TangledWings

Tears

for all the times I needed to cry but didn't

for all the things I carry that weigh me down

for everything that keeps me from experiencing fullness

for all the times I needed to let go but didn't know how

for all the times I needed to fall apart but stubbornly held myself together

for all the times I couldn't say goodbye

for all the times I denied my grief

for all the times I didn't know how to give myself permission to feel

for all the times I wanted to reach out but felt self conscious

for all the times I misunderstood what it means to be brave

for all the mistakes and all the regrets

for all the things I wish I could take back

for all the times I didn't speak up, stand up, or show up

for all the missed opportunities

for all the times I said no instead of yes

for all the times I was too proud or too scared to surrender

for not knowing how to trust life, God, or myself

for all the times I couldn't see the truth

for all the countless experiences I felt powerless and inadequate

for all the times I gave up my power and silenced my own voice

for all the times I tried too damn hard

for all the times I pretended to be someone I'm not

for all the times I pulled inside, shut down, and refused to let people see who I am

for all the moments I felt moved and inspired by the small and unexpected things of life

for all the times I allowed my heart to break in pieces

for all the times I was aware of being right in the middle of God's palm

for all the moments I recognized I can never be separated from God

for those rare and precious moments I was acutely aware of love

for those rare moments when I fully understood acceptance

for those times I've been able to step outside myself

for those times I knew without a doubt that I am connected to all of life

for all the times I've lived from the best parts of myself

for all the times people have seen the truth of who I am

for those moments I extend compassion and tenderness to myself

for the times I nurture the world around me

for quiet stillness

for peace

for light

for life

for grace

Navigating: Grief, Divorce, and Other Stuff

While I was in Seattle I received some sad news.  My aunt, my father's sister, died.  Although she'd been ill for many years her actual death happened very suddenly.  According to my dad she told her husband earlier in the week that she "didn't feel right."  She was her usual scrappy, happy self until Saturday when she was unresponsive.  My sister called to give me the news and less than an hour later my sister called again to tell me she had died.  I returned from Seattle just in time for family visitation and the funeral the following day.

As many children of divorced parents will tell you, no matter how long your parents have been divorced there is still shit that comes up and has to be navigated through.  For me this was one of those times.  My parents have been divorced for about 30 years.  There is still the delicate "tight rope" walk and situations that feel icky and gross.  My sisters and I grew up with my mother and her family and although we see my dad and his family we are somewhat distant from them.  We aren't a part of most of the memories that give family members a sense of belonging.  We are on the outside.  One of the reasons the three of us stayed as close to my dad's family as we are was because of this aunt.  She kept us connected all those years when my dad lived hundreds of miles away in Colorado.  Because of that I have really good memories of my aunt, memories of cinnamon graham crackers under the trees in her backyard and really good games of hide-and-go-seek.  But distance and divorce can do crazy things to family dynamics.  The anticipation of what could happen because of those dynamics have to be waded through during emotionally intense family gatherings such as a death.

I have to admit that when my sister told me my aunt had died I was a little concerned about my reaction.  I didn't know what I felt.  I wasn't even certain I felt anything.  She warned me my dad would be calling shortly and when he did call I didn't answer.  I couldn't at that time handle the emotion that might be waiting for me on the other end.  Instead I opted to wait to return his call when I was on my way home. Because my own feelings felt so unclear I didn't think I could hear my dad's feelings without either taking them on myself or totally pushing them away. 

Luckily I was with two very good blogging friends when I received the news.  They reminded me that grief doesn't have to look a certain way, that grief has as many faces as the situations that accompany the grief.  My grief in this instance was more quiet and subdued.  I wanted to find a restaurant and just sit for awhile.  I didn't need to talk.  I didn't need to cry.  I just wanted to be still.  And I have remained in that still place over the past few days.  When I saw my aunt in her casket the tears did come but for the most part I have remained very drawn into myself. 

Liz and Kim also reminded me that I have a right to my grief.  My sisters and I have talked about how because of our distant relationship with my dad we often don't feel like we have the "right" to grieve for loved ones on his side of the family.  When my dad's father died years ago I struggled to give myself permission to feel as sad as my cousins who did have a close relationship with him.  My grief had a different aspect than their's--because of the distant relationship I would never know this man who truly meant a lot to me.  Part of my grief was the fact that I would never have the chance to know him the way they did.  And even if I had extra time chances are that wouldn't change the outcome.  The odd dynamics of divorce would keep the distance in place despite how much time was available.

