Gallery of Rocks

Another perfect day in the big city.
The kids and I slept in with no pressure to be anywhere today. I burned the breakfast sausage, but we had made yummy blue/black berry muffins yesterday -- so it kind of balanced out.
Did a ton of laundry -- still have too much left to do -- but finally got some uniforms back on the hanger so the kids can go to school.
CJ and I sat on the deck and read the paper -- what a perfect Sunday morning! Slight breeze -- warmth ... the birds were out. I wish I knew more about bird calls. One bird makes this beautiful song -- one I heard repeatedly growing up on my dad's farm. When I hear it now, it instantly takes me back to hanging around outside the shop -- with nothing but dirt and my imagination to play with. That same breeze, the same bird -- and the freedom of childhood.
What with all the hard work, I was forced to take my Sunday afternoon nap -- the kids interrupted me twice -- not too bad considering...
Anyway -- this afternoon we took a short drive and then a short hike in the Little City of Rocks. The area forms the western edge of the Bennett Mountains. The place doesn't remind me of a city though -- more like an amphitheater in which hikers are the show for a stone audience.(I'll load some pictures tomorrow) Then off to dinner at the local diner.
It's always fun to swing by at catch up with the town gossip.
I find myself so very conscientious of my appearance -- even though I try so very hard not to. I really want my outside to match my inside now. I know it's a process. I know it will take more than a week. I want it to be instant! I am still struggling with knowing when to eat and how much. I can't decide sometimes, if I'm really hungry or if I'm listening to a voice outside my own -- or if I'm falling into some old habit.
I find that food still takes up so much of my thoughts -- and long for the day when it doesn't. I wonder if alcoholics go through the same process. Do you ever get to the point when you can sit down and not question whether or not you're making the right choices?
The goal for this week is is 6000 steps per day and drinking more water. I think that's pretty doable.
The other thing I'm trying to figure out is managing my myriad of projects without overwhelming myself. Something I've never been able to manage-- at least not for a long time. But each brings me a little closer to the real me -- and it will be so nice to see me again.
Oh! Forgot to tell you-- I have two chapters done of my book. It started out as a biography, but I switched it to a "based on a true story". The fictional me is easier to write. I keep thinking a true story would be too painful for my family, but my intent has always been to write a self help book. But I decided it was better to start in a way that took the pressure off -- we'll see how it turns out....

Just like riding a bike

So my step counter says I'm at 15,700 steps today. I'm tired and sweaty -- but man it feels good. My goal for this week was to do at least 5000 steps a day. I did it Monday through Wednesday -- but the numbers hardly budged Thursday and Friday. It was a beautiful day today and I got up a bit early so I could take my little "walk around the block" --3300 steps.
Of course, in my neighborhood, that means I walked down the lane to the river then through the river bed to the edge of the corn field. I followed a deer trail through the weeds to the fence line, then back around to the house.
Then off to the 4h meeting at the fairgrounds to plant flowers for our community service project. Then I hung around for a the county surplus auction. I bought an antique love seat that used to be in the Dietrich Hotel. I bought some old school desks -- the kind with the storage under the seat. I bought an old piano bench too. Saw lots of friends and had a lovely afternoon.
I collapsed a bit when I got home, but fixed a nice dinner for the kids and then went over to the dairy and dug my bike out of the garage in my old house.
The kids had been on me for a while to get it out. The last time I rode it -- gosh, I'm not sure I can remember. The baby seat was still on it and I think Kate was the last baby in it -- and she turns nine this summer.
Anyway I pumped up the tires and made my way down the lane. Just to the river and back. Thought I might pass out. I don't remember bike seats hurting like they do now. I used to ride a bike quite a bit, but that was three kids, 7 or 8 years and 70 pounds ago. I figured with the extra time I have, now that I'm won't be in counseling all the time (!) I can do some new things.
That old saying was right, you don't forget how to ride a bike. I figure if I can take it down to the river and back at least once each night, it's a good thing. Maybe by the end of the summer, the kids and I can haul the bikes into one of the biking trails in the area.
It was a glorious Saturday -- and a great start to the rest of the summer.

Discharge!

I'm sitting here in shock. It's a combination of awe and surprise and pride and .... wow. After something like three years and buckets of tears and frustration and fear -- through heartbreak and trial and tribulation ... thanks to the love and support and constant ear of dozens of kind and patient friends my counselor told me something I never thought I'd hear: "You're done."
The eating disorder, though it will never truly be forgotten, is done. Over.
I knew I was close. I figured she'd release me toward the end of May, maybe. But today, she released me to conquer the world using the tools I've learned, the internal strength I had buried and have recovered -- to just be me again without fear.
I can't wait. I'm a little scared but I'm pretty sure that's normal.
I keep walking around saying "wow"
Wow.
I worked so hard and now I just have to live it and embrace the freedom it gives me.
Wow.
I'm continually touched at the amazing people that have come in my life -- and have all loved and supported me without question or judgement.
Wow.
My husband who at times who has cause me the most incredible grief I've ever felt, never once criticized my appearance and always said I was sexy -- because of who I am, not because of how I looked.
Wow.
So off I go into my wild blue yonder.

