Archive for the 'Song Lyrics' Category

08
May
12

Fat is a Four Letter Word.

Ok, so I shared in a recent post that I got to a place of being about 100lbs overweight. Saying that number aloud, I’m front of God and everyone…well, that was a little scary. I had to go hide under the covers and be an alien for a while before I could talk about it any further.

But talk about it we’re going to.

Because I know damn well that I’m not alone. Some of you have left comments or emailed me telling me your stories. And the parallels between us all are really quite overwhelming.

Does anyone want to be overweight? I suppose it’s possible, but it’s nothing I’ve come across in my sphere of experience. To really desire to be overweight? Desire and acceptance are two different things. But to start with, we need to get very, very clear on one thing.

Wanting to maintain a healthy weight – whatever that is for you – and being judgmental about body size are two polar opposites. Let me say it again: there is no place for judgement on this journey.

Zoinks! Bam! Pow! (Think Batman & Robin sound effects and cartoon speech bubbles here.) That’s a hard one, isn’t it? I have, at times, been my own harshest critic. Anyone who has ever dealt with weight issues can probably relate to that. I judge myself more harshly than anyone else ever could. And in turn, I’ve probably done my share of judging others.

I have, eventually, realized that all those awful things I’ve said, and sometimes still catch myself saying, in my head about other overweight people…those are really just criticisms of myself I’m making in my own head before anyone else can say them out loud.

“Fatass.”

“Just back away from the table, asshole.”

“Are you sure that bike can actually support you, lardass?”

“Whoah, wideload.”

These, and worse (far worse), are all things that I’ve said in my head to myself. These, and worse (far worse), are all things I’ve said in my head, and maybe to a friend, about people I’ve seen out and about.

Sometimes I’ve said these things (and worse) to be “funny.” None of these things are funny. Not in any way, shape, form, or context.

Thank goodness the older I get, and the more conscious I get, the more I catch myself earlier in the process. It’s not that those thoughts don’t come (about myself, and about others – which is really another way of criticizing myself), but my immediate response now is to interrupt them, to cut them off, and replace them with compassion.

“Good for them. They’re out getting some exercise. That’s more than I’m doing.”

“You just never know somebody’s situation unless you’re in their shoes. Stop being so judgy, asshole.”

“Send them some love vibes. Just love them. That’s all.”

Notice anything about all those sentiments? Yup, they’re all focused on someone else. I’ve managed to interrupt the negative assault on others and replace it with positive and supportive thoughts. Which are, by the way, entirely genuine. Now that I recognize my own process, when I interrupt it, I genuinely feel love and support for others. But I still have a little more trouble showing myself compassion. I can break into the cycle of judgement and shut it down (sometimes), but the compassion doesn’t always flow so easily, not towards myself. But I’m working on it. One step at a time, right?

One of the most terrifying experiences of my life was being at an amusement park while overweight. Now, at this time I was probably about 70 lbs overweight. I adore roller coasters. Rides that flip you upside down. Adrenaline shit. Love it, love it, love it. But going on rides when I have been quite overweight has been the scariest thing I’ve ever done. Not because the ride itself was scary, but because I was terrified that I would be that story in the newspaper the next morning:

“Obese Woman Falls To Her Death.

Fat, Not Roller Coaster To Blame.”

And instead of enjoying any part of any ride, that’s all I could think about. And it took all the joy out of an experience that should be nothing but joy and laughter.

Did I fall out? Am I here telling you this story? So…obviously no. But was there any joy in the experience? Also no. You know what there was a great deal of?

Shame.

That one’s a powerful word. Shame. Total gut hit. A little bit pukey. Teary. Constricting. Terrifying in every way. Doing something like getting on a ride with a bunch of other people, and having to deal with seatbelts that don’t fit properly, or chest bars that won’t cinch down all the way until the attendant comes and leans on it? That’s shame. And I can never decide which is worse: doing it in front of a bunch of strangers you don’t know but being alone, or doing it in front of people you know but having someone you love there to support you. Both are godawful. And ultimately, I just stopped doing either.

I have talked to more health professionals than most about the issue of my weight, given that it comes up as we talk about all my other trillions of ailments (and the bajillions of doctors, etc. I’ve seen for them.) And they always say the same thing: reduced calories in = weight loss. Throw exercise in there and you’re golden.

Guess what?

