brand new kind of freedom. I mean I feel deeply unburdened in my heart and head and soul. (In other words, it’s probably hormones and brain chemicals.) 

Also on that note, shout out to my antidepressant. That certainly changed my life for the better. Along with over a decade of building good habits and learning how to maintain my integrity.

When I got my sugar addiction and compulsive eating under control, I discovered that I hated myself. But I hated myself so deeply that I didn’t even know it was there until it stopped. And it stopped because I was able to keep a promise to myself.

So I have spent the past 18 years keeping that promise and then more and more promises to myself. And liking and loving myself more. And then in the past year the antidepressant has really allowed for me to be comfortable in my own head for the first time. And here I am, 47 years old, and I love myself. Not just “don’t hate” but LOVE! I am joyful to be alive. I am tickled to be me. I feel like I am the most beautiful, likable, hilarious and generous I have ever been.

So I guess what it comes down to for me is that in my life I do the work and keep up with the maintenance, physically, spiritually, and emotionally. And my body does what it does. And sometimes that is difficult or uncomfortable. But this change – The Change – also feels like a kind of homecoming. And I welcome it.

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26 May 2024

Bodies gonna body

There is a brag that I have heard older women make my whole life, on TV and in movies and in real life. That they can still wear their clothes from 30 years ago or they can still fit into their wedding dress or some other claim of victory that their bodies have not changed significantly in their lifetimes.

And this is not my story. Not even a little. And not even since I got my eating under control. Actually I hear it more since quitting sugar because so many woman who do what I do with food used to yo-yo diet and then, once they gave up sugar and stopped eating compulsively, they, too, have been in the same clothes for decades. But not me.

Just in the past 18 years I have been a US size 4 and a US size 14. All weighing all of my food. When my beloved grandma was dying, I was eating bacon at every meal and giant fruits twice a day and was losing weight like crazy. Sometimes more than 5 pounds a month. When I quit smoking, my quantities of food were cut and I quit eating bacon and ate less fat and more raw vegetables and still gained weight. Over 30 pounds in 3 months. Literally eating quantifiably less, both calorically and by weight.

This was actually an important lesson for me. Because we are told and taught and treated like we have more control over our bodies than we do. At least aesthetically. And health wise too I imagine. And having specific measurable actions failed to give specific measurable results. At least not the ones I wanted.

Look. I do the things that one is supposed to do to stay healthy. I exercise regularly. I eat nutritious foods in amounts that keep me fueled mind and body. I drink water and meditate and sleep 8 hours a night. I am not saying that a person’s lifestyle doesn’t directly impact a person’s quality of life. I believe it does.

But bodies gonna body! Hormones and genetics and even brain chemistry and any of the myriad experiences that living in a meat suit offer, are all components of what I LOOK like. Of what you see when you see this body. And I am telling you that I have so much less control than I ever thought I did.

Of course I do have some very specific examples of how I do have some control. And that is fun and fascinating. I have absolutely changed the size and shape of my butt in the past year and a half through muscle building exercises. And I LOVE it. 

But when it comes to fat, to the distribution of fat, to my weight, to my size, I don’t have the kind of control I have been told I should have. The kind of control that says I can diet and exercise my way into a certain size or shape. I cannot. I have tried. It is *why* I got my eating under control in the first place. And even quitting sugar and weighing all of my food, I did not have that kind of command over my body.

But in getting my eating under control I got a clear enough head to see that I could only do my best. I could only keep my promises to myself, and let my body do its thing. And it’s doing a great job, frankly!

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