The final step

So I think it would be accurate to say I have about conquered the eating disorder. I would say at least 75 percent -- if not more. Now what comes next might be the most difficult.
I'm at the stage where I don't feel like I need the extra weight anymore. I no longer need the isolation and insulation it provides. On the inside I feel so strong. I'm so ready to just be me again. But then I look in the mirror and I get so frustrated. I want my appearance on the outside to match my confidence on the inside. But.
But it doesn't. Megan http://www.peacewithfood.com says that until I make it about me and not about size, it won't happen. That attitude is apparently the actual "magic pill" that we all look for in weight loss. So instead of getting up to exercise because I need to, I'll have to get to the place where I get up to exercise because it feels good.
The thing is, I'm almost there. I am craving exercise. I'm craving the food and activities that are instinctive -- not the product of the "should monster". But when it comes to action -- something is still holding me back. At surface level, I think it's just being overwhelmed with all the things I have go on. It's having no idea how to get all the things done I want to get done. It's the age old problem of womanhood and motherhood and putting everyone else's needs before mine.
But below the surface I think I'm still afraid to let go of that log in the river. (See the Dec. entries) I'm not sure why. I would guess it's because I don't want to deal with the uncertainty of it all. If I am comfortable with myself physically won't I be even more intimidating to others? Will my relationship with my husband change? Will I have the same friends? Will all the work be worthwhile?
I know intellectually it will be OK. My friends will still be friends. My family will still be my family. But I live in fear of the comments I'll get -- the rude comments about how I looked while fat. The dehumanizing comments about "how good I look" instead "how good it is to see me" -- I don't want to me overlooked anymore. I'd like at least a few of my relationships with my family in particular to be more than surface level -- but I remember all too clearly what my life was like last time I lost weight. I felt so overlooked. This time with more weight to lose it will be worse. I know it and I'm afraid I won't be able to handle it.
Also, I'm not sure how to turn my mind around. I'm not sure how to eliminate "should" from my vocabulary or mindset. I've been trying get up early lately because I want to walk. But I'm so tired, I usually just try to find some quiet time. I guess that's still taking time for myself but is that OK? I know there's a way to find a balance but I'm not sure what it is. There is a part of me that is so ready for the next and final step -- but I just can't seem to get it going. Maybe it will happen this summer when there is less stress -- but should I put off joy? Maybe I will start tomorrow.

Disorderly Conduct

Perhaps it would have been easier if I were an alcoholic. Being a drug addict would have been too damned complicated. (You want me to mix what with what and inject it where???) Besides, my brother already has the market cornered on that dysfunction. Nearly everyone else in the family has been an alcoholic -- so perhaps my family would have paid more attention. Instead, they just assume I'm sitting around the house eating bon-bons while my housekeeper and nanny take care of my household responsibilities, including the kids.
OK. Yes, I have someone come in once a week and clean the house. She takes a layer off. I don't mind cleaning house when I have time, but I don't think I was put on this earth to clean. Sorry. There has got to be better stuff to do. Criticism from people who can't even see their floor doesn't really do much for me anyway. And as far as my nannies go -- I could lose my mind or hire a sitter here and there. Let's have a parenting contest and see who wins. Get off my ass for god sakes.
So now, since I'm clearly fat and lazy with no will power, those in the know are suggesting I have bariatric surgery.
I swear to God in heaven if one more person suggests that, I'm going to lose my ever lovin mind. If my weight problem had something to do with what I eat, it might be a different story. If I was drinking heavily I probably wouldn't be fat -- but would they suggest surgery? Probably not.
So it seems now I have an eating disorder, sleeping disorder and an attention disorder. Could I get more screwed up?
But here's the deal. I have the eating disorder about conquered. There is surgery available to fix the sleeping disorder. And as to the attention disorder -- I decided I would do some research and make the "disorder" work for me. I actually think the ADD thing could work with me and I think I'd be boring without it.
Everyone else can keep their judgements to themselves. This whole fat phobia thing and judgement is enough to make my head spin. I'm going to have to lead a revolution.

Is fat contagious?