It's this aspect of grief that I don't know can be understood unless you have experienced it.  I found it odd that at my aunt's funeral my cousins (her children) said for than once, "I'm so glad you girls could be here."  I thought, where else would we be?  Just because our relationship was distant and sometimes strained did not mean that my aunt didn't mean a great deal to us.  Everyone on my dad's side of the family means more than most people realize.  They are a part of our everyday lives even though we don't see them often.  They are still a part of who we are.  And there is always the ache for the relationship I would have liked to see exist that never will because of the way life turned out.  I'm not saying that we don't have the choice to create the relationships we'd like to have.  We do.  But I also believe we operate within other people's choices as well and the choice of my parent's divorce has impacted the choices I have.

There is also another element that may not be understood unless you've experienced it and that is the role of the other parent.  My mom stayed in close contact for many years with this particular aunt.  While I can't say they were friends their continued relationship is part of what kept me and my sisters connected to that side of the family.  So of course my mom wanted to attend the funeral.  I don't know how that felt for my dad--if it was awkward, if it was welcomed, if it had no feeling at all.  What I do know is how it felt for me.  And it was a relief.  I was glad to have her there with me both at the funeral and at the family visitation the night before.  It was like having a familiar, stable presence in an uncertain situation, in a situation that was both emotional and uncomfortable.  My mom's parents also attended the funeral and they too added that safe and familiar element to a situation I had to navigate that felt very awkward and uncertain.

Over the past few days I've been working through all of this within myself.  I've not only been sitting with the grief of loosing an aunt but also navigating through the dynamics of divorce and the way divorce touches so many areas of life, even years down the road.  In my experience there are times when divorce makes some situations more difficult and delicate, more uncertain and ambiguous.  And just like I did when my parents' divorce was fresh and new, I find myself trying to figure out my way through it.  As a child I had naivete on my side and was better able to just be.  Now as an adult I find I am much more aware of the complexities that can accompany divorce and the "tight rope" walk of navigating through the unexpected parts that creep up along the way.        

Looking Down

Yesterday was a whirlwind of a day.  I took an early flight to El Paso, had back to back to back meetings, then flew home late that same evening.  I haven't had a chance to talk much about my new job.  I'll try to let you know more about it at some point.  It deals with international issues--study abroad programs and visiting scholars.  Needless to say it is brand new territory for me and everyday I learn new things.  I love that part of it.  I love the opportunity to expand my knowledge.  I start my morning by checking various Internet news sites to see what is happening around the world.  I pay regular visits to the State Department's website to see what is happening with visas and travel warnings.  I'm learning things I never thought I'd ever have the need to know.  And it's exciting.

I've been to El Paso a handful of times in the past but always for pleasure.  El Paso has always been a city I don't feel comfortable in and it has nothing to do with size, traffic, or the lay out of the city.  It has to do with not knowing what I should and shouldn't do as far as safety is concerned.  You hear a lot about El Paso and often what you hear isn't good.  It's hard to know what is true and what is rumor.  For me I feel like El Paso is one of those places where America gives way to Mexico...or Mexico gives way to America depending on which way you choose to look at it.  I've never been to any other border town so I don't have anything else to compare El Paso too.  But what I can say is that when flying into El Paso yesterday morning I was struck by the fact that you can look out one side of the plane and see American flags then look out the other side of the plane and see a huge Mexican flag fluttering in the wind.  It's almost surreal to see the two different flags flying so close together.  It can can catch your breath.

From the air there is little to tell where one place ends and the other begins.  And I think that is what really grabbed my attention.  When you approach the border by land its very obvious.  There is a distinct division, enforced by armed officers of the law.  But in that moment, looking down from the air, that lack of distinction caused me to remember that we really are all connected and that realization felt both comforting and motivating. 

Parenting 101

Tonight I went to a "Child Guidance Class" (a.k.a parenting class) because I'm always open to being a better parent and because sometimes I feel like a complete failure who needs all the help she can get.

