onceafatgirl

Peace is better than chocolate

Archive for the tag “the next big adventure”

All my castles on solid ground

With all of the things going on in my life over the past 6 months, I had not been making anything. No dolls, no toys, no blankets, no squares, no nothing. 

But finally, over the past 2 to 3 weeks I have started to make again! I am working on designing a little crochet convertible toy when I have the mental energy to do crochet math, and a seed stitch knit blanket when I don’t. 

One of the things that recovery from sugar addiction and compulsive eating has offered me is a firm foundation in the tangible. AKA “Doing the work.”

I am one of those girlies who straddles the line between woo woo and science. And one of the most important things I learned when I got abstinent from sugar and arrested my compulsive eating was that manifesting is not magic. It doesn’t mean “free.” And that if you do manage to “manifest” something without any work behind it, under it, there is nothing to hold it up. Building castles in the air, if you will.

When I was eating compulsively, I could absolutely lose weight. For periods of time, at least. But never ever once did I go on a diet or a program where I lost weight and thought, “this is the answer. I could sustain this!” 

Never once until I put my current boundaries around my food. Specific and measurable. Literally. Eating 3 times a day. Eliminating my drug foods. Weighing my food. With a community of people who do what I do. 

I had to change. I had to choose different foods. I had to choose different behaviors. I had to choose different thoughts. I had to give up whole ways of being. I had to have a crisis of self! (That sounds very dramatic but it was mostly a lot of me being in public in my pajamas and drinking gallons of coffee with a bajillion packets of sweet n low.)

And one of the ways that manifested for me was in honoring the cyclical nature of life. More specifically of MY life. That not every moment is a moment for creation. That not every purpose is one of productivity. That the moment is worthy. That I am worthy of rest and healing. That conversely, I am capable of digging deep and reaching so far beyond my comfort zone that I astonish even myself. 

The past 6 months has been a wonderful reminder how good I am at managing a project. How efficient I am. How dependable. It was fun. It was great to have so many new experiences, some of them a little scary. (In a grown up way, not a safety way.) 

And now I am ready to create again. In a new home with a new view and a new neighborhood with new people to meet. I am excited to be inspired and confounded and willing to try and fail. I can’t wait to spend hours making only to spend minutes unmaking and then giving it another go. No really. 

Getting control of my eating gives me peace enough to live my life as a process. I’m here for the experiences. And it’s all just experiences. 

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. 

An excess of homes

The next month is going to be long and difficult. Two moves. From two different places to two other places. At basically the same time. While my husband works most days. So a lot will be  up to just me.

We are moving from our apartment on the road to a new apartment on the road for my husband’s next job. And we are in the process of buying a city condo, and selling our suburban house. That is going to mean lot of driving and lifting and moving and driving back. A lot of planning ahead and scheduling because one of our buildings requires the reservation and use of a service elevator. 

And we have not been planning to make one big move per house. We have been planning to do what we can with the time we have. Which is already split between 2 houses. (As my mom pointed out from 5/27-6/1 we will be in possession of four (4) homes. Which is doubtless excessive.)

I have my eating under control. I have time between my meals, and clarity between my ears, to break my life into tasks and check them off one at a time. I have the wherewithal to know when I don’t know what is going on and to call someone to ask for help, or information, or to ask to be pointed in the direction of help and information. 

Having my eating under control means that I don’t have the option of getting so high I can ignore my little problems until they become big problems.  

Don’t get me wrong. I am feeling pretty anxious about the next month. But not that it won’t all work out. Just that I know it will be uncomfortable, and sometimes trying, and probably pretty stressful in the moment. 

But this too shall pass. And when it does I will be in a home of my dreams. 

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.

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. 

Making bad art. And also great art. As one does.

I finished my lined zipper pouch. It was (is) absolutely hideous. And kind of hilarious. But I love it and am proud of it. And people on social media told me it looked kind of like a baked potato. 

So I modified the pattern, and changed the colors, and made a freaking adorable baked potato zipper pouch. With a fabric lining and crocheted butter pats and chives on top. I’m still considering how to crochet a dollop of sour cream for a little zipper accessory.

One of the most important lessons I learned about art is that you have to be willing to make bad art to make great art. And that not all your art is going to be great, even if you are a great artist. 

That was a lesson I heard, but did not *get* until I had my eating under control and I was no longer drugging myself with sugar. 

When I was eating sugar and drug foods compulsively, it really felt like I would never eat again if I didn’t eat that thing (cake, cookie, piece of pizza) right now. Like that was the last one on Earth and it needed to be mine.

I crafted in a similar manner when I was still eating sugar. Obsessed. Obsessive. Frantic. Inspiration was fleeting. And without the discipline of keeping my eating under control, I didn’t even understand discipline. You want me to STOP and then START AGAIN?????

Addiction felt like I would literally die if I  didn’t get my drug (sugar.) And similarly I felt like I would literally die if I stopped working on that project.

And because of that the art I made was often rushed and half assed. I didn’t want to do the mundane parts. I didn’t care about the details. I just needed to get it done!

When I gave up sugar and put boundaries around my eating, I learned that there was always another meal coming. Not just was told, but understood! And that let me be calm enough to focus on other things.

Now, when I make art, it is a vehicle for the details. I even IRONED the fabric lining for sewing and just general neatness. Who even am I???

I have some more ideas. More things I want to make. And perhaps some of them will be hideous. But it feels good to make some creative leaps early in 2025. 

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.

…Grow up, Kate

What does it mean to trust the process? I guess the further I get from my own past experiences, the less I know what that even means. And right now that is frustrating and annoying. (Terrifying. It’s terrifying.) 