I feel so strong right now. I want to shout from the mountaintops about my new found freedom. I want everyone to shed the chains of the diet dictators -- and live free to be who they are in whatever shape they find comfortable. In my little naive world, I'd think everyone would embrace this. Instead, I find a few people smile at me sweetly and offer a comforting pat on the shoulder. In their head, I think they're saying something like this: "Poor little fat girl. She thinks she can change the world. She is so very wrong, but I'll offer some support to the misguided thing." The other reaction I get-- in fact the reaction I get most often -- is one of fear. It's as if they're saying: "I'd like to join you on your crusade, but you're fat and I don't want to be fat. If I sign your Declaration of Independence then I might become fat like you."
The sad thing is, the people that react like this are most often the people that really need to declare independence from Ed and Vicki more than anyone else. Ed and Vicki have such a hold on them, they live in constant fear of being who they really are. That who they are will be unacceptable to the world around them -- even to those that truly love them for who they are.
I'm of a mind to take this show on the road, to write a book, go on tour and tell everyone they don't have to buy into the rhetoric. You don't have to look like a Barbie to have a successful and productive life. We no longer have to kill ourselves trying to fit a norm that is inhumane and unrealistic. We don't have to put our lives on hold -- we can experience joy at any time regardless of what the tag says in the back of your pants.
But in the back my mind I keep hearing a voice, it's probably Vicki's voice, the kill-joy that she is, saying: "No one will believe you. You're too fat. Once you lose a little weight and look healthier, then you'll have some credibility."
Now, intellectually I know that I speak well in public and that I can make my point no matter what. But, when someone looks at me in horror when I tell them about my crusade, I wonder. Am I insane? How can I make a point when I look the way I do?
I've had these thoughts floating around my head for about a month now. Then, my friend Nancy S. sent me a link to a wonderful site: http://www.freshyarn.com. There I read a story about another woman's frustration. Writer Kim Brittingham (http://www.kimwrites.com)wrote an incredible essay about her experience with fat phobia. To combat the horrid looks, stares and comments she got while riding the New York City bus system, she created a fake book cover that reads: "Fat is Contagious -- How sitting next to a fat person can make you fat." So instead of just idly sitting on a bus, she gets to watch idiots react in horror and supporters wink at her knowingly.
What a great idea! What courage and creativity! Kim Brittingham is my new hero.
She could have climbed inside herself and become depressed, even self destructive. But she didn't. She not only took the high road, she did so with a sense of humor ... and more importantly a sense of self.
You can read her essay at: http://www.freshyarn.com/42/essays/brittingham_fat1.htm
I've corresponded with her a couple of times. She sounds like a dynamic and intelligent woman. If I ever get back to New York City, I'll buy her a beverage. In the meantime, I'll enjoy my copy of "Fat is Contagious" ...

And now for something completely different...

I'm always so serious here -- So here's something fun. I'm feeling weird today. So am having a lazy day as if I had time to do such a thing.

Create your own Friend Test here

Karma's Constituion

It's time for a revolution. I have written my own Declaration of Independence (of course inspired by the book "Life without Ed") and I ask you to sign it. Read it all out loud in your strongest voice. Feel it. Become it, then pass it on. I want at least one person a day to sign this Declaration of Independence for the month of February. To sign, just add your name in the comments window. Don't forget to leave suggestions for other "Rights". Feel free to pass on this link to your friends and family. (Just make sure my name is attached somewhere as I am copyrighting it.)I want to hear from everyone. Let's lead a revolution away from guilt, self doubt and worry.
Come on girls, let's hear you roar.

Preamble

At no other time in our history have we been better educated about the food we eat. Yet, at no other time in history have we been less healthy.
Appearance, in this society, is everything. Americans, especially women, define their worth not by their values or morals -- not even by the quality of their soul or existence. Instead, American women determine their self worth based on the numbers on a scale. We put our lives on hold waiting to experience joy until we lose weight. We drive ourselves toward a perfection that cannot be achieved -- all the while, sacrificing time with our family, friends and most importantly, ourselves.
We speak gently to our loved ones, but spew poisonous venom to the image in the mirror.
It’s time to stop this insanity.

Declaration of Independence

By signing below I hereby declare independence from the tyranny of the scale.

From this point forward I will not judge myself or others based on appearance.
I will not postpone joy while waiting to achieve a standard that is impossible.
I will not use a scale or the size of my clothing to determine my self worth.
Instead, I will seek joy in all that I do. I will see someone’s heart before I make assumptions about their health, wealth or moral standards.
I will eat food that nourishes and strengthens my body, but more importantly I will eat foods that I enjoy. Furthermore, I will do so with relish and pleasure and without guilt or making my self sick.
I am in control and will not let anyone tell me how I should look, what I should eat, what I should wear.
I am beautiful. Not because of how I dress, what I weigh or how anyone else sees me. I am beautiful … simply because I exist.