The class really didn't have a lot to offer me.  Most of what was covered I'm already doing.  There wasn't really any new iinformation.  And other parts were all over the place.  More than once I thought "What the hell is she talking about?"  It was organized and yet not necessarily "fleshed out."  I left feeling really disappointed and frustrated.  It just wasn't what I was looking for.  And believe me a lot of the time I am looking for something.

But the class did give me something positive.  It forced me to try and figure out what it is I was looking for from the class--what did I want it to give me. 

I know how to be a parent.  I was a Family Studies major in college.  I've read plenty of books.  I may not always practice what I know or remember some of the tips and techniques but I have a pretty good foundation.  So I'm not really looking for your typical parenting class.  In fact if anything, tonight showed me that T and I are doing a pretty good job and we're definitely heading in the right direction.  But there is also something I'm struggling with that I was hoping to find in tonight's class and that is how to parent more effectively in light of who I am, in light of my personality.

Parenting has been really, really tough on me.  I love the B-Dog more than life itself.  I always wanted to be a mother, and not just a mother but the best mother possible.  I knew parenting would be hard and although I don't for a minute regret becoming a parent I have to admit that there are moments when it's harder than I ever imagined.  I think one of the reasons it's been so tough on me is because it totally clashes with my personality. 

I'm an introvert and a loner.  I require large amounts of alone time.  I don't like crowds or loud places because they use up my energy.  I could probably very easily be a hermit and I've had plenty of weekends when I've been just that.  Sometimes I don't answer my door and most of the time I don't answer my phone.  I love people.  I value people.  I'm kind, caring, and compassionate.  I'm a people person and yet I'm not a people person.  In other words people are important to me but I don't really like being around people.  If it's a lot of people it's just too much because of the busyness, the noise, and the energy.  If it's just one-on-one or a small group it's too much because I put too much pressure on myself to perform.

This ties into parenting because, well, when you're a parent being an introvert and a loner doesn't really work.  Hell, most of the time I can't even pee by myself.  And I feel guilty for needing such large amounts of time by myself.  I often feel like I'm on the outside looking in.  T and the B-Dog have a very close relationship (which I am very grateful for) and I'm on the outside looking in.  But I have created that.  It's a catch 22.  I feel left out and yet I pass up the opportunities to be more involved in order to have time alone.  I turn down going to the park in order to write or create or read or watch a movie by myself.

The most obvious solution is to learn to balance the two, to balance time alone with family time.  That's easier said than done.  It's fairly easy to sit down and map out a plan or to logically look at the situation to decide what is called for in the moment-time alone or family time.  But I can tell you right now that following the plan and doing what's logical usually don't win out because my need for solitude and isolation often feels and appears overwhelmingly urgent, important, and essential.

So I think what I was really looking for was help in figuring out how to parent in light of my introversion.  I need a "Parenting for Loners" course.  And I need help dealing with and/or accepting the feelings that come with parenting as a loner--the guilt I often feel for not being as involved as I'd like, the frustration I feel when I don't get the a lone time I need, the anxiety I feel when I can't withdraw and escape from the person who needs me the most, the panic that sometimes sets in when I start feeling like I could honestly run away and never come back, the way I can beat up on myself when I feel "selfish" for wanting to be by myself, and the sense of neglect I often carry around when I feel like an absentee mother.

That's what I was looking for tonight...and that's not what I got.

hmmm...not sure why I can't get a pic to load tonight...i'm giving up and going to bed...

Inspire Me

So here's the question I find myself asking a lot lately--why is it that when we have those times in our lives when we most need to take care of ourselves that we don't?  I find that to be true, for myself at least, a lot.  When I'm down, when I'm struggling, when I'm exhausted, I have a tendency to not do the very things I need to do for myself.  For instance right now.  I've been struggling with myself for the past 6+ months.  I know myself well enough to know how to nurture myself.  I know the things that make me feel most alive.  However, it's during these times I lack motivation and no amount of self talk can convince me to do the very things I need to do--create, write, eat healthy foods, exercise.  I try but my motivation soon dwindles. 

I know writing feeds me like nothing else...and yet my notebook remains empty.  I joined a gym...but I don't go.  I even paid extra to attend the yoga classes...and sill, I don't go.  I know walking fills me with energy...instead I sit on the couch all night.  I know when I'm creative I'm more likely to enjoy being alive...but I haven't created anything, not event a collage, in a very, very long time.  So why is that?

