Paying homage to Jon Bon Jovi and redefining "love"
My parents owned a restaurant and I grew up in that business. A family restaurant that had fantastic homemade soups, salad dressings, cheeseburgers, chicken salad and pecan balls. My parents are both wonderful cooks. If you have ever visited their home you know that from the moment you step in until the moment you leave my mom will feed and take care of you. Your drink is never empty and there is always something either in the works, being cleaned up or "just to tie you over". You always feel well cared for when you leave. The kitchen was always a gathering place in our home and to this day my parents are happiest around a crowded table sharing a meal with their family.
I inherited this trait.
I like to cook. I like to try new recipes as a foundation and then get creative. I have few staples but even those usually end up with some new flair by the time they hit the table. Todd routinely tells our kids they are lucky to grow up in a house with a mom who makes "wonderful" (his words, I am not bragging) homemade meals and believes in family dinner around the table with the tv off and discussion about the days events. I treasure this family time.
I also really enjoy having friends over for dinner. I can make any night an "event". There is rarely a weekend when we aren't frantically stuffing things under the couch, in drawers, swiffering the floor as friends are pulling into the driveway for a get together. (Because while I love to cook, I hate to clean… hence the cleaning frenzy with 5 minutes to go!) I can spend hours thinking of what appetizers we will have, if it goes with the main course, salads, desserts, drinks… etc. And if it is a holiday or birthday? Forget it… I can plan for a week! I want people to leave my home with the same feeling I have when I leave my parents… well cared for.
Food has always been a way to show love in my life. Both the giving and receiving of love.
"Oh no, you are having a bad day? What do you want for dinner? I will make you whatever you want"
"Congratulations! You won the game! We should celebrate what do you want me to make you for dinner?"
"I can't thank you enough for all you've done for me, and to show my gratitude I made you these cookies"
"You just had a surgery/baby/hiccups/allergy attack/coughing fit/hangnail? Here I made you some dinner!"
It's just what I do. And I enjoy doing it because I want the people in my life to know I love them.
The problem is I have tied food to every emotion. After 40 years I can't figure out how to separate them. And truthfully I don't want to separate them in some respects.
I don't want to stop planning and making family dinners (which are usually healthy and not "eeewww yuck, gross, gisdusting, it's like someone pooped on my head!! I no eat it, I full" as Meg might have you believe). My family would prefer that I not stop this either.
I have no plans to stop feeding my guests meals I have obsessed over because I enjoy the planning and it is a way for me to show my friends I value the time we spend together. I am at my best with a house full of friends who are enjoying a meal I have thoughtfully prepared. In these respects it isn't about the eating as much as it is about the "event".
What I need to change is how I define the love I am showing myself. That's where the food itself is the issue.
"I've had a rotten day - chips and dip will make me feel better"
"I've had an awesome day! I deserve some ice cream!"
"I've had a perfectly average day. I think I want some mexican/italian/sushi to spice it up!"
See where this is going? Every day falls into one of these categories.
So how do I treat myself, take care of myself, comfort myself in other ways on the day to day? I am not sure. I am trying to find ways that won't break the bank because shopping is as bad for my checkbook as emotional eating is for my health. I can't trade one problem for another. I mean, I could, but then the 6 of us will be living in a van down by the river.
And I can only take so many bubble baths and justify so many pedicures.
I am hoping my new knitting hobby will help, but am looking for additional advice, opinions, suggestions, things to try...
And if you say "go to the gym" or "go for a walk/run" I will hurt you. That's like telling me to swap loaded cheesy nachos for celery. I swap those because I know it is better for me, not because I am excited about celery. I don't LOVE exercise and swapping something I love for something I tolerate won't have that effect I need at this point. Hopefully someday I will not see exercise as a necessary chore, I am working towards that, but I am not there yet. Be patient with me...
So tell me, what do you do to comfort and nurture yourself? Body, mind and spirit…
As I wait for responses I think I will plan a Super Bowl party :)
Friday, January 24, 2014
Saturday, January 18, 2014
The days I met my monster
I have thought a great deal this last week about exactly when the scale became such a problem in my life. I mean, this inconsequential contraption of metal and springs that in some cases (think Dr's office) hasn't evolved in ages, when did it take so much power over my self esteem. When did I give it so much power?
I didn't have to think long... I knew the 2 events that forever changed my relationship with the scale and myself.
The first was 6th grade.
On a Sunday in late August in 1986 my family moved from my hometown and during the turmoil of the relocating, my mom and I went to temporarily live with my Aunt and her family in Pittsburgh. I will say I am grateful for the time we had in my Aunt's home because it allowed me to develop a bond with her I continue to be thankful for. We arrived on that Sunday.
The next day my mom walked me to the neighborhood school and registered me for class that started that day. I wasn't on any registrations, no one knew I was coming.
Day one I spent telling the 3 6th grade teachers my name. Spelling "McSorley" and explaining I just registered which is why they didn't have my name on any lists. I ate lunch at the end of a table that had 3 other girls but they never acknowledged me.