Bill of Rights

1)I have a right to enjoy my life without worrying about whether or not I am acceptable to anyone else.

2)I have a right to experience joy regardless of my pants size.

3)I have a right to feel comfortable in my clothing. I will no longer buy clothes based on the size, but on the cut and fit in proportion to my likes and lifestyle.

4)I have right a right to be able to find comfortable, affordable clothing without being banished to the back of the store or paying more for that “extra fabric”.

5)I have a right to sit down and enjoy my meal. I will never again skip a meal or drink a meal replacement shake in hopes of becoming more acceptable to society’s standards.

6)I have a right to seatbelts that fit comfortably and safely in any plane, train or automobile I choose to use for transportation.

7)I have a right to feel good. I take care of myself because I’m worth it.

8)I have a right to live without fear and guilt

9)I have a right to define my own sense of fashion.

10) I have a right to be loved – not for how I look, but for who I am.

11)I have a right to good customer service and not to be stalked through a store because I might break something.

12) I have a right to be me – however I chose to define me. I am powerful. I am in control and I love who I am.

Introducing ED

I remember the day I lost control.
It was the day ED moved into my head. I was adjusting to life as a mother. My daughter was less than a year old. Actually she was probably only 3 months old or so. It was a sunny day with a light breeze. (The name ED is suggested by "Life Without Ed" by Jenni Schaefer http://www.jennischaefer.com )
You know how it is when you first become a mom. You have to manage a day around the demands on an infant. As much as you might try to establish a routine, the reality is when the infant is hungry she needs fed.
A neighbor, let's just say a high-maintenance friend -- and I decided to go shopping together.
The problem was, I allowed her to control the day -- and I got home and I had to deal with the demands of my husband and the baby. I don't recall what it was that I actually wanted to do, but I know I didn't get to do it.
I realized that I wasn't in control anymore and that's when I opened the door to ED. He offered me comfort, healing. He said he could comfort me.
He offered me a big of Lays potato chips. I don't even like those chips, but I ate the better part of a bag, drowning my sorrows in salt and saturated fats.
After that, the proverbial "box" was opened.
I remember consuming bags of Halloween candy later that year. My husband, finding piles of wrappers in my car one day asked me what I was doing.
I would get up in the middle of the night and eat anything I could find.
I would plan my day, my life around meals.
As I had more children and moved further away from my unfettered life, ED offered me comfort and kindness -- his version of healing and health.
He had become the most important person in my life.
I trusted ED before I trusted anyone or anything else.
Somewhere I started believing that someone else always knew better. Someone else was always right.
I stopped listening to me.
I stopped listening to the people who truly cared for me unconditionally and only heard the conditional voices.
That's when Ed's partner Vicki was able to gain strength.
She's always been a part of my life, but at no other time did I allow her to become so strong.
It wasn't long before they were the only people I truly cared about. My own spirit, voice and conscience was lost.
Now as I try to silence their voices I'm finding it truly empowering to physically separate their voices from mine in print. My counselor, Megan ( http://www.peacewithfood.com/ ) says it's good that I've been getting the last word in my dialogues. I struggle everyday, but am determined to win the battle.

Reclaiming Karma

Many years ago
I was set adrift
Since then, I have followed the current
Simply going where the river took me.
There have been many times when I could barley breath as I felt the strength of the current pull me under.
I have bounced into rocks, been caught in whirlpools and been tangled in the underbrush
All the while
Just surviving in the currents control
But now I can see myself on the shoreline.
At times, the current is too strong. It pulls me back in, but I am clawing at the sore.
Control.
This is my life
My adventure
I will no longer be a victim to the currents path
But will choose my own path.
I am claiming this bit of shoreline for myself.
I am in control
This is my earth
My river
And I'll plant a flag of freedom right here.
Right now.
I am not a victim
I am your challenge
I am a force of nature.

You know, I wrote this last summer. Water, and my connection to it, has been a reoccurring theme in my recovery. You can image my shock and joy when I discovered the passage in "Eating in the Light of the Moon" that I mention in the post titled "Art Therapy".

Filling the void

I've been going through my journal and I found a couple of essays I thought might be of interest to you.

There is this emptiness
A void
I keep trying to fill it with all the wrong things
A dozen or more hobbies
A committee here, a volunteer project there. . .
Mostly food.
As if somehow the feeling of being full would be enough to keep me from falling into the void.
Nothing worked. I don't really remember what it feels like to feel whole.
One day last May, I realized instead of trying to fill the void, I was trying to get out.
You had pushed me in when I wasn't looking.
These days it feels like I'm sitting in the darkness.
Sometimes I can feel the light on my shoulders and it feeds me -- fills me.
I keep waiting for you to give me a rope -- a lifeline.
But I don't think you'll ever do that.
I have to use the harsh words and neglect to fashion myself a shovel.
I'm digging my way up and out of here and leaving the pain you've caused behind.
I can feel the dirt begin to build underneath my nails as I claw away at the anger of resentment.
Beads of sweat appear on my brow as I step over the manipulation, the abuse.
At times, it seems insurmountable.
All I have the energy to do is cry. I know in my heart, it's worth the journey. It's possible to feel warmth again.
You may have put me here, but you don't have the power to bury me.