I also know that when I feel inspired, inspired by life, by music, by poetry, by other people I feel more alive.  And when I feel more alive I'm better able to see beauty, color, details, hope, and possibility.  I'm better able to do what I need to do to take care of myself.

So I'm asking for your help to get a little bit of a kick start.  What has inspired you lately?  What blog has really touched you?  What totally cool website have you recently stumbled across?  Is there a book, movie, or cd that's brought you inspiration? 

Help inspire me by sharing what inspires you.

growing up

So this evening I got a call from a friend who said, "I was just getting caught up on your blog.  What the hell's going on with you?"  I assured her I am in fact not in a crisis and that I'm just working some things out. The past several weeks have been filled with moments of thinking about aging, my changing body, and everything that's behind me.  I did have one realization about why this recent birthday is hitting me as hard as it is.  In the past, when I was younger, I used to imagine myself being older. I'd picture myself at a certain age in the future.  Well that age I used to project myself into is no longer in front of me...it is now behind me and that feels really weird.  It's not that I imagined by this certain age I would have accomplished certain things or be living a certain way.  It's just that there used to be this age I imagined being that was always somewhere in front of me .  Now I can no longer think about that age in future terms because it's in the past.  And somehow it passed me by without my even realizing it.  Maybe that's really the part that's hard to deal with.  Knowing I missed it along the way, that I was living in that "future" age and didn't realize it and now that I am aware of it it's gone.  It's just a really weird feeling.

I've also spent the last couple weeks experiencing some very sleepless nights.  I wake each morning exhausted not because I'm not going to bed at a reasonable hour but because I spend the night dreaming these very intense and detailed dreams.  I feel like I go to bed each night not to sleep but to live a different life that is more intense and active than my waking life.  I go about my daily business and then instead of renewing my energy each night I have this other business I take care of in my sleep.  I wake in the dark in grief because I've dreamed someone I love has died...usually my grandmother.  In the dream I am not just grief stricken but I am filled with regret for the things that weren't said and done.  Or I wake suddenly, my heart racing, because I've dreamed about a serial killer.  I'm either trying to hide/escape from the killer or I know who the killer is and I'm trying to save someone from him...someone who is naive and doesn't realize the person is going to kill them.  Yep, I've had a couple weeks filled with a lot of death and dying and blood and murder and grief and regret...all while I'm supposed to be getting some much needed rest.  This afternoon I came home from work, crawled into bed for a short rest, and woke 3 and a half hours later.  It was the first time in awhile that I've actually slept deeply and soundly.

The main thing I feel I'm going through right now is working through the shit I'm tired of carrying.  In addition to realizing I'm getting older this birthday has also made me more aware of all the shit I've been carrying for far too long.  Some of what I've been carrying is over a quarter of a century old.  Seriously!  I'm just really tired of hauling it around, tired a living from a place that is so far gone I don't even remember it clearly.  I'm tired of living from a story that may have been true at one time but is now in the past.  I'm tired of living out of the life of a girl who was me, and will always be a part of me, but who has grown up and changed.  I'm tired of all this old shit and in many ways it has kept me locked into being this girl I used to be and hasn't allowed me to see that that girl is different now...she's changed, she's grown up.  That's what last night's post was about.  It was about facing that girl, telling her how I feel, realizing some of the reasons why I'm still carrying the old shit, and trying to find a place to put it so that I can move into who I am now. 

In other words while I am adjusting to this new age and the realization that I'm getting older, that my body is changing, that if I'm going to age peacefully I better deal with how I feel about my body and what I think about beauty, I am also realizing I'm ready to grow up.  This birthday hasn't made me want to hold on to the past.  It's made me want to deal with some things from the past.  It's made me ready to move into a better place with myself.  It's made me ready to let the girl I used to be be just that, the girl I used to be, so that I can finally grow up and grow into who I am and who I'm becoming.

Savvy?

Letter to a girl I used to know

Dear One,

I'm so sorry.  I'm sorry you were hurt by careless comments and childish cruelty.  I'm sorry you were wounded so deeply.  I'm sorry there was no one there to see you, to comfort you, to hold you, to counteract the bad information you received.  I wish it could have been different.  If I could I would give you that someone you need.  I would give you an invisible suit of armor that would protect you from all the hurtful comments.  I would give you a safe place.  I would give you so much love.  If I could I would change it for you.  I would re-write the story.