After almost 30 years of struggling with my weight and body image issues, and dealing with my body on such an intense, intimate level, I have learned one thing about myself. Yes, there’s something to the above equation. But for me, for this body I live in, my weight is determined by something far, far more deep-rooted than that.

Self-acceptance and gratitude.

Seems like a weird thing to control weight, right? Well, for anything long term or significant to shift in my weight, that’s where it’s at.

At various times in my life I have participated in a lot of eating-related regimes aimed at controlling one’s weight. But I call bullshit. Diets don’t work and the control games played out in dieting wreak havok with my self-acceptance, my self-confidence, and my trust issues. Yeah, you heard me.

I have read a lot of Geneen Roth, who espouses trust as being the number one issue in getting your body to it’s ideal, natural weight, and staying there. Trust in your body’s innate wisdom and trust in yourself and your ability to nourish yourself. Not through a set meal plan. Not by following someone else’s instructions. By listening, really learning to listen and trust your body, and give your body what it’s asking for, and learning to trust that what you want will be there when you want it, so you don’t need to eat it when you don’t actually want it. I’m paraphrasing, and I’m simplifying quite a bit. But ultimately, these are the core beliefs that changed my life. Reading Geneen Roth’s books (pretty sure I’ve read all of them), and working for a stretch with a therapist who specialized in eating disorders (I’m a compulsive eater and an emotional eater) and worked on the same premises that Ms. Roth speaks of, these things made a huge impact on my life. Still, for years my weight went up and down.

And then I had an epiphany moment. (I must say, they’re weird when they strike, but I got over it. I epiphanized.)

I was sitting on my bed one evening, and I felt this overwhelming surge of gratitude for my body. This body that I have fought and hated and judged. And I sat there on the edge of my bed, naked (I was getting ready for bed), and rubbed my thighs. I was enveloped ingratitude for these strong thighs that had carried me through so much in my life. So many struggles, so many trials and tribulations. But there they were, strong and large, keeping me safe. And I just sat there with tears streaming down my face. Instead of wishing them away, I was drowning in thankfulness for a body that had protected me when I had been unable to protect myself. Taken care of me when no one else had been there to take care of me. And I felt love and gratitude for this body as I would a friend who had stood by me through thick and thin.

Now, it’s difficult to write, to explain without sounding cheesy. But as I sat there, running my hands up and down these amazing legs that had brought me from there to here, I really was overcome with emotions beyond explanation.

And that turned the tide.

Once I felt gratitude for my body, love and appreciation, totally devoid of hate or fight or shame, I could release whatever bound that body to me. And the weight started to fall away. At the time I swore I wasn’t eating any differently than I usually did, but the pounds were falling away. 45 pounds, actually. I got to a weight I could have been comfortable being for the rest of my life. At most, 20 pounds away from the lowest I’d really want to go and feel healthy.

Life throws you curve balls, though. After about a year at that weight, I injured my back, became quite immobile, and due to a particular medication, I gained 40 pounds in 6 weeks, and over the ensuing 3-4 years, and various medications, it crept up another 35-40 from there. And that, right there, put me smack at 100 pounds over what I would consider a healthy weight for me. It was within 5 pounds of the weight I saw on the scale just before I gave birth to twins, my full twin pregnancy weight, the highest I’ve ever been in my life. Due to another medication, I am now down 30 over the last 4 months, which puts me right back about where I started when I was having a love-fest with my legs. But I am finally, finally, in a place where I can see straight to appreciate my body for what it has given me. How it has protected me. How it has taken care of me as best it could.

And now, my job is to love my body. Every imperfect roll. Every wrinkle, every line. Every muffin top and chafe-worthy thigh. Every gobble-arm and double chin. Because it’s not about judgement. In fact, if my experience has taught me anything, judgement does the polar opposite of what we are striving for. Acceptance, yes. Love and gratitude? Now we’re talking holy trinity.

This is how I started to send love to people I saw, who I guessed were probably hurting and struggling inside, the same as I have/was/do. And the people who were acting brave and not showing it to the world. And the people who were super-duper badass and had already figured out how to love themselves for what they were, knowing that the package doesn’t matter. Because, as far as appearance goes, I don’t care if you’re 88 pounds or 388 pounds or 688 pounds. We’re all fighting the same demons. And for the precious few who’ve won that battle, who’ve learned to put their demons in their place and love their body, I commend your bravery, your honesty, and your heart. I hope you can help gently guide the rest of us home too.