Conversations

You know those voices in your head? The ones you argue with each time you try to make a decision? For years, I thought it was the good ol' angel/devil on my shoulder, but thanks to the inspiration from Megan, my counselor (www.peacewithfood.com) and the book "Life without Ed" by Jenni Schaefer.(www.jennischaefer.com) along with "Eating in the Light of the Moon" (www.DrAnitaJohnston.com) I've been able to separate the voices from my own inner voice. Maybe it's the voice of my soul. What I do know, is that it's my own true voice.

I have to admit Vicki is throwing a fit today. Last night, we celebrated my 40th birthday. I'm hung over. I decided to take the day off. I'm still in my pajamas. I've done very little today but eat and sleep. The way I see it, that no big deal. I drink so rarely afterall. I drank last night so I'm being a sloth today and it feels good.
Vicki is enraged. She's such a bitch. She keeps telling me about all the things I should be doing. Sometimes it's hard to tell her voice from mine, but I'm pretty sure it's her telling me I should be cleaning house or something. Right now she's fighting me because I want to write a book about this journey I've been on. Vicki keeps telling me I'll just be making a fool of myself.
Gawd, I hate that woman.
One of the things Megan(http://www.peacewithfood.com ) encourages me to do is write out the dialogues I have with Vicki and ED.
Here are several. I wrote the most recent one Jan. 3. I really want this blog and a book I'd like to write to be of inspriration to other women. Vicki says I can't do it.
Vicki:
You know you have nothing to offer other women. You're still too fat. Why would anyone believe you?
Karma:
I have to try. I'll regret it if I don't at least try.
V:
You're going to make a fool of yourself. You know knowing and, oh, by the way, YOU'RE STILL FAT. You'll be laughted out of the room.
K:
If I help just one person -- if just one person finds inspriation -- than my goal is fulfilled. The rest is trivia.
V:
You disgust me. You're an idiot for thinking you can offer anything to others -- especially when you look in the mirror sister. Who do you know that couldn't zip of their pants yesterday? You can't help anybody. At least until you've started to lose weight.
K:
Who is more pathetic? You thrive on other people's weakness. You have no value. You are hollow. You only exist because I allow you to. Without me, you are nothing. Without you, I am everything.

Here are some other dialogues:
ED:
You're hungry.
Karma:
No, I'm thirsty.
ED:
Listen to me. Your stomach growling. For something sweet.
K
No, I'm just overwhelmed and frustrated. If anythging, I'll have some tea.
Vicki:
Didn't you see that commercial? You should take a weight loss drug. It would expedite your weight loss and get you to where you should be.
K:
I need to go to bed, but I want to watch this show. You two need to die.


Karma
I think I’ll go for a walk in the morning.
Vicki
No. It will be too cold. And besides you can sleep in tomorrow. For the first time in weeks.
Karma
So – I want to take a walk.
Vicki
You can’t wear you boots, with your ankle still infected. It will be too snowy. You should stay in.
Karma
If it’s too snowy, I’ll find something else to do – maybe I’ll work out with my band and ball
Vicki
You’ve been wishing for time to sleep in and you’ll get it tomorrow – just sleep in.
Karma
I’ve been wishing for time to exercise. Without the pressure of getting the kids to school, I can take a morning stroll.
Vicki
Look, you haven’t been feeling well, Your ankle hurts. Rest. Rest is what you need.
Karma
You know, the only reason you don’t want me to take a walk is because if I get healthy you’ll be too weak to control my life. That’s not my problem. It’s yours.

-------

Vicki
You know you’re a big failure. You didn’t get everything done for Christmas in time. You still have a ton of shipping. The house is a mess. You spent too much money. You have people arriving tomorrow and you’re no where near ready. You’ll never get it all done and if you do, it will be half assed. You should be ashamed of yourself. You once again tried to do too much. When will you ever learn?

Karma
You know, I’m ahead of where I was this time last year. I’ll get done what I can get done and the rest can wait. The point is to enjoy the holiday.

Vicki
Your inlaws will be here Saturday and this house is a pit. You don’t have the craft projects ready for the kids. You’re going to disappoint everyone.