I saw how those words buried themselves below your skin and into your mind.  I saw how you carried them around, so heavy.  I saw the shame and embarrassment you felt.  I saw how it turned you against yourself.  I'm so sorry.  I'm sorry she said that to you.  I'm sorry they laughed.  I'm sorry you felt so small and unacceptable.  I'm sorry they made you want to hurt yourself.  I'm sorry you learned to loathe yourself.  I'm sorry you ever thought about dying or disappearing.  I'm sorry you ever wanted to be someone else, that your vision of yourself was clouded by shame.  I'm sorry you felt the need to erase yourself, to become invisible.  I'm sorry the truth of who you are got lost in the carelessness and that you forgot your beauty, that you stopped believing in your beauty.  I'm so sorry.  And most of all I'm sorry that I still look at you and can't see it, that I can't say anything to help heal you because I still have problems believing you are beautiful.  I know how you hurt and I feel terrible that I can't offer you anything more than "I'm sorry."  I'm sorry I can't see beyond your size, your weight, your unruly hair.  I wish I were better than that and I'm not.  I want to be the person who can look at you and say, "Ah, here it is.  See it?  Look at all this beauty.  It's right here," and I'm not that person.  I'm sorry I have such a hard time accepting you, that I still look at you and dislike what I see.  I'm so, so sorry.

Since I can't give that to you I want there to be someone, something, that can.  I want to believe god exists because I want to know there is something greater that can give you what I can't.  I want to believe that god exists because I want to believe there is a power than can change me, that can change the way I see you.  I want to believe god exists because I want to have something to pray to.  I need to be able to say, "God, please help me see her beauty because I don't.  I only see her weight.  I only see her pain and hunger and I hate her for all those things."  I want to be able to pray, "Help me love her," and know that prayer climbs into the ears of something mighty and powerful.  I want to believe god exists because I need to know I can change, that it is possible.

I have carried you around all these years and while you'll always be a part of my experience I'm not you anymore.  I've grown up.  I've changed.  But I can't see who I am because I can only see who I was.  I can only see you.  I need to let you go.  I can't keep living in your pain.  That pain is decades old and it doesn't serve me.  It only keeps me locked in the past.  It keeps me from seeing who I am now, who I've become.  Those parts of the story need to stop having the power they have.  It's not that I don't want to own the story.  I just don't want to get stuck in it.  I want to move beyond my story and I can't do that if I'm carrying you around.  As long as I'm doing that I can't be who I am.

I'm sorry.  I'm sorry you're filled with so much hurt.  I don't know if I can change that.  But I am trying.  I'm trying to learn, to grow, to see you differently.  I'm trying to learn how to see the beauty.  I'm trying to learn to love you.  I'm making you this promise--I'll get there.  I will.  I'll learn to be tender.  I'll learn to be compassionate.  I'll learn to love fully and completely.  I promise I will. 

I'm holding on to things I don't even remember clearly.  I'm holding on to things that are so old they don't even make sense anymore.  But I'm afraid to leave you back there in the past.  I want to carry you with me because I don't want to leave you in that painful place.  I haven't found a safe, loving place to put you and I just can't leave you where you hurt so badly.  I want to keep you here where I can protect you, where maybe you can start to feel safe and acceptable.  I guess I hope that if I keep you here you'll change, you'll be different.  I'm sorry.  I know that's not fair.  It's not fair to want you to be anything other than what you are.

Keeping you here won't change what you looked like, what you experienced, how you felt about yourself.  Maybe letting go of you will change who I am now.  But first I need a safe place to put you.  I need to know I'm leaving you in the hands of someone/something that will take care of you.  Am I supposed to be the one to take care of you?  I don't know.  I don't think I can because when I look at you I can't see what I need to see.  Until I see the beauty, the worth, the acceptability I will just keep hurting you.