I didn't know how to find my Aunt's house once school was over but knew which kid to follow to get me to the vicinity.
I was determined day 2 would be different.
I was right.
Day 2 started like any other day in elementary school and in 3rd period we were to go to gym class. Gym teacher comes to the classroom to take us to the gym but instead he took a detour and we ended at the nurses office. The nurse came in with her assistant to take all our weights.
I knew I weighed too much, but I hadn't really let it stop me at that point. I wasn't ashamed. It hadn't kept me from playing sports or wearing shorts at that point. I had no idea what was coming.
The nurses office was a smallish room that was off a larger waiting room. The class sat in the waiting room, and one by one the nurse called us into her office for our weights.
The nurse's assistant also sat in the waiting room, at her desk.
And as each kid entered the nurses small office the nurse would have them stand on the scale and then she would yell the weight to the assistant in the waiting room. The assistant then wrote the numbers on her spreadsheet. Do not ask me why the nurse could not write them on the spreadsheet on the desk in her office? I guess she couldn't multi-task.
"Adams, Shelley - 87 lbs NEXT!"
"Anderson, Brian - 98 lbs. NEXT!"
one by one kids filed in out of the office while the class sat and listened to the numbers.
Unless you were "fat"
Because if you weighed too much the nurse came out of the office and whispered it to the assistant. She couldn't bring herself to yell such shameful things.
And in my first real lesson of gender difference, I was taught only the girls should be embarrassed.
No matter what the boys number was - they were yelled. Their mass was a source of pride.
Here is why I know this.
"McSorley, Anne" out of the office to whisper
The number? 107. I was 11 years old and 5 ft 1. I fully admitted that was overweight. That day I added shame to my issues of being new, alone and overweight.
The kids laughed that I was a whisper. Same as they had laughed at a girl 4 people ahead of me who was also a whisper. I heard what they said about her, and knew exactly what they were saying about me.
They didn't even know my name at this point, but they knew I was a whisper. That was all that mattered.
The scale took its first victory.
I sat back down willing myself not to cry. I vowed not to show any emotion.
A few people later.
"Reyonlds, David - A football player in the making 115. NEXT!"
Girls shamed for less. Boys celebrated.
I sat by myself that day at lunch. I cried silent tears for the next many nights, the next many years, wishing I was different.
It was a long year.
7th grade brought another move to a new school. My issues were fully ingrained and growing at that point.
Inside I was hurting and torn. I compensated with a tough exterior, quick wit, and false air of confidence.
Those are traits that are all still with me to some extent.
Especially funny. I am VERY funny. :)
But 7th and 8th grade were actually enjoyable with a small class and people I connected with.
The next major victory for the scale came in 9th grade.
Catholic High School in Pittsburgh. The school itself was 20 minutes from my parents apartment. And it was attended by kids from all over the city. Very few from my 8th grade class were going, so again I was walking into the unfamiliar without knowing many people.
Sitting in class my first week of school. The teacher is taking attendance. In an effort to get to know the students he has his roster and is walking up and down the rows just asking questions to the students as he reads their names. "Where are you from?" Is so and so your older brother?" "Are you related to...?"
He gets to me.
"McSorley, Anne. McSorley? Like the restaurant?"
"Yes, it is my Uncles"
"Great place and Great name!"
"Thanks"
"Any nicknames? Anyone call you Annie Mac or Big Mac"
"No, just Anne"
Behind me a few seats and over in the next row I hear it. A kid with a pseudo-mullet and a gold chain says just loud enough for me to hear it "They SHOULD call her Big Mac, she's definitely eaten enough of them!!"
If the teacher heard he ignored.
The kids around him chuckled. He was an athlete, he was cute by all standards that were important, he was popular, so it was all okay to laugh.
I was no one.
I was not an athlete. I lived 20 minutes away and my parents didn't have a car. I had no way to get to practice even though I would have loved to continue with soccer. I was overweight and wearing clothes that were ill fitting and hand me downs. I couldn't compete against his taunts, so I shut down.
Inside I was right back to the nurses office in 6th grade. The scale won again.
But this monster would follow me from class to class for the next 4 years. He never outwardly made another comment and he probably never thought about it again. But I did.
I thought about it every time I saw him in classes for 4 years. He was in a lot of my classes. I cringed if he was seated near me. Praying he would just ignore me. I spent 4 years trying to just stay out of his way.
I only survived High School with the help of some awesome friends who were as close to me as family. I am thankful many of these relationships continue to bless my life (and that Facebook has helped me rekindle the friendship with others I had lost during the years)
To this day when I hear his name it is the first thing I think of.
So this week I have thought about those 2 events. Wondering how I can rewrite the mental scripts each event wrote in my life all those years ago?
I know it will take time but as I focus on things about me worth celebrating, I will change that script moving forward.
