la vie en rose...a sweet life

Celebrating Life's Changes

It's back to school time for many of us with children...or those of us still in school.  While I still have one more year before my child enters the institution we call the educational system we did enroll him in preschool through our local school district and today was his first day at his new school.  Last night he reminded me what it used to be like that night before the first day of school.  At 10:30 when I headed to bed I passed his room and noticed he was lying in bed still wide awake.  This morning he was up at the crack of dawn.  So much excitement paired with so much nervousness.  Driving to his new school this morning you would have thought it was me that was going to a new school.  I probably had just as many butterflies in my stomach as he did...if not more.  All those same things I used to worry about as a kid I worried about again, but this time for him.  Will he find a friend to talk to?  Will he have someone to sit with at lunch?  Will he ask to go to the bathroom if he needs to?  Will he be okay in this new environment without the children he's been with since he started daycare at the age of 4 months?  But you know what?  He did just fine.  And so did I.  I actually made it through the morning without crying.  There was a time or two I felt the tears coming, like when he took my hand as we were walking into the building and when he looked so grown up hanging his new backpack and new lunch box in his locker and when I saw another mother crying, but I made it.   

Several weeks ago while talking about this upcoming transition with B I wanted to be sure he knew he had permission to be a little scared of all of it.  I told him that sometimes when we make changes like this one it can be a little scary.  He gave me a puzzled look and asked, "What's scary about it mom?"  It was then I realized then that sometimes as parents it's more about our fears than their fears.  While I certainly want him to know fear is natural and normal there are times I'm the one who actually invites the fear into the situation.  In this case he didn't even realize this was something that might be scary.  I was the one who was scared about it.

We will now have a new morning routine.  There will be lunches to make in the evenings and posters to make when it's his turn to be star of the week.  There will be holiday vacations to prepare for and new friends to get to know.  And there will be the drop off and pick up schedules to coordinate in as much detail as possible because this happens to be one of my biggest fears.  I was afraid the school wouldn't let me walk B into his classroom every morning to make sure he actually made it to where he belonged.  You see when I was his age my mom dropped me off at preschool one morning and because we were late and I was too embarrassed to walk into the classroom I decided to walk home instead of going to class.  I remember it like it was yesterday.  I remember standing at the door, seeing the kids playing and thinking there is no way I was going to walk in and have everyone turn and look at me.  So I walked home.  Isn't it funny the things we're afraid of sometimes.  Fear is definitely an interesting emotion.  I had no fear of walking home alone and waiting by myself for one of my parents to get home from work but I was scared to death of the other kids seeing me walk in late.  My fears for B were relieved today when I found out I would indeed be able to walk him into his class each morning.  I will know he didn't decide to walk home by himself the way I did.

For those of you starting a new school year with your children congratulations and best wishes for a wonderful new year filled with fun events, tons of memories, and lots and lots of learning.  Today I celebrate life's changes with you.

it's the body...always the body

A few weeks ago I was standing in line at the grocery store when the cover of a tabloid caught my attention.  Now I know I shouldn't let tabloids get to me but this one did.  One of the featured articles was about summer's weight loss winners and losers.  Images of two famous females were on the cover as an example of a winner and a loser.  The winner--Jessica Simpson in a bathing suit on the beach.  The loser--Kelly Clarkson walking down the street looking a little frumpy.  What made me angry and sad and a little sick was this tabloid came out right around the same time Kelly Clarkson was coming clean about her struggle with bulimia.  She was opening up about her battle with weight and body image and her struggle with self acceptance and because she's trying to learn to be okay with her weight the way it is she was being called a loser.  Before leaving the store I noticed another magazine cover, this one featuring a glamorous picture of Kelly Clarkson and beneath it in quotes it said something like, "I'm finally happy with my weight."  I hoped this was true.  I hoped that the media's relentless insistence that women be super skinny was an issue Ms. Clarkson was learning to ignore in favor of loving herself. 