If I could I would find you that safe place.  I would leave you in the hands of someone who knew how to care for you.  I would ask her to keep you safe.  I'd ask her to love you.  I wouldn't even have to say, "love her the way she deserves to be loved" because this someone wouldn't know how to love any other way than fully and completely.  And sometimes I'm not certain I can be trusted to judge what you deserve.  My idea of what you deserve is twisted and messed up.  I would leave you in the care of someone much wiser than me.

Right now I can't see how I've grown up and changed and become someone different.  I can only see myself through you and you don't exist anymore.  Not really.  You're 6.  You're 10.  You're 12.  You're every age I used to be.  And I'm not those ages.  Not anymore.  You can still be my 10 year old self but my 35 year old self can't live from my 10 year old self anymore.  I have to be able to live from who I am now.  You are a part of that but only a small part.  I need to let you be who you are...a girl I used to know in a story I knew once...not who I am now in the story I'm living now.

To the Point

Three very long posts requiring a lot of time, a lot of thinking, a lot of revising just to say...

I'm scared.  I'm scared of getting old, scared of the unknowns.  I'm scared of not being young and beautiful.  I'm scared about how my body will change, how I will deal with those changes, and how those changes will impact me.  I'm scared of gaining weight and getting wrinkles.  I'm scared of double chins, flabby arms, and sagging breasts.  I'm scared I will never be who I want to be.  I'm scared I've missed out on something and I can't get it back.  I'm scared I'll never live in peace with myself, that I will continue to hold myself back.  I'm scared I won't be pretty enough, that I'll stop being beautiful.  I'm scared to talk about certain things I think and feel because I'm ashamed they're a part of me.  I'm scared to admit certain things about myself because then I will have to acknowledge they're real.

I'm tired.  I'm tired of carrying around all this bullshit.  I'm tired of the negative self talk.  I'm tired of complementing myself then immediately following it up with an insult (why do I do that?).  I'm tired of not feeling pretty enough.  I'm tired of worrying about my weight and what I eat.  I'm tired of looking at my body and not liking what I see.  I'm tired of carrying around my past.  I'm tired of dragging my story around...it's time for a new one.  I'm tired of constantly comparing myself to others just to feel okay about myself.  I'm tired of feeling so limited.  I'm tired of not loving myself, of not seeing how fabulous I truly am.  I'm tired of the bullshit.

I'm ready for a new way of being.  I'm ready to see differently, to think differently, to feel differently.  I'm ready to take care of myself and value myself.  I'm ready to open my heart to myself.  I'm ready to heal.  I'm ready to embrace and accept my body.  I'm ready to look at my belly, my thighs, my arms and feel tenderness, not anger and dislike.  I'm ready for all the new possibilities.  I'm ready to be better than I've ever been.  I'm ready to be as full and real as possible.  I'm ready to look at myself, not just through myself.  I'm ready for something radical.  I'm ready to replace the bullshit with truth.

I'm ready.

The Shadow Thoughts

Last nights post started with a confession about how hard it's been to admit to myself what I've been thinking and feeling lately.  I made that comment and meant to return to it but got wrapped up in other thoughts and went off in a totally different direction.  I made that statement knowing I was working my way towards writing about my recent thoughts about beauty.  But the post started getting too long and I never came back and tied it all together.  I said these thoughts don't represent who I want to be and so I've been pushing them away.  I've been really haunted (haunted is a good description of it) by the issue of physical beauty.  It has been wearing on me to the point that it's just about to make me nuts and I wish it would just leave me alone already.  But trying to push the thoughts away only makes them more intense.  Although I could say I've been trying not to give power/energy to my thoughts about physical beauty and instead focus on aspects of inner beauty, the truth is, pushing those thoughts away is focusing on them and therefore giving them energy and power.

I hate that physical beauty has even been an issue for me lately because that's not who I want to be.  To be concerned about physical beauty seems shallow.  When the thoughts arise I find I tell myself I want to be better than that and then I shove the thoughts back into the dark.  What I realized this week, and what made me start writing the last three posts, is that our "shadow thoughts" are just like our "shadow selves": the more we push them away, the more we try to cut them out of us, the more we deny they exist, the more frantic, energized, and intense (not to mention frequent) they become.  Moments of peace only come in those moments we choose to own them.  I'm not there yet.  I haven't yet owned my thoughts about physical beauty.  I still feel uneasy about them.  I'm still afraid that admitting I have those thoughts makes me shallow, superficial and bad.  Because that's not who I want to be or how I want to be perceived I have not been comfortable with the issues that are currently wrapping their tentacles around me and pulling me down into the airless depths.