And I will spend my energy challenging systems that "shame" kids who are different. I will fight for people of all sizes, abilities, and backgrounds to be given opportunities. I will stand up for those who are told they are not enough, they are too much, they aren't worthy of life, they have no future.
I will raise kids who understand the power of words and teasing. Who know one of our biggest responsibilities as humans is to stand up for those being teased and mocked.
I will raise kids who are comfortable in their own skin and not afraid to fight bullies.
And maybe, just maybe, at our next High School Reunion I will find this guy and find the courage to walk up and say hello.
Then I will pull a Big Mac out of my purse and smash it in his face.
Okay, skip that last sentence. I will just enjoy the IDEA of that. I won't really DO it.
Remember, funny.
I will take a picture of my beautiful family and let that one specific classmate know just how much my life has been blessed. Let him know, without calling him out or reminding him of that one day in class all those years ago when he made me the punchline of his "jokes" I have achieved quite a bit.
It will be the best way to edit that script from long ago.
I didn't have to think long... I knew the 2 events that forever changed my relationship with the scale and myself.
The first was 6th grade.
On a Sunday in late August in 1986 my family moved from my hometown and during the turmoil of the relocating, my mom and I went to temporarily live with my Aunt and her family in Pittsburgh. I will say I am grateful for the time we had in my Aunt's home because it allowed me to develop a bond with her I continue to be thankful for. We arrived on that Sunday.
The next day my mom walked me to the neighborhood school and registered me for class that started that day. I wasn't on any registrations, no one knew I was coming.
Day one I spent telling the 3 6th grade teachers my name. Spelling "McSorley" and explaining I just registered which is why they didn't have my name on any lists. I ate lunch at the end of a table that had 3 other girls but they never acknowledged me.
I didn't know how to find my Aunt's house once school was over but knew which kid to follow to get me to the vicinity.
I was determined day 2 would be different.
I was right.
Day 2 started like any other day in elementary school and in 3rd period we were to go to gym class. Gym teacher comes to the classroom to take us to the gym but instead he took a detour and we ended at the nurses office. The nurse came in with her assistant to take all our weights.
I knew I weighed too much, but I hadn't really let it stop me at that point. I wasn't ashamed. It hadn't kept me from playing sports or wearing shorts at that point. I had no idea what was coming.
The nurses office was a smallish room that was off a larger waiting room. The class sat in the waiting room, and one by one the nurse called us into her office for our weights.
The nurse's assistant also sat in the waiting room, at her desk.
And as each kid entered the nurses small office the nurse would have them stand on the scale and then she would yell the weight to the assistant in the waiting room. The assistant then wrote the numbers on her spreadsheet. Do not ask me why the nurse could not write them on the spreadsheet on the desk in her office? I guess she couldn't multi-task.
"Adams, Shelley - 87 lbs NEXT!"
"Anderson, Brian - 98 lbs. NEXT!"
one by one kids filed in out of the office while the class sat and listened to the numbers.
Unless you were "fat"
Because if you weighed too much the nurse came out of the office and whispered it to the assistant. She couldn't bring herself to yell such shameful things.
And in my first real lesson of gender difference, I was taught only the girls should be embarrassed.
No matter what the boys number was - they were yelled. Their mass was a source of pride.
Here is why I know this.
"McSorley, Anne" out of the office to whisper
The number? 107. I was 11 years old and 5 ft 1. I fully admitted that was overweight. That day I added shame to my issues of being new, alone and overweight.
The kids laughed that I was a whisper. Same as they had laughed at a girl 4 people ahead of me who was also a whisper. I heard what they said about her, and knew exactly what they were saying about me.
They didn't even know my name at this point, but they knew I was a whisper. That was all that mattered.
The scale took its first victory.
I sat back down willing myself not to cry. I vowed not to show any emotion.
A few people later.
"Reyonlds, David - A football player in the making 115. NEXT!"
Girls shamed for less. Boys celebrated.
I sat by myself that day at lunch. I cried silent tears for the next many nights, the next many years, wishing I was different.
It was a long year.
7th grade brought another move to a new school. My issues were fully ingrained and growing at that point.
Inside I was hurting and torn. I compensated with a tough exterior, quick wit, and false air of confidence.
Those are traits that are all still with me to some extent.
Especially funny. I am VERY funny. :)
But 7th and 8th grade were actually enjoyable with a small class and people I connected with.
The next major victory for the scale came in 9th grade.
Catholic High School in Pittsburgh. The school itself was 20 minutes from my parents apartment. And it was attended by kids from all over the city. Very few from my 8th grade class were going, so again I was walking into the unfamiliar without knowing many people.
Sitting in class my first week of school. The teacher is taking attendance. In an effort to get to know the students he has his roster and is walking up and down the rows just asking questions to the students as he reads their names. "Where are you from?" Is so and so your older brother?" "Are you related to...?"
He gets to me.
"McSorley, Anne. McSorley? Like the restaurant?"
"Yes, it is my Uncles"
"Great place and Great name!"