Karma
That would be someone else’s problem. What needs to get done will get done. Other moms can help with the craft stuff – and the kids can play outside or watch a movie. Maybe they won’t want to do crafts anyway. The point of the day is to spend time with family. The rest is trivia.
Vicki
But it would be much better if you could make them envious. You should be able to prove to them how organized and capable you are not what a wretched slob you are. They’re pathetic people, show them how good you are.
Karma
They are pathetic in some cases, but I’m not going to lower myself to their level. I’m going to enjoy time with my family. If someone is not comfortable, they can leave.
Vicki
They’re going to continue to think of you as a big ol fat slob and you’re going to deserve the title.
Karma
No I’m not. I am who I am. If they can’t handle it, it’s their problem. Not mine.
-------------
Vicki
Gawd you’re fat and disgusting. Don’t you look into the mirror before you go out?
Karma
You know, I’m not here to win a fashion contest. I’m just here to help with the Girl Scout meeting.
Vicki
Those other mothers and kids must think you’re pathetic.
Karma
I don’t care what those other mother’s think. I’m here to support my daughter and her friends.
Vicki
You know they make clothes that flatter your body more. Maybe you shouldn’t volunteer for anything until you've lost weight.
Karma
I like to help. Anna, the leader, works very hard for little recognition and little help. I just need to support here and share my daughter’s life. Besides I love being around the kids and all the hugs.
Vicki
You don’t really deserve those hugs. You’re too fat.
If you weren’t fat you wouldn’t need hugs from small children.
Karma
You know – I love these girls and I’m a good role model. I’ll be an even better role model when you’re dead and I hope that’s soon.
-------------

Vicki
You absolutely cannot write that book. You shouldn’t even think about it. You’re too fat. No one is going to believe you You might be able to do something after you’ve lost some weight, but not now. Don’t even bother.
Karma
Maybe I’ll catch the eye of a publisher. Maybe I’m just what they’re looking for and will want to work through the journey with me. If you’re right, I’ll just try again later. But I don’t think it will hurt to try.
Vicki
You’re going to humiliate your family and yourself. You’re going to be laughed at
Karma
I think I might just get laughed all the way to the bank. And to top it off. I might help someone else.
Vicki
You’ll probably get sued for offering poor advice or quoting without attribution or something. Don’t be stupid -- write on your little blog if you want. Maybe even for the local paper, but don’ try to do a book. That’s just stupid.
Karma
No – I’ll regret it if I don’t try.

character development

As part of my healing, my counselor, Megan, wants me to start journaling out the conversations I have in my head -- the voices that direct my actions. As part of this, I've defined two distinct voices other than my own. The voices are: Vicki Should --the perfectionist, and E.D. (Eating Disorder) Love. (Thanks to the book: "Life Without Ed" by Jenni Schaefer for the inspiration and the name. This book is profound. It will change your life. http://www.jennischaefer.com )
Here are the profiles I created for them.

Her name is Vicki. Vicki Should. She is the picture of perfection. She is always collected, organized. She is good – not just good but successful at everything she does. She doesn’t lose her temper. Everyone likes her. She is thin, of course. Highly educated. Her house is always clean. She’s always ready for company. She manages her money and her household prudently and efficiently. She’s witty – never says anything stupid.
She never disappoints her children. She never disappoints anyone.
Vicki Should is perfect. Perfect in every way. And she lives inside me.
She’s the voice – the other. Vicki is the person that tells me that I shouldn’t do anything unless it can be done perfectly and if it can’t be done perfectly, I have failed.
Vicki is the person that says I can accomplish everything even though no human really could. If I were just better. Perfect.
I can be and have it all if were just more efficient.
If you saw her in the mirror, like I do, you’d say she’s breathtaking…striking. Until you looked into her eyes. They’re hollow. There is not light. No life.
Her goal, her mission is to destroy my self worth. My very essence. Then, her partner, her brother steps in.
ED Love.
He’s also thin. He’s suave. He represents the male love I constantly crave. Just when his sister has told me I’m worthless, Ed says,
“I can make you feel better. Just trust me. Let me comfort you. Let me hold you in my arms. Take care of you. Let’s go to the kitchen. I’ll fill you up with the warmth of a hot filling meal and sweetness in a big bag of chocolate. We'll eat until you can't eat anymore.”
If I’m at dinner Ed is the one who says,
“You’ll feel more confident in this situation if you keep stuffing yourself. You’ll show everyone how you’re in control of what you eat. That you’re not ashamed of what you eat or what you look like. Because you’ll keep eating until you’re stuffed just to show them all how much in control you are.”
The two of them weave this tapestry of dysfunction and deceit in my mind and in my heart. It’s what keeps me warm sometimes.
The image they leave behind is one of failure and worthlessness and it forces me to depend on them for my existence.”

