The truth is

The truth is that I've gained all 75 lbs. back.  I lost 75 lbs. and I gained them all back. Again.  This is the third time I've lost around 80 lbs. and gained it all back.


This has me terribly ashamed.  I feel humiliated.

So, here it is -

1) My weight is none of my business, so let's keep it out of your realm of concerns too - unless I bring it to you, unless I ask for your advice, help, opinion.  (If you are reading this blog then I am asking for your help!)
2) Weight loss is hard when we're losing 5 lbs or 30 lbs.  There is something more sinister, more insurmountable when the amount to be shed is 130 or more.
3) If your stomach turns when you see my cottage cheesy wings/arms, then don't look.  I try to keep them covered, and thank Heavens I'm not the chorister.
4) If you're thinking about my weight, then there is something in your own life that you are trying to avoid looking at - that's my rule of thumb: when I'm obsessing over someone else's problem, and I do this a lot (!), then I'm actively avoiding improving my own life.

And maybe there will be more things to include on this list, but for now, I am feeling defensive, ashamed, humiliated and immoral.  I am feeling angry - furious even, because I've failed AGAIN!  How dumb am I?  Am I really incapable of being honest as it says in the Big Book?  This is the "incomprehensible demoralization" that they write about.

In my 12-step program we talk about overeating being a disease.  For the last 7 years I have resisted that label as being too dramatic.  But here is what I am realizing today, at the height of my bankruptcy with weight control.  Today I see that there is something different between me and people who are normal eaters.  That thing looks like this: normal eaters get full or get bored and leave the table or kitchen or plate.  They eat for fuel.  I am not a normal eater.  I get full, sometimes.  But if there is something delicious or comforting or, truthfully, in front of me, then I eat it.  Or I feel compelled to eat it.  My friend has something in her brain that tells her not to eat any more.  I do not.  (Fish don't have this either - fish will literally eat until they die).  Leftovers of non-broccoli?  I'll take care of that.  Feeling angry?  sad? tired? lonely?  Food will fix that.  Have a cold? the flu? hangnail? Food fixes that too.

There have been many mornings when I made the decision to have scrambled eggs and toast with butter and it was so good that I got up and made it again.  And then I got up and made it again.  And once I did it five times in a row.  Then it was lunch time.  I don't stop, I'm telling you, that it takes an act of desperation or God - or brutal self-talk to stop eating.  12-Step people call this a disease.  I think I need to be a 12-step person and call it a disease too.

Because if it is a disease, I know what medicine to take.  I can learn the symptoms of my disease.  I can learn to recognize remission vs. a "flare-up" vs. what is truly needed.  2 large snickers bars will not repair my flat tire.

I'll deal with the shame later.  That's a Kristen issue.  Today I'm going to deal with the food issue.  I know what to eat today, so I'm going to eat it.  And when my brain says, "that's not enough" and "you should have some cookies with that" I can recognize that my brain will ALWAYS say that, that sometimes, most times, it can't be trusted.  I need an outside source to tell me what to eat and when and to guarantee that it is enough for my physical needs.

That's where I am today.  God willing I'll eat what I planned to eat and it will be enough.

Boxers or Briefs?

Last Thursday, my birthday, was such a great day at school!  Here is my favorite story of the day:

Sometimes teachers release students from computer lab according to certain criteria, for example, "If your birthday is in February, you are released to go to lunch." or "If you rode your bike to school today, you may go to lunch."  On this particular day the teacher was having some fun and got a little caught up in the moment--she said, "If you have a ponytail, you may go to lunch," and then said, "If you're wearing boxers you may go to lunch."  Well, all of the girls in the room were stricken!  You would have loved the looks on their faces...some were positively aghast!  I was also feigning disgust and whining about TMI!  But it was hilarious!  What was interesting was that a dozen or so boys made a beeline for the door, but three remained behind.  The teacher realized that her criteria might have been just slightly across the line, so she said, "If you're a boy or a girl, you may go."  There was general chuckling as the students filed out.

One boy, a tender child who, when he was in second grade, once saw me crying and gave me a big hug.  And then in third grade said he would say a prayer for me (probably asking God to make me less of an ogre!), well, this boy comes up, puts his elbows on my desk, his chin on his palms, leans in and whispers, "I'm not even wearing underwear today."

What a birthday!

Best Birthday!

Clarke made me a cake.  It bears repeating: Clarke baked me a cake for my birthday.  This is new.  It is a first.  Normally I do the birthday cake baking...but not this time!  It was deeeelicious!

When I arrived at work on Thursday I received greeting after greeting from friends and students and parents.  How did they all know it was my birthday?  Well, my dear friend Carol (retired last year) went to school and hung a Happy Birthday banner, sprinkled very large Happy Birthday confetti all over my "porch", wrapped up the railing with some sparkly wire, and left her crown tied to my door knob.  With the crown was a note saying, " you may BORROW this for one day." 