"Thanks"
"Any nicknames? Anyone call you Annie Mac or Big Mac"
"No, just Anne"
Behind me a few seats and over in the next row I hear it. A kid with a pseudo-mullet and a gold chain says just loud enough for me to hear it "They SHOULD call her Big Mac, she's definitely eaten enough of them!!"
If the teacher heard he ignored.
The kids around him chuckled. He was an athlete, he was cute by all standards that were important, he was popular, so it was all okay to laugh.
I was no one.
I was not an athlete. I lived 20 minutes away and my parents didn't have a car. I had no way to get to practice even though I would have loved to continue with soccer. I was overweight and wearing clothes that were ill fitting and hand me downs. I couldn't compete against his taunts, so I shut down.
Inside I was right back to the nurses office in 6th grade. The scale won again.
But this monster would follow me from class to class for the next 4 years. He never outwardly made another comment and he probably never thought about it again. But I did.
I thought about it every time I saw him in classes for 4 years. He was in a lot of my classes. I cringed if he was seated near me. Praying he would just ignore me. I spent 4 years trying to just stay out of his way.
I only survived High School with the help of some awesome friends who were as close to me as family. I am thankful many of these relationships continue to bless my life (and that Facebook has helped me rekindle the friendship with others I had lost during the years)
To this day when I hear his name it is the first thing I think of.
So this week I have thought about those 2 events. Wondering how I can rewrite the mental scripts each event wrote in my life all those years ago?
I know it will take time but as I focus on things about me worth celebrating, I will change that script moving forward.
And I will spend my energy challenging systems that "shame" kids who are different. I will fight for people of all sizes, abilities, and backgrounds to be given opportunities. I will stand up for those who are told they are not enough, they are too much, they aren't worthy of life, they have no future.
I will raise kids who understand the power of words and teasing. Who know one of our biggest responsibilities as humans is to stand up for those being teased and mocked.
I will raise kids who are comfortable in their own skin and not afraid to fight bullies.
And maybe, just maybe, at our next High School Reunion I will find this guy and find the courage to walk up and say hello.
Then I will pull a Big Mac out of my purse and smash it in his face.
Okay, skip that last sentence. I will just enjoy the IDEA of that. I won't really DO it.
Remember, funny.
I will take a picture of my beautiful family and let that one specific classmate know just how much my life has been blessed. Let him know, without calling him out or reminding him of that one day in class all those years ago when he made me the punchline of his "jokes" I have achieved quite a bit.
It will be the best way to edit that script from long ago.
Monday, January 13, 2014
The devil went down to Elmwood, he was looking for a soul to steal….
Let me start with "you're welcome". I am sure you will have the song from this entry title in your head for a little while now!
I continue to have a lot of wonderful conversations this past week - chats with people who wanted to share with me the stories of their own monsters and challenges. I continued to be humbled by their courage to share and am reminded that the people in this world usually respond to you with the same energy you put out. If you decide to live your life with walls and stiff arms, keeping everyone at a "safe" distance, people will respond in kind. You put yourself out there with all your fears and vulnerabilities, people respond in kind.
Lesson learned: you most often get what you give.
What energy are you putting out to the Universe and the people around you?
I am choosing to let others in and embrace others who in turn are opening up and embracing me… sort of like one giant bear hug!
Reminds me to always wear deodorant.
But there is that strange few moments when you realize a person might know a LOT about you and you know very little about them. It is slightly bizarre.
To deal with the situation I mentally invent some crazy backstory for the person - just so I feel like we are on an even playing field, know what I mean? Why should you know my stories but I don't know yours? So I create backstories like "Their monster? Spends their weekend traveling the national circuit entering their 2 felines in the "Cats and Crowns" royal beauty pageants, a gold medal eludes them and if they don't win the big title soon all hope will be lost as Mittens is aging out of contention and the unfortunate hairball incident of 2012 has left Smokey blacklisted by the judges."
(Lesson here, might as well share your story because it won't be nearly as bad as the one I might create for you.)
Saturday was my first get moving day. Remember, my last blog I said training starts now?!? Well I meant it and 4 minutes into my first training walk on Saturday I slipped on the ice and crashed down on my knee.
BAM!!
My friend Roni (no names have been changed to spare identities, you've been warned) was brave/kind/crazy/supportive enough to got out for a power walk with me on Saturday morning in the wind and cold temperatures was there to help me up and assured me it was a graceful fall, but I think the cold temps were making her delirious. She has already run a half marathon AND she is the one who instigated the walk in polar vortex temps (okay it was like 30 degrees), clearly her judgment is questionable, but I am grateful for her….
4 minutes in, CRASH… and while it only really scratched my knee and bruised my pride it let me know this will not be an easy journey. The devil will look to trip me up (literally in this case) at every step.
That damn devil, can't let me walk 5 minutes without attacking.
It wasn't about bruising my knee and ego though, it was about attacking my will. It was about planting the slightest seed of doubt in my head as to my ability to succeed.