When I journal like this, I go into a meditative state -- only partially aware of the words going on the page. I came "to" and was rather struck by what I wrote. It was really therapeutic to get these words, and the pictures I put out earlier out of my head. The next step was to make them public by putting them here. Once you send it out into the universe, you don't need it anymore. It's not a secret. "It" -- however you define "it" -- is just another step on the journey.

Art Therapy Number 3

I am on a roll now -- While I was in this "art zone" -- this is what came out of my head next. I think the heart inside the heart is where I keep the stuff I want to hang on to, but don't need anymore.

Art Therapy #2

Ok -- so in the next section of the book, this the conclusion to the story.

From the book: “And so, very slowly and carefully, you let go of the log and practice floating. When you start to sink, you grab back on. Then you let go of the log and practice treading water, and when you get tired, hold on once again. After awhile, you practice swimming around the log once, twice, ten times, twenty times, a hundred times, until you gain the strength and confidence you need to swim to shore. Only then do you completely let go of the log.”
I’m still treading water, I think. I know I haven’t swam to shore yet. The fear is like a giant anchor tied to my ankle. I’m not sure how to cut the tether.

Here’s what I’m shooting for though – planting my own flag on the shore –

Art Therapy #1

I'm trying something different. Something a little voice inside my head has been trying to get me to do for years. I'm playing with water colors -- pencils to be exact and I love it.

In the fabulous book "Eating by the Light of the Moon" by Anita Johnston, ( http://www.DrAnitaJohnston.com ) the author gives a metaphor that I can’t get out of my head – I’ll paraphrase it for you:

I’m on the banks of a swollen river when the bank gives way – I’m tossed by the waves and being pulled by a force I cannot control. I’m drowning. A huge log comes by and I grab on – I hold on to save myself
Finally, exhausted, I float into an area where the water is calm. I could easily swim to shore, but I would have to let go of the log. I can’t. I’m afraid.
(from the book)“How ironic. The very thing that saved your life is now getting in the way of your getting where you want to go. There are people on the shore who see yhou struggle and yell, “let go of the log!’ But you are unable to do so because you have no confidence in your ability to make it to shore …”

With that in mind, this is what I drew in my new water color book with my cool new toys!

Stop the insanity

At what point do we get mad? When do we as humans stand from the mountaintops and shout, "Who gives anybody the right to tell me what I should weigh, how I should dress, what I should eat? How dare you tell me I shouldn't be happy because I do not look like someone in an advertisement? How dare anyone draw me down into their own insecurities. You don't like the way you look and feel, fine. Take it up with your shrink. But don't bring the rest of us into your dysfunction. What if what I am is enough?"
My friend Mars has long had this figured out. She's always been comfortable with who she is -- and never seemed to believe anyone who would try to tell her differently. I have always admired her for this -- and wished I could be more like her, but thought it couldn't be for me.
I have this weird perfection thing. I'm assuming it's the result of something in my childhood. Maybe I thought I had to perfect to be loved. As an adult, I know intellectually that's not the case, but emotionally it's another matter.
I wonder if I think I deserve to be healthy and happy. I wonder if I get so much pleasure out of being a victim that I will never let down my guard and just be me. I know I have all these people in in my life that love me unconditionally -- the only one that doesn't, really, is me.
I am the one who always looks in the mirror and says, "I love you, but..." Now, if someone did that to my children I'd be furious, but somehow I allow myself to do it to me. What gives me the right to judge myself so critically? Who am I to know what's perfection and what is not?
When will I stop this insanity and just be comfortable in my skin -- celebrate me?

Ok -- so I'm not doing so hot on the whole "write on the blog"every day thing. Some days I'm just too tired and sometimes I'm distracted. Oh well -- some consistency is better than none, I suppose.
In my efforts to learn balance and boundaries in my life, I tried scheduling my day. I sat down and wrote out everything I thought I should get done today. The first thing was get up at 5 (after going to bed at 11) and shower and clean out the car. I woke up at 6:30.
I still managed to get everything done, but no where near as gracefully as I'd hoped.
Next, I was going to work straight for two hours and in that time prepare 5-8 stories for publication, prepare for a meeting, check my e-mail -- oh and get a blood test done in the office wellness program. In reality, I checked my e-mail, laughed with my co workers, went the meeting only half prepared and tried to orient my temp on my job. Oh, and got the blood draw done and ate breakfast at the office.
Later I was going to run errands -- including getting groceries, installing my snow tires, and making a bank deposit.
I made the bank deposit.
Now, probably to any normal human in the world, I had a reasonable productive day. So why do I look at a day and try to figure out how to fill it with so many hours of over achievement no human could ever get it done -- and then wonder why I'm stressed out and miserable??
Why does it make sense to me? I schedule no time for joy and then feel guilty when I'm laughing with my co workers cause I should be focusing on work?
So tomorrow I'm just going to try to get one thing done -- an interview and preparation for a story due Friday. One thing. It could work.
I keep thinking that I could try to get some other things done. Well crap, I'll have to write my column since I forgot to write it tonight. But it won't take too long. And I'll need to set up another story. So maybe I'll get three things done.
This whole keep it simple thing is so complicated.