Then the 6th graders sang Happy Birthday to me.  Then the 2nd graders.  Then the 4th graders...you see a pattern here, don't you?!  They are so good to me.

A friend bought a Porto's cake with magic sauce (official ingredient title) for me.  We had Chipotle for lunch (although they forgot 4 orders of chips...ack!).  And I got to meet with my therapist to report on how my parenting is improving (I got 2 gold stars--out of one--!!).  Then Todd and I went to the temple.  We had a fantastic chapel session where I learned a great deal.  And I also had many insights into the material presented in the ceremony.  It was such a lovely night.  (no, I wasn't thrilled about going to the temple at first)

I have to tell you a story about one of the 4th graders...but I'll have to come back to that tomorrow.

Let me also say that I decided to post a PayPal widget to help me raise funds to get an iPad (I thought I would be getting one yesterday...)  But, I DID get a GPS for my car!  Todd  is very good to me.  And we had a great dinner at Houston's to round out the day.

I must also tell you about the cards Clarke & Jason gave me.  More tomorrow.

Daughter

I am not an expert on daughters. But I can't remember the last time "not being an expert" kept me from sharing my opinion!

Yesterday Clarke says to me, "I don't want to have daughters, I want to have sons." I did not tell her that was once my wish too. I told her that having a daughter is awesome. And she said, "girls are too hard, boys are easy."

Oh yes, my dear daughter! From your lips to God's ears...

I said, "Boys are easier, but girls are better because girls are yours forever. You will carry them in your heart."

And the truth is that I carry all of my children in my heart, but there is something special? unique? different? ineffable (for sure) about being a girl and being a mom to a girl. For example: ee cummings. He wrote this poem (he wasn't big on titles, spaces, nor capital letters):

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

my heart)i am never without it(anywhere

i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done

by only me is your doing,my darling)

i fear

no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want

no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows

higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

-ee cummings

This is how I feel about my daughter. (And yes, I know this was not written to, for or about a daughter.)

Sometimes, in my mom's heart, all I want to do is sit on the couch and pull my babies on to my lap and hold them. And they are all much taller than I am, and there legs would splay, and it would be uncomfortable, and I wouldn't be able to hold them for long because my legs would fall asleep. But I follow that daydream/heart dream all the way to the end. And I am holding them on my lap and snuggling in their hair and stroking their cheeps and loving them with my whole soul.

I am holding you, Jason.

I am holding you, Clarke.

I am holding you, Brandon.

I am holding you now.

Wall Street Journal Article: Families With a Missing Piece

Todd left this article on my dresser yesterday. I had such a powerful reaction to it. So, I went online to print it out for teachers at our school and found a comment section. You know me and my propensity for sharing an opinion--so I did. This is what I wrote on the WSJ website, and when I look at it I see that it is longer than the other comments and more like an independent article. I'll be removing it in a few minutes (once Todd tells me it is inappropriate--notice I can't decide to self-edit, but will let him do it for me!) Anyway, I spent some time and thought on this, so here's the comment from the WSJ website:

My mother was killed in a car accident when I was 11 months old. Throughout my life, which included a stepmother by the time I was 2 years old, I have felt like the "only one." My father and step-mother had seven blonde and blue-eyed children and I, with my brown eyes, managed to feel even more isolated in a room full of people.

When I read this article, I was shocked at how the tears flowed. I felt understood and even "normal" given the circumstances. Because the article focused on individuals who lost both parents (vs. one), and on those who experienced loss around the age of 13, I still feel a little too unique. Even with the permission that the article granted me I could hear the voice that has been telling me for the last four decades, "you never even knew her, why do you mourn her?"

It was poignant to see the photos of families with their missing piece, or of parents with children and so much love on their faces. I have only one photo of my mother, father, and me, and it is formal. However, I am so thankful that my young mother wrote a journal article about my birth...her last entry. Many of her possessions were redistributed by step-mother, but this journal remains in my possession.

My 20-year old daughter happened to be home and still in bed (!) at 7:30am when I finished the article. I had such an overwhelming urge to run into her room, climb into her bed and hold her. And that's just what I did. I cried, I mourned, I whined, I let it all out, and while I had intended to follow the article's advice and cherish my sweet child, instead I was held by her. I have been cared for by so many women in my life that I began espousing the idea put forth by P.D. Eastman in his book, Are You My Mother. I have made a practice of learning a little something about living, learning, mothering, being a girl, and more, from every woman with whom I've ever interacted--including my own daughter. Still, I have felt a profound emptiness at not having a mother to call my own.