"You can't even make it around your block without falling, you'll never make it."
And I am not sure if it was the slip or the power walk itself that left my legs a bit sore yesterday, but that watered the seeds.
"Sore after that? It was 2 miles, how will you go almost 7 x that amount? You can't do this."
But I have to keep going, not because of my goals, but because I now have the accountability of anyone reading this to keep me going.
In that light, I begin to curse my supportive friends, wanting what is best for me and encouraging my goals. Why can't I have crappy friends who don't care what I do and send me boxes of chips and chocolate to hinder my efforts?
Then, because I fully admit I don't like exercise as much as I enjoy my couch, reality tv, and hot cocoa, I begin strategically thinking of how I might piss off anyone/everyone who read/comments on this thing in an effort to lose all support and resulting in no liking me.
I decide that will be easier than training.
New manageable plan! Yay for out of the box thinking!
Okay not really.
I resolve to keep going. I think of the experiences I will be able to enjoy when I am healthier. I think of my health and my need to be around for a long time for my family because no one can make them crazy like I can. I think of my friends who would miss my dinners, wine drinking, shopping and girl talks. I think of my friends kids who I want to see grow up and be an active part of their lives.
I dream of, for once, feeling okay in my own skin.
I don't think of numbers, I think of the outcome of being healthier.
I think I only need to get back up 1 more time than I get knocked down, right? Don't focus on the end goal, just focus on getting up this one time.
I pick myself up, sore legs, battered pride and I resolve to battle the devil one more day.
Whether he trips me on the ice or shows up in the lingering smell of McDonald's french fries in the office right around lunch time, I will fight.
I will also shut my door and open my window in an attempt to keep the smell from killing me lest I might end up in a fit of fried salty food rage fighting the person who brought them. Don't judge.
Finally, my spirit was renewed when the message at church yesterday was about Physical health and taking care of yourself in an effort to fulfill your purpose. I was thankful for the tips and support. I did not see this timing as coincidence (I don't believe in coincidences anyway) rather a reminder that God is with me on this journey. I am excited about these next few weeks in this series and the additional support the church is offering.
So I am left wondering:
How will you pick yourself up today?
What additional good can we put into the world through our interactions with others?
Care to share? (you might as well, I will make it up for you if you don't, see "Cats and Crowns" story from above)
I continue to have a lot of wonderful conversations this past week - chats with people who wanted to share with me the stories of their own monsters and challenges. I continued to be humbled by their courage to share and am reminded that the people in this world usually respond to you with the same energy you put out. If you decide to live your life with walls and stiff arms, keeping everyone at a "safe" distance, people will respond in kind. You put yourself out there with all your fears and vulnerabilities, people respond in kind.
Lesson learned: you most often get what you give.
What energy are you putting out to the Universe and the people around you?
I am choosing to let others in and embrace others who in turn are opening up and embracing me… sort of like one giant bear hug!
Reminds me to always wear deodorant.
But there is that strange few moments when you realize a person might know a LOT about you and you know very little about them. It is slightly bizarre.
To deal with the situation I mentally invent some crazy backstory for the person - just so I feel like we are on an even playing field, know what I mean? Why should you know my stories but I don't know yours? So I create backstories like "Their monster? Spends their weekend traveling the national circuit entering their 2 felines in the "Cats and Crowns" royal beauty pageants, a gold medal eludes them and if they don't win the big title soon all hope will be lost as Mittens is aging out of contention and the unfortunate hairball incident of 2012 has left Smokey blacklisted by the judges."
(Lesson here, might as well share your story because it won't be nearly as bad as the one I might create for you.)
Saturday was my first get moving day. Remember, my last blog I said training starts now?!? Well I meant it and 4 minutes into my first training walk on Saturday I slipped on the ice and crashed down on my knee.
BAM!!
My friend Roni (no names have been changed to spare identities, you've been warned) was brave/kind/crazy/supportive enough to got out for a power walk with me on Saturday morning in the wind and cold temperatures was there to help me up and assured me it was a graceful fall, but I think the cold temps were making her delirious. She has already run a half marathon AND she is the one who instigated the walk in polar vortex temps (okay it was like 30 degrees), clearly her judgment is questionable, but I am grateful for her….
4 minutes in, CRASH… and while it only really scratched my knee and bruised my pride it let me know this will not be an easy journey. The devil will look to trip me up (literally in this case) at every step.
That damn devil, can't let me walk 5 minutes without attacking.
It wasn't about bruising my knee and ego though, it was about attacking my will. It was about planting the slightest seed of doubt in my head as to my ability to succeed.
"You can't even make it around your block without falling, you'll never make it."
And I am not sure if it was the slip or the power walk itself that left my legs a bit sore yesterday, but that watered the seeds.
"Sore after that? It was 2 miles, how will you go almost 7 x that amount? You can't do this."
But I have to keep going, not because of my goals, but because I now have the accountability of anyone reading this to keep me going.