I know the reason this upset me so much really had very little to do with Kelly Clarkson and everything to do with my own weight/body issues.  Seeing a fellow bulimic whose fighting to save herself from the voices that can drive one to do unthinkable things to their body being labeled as a weight loss loser because she might be a tab bit heavier than other female celebrities infuriates me...and saddens me.  And I hate to admit the truth but it made me feel a little bit like a loser too.  After all if Kelly Clarkson can't live up to society's expectations how can I?  It truly feels that way at times and I wonder if the day will ever come when my weight actually won't be an issue anymore. 

My weight tends to be so intricately tied to my depression.  Sadly when I'm thin I'm happier and when I gain a few pounds the sadness begins to grab hold of me again.  While there certainly are other factors that impact my struggle with depression I do know that my thoughts and feelings about my body is a big one.  Last November/December I had lost some weight and was feeling really good in my body and about myself.  You may even remember the sexy red shoes I bought back in January.  In February I felt the weight coming back on and the depression sneaking up...and the red shoes went back on the closet shelf and haven't been worn since.  It's been awhile since I've felt sexy.  Now maybe a sure fire antidote is to pull those red shoes back off the closet shelf.  The only problem is I can't fit into any of my jeans so the whole thing just seems to suck all the life right out of me.

What I want to say is, god, releasing all this and trying to just be okay with my weight, no matter what that might be, sometimes feels impossible.  It sometimes feels like one of the hardest things I've ever been faced with.  I take courage from those who have shared their story of hope, those women who have finally settled into a relationship with themselves where they truly can rest in self acceptance. 

I've been in therapy regarding my weight and depression issues off and on since college.  When I was younger I used to think that one day something would finally click and my issues with my body would miraculously be healed.  I'd read just the right book, find just the right quote, pray just the right prayer, experience just the right experience and a light would flash and I'd be changed forever.  Poof!  My issues would vanish and I'd live happily ever after.  I'm not saying that's not possible but I am saying it's not likely.  More than likely this will always be an issue for me.  It will always be one of my soft spots, one of those areas that will always need a little healing.  I'm starting to learn that our issues are our issues and we'll always carry them and while sudden healing may happen most of the time healing is slow and happens over time...and with a lot of intention.  But that's okay because I'm also learning that the more work I put into accepting myself, especially the size and weight of my body, the more those issue loose their power.  They may still be there and they may still get stirred up, like when I read about Kelly Clarkson being called a weight loss loser, but those issues don't hold the same power they did at one time.  And every time my body image issues start to creep up, bringing with it the depression and the loathing, I'm in a different place with myself because I've changed, I've grown, I've learned a little more since the last time, I've had more life experiences that have empowered and strengthened me, I've build relationships that understand the battle and support me as I struggle to learn to live in my own skin with love and gratitude.  It doesn't hurt the way it did when I was a teenager.  It doesn't hurt the way it did when I was in my twenties.  And I take a leap of faith and believe one day I'll say it doesn't hurt the way it did when I was in my thirties.  I want to believe that little by little it will hurt less and less.  And little by little I'll learn to live in love and acceptance.   

2

By the time you read this I'll be well on my way to the mountains and fresh air of Colorado for some much needed r&r.  I've been dreaming about and planning for this for awhile now, counting down the days and checking things off my to-do list.  But I couldn't let today pass without mentioning that it is the 2nd anniversary of my blog.  Yes, two years ago today I published my first post on A Sweet Life.  At the time I just wanted a place to be heard, a place to put the words I'd been holding in for so long.  I don't know what I was expecting or hoping.  I just knew I wanted to put something out into the universe.  I had no idea where it would lead me.  I had no idea the connections I would make, the stories I would tell, the poetry I would write.  To say blogging has changed my life would be an understatement.  It's been indescribable.  It's been more than I could have ever imagined.  And it's been totally worth it.  So thank you for being a part of A Sweet Life and Tangled Wings.  Thank you for your support, your encouragement, your comments, and your friendship.  Thank you for opening your heart to me.  Thank you for letting me write it all out...and for reading it all.  Thank you for treating me like a long time friend.  Thank you for seeing me and hearing me and letting me know my voice matters.