This article opened a door in my heart. It held up a mirror to behaviors I've engaged in, such as planning not to have children until after I'd lived past the age my mother was when she died (24). I gasped with grief when I read these lines: " Kids who get through by being stoic and behaving like adults often 'pay a fierce price—namely their childhoods,' says Ms. Hughes. They focus on trying to keep their surviving parent happy or on stepping up to handle the responsibilities of their deceased parent. "

As an educator I am aware of a handful of children at our school who have lost parents in the last few years. I look at these children and they seem happy, normal, playful, one boy returning to school within the week of his father's death. I am recommending this article to our staff so that we can better understand and support children with this kind of loss.

This article helped me to understand that my feelings of deep loss and loneliness are legitimate! More importantly it opened my eyes to the notion that I may be uniquely qualified to add my voice and volunteer my time to help grieving children feel less alone. I am looking forward to the release of the data and findings. Thank you WSJ, New York Life Foundation and Comfort Zone Camp.

Will cannot be quenched against its will. -Dante Alighieri

Just this morning I was in my prayer pod (aka car) on the way to work and I was saying, "You may already know that I am struggling with food right now. I'd really like that to be changed. I know I've said I'd like the weight to just fall off. I know I've said I'd like to eat like Robin J. and look like her too. I know I've communicated quite clearly that I'd like to eat all I want and have none of the consequences...but today I'm ready for You, dear God, to give me willingness to eat what I'm supposed to eat, to exercise the way I'm supposed to eat, to work they way I must work."

And then I asked for the grace to accept the reality of my personality. I will always want to turn to food for comfort, to assuage boredom, to entertain, to console... I have wanted to pretend that I could eat well and behave well for a period of time (22 months once) and then I'd be "cured." Well, not so much. I prayed for acceptance of my compulsion so that I can learn to live with it instead of trying to pretend that I can actually purge it.

Suddenly I feel overwhelmed. Is that Faith leaving the building? Come back Faith! I need you!

Cats

I feel really good about this analogy that I used in my Mother's Day talk at church. So here it is:

I'm going to say a word, and you can close your eyes and just focus on whatever reaction you have to that word. The word is cat.

Some people hear that word and think of a dear pet, of affection, warmth, love, softness. Others feel anxiety because they are allergic to cats. Some feel stress because of that one night on the dark road...I tried to swerve! Still others feel apathy at the word, some feel envy, some feel resentment that they had to relinquish their pet when moving to a different apartment. And some of us feel fear. My good friend Jim is terribly frightened by cats. He has been attacked three times that I know of, and he has nightmares about cats.

The word "mother" is a lot like the word cat in that people react differently to it. The vast majority of us have a positive, loving reaction. A few feel loss, envy, sadness, anxiety, failure, resentment...and still fewer of us hear that word and feel fear. Whatever feelings we have as individuals on a day like Mother's Day, they tend to be powerful. It is important to realize that this is not a day of cookie cutter feelings and niceties. It is an important day for honoring women who have taught us and loved us, but it may also be a day of mourning for some of us.

---

I think it's a pretty good metaphor! I then went on to talk about the book by P.D. Eastman, Are You My Mother? and related the little bird's experience of learning from all whom he encounters. I shared several stories...so many I might be able to write a book! about mothers in my life. Cathy Davis taught me to sew and became my mother of sewing. She had 3 sons and I think I, as an interested girl, gave her the gift of motherhood via that teaching moment.

I talked about Mary Siegrist who was my mother of cooking because she explained why my egg whites would never form peaks and turn glossy. I mentioned Jeanine Bentz who has modeled so many aspects of motherhood for me, the most poignant being the incident in the car when her daughter called repeatedly for reassurance and instruction regarding her first day of college. After the 3rd phone call in 40 minutes Jeanine hung up the phone and said, "fly birdie, fly." What a powerful lesson and introduction into the phase of parenthood I was just beginning to face.

I mentioned my friend Carol Wawrychuk whose prayer and meditation practice inspires me and heals me. Growing up, I learned to pray, and the mother in my home spent a great deal of time on her knees behind closed doors. I felt like Martha whining to God about needing some help with the laundry and in the kitchen and with the children, and so I had some wounds. Carol helps me to see that even Marthas can make time for spiritual nurturing. Carol is my mother of spirituality and healing.

I talked about my friend Michelle Taylor who says, "I can't tonight, I'm spending the evening with my family." And although I don't like being her second choice, I love hearing that her family is a priority. That too has been healing to me.

Recently Michelle's daughter Grace said to me, "I wish my mom could cook like you, all she knows how to make is pasta!" Oh Grace, I've felt that way too! But let me and others be your mother of cooking and don't give up on your mother...she is my mother of optimism and striving for growth and improvement.

There's so much more...

Happy Mother's Day.