In that light, I begin to curse my supportive friends, wanting what is best for me and encouraging my goals. Why can't I have crappy friends who don't care what I do and send me boxes of chips and chocolate to hinder my efforts?
Then, because I fully admit I don't like exercise as much as I enjoy my couch, reality tv, and hot cocoa, I begin strategically thinking of how I might piss off anyone/everyone who read/comments on this thing in an effort to lose all support and resulting in no liking me.
I decide that will be easier than training.
New manageable plan! Yay for out of the box thinking!
Okay not really.
I resolve to keep going. I think of the experiences I will be able to enjoy when I am healthier. I think of my health and my need to be around for a long time for my family because no one can make them crazy like I can. I think of my friends who would miss my dinners, wine drinking, shopping and girl talks. I think of my friends kids who I want to see grow up and be an active part of their lives.
I dream of, for once, feeling okay in my own skin.
I don't think of numbers, I think of the outcome of being healthier.
I think I only need to get back up 1 more time than I get knocked down, right? Don't focus on the end goal, just focus on getting up this one time.
I pick myself up, sore legs, battered pride and I resolve to battle the devil one more day.
Whether he trips me on the ice or shows up in the lingering smell of McDonald's french fries in the office right around lunch time, I will fight.
I will also shut my door and open my window in an attempt to keep the smell from killing me lest I might end up in a fit of fried salty food rage fighting the person who brought them. Don't judge.
Finally, my spirit was renewed when the message at church yesterday was about Physical health and taking care of yourself in an effort to fulfill your purpose. I was thankful for the tips and support. I did not see this timing as coincidence (I don't believe in coincidences anyway) rather a reminder that God is with me on this journey. I am excited about these next few weeks in this series and the additional support the church is offering.
So I am left wondering:
How will you pick yourself up today?
What additional good can we put into the world through our interactions with others?
Care to share? (you might as well, I will make it up for you if you don't, see "Cats and Crowns" story from above)
Saturday, January 11, 2014
My new numbers
Here are some numbers that I should focus on to replace the scale number.
Over 101 likes to my first blog post on Facebook
Over 500 views to the blog
Over 30 very loving and supportive comments and messages of encouragement
My head is spinning and my heart is full, never did I expect such an outpouring of affirmation.
The good news is I have heard stories from friends that I didn't know struggle with similar issues. Some have defeated their monster, some continue to fight, some are garnering the strength to take the first step. Regardless of where you are in the journey, there is power in the experience of others.
The bad thing is I have heard stories from friends that I didn't know struggle with similar issue. I am sorry so many have dealt with this.
One thing I have learned, monsters come in lots of forms and they do not discriminate along gender or age. They attack men and women alike. Older and young. My monster is the scale, but the bully takes many other forms. I also heard stories of people who completely relate to the struggle while battling different issues. We are in this together. That is a post for another day….
Today's post is about numbers. Since I am determined to not be defined by the number of the scale, I've found some numbers I can focus on.
So here are a few of the numbers that I plan to focus on moving forward this year.
8 - the number of glasses of water I will drink every day resulting in
20 - the number of trips it appears I will take to the bathroom every day
5 - the number of servings of fruits and veggies I will eat (of the non chip/fry variety)
30 - the number of minutes I plan to move/stretch at least 5 times a week (this does not include stretching for the remote or moving out of the way of some screaming running child)
30 - the number of minutes I plan to spend in silent prayer with my God each day (because I need him)
0 - the amount of tofu and okra that I will consume (because even I have my limits, blech!)
at least 10 - the number of hugs and kisses for kids and Todd each day (because if I give those I get them back)
2 - the number of new hobbies I will learn this year (knitting class today! yay!)
6 - the number of books, not written by Dr. Seuss, I will read this year.
at least 1 - the number of girls nights I plan to have each month - because I have some kick ass friends!
Notice - not one of these numbers is outside of my control. I dictate how much water I drink and if I exercise. It isn't a situation where I can work really hard and see poor results (scale) and feel defeated and give up. No, each of these is within my power. Okay, maybe not girls night if everyone bails on me and sometimes I worry about my complete control with all this water after giving birth to 3 big headed babies... But lets not go there! Each of these will lead to wellness and overall health - body, mind and spirit.
What numbers can you focus on this year? Anyone want to share?
But just because I am a little crazy, I have one more number I am focusing on right now.
4/26 - 13.1 - April 26th - the day I will complete a half marathon in Nashville TN. I have 4 hours to finish and my goal is to finish the race in the time allowed. Run/walk/walk/run/crawl/skip/ride piggy back (stop for a moment and giggle at that mental image of me jumping on some poor unknowing persons back and demanding to be carried!)… whatever it takes to cross the finish line. I have 14 weeks. Training starts now.
(hey I said, NOW… blogs over… more later… I gotta go train!)