That long, two paragraph introduction and I still haven't mention what exactly it is I've been thinking.  See, I told you it was hard to admit and voicing what I think, putting it into words, letting someone else know, is a form of admission.

I have never felt like one of the beautiful ones.  That is probably true of many of us.  Living in a place where we feel truly beautiful is hard work especially with society constantly throwing its ideas of beauty in our faces.  I’ve had a pretty twisted relationship with my body.    I was overweight as a child and my feelings about being overweight and wanting to be thin led to a spiral of self-loathing and self destructive behaviors that I wasn’t able to begin pulling myself out of until my late 20s/early 30s.  I’ve carried comments about my weight around with me for over 20 years.  I started my first diet somewhere around 8^th grade and I think I’ve probably been dieting since then.  Even when I say I’m not on a diet who am I kidding…more than likely I’m secretly on some type of fucking diet.  And the sad thing is I don’t know that its gotten better for young girls today…maybe its even gotten worse.  There is so much pressure to be thin.

There are times when we view ourselves and life from our wounded places, from the skewed thinking and bad information we pick up along the way.  When I was younger anytime I looked out at the world everyone seemed thinner than me.  I saw myself as the fat girl and even though I wasn’t very overweight that’s the way I began to see myself.  I was a lot heavier then my two sisters and most of my friends.  I remember looking at pictures of myself with my family and thinking my mom was so beautiful and my sisters were so tiny and I was the fat one.  I still find I compare myself to others just trying to convince myself I'm okay.  Even after I did loose weight and was no longer heavy I still wrestled with my body.  My body changed and yet my thoughts about my body didn't so I've struggled to see my body and my beauty from a place of truth.  I still tend to see both from those wounded places. 

I don't practice the same self-loathing behavior I did at one time in my life. I've stopped hurting myself, started to embrace myself more, and I've stopped wanting to erase myself.  But now that I'm staring down the face of 35 some of those issues are creeping back in.  The need to be thin has worked its way back into my thinking.  The fact that I'm aging, my body is changing, and I'm more aware of where I'm heading as stirred my body issues and re-ignited my fears about not being thin enough and pretty enough.  My very distorted ideas about beauty have resurfaced over the past few months and I'm both ashamed and embarrassed.  At some point in my life, when I was struggling with my body, I began to believe I was bad for wanting to be thin, that I was bad for focusing on appearance because I knew the truly important beauty, the real beauty, came from within--our inner or spiritual beauty.  And so I started concentrating and focusing on spiritual beauty, the beauty that is lasting, which was a very healthy and healing thing to do.  But thoughts about wanting to be thin and beautiful would still creep up occasionally and I would get angry at myself because I thought I was supposed to be better than that.

So here I am.  I’m turning 35.  I’m realizing my body is aging and that I’m not getting any younger and all those thoughts about physical beauty are making me crazy.  For a long while know I’ve been working on owning my beauty.  The mirror meditation Liz led a little over a year ago had a big impact on me.  It required I sit with myself, look at myself, and acknowledge myself as being beautiful.  But I have to admit something.  During that time my focus was still inner beauty and I never really sat with my body.  I pushed the physical away in favor of the spiritual.  Instead of looking at myself I think I looked beyond myself, within myself.  Some may think that’s what we should do.  We should make the spiritual our focus because it’s what lasts.  I know I’ve believed focusing on the spiritual is good while focusing too much on the physical is superficial.  I’m not saying that I believe we shouldn’t exercise and eat right and pay attention to our bodies.  What I’m saying is I started focusing on inner beauty to heal what I thought about my body and while that was a really good thing I also think the more I pushed my body and my feelings about my body and my thoughts about physical beauty away, tried to cut them out of me, the more they stalked me.  I placed my focus on inner beauty and yet became anorexic as a teenager.  I tried to put all my energy into spiritual beauty and yet had a bout with bulimia in college.  I tried to concentrate on real beauty and not worry about physical beauty and yet my issues with my body still exist.  I have worked to re-define beauty for myself by making it something larger than being thin and pretty and yet here I am heading towards my 35th birthday and dealing with resurfacing distorted thoughts about beauty.  In other words I've been pushing my body away, pushing my thoughts about physical beauty away, and yet the harder I push the harder they push back.