Seahawk Blue

Taking inspiration from Mars and Sallyacious I think I'll try a to write a blog entry every day for one month.
We just got back from Seattle. We went to a Seahawk game. It was wonderful! I'd show you pictures but I didn't take any and my friend hasn't sent me any yet. We arrived in the Emerald City Thursday night and by Sunday I felt myself coming close to actually relaxing. I'm hoping I didn't overdo anything though. You know how sick I get. I woke up this morning and my eyes were gooped shut. Not a good sign.
So my counselor has talked me into taking a leave of absence away from work. I've told the paper I'm going to take six to eight weeks off. Exhaustion. Gawd I feel like a loser. I get myself into this spirals every other year and you would think I would have learned by now not to do it. My counselor thinks the combination of grief, exhaustion and marital problems is taking a toll. Go figure.
Anyway, I'll have to check with my counselor every day and I have a limit to what I can do. She thinks I'll stay too busy even if I'm not working. (Can you imagine?) I hate it that she's got me so figured out. Am I that obvious?
Oh! So back to the Seattle -- I had a great time with friends and the stadium was wonderful etc. But here's the wierd thing: I landed in Boise and I was sad. I may be tired and starting to come down with something, but you know what I think it was? I think I was mad at Clem and didn't know it until later. My bag was heavy and when I was pulling it up the stairs at my friend OJ's house, she ordered her fiance' Bob to help me with it and kept saying "Where's Clem?" It just never occurs to me to expect help from him -- especially these days when I'm taking a new "expect nothing" approach (it's one of a thousand of baby steps toward healing our marriage -- it makes me crazy, but everyone says it will work. Whatever.)But then as I'm towing my luggage toward our car, I thought, "Perhaps a real man pulls his wifes suitcase and she pulls his lighter bag." I'm certainly not helpless -- and lets face it, I'm probably stronger in some areas than Clem -- should I expect chivalry? Does it make me less independent and capable? It's so confusing to be a fabulous babe, hot mama queen of it all, liberal educated feminist who wants so much to be treated like a princess and spoiled rotten. The reality is I'd just love some common courtesy. Besides it sort of freaks me out when men do nice things for me. I'm not sure what it means.
So during this time off -- I'm supposed to learn how to better balance my time -- and include more health and fitness stuff 'cause I really do want to be healthy and fit -- as it makes me happy and this whole process about my happiness afterall. So I'm guessing I'll get to work out more without guilt -- for not being at work or at home or something else. Mars wants to do Bloomsday. I think that's good. I'm going to do it with her.
Then I'll feel purple instead of blue.

Remembering Joy

I spent the weekend in Moscow. I had forgotten how much I love it there. My friend Cyndi and I drove up to see our friend Sally in a play. She was, of course, fabulous.
The rolling wheat fields crested by evergreens welcomed me back. It has been seven years since I visited my college town.
As we drove around, I could physically feel the stress leaving my shoulders. I'm not sure what it is about the place -- but I've always felt at home there. Not sure why I actually left now.
It's an eight hour trip for me so had lots of time to think -- and talk with Cyndi. We're both dealing with grief -- trying to figure out how to cope with loss and heart break in our own way.
I've been trying to find time to do the things that bring me joy with limited success so far -- walking around Moscow -- even for a moment was a good start.
Sally does these cool artist trading card things -- So I think I'll do that. I need some breathing space -- as always, but more now than ever. I suck at balance -- I'm two months from 40 and you'd think I'd have figured it out -- but no -- still struggling up that path.
I've also been reminded lately of how much I enjoy being outside -- walking, breathing -- seeing.
I've set a goal of making a hike up Elbow Creek. It's a place I know little about -- it's outside Stanley and once you make it to the top, there's a pool and a view of the Sawtooths. My friend Cassidy told me about it -- and I've become obsessed.
I'll have to train for it -- so Cyndi is helping me devise a plan. I'm going to do it June 21. The Solstice. It seems right -- appropriate. Transition.
I'm going chronicle the training here I guess. Maybe it will make a great book.
I'm scared and the dark voices in my head keep telling me I can't do it. That I haven't given myself enough time to train -- that I'll never make the climb.
Fuck 'em. I'm going to do it. Who is joining me?