This Week

I’ve wanted to write about where I’ve been this week but instead I’ve been crawling into bed every night much, much too early for my own good.  I’ve tried to wrap my mind around what I want to express and yet I keep falling short of whatever it is I really want to say. 

I’ve observed myself enough over the past few years to know that about once a month I hit this place where nothing feels right.  It tends to happen around the time my body feels most alive.  Everything inside me is crying out to be expressed and because I can’t quite figure out how to do that everything outside of me feels wrong, too tight, life-less even.  I don’t know that we as women, or as human beings, talk about this enough—the ‘nothing is wrong but I feel so empty’ phenomenon.  Maybe if we did we could help each other deal with it better…or at least help each other feel a bit more ‘normal.’  I look at my life, I see a family that loves me, a child who adores me, friends who support me, a job that appreciates me (most of the time), and creativity that is constantly growing and still I have these moments when it’s as if a great ghost is sitting heavily on my chest howling, “It’s not enough…it’s not enough…it’s not enough.”  I have everything anyone could ever want and yet there is still this emptiness that sucks me into its darkness.  That darkness calls for more darkness and so I tend to find I slip away from myself, my relationships, this blog, and into wherever I can hide until it passes.  I crawl into bed, lay in the dark, and listen to life happening all around me, without me, and that emptiness aches.  The laundry piles up, the dishes are left undone, the ‘I absolutely have to do this now’ list is ignored because all I really want to do is pull a blanket over my head and try to reach the other side by crawling as deeply into myself as possible. 

For me at least I think the emptiness has something to do with wanting to voice something I can’t quite name, wanting to live something I can’t quite get to, wanting to get something out of me that I can’t seem to give form.  It also has to do with knowing that I’m not living out of my fullness, that there is so much left unlived and undone.  It has to do with knowing people see me but wondering if they really see me.  Do they look in my eyes and see all the things I wish they could see even the secrets I’m sometimes afraid to let people see?  It has to do with a fear of time slipping away, not because I fear wrinkles or an aging body, but because every day I feel like I’m loosing something I can never get back.  And it definitely has to do with not being able to adjust to the way life shifts and changes before I’ve had a chance to catch my breath. 

I ache because I can’t remember the last time someone told me I’m beautiful and although I know affirmation needs to come from within I can’t help but miss those words.  I ache because the affection I once enjoyed has been lost to adult responsibilities.  I ache because I don’t have a clue who I am and when I catch little glimpses of myself it’s never enough.  I ache because that emptiness wants to be filled but it seems so insatiable.  I ache because I’m so tired of fighting myself but I can’t seem to call a truce.

Lately I find myself here, in this place of emptiness, more often than I care to admit and this week has been especially difficult.  I have so much that needs to get done but I have completely shut down.  I have felt myself slowly disappearing.  I have crawled into bed every night before the sun has set and then tossed and turned in the dark, unable to rest, because something is clawing at my gut.  I have skipped my morning walks because the aching that has kept me awake at night has also left me exhausted each morning.  I have raged against everything and everyone because the dissatisfaction I feel has left me feeling completely miserable.  And I have turned against myself, especially my body…it’s always my body that seems to get the brunt of it all. 

Nothing is wrong and yet I feel empty.  I have everything and yet there is something deep within that still whispers, “It’s not enough…it’s not enough…it will never be enough…”  And sometimes I wonder if what I really feel is not necessarily that “it’s” not enough but that ‘I’m’ not enough.  I wonder if that emptiness is really all the things I’ve always told myself I lack and those messages have finally caught up with me leaving me wounded, broken, and unable to recognize the abundance that exists all around me.