Over 101 likes to my first blog post on Facebook
Over 500 views to the blog
Over 30 very loving and supportive comments and messages of encouragement
My head is spinning and my heart is full, never did I expect such an outpouring of affirmation.
The good news is I have heard stories from friends that I didn't know struggle with similar issues. Some have defeated their monster, some continue to fight, some are garnering the strength to take the first step. Regardless of where you are in the journey, there is power in the experience of others.
The bad thing is I have heard stories from friends that I didn't know struggle with similar issue. I am sorry so many have dealt with this.
One thing I have learned, monsters come in lots of forms and they do not discriminate along gender or age. They attack men and women alike. Older and young. My monster is the scale, but the bully takes many other forms. I also heard stories of people who completely relate to the struggle while battling different issues. We are in this together. That is a post for another day….
Today's post is about numbers. Since I am determined to not be defined by the number of the scale, I've found some numbers I can focus on.
So here are a few of the numbers that I plan to focus on moving forward this year.
8 - the number of glasses of water I will drink every day resulting in
20 - the number of trips it appears I will take to the bathroom every day
5 - the number of servings of fruits and veggies I will eat (of the non chip/fry variety)
30 - the number of minutes I plan to move/stretch at least 5 times a week (this does not include stretching for the remote or moving out of the way of some screaming running child)
30 - the number of minutes I plan to spend in silent prayer with my God each day (because I need him)
0 - the amount of tofu and okra that I will consume (because even I have my limits, blech!)
at least 10 - the number of hugs and kisses for kids and Todd each day (because if I give those I get them back)
2 - the number of new hobbies I will learn this year (knitting class today! yay!)
6 - the number of books, not written by Dr. Seuss, I will read this year.
at least 1 - the number of girls nights I plan to have each month - because I have some kick ass friends!
Notice - not one of these numbers is outside of my control. I dictate how much water I drink and if I exercise. It isn't a situation where I can work really hard and see poor results (scale) and feel defeated and give up. No, each of these is within my power. Okay, maybe not girls night if everyone bails on me and sometimes I worry about my complete control with all this water after giving birth to 3 big headed babies... But lets not go there! Each of these will lead to wellness and overall health - body, mind and spirit.
What numbers can you focus on this year? Anyone want to share?
But just because I am a little crazy, I have one more number I am focusing on right now.
4/26 - 13.1 - April 26th - the day I will complete a half marathon in Nashville TN. I have 4 hours to finish and my goal is to finish the race in the time allowed. Run/walk/walk/run/crawl/skip/ride piggy back (stop for a moment and giggle at that mental image of me jumping on some poor unknowing persons back and demanding to be carried!)… whatever it takes to cross the finish line. I have 14 weeks. Training starts now.
(hey I said, NOW… blogs over… more later… I gotta go train!)
Thursday, January 9, 2014
There is always money in the banana stand!!
Welcome to ramblings from the banana stand!
Where did the name come from? A quote from one of my favorite tv shows, "there is always money in the banana stand" has become somewhat of a joke in my house. Noah and Caleb have only seen this one episode of Arrested Development, but often at stressful times, to bring a smile to my face, they will say "you know mom, there is always money in the banana stand!"
So "ramblings from the banana stand" came as I was getting the boys to bed last night. I was trying to think of some inspirational title, something provocative and deep, inspiring in a way that the title alone changes people's lives. After 90 seconds of thought I realized I couldn't come up with anything great so I deferred to something that seems to suit me more. Something simple and funny. What is more simple than a banana stand? And I like to ramble, so I put them together and it just made me smile. I hope this blog will serve as an outlet for thought, frustration, motivation, humor and just day to day ramblings as I embark on this journey through 2014.
While there is no money in this banana stand, hopefully there is something else of value.
2014 is my 40th year on this earth and I am determined to do some things differently. The first thing I am going to do is perhaps the hardest - I am going to come clean about some thing. I am going to admit that, for as long as I can remember, I have been in a very abusive relationship. This relationship is a major reason as to why I am overweight. It has impacted every accomplishment I have had and kept me from fully enjoying life.
"I got an A on my paper"
"so what, what's an A when you're fat"
"I got asked to the dance"
"he probably couldn't get a better date"
"I got into college"
"better get good grades because you won't have any friends, you're too fat"
"I got into grad school"
"good thing you are smart, you'll never get married"
"I met a wonderful guy who loves me"
"he could never really love you, no one could, you're disgusting"
"I'm having a baby!"
"you will be an embarrassment to his friends"
and on and on and on....
This is only the smallest snippet of the conversations I have been having for years. Every accomplishment I have ever made, every goal I have dreamed has been destroyed by this one same monster.
The monster? My scale
Every day the scale that tells me I am worthless. Every day the scale tells me I am disgusting. Every day the scale tells me I am not worthy of love and an embarrassment to those around me. The thing is, I don't even have step on to the thing for it to tell me that. Just walking past it in the bathroom I hear it whisper "failure" over and over.
I am surrounded by the most loving family and friends a person could dream of. And all of their encouragement and support is silenced by my scale.