I feel like I’ve written these three extremely long posts and still not nailed down what I’m trying to say.  I feel like I’m talking in circles but haven’t gotten to the point, like what I need to say is so simple and I'm drawing it out and making it a lot more complicated than it really is.

Continuing our Conversation

Long posts can be difficult to read because they require so much time which is why I wanted to wrap up last night's post and continue it tonight.

One of the most difficult things about what I've been experiencing lately is having to admit to myself what I'm thinking and feeling.  And because those thoughts and feelings don't represent who I want to be I've been pushing them away.  When I turned 30 I was more than happy to leave my 20s.  My 20s were hard on me and I looked forward to entering a new decade with new possibilities for growth and self-acceptance.  Which is why my feelings about my upcoming birthday have really caught me off guard.  I've never resisted turning older.  It was just a number.  The number may be increasing but I still felt the same age.  Although I knew I was getting older I didn't really feel older.  But something about the number 35 feels different.  It's made me realize I am getting older.  With that realization has come a lot of analyzing of my life--reviewing and evaluating the past as well as imagining and planning the future.

One of the feelings that continues to surface as I look at my life is anger.  Maybe anger isn't exactly the right word but it's the one I'm going to use.  It's more the feeling of missing out on something and being a little pissed off that you missed out on it.  And what have I missed out on?  Who I really wanted to be.  You might say well then start being who you want to be.  I am.  I know that I am.  But I can't deny that I've also been feeling some grief, disguised as anger, about what I've missed out on because I held myself back, I was too scared about what other people would think, and I was too busy trying to be a "good girl."  I missed out on a lot of showing up and although I can begin showing up now I'm sad about the time I've lost.  And that's where turning 35 comes into play.  I've had these moments of fear that I don't have enough time to become who I want to be, that a nice chunk of my life is gone and I can't get it back.  Maybe that should inspire me to cease the time I have left and really make it count.  It does...and it doesn't.  Yes it wakes me up to the reality of aging and how quickly time slips through our hands.  But it also has been stirring up a lot of fear in me and I've got to deal with the fear. 

I do recognize that a lot of the fears about aging that I have been having are totally off base and erroneous.  That's what fear is--False Expectations Appearing Real.  But even though I know the things I fear have no substance that doesn't take away the feelings.  No matter how I look at it, when it comes right down to it I'm scared.  I'm scared of what growing older means.  Maybe I should be excited about the possibilities, especially the possibility of the person I can become.  I am.  I may not sound like it in the last couple posts but I really am.  But coupled with that excitement is the fear of who I might not become and the grief/anger about who I wasn't able to be in the past.

There are a lot of beliefs I hold about myself, the world, life, God, that hold me back from being who I want to be.  I don't think we can make it through life without our fair share of skewed thinking.  It comes with being a human being and relating to other human beings.  When I was a chaplain my supervisor liked to call this skewed thinking "bad information."  If I said something about myself, or about life, or about God that was totally off base, something that came from this skewed thinking, he would say, "Somebody gave you some bad information."  And we all carry around that bad information.  We pick it up along the way--from something someone says or does, from something we read, from something we get from the media, etc.  Some of our bad information we hold onto all our lives.  Some of it we're lucky to loose along the way because we find the truth. 

I have a lot of skewed thinking.  God, where do I even start?  A lot of what I've mentioned in the past two posts comes directly from my skewed thinking.  One of the issues that has really been haunting me for the past couple months is my thoughts/beliefs about beauty--primarily my body and physical beauty.  My beliefs about beauty and how I see myself as far as beauty is concerned have really been wanting my attention lately and the fact that I have a big birthday in three days has only fueled the issue.  Someone once told me that it's good when our shit gets stirred up because it gives us a chance to deal with it...again.  Well, that's probably true.  It just doesn't feel good.  It feels the complete opposite of good.  At the time it feels like shit.  And that's how I have felt as I've had all these thoughts and issues about beauty rising to the surface.

It's already another long post and I still have so much more to say.  This seems like a good stopping point so I'll come back and talk some more about the beauty issue tomorrow.