This week:

Someone asked if I might be interested in applying for a part time office job they know of, and I asked for more information. I am interested in making money. I am also interested in making money from my creative brain. I am trusting that the right things are coming my way.

I have an almost-done crochet project for someone that has been sitting in its project bag for over a week without me touching it. But I don’t want to do it. And I don’t know why. But I am not. And that feels right. So why do I feel like not doing is automatically wrong?

Among a whole list of other basic health related big girl accomplishments, I went to the doctor and actually let them draw blood for the first time in 20 years. And the phlebotomist was so generous, listening to me, going along with my needs, not being condescending or impatient with me. And then she was also just spectacular at her job. I didn’t cry, and that made me want to cry in a different way. Shout out to Lisa! But that was a huge hurdle for decades and I just made it over it? Okay…

All of these feel like big things. But I don’t know what they mean. 

I already know how to move forward from a lesson I have failed to learn. I know how to catch up. I know how to both move up and move on.

But I feel like these are new lessons. A whole new curriculum. New frontiers and all that jazz. Emotionally, personally, in my connections and my accomplishments. And I feel like I don’t know protocol. I don’t know what “letting go” looks like.

In the serenity prayer, there is the serenity to accept the things I can’t change and the courage to change the things I can. And also the wisdom to know the difference. But wisdom comes from experience. And I don’t have that. Which I suppose means it’s coming. And probably fast.

And maybe what it comes down to is that I don’t want to fail. Not even once. And well…grow up, Kate. 

Doing the work scared.

I saw a meme with a quote the other day that really struck me. The magic you’re looking for is in the work you’re avoiding.

I love my comfort zone. Adore it. If my options are go big or go home, I’m going home. I’m putting on some yoga pants, taking off my bra, putting on an audiobook and doing some garter stitch knitting.

A friend of mine is an artist who makes her living painting. She was recorded speaking about it and she said one of the things that makes her a success is that she loves being afraid. I have never been a fan, personally. And perhaps that is a gift she was born with. But for me, it had to be cultivated and nurtured. And I still don’t love it. I just love the results.

When I got my eating under control I learned to make friends with being afraid. Or I became willing when I realized that the things that I wanted for myself, like a body I was comfortable in, and a level of integrity I was proud of, and a clear mind, and great relationships, and love were all on the other side of things I was terrified of. These were all things I both desired and lacked. And I wasn’t going to find them in any of my usual haunts: my couch, my bed, a pack of cigarettes or a box of Little Debbies.

In our Western culture, we have a lot of fad diets. And one of the most common things about them is they claim that you can eat whatever you want and still lose weight. One of the hardest lessons I learned was that in order to change my life, I had to change the way I was living my life. If I could eat whatever I wanted and still lose weight, I wouldn’t have needed to lose weight. (Not that I needed to lose weight. I was a beautiful fat woman! I needed to get my eating addiction under control.)

I am ready for a new chapter in my life. I would love to find a job I love. I would love to write some fiction I am proud of. I would love to complete some fiction whether or not I am proud of it! I would love to create new crochet doll designs that bring my skill level up a notch. Or ten.

But right now I’m in my comfort zone and right at this moment I don’t even know exactly how to get out of it and scare myself proud. But I am keeping my eating under control, and doing my spiritual writing and meditation. And trusting that Life will lead me in the right direction. I know that the next right thing will come to me as long as I’m willing to do the work scared.

A job, some fear and anxiety, probably a miracle.

One of my favorite things I had the opportunity to learn when I got my eating under control is how to go with the flow. How to let life happen as it does (because it will) and to make the best of it. To handle new and difficult situations with grace and ease.


On Tuesday morning this past week I got a call from management in my company, asking if I would take on a new position. And could I start the next day?


I was certainly happy to take it on. I have mostly just been working part time for almost a year now. And while I have enjoyed it, because I love having lots of alone time, the truth is I like work. I like being of use. I like being good at what I do. I like the feelings I get when I accomplish things. I like being impressive. My best friend’s old therapist said that a huge portion of our self-esteem comes from our job.


And there is another part of it for me right now. I am not working with my husband on this job. My boss is someone I just met for the first time on Wednesday. And while I love working with my husband, and we make a great team, there is something exciting about getting the chance to show someone else what I can do. And knowing that what he has to say means something different to the company, coming from a stranger and superior, than it does coming from the person who chose me as a life partner.


The other important thing about getting my eating under control when it comes to this job is that keeping my food boundaries has taught me how to manage my fear and anxiety. Because for as excited as I am to do this job (and I am very excited), my brain goes on a little merry-go-round ride of thoughts and feelings, and a good portion of them are fears. Fears that I will fail, that I am not as good as I think. That I am not good enough in general.


It doesn’t matter that these thoughts are irrational. Anyone with irrational thoughts will tell you that knowing you are being irrational does not change the experience of it. It’s why self-knowledge was never enough to lose weight when I (and seemingly everyone else) cared so much about my weight. (I’m sure the world still cares about my weight because it cares about weight in general. I just don’t care that it cares anymore.)


But in getting my eating under control, I learned how to stop thoughts. I learned how to change my mind. I learned how to change my thinking. I learned how to harness control over my thoughts as a tool.


Eating compulsively always had me too high on sugar to manage anything, especially my thoughts. It had me foggy, and careless, and numb. These are not ideal circumstances to take control of one’s own brain. The point of getting high was always to stop thinking and feeling entirely, not to control myself.


I am very excited about getting a new opportunity. And if you read last week, I do believe that this job came straight out of a miracle door. So I am going to keep meditating on miracles and the doors they emerge from. And I am going to keep my eating boundaries. And I am going to do an amazing job! Probably. And if not, I expect there will be another miracle coming through another door. But for right now I’ll do the work in front of me.

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