Yesterday I decided enough is enough. I cannot continue to give the scale any more power. My self worth cannot continue to be defined by the number I see on that scale.
So I made a resolution for 2014. I am not stepping on a scale. Not once. Not in my bathroom, not at the gym, not at the Dr. (okay, unless it is some crazy emergency in which case I will ask that they not tell me the number). I am not going to give any power to that number for 1 year and instead I am going to focus on some other numbers and see what happens in my life. I am going to try this because I know how to be healthy and even when I am completely focused and on track to being healthier, the minute the scale doesn't report what I want it too (a loss, or God forbid a gain) I lose all motivation. It tells me I am a failure and destined to be overweigh my entire life. I know plateau's are normal. I know muscle weighs more than fat. I know I feel better. I know my clothes fit better. I know. I know. I know. But NONE of that matters to the scale which continues to ridicule me.
And when this happens I not only fall off the wagon, but I often run down the hill eating every salty chip and m&m in sight.
All because of the power I have given the scale.
So today I reclaim that power. I told Todd about this last night and in a gesture of complete love and support he removed the scale from the bathroom, and took it to some corner abyss of the basement where one is sure not to find it. There was no monster waiting for me in the bathroom this morning. It was just a void where it once was.
A void that will be filled with new numbers. That will be the next focus of ramblings from the banana stand. I hope you will join me on this journey to wellness.
Where did the name come from? A quote from one of my favorite tv shows, "there is always money in the banana stand" has become somewhat of a joke in my house. Noah and Caleb have only seen this one episode of Arrested Development, but often at stressful times, to bring a smile to my face, they will say "you know mom, there is always money in the banana stand!"
So "ramblings from the banana stand" came as I was getting the boys to bed last night. I was trying to think of some inspirational title, something provocative and deep, inspiring in a way that the title alone changes people's lives. After 90 seconds of thought I realized I couldn't come up with anything great so I deferred to something that seems to suit me more. Something simple and funny. What is more simple than a banana stand? And I like to ramble, so I put them together and it just made me smile. I hope this blog will serve as an outlet for thought, frustration, motivation, humor and just day to day ramblings as I embark on this journey through 2014.
While there is no money in this banana stand, hopefully there is something else of value.
2014 is my 40th year on this earth and I am determined to do some things differently. The first thing I am going to do is perhaps the hardest - I am going to come clean about some thing. I am going to admit that, for as long as I can remember, I have been in a very abusive relationship. This relationship is a major reason as to why I am overweight. It has impacted every accomplishment I have had and kept me from fully enjoying life.
"I got an A on my paper"
"so what, what's an A when you're fat"
"I got asked to the dance"
"he probably couldn't get a better date"
"I got into college"
"better get good grades because you won't have any friends, you're too fat"
"I got into grad school"
"good thing you are smart, you'll never get married"
"I met a wonderful guy who loves me"
"he could never really love you, no one could, you're disgusting"
"I'm having a baby!"
"you will be an embarrassment to his friends"
and on and on and on....
This is only the smallest snippet of the conversations I have been having for years. Every accomplishment I have ever made, every goal I have dreamed has been destroyed by this one same monster.
The monster? My scale
Every day the scale that tells me I am worthless. Every day the scale tells me I am disgusting. Every day the scale tells me I am not worthy of love and an embarrassment to those around me. The thing is, I don't even have step on to the thing for it to tell me that. Just walking past it in the bathroom I hear it whisper "failure" over and over.
I am surrounded by the most loving family and friends a person could dream of. And all of their encouragement and support is silenced by my scale.
Yesterday I decided enough is enough. I cannot continue to give the scale any more power. My self worth cannot continue to be defined by the number I see on that scale.
So I made a resolution for 2014. I am not stepping on a scale. Not once. Not in my bathroom, not at the gym, not at the Dr. (okay, unless it is some crazy emergency in which case I will ask that they not tell me the number). I am not going to give any power to that number for 1 year and instead I am going to focus on some other numbers and see what happens in my life. I am going to try this because I know how to be healthy and even when I am completely focused and on track to being healthier, the minute the scale doesn't report what I want it too (a loss, or God forbid a gain) I lose all motivation. It tells me I am a failure and destined to be overweigh my entire life. I know plateau's are normal. I know muscle weighs more than fat. I know I feel better. I know my clothes fit better. I know. I know. I know. But NONE of that matters to the scale which continues to ridicule me.
And when this happens I not only fall off the wagon, but I often run down the hill eating every salty chip and m&m in sight.
All because of the power I have given the scale.
So today I reclaim that power. I told Todd about this last night and in a gesture of complete love and support he removed the scale from the bathroom, and took it to some corner abyss of the basement where one is sure not to find it. There was no monster waiting for me in the bathroom this morning. It was just a void where it once was.
A void that will be filled with new numbers. That will be the next focus of ramblings from the banana stand. I hope you will join me on this journey to wellness.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)