There does come a time when our health becomes a bigger priority than proving our non-judgementalness about body size. Sometimes losing some weight would make a striking difference in our ability to function. I know that since 30 pounds, my blood sugars have come out of the pre-diabetic range, back into the regular-old-joe range, for instance. I haven’t had my cholesterol numbers checked yet, but I am expecting to see some of the same there too. Most people have an easier time with their joints once they lose some weight.

And that all comes down to a choice, I guess. What’s the priority for you? Staying in a nonjudgemental place about your weight and keeping the status quo? Or staying nonjudgemental about your weight and trying to improve your health? Getting a little more active? A doctor will tell you there is only one right answer. I don’t agree with that. I think that you have a choice, as long as you are clear about the consequences and you make a conscious choice, knowing that there will be a price tag to pay, and you’re willing to pay it. But that requires some very intense self-examination and brutal honesty, because it’s easy to bamboozle yourself into thinking that you’ll pay the price tag because the change is too scary to contemplate. I get that. I’ve been there. I’ve done that.

Either way, we can all strive towards a more accepting, loving, nonjudgemental place when it comes to bodies.

We can probably love each other better. We can probably love ourselves more. It’s so worth doing it. And once again, it starts with gratitude.

{The following is a song I wrote the night of the naked, crying, thigh-rubbing, love-fest with my body. It’s a thank-you letter from me to my body. Maybe you can relate, or use it in your own process. If it helps you in any way, then I’m happy to share it with you. xoxo}

{One caveat: please know that this is a very rough writing demo only. Less than optimally recorded. But seeing as I’m still having MBox / ProTools issues, I couldn’t record a better version of it in time for this post. So you reeeeeally get to hear the nitty gritty! And, for your listening pleasure, you also get to hear many guest appearances by the fan on my laptop. Because that’s cool shit, yo. Click the song title and it’ll take you to the track…fancy, right?)

Fragile Emotions

Thank you for proteecting me when the world fell apart
Thank you for connecting me to the fear in my heart
For sheltering a lonely soul, who had nowhere safe to go

Thank you for keeping promises better left unsaid
Thank you for for the trust I felt, twisted but nonetheless
You kept me safe and when I hated you, took care of me the best way you knew how

Now I release you
Now I embrace you
Oh, I love you
And so I free you
Your guardianship of my fragile emotions is through

Thank you for the walls you built that kept it all at bay
Thank you for the padded cell that kept them all away
Fueling the fire, yearning and burning within

Now I release you
Now I embrace you
Oh, I love you
Yes I adore you
Your guardianship of my fragile emotions is through

The harder I tried, the further we’d collide
A slow angry burn at their failure to provide

Thank you for speaking up for me when I couldn’t find the words
Thank you for your loving curves and the beauty I have learned
The journey has been much bigger than ever I imagined

Now I release you
Now I embrace you
Oh, I love you
And I forgive you
Your guardianship of my fragile emotions is through

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28
Oct
10

Peeling Away the Layers

I have a very big decision to make.  And actually, I think I already know the answer.  As Kelly Diels so aptly put it, sometimes saying yes means saying no.  But it’s making me feel constricted in my chest, terror in my back, and, well, a little sick to my stomach.


I think all of those things are telling me it’s the right thing to do.


I have a job that I’m good at.  When I am in the cycle of working there, I get caught up in the validation I get from working there and being good at my job.  I get caught up in the excitement of the people I work with.  I honestly do love the company (mostly), and think that they have a really excellent product on the market, made so by the customer service that delivers it.  I am fabulous at delivering that customer service.

I am loyal.  I am and have always been loyal to whomever I work for.  Even when it has been seriously misplaced loyalty (because it was not reciprocated or recognized.)  Unfortunately, I tend to lose sight of being loyal to myself.  I tend to continue to want the validation that comes from a job really well done, and lose sight of the things that are actually priorities to me, for me.  First and foremost, I need to be loyal to myself and those three short people that keep following me around, asking to be fed…

The job I have has fantastic benefits.  Yes, good healthcare benefits (although, they kinda screwed me when it came to being sick this summer.)  But the other perks that come with my job are outstanding.  They benefit a lot of people around me.  The thing that I am coming to realize is that they don’t benefit me a great deal, because I never have the time+money combo to be able to use them.  And what I’m trying to put into perspective is the concept of I need to take care of myself first, in order to be able to take care of anyone else. So making sure that I continue working at a job that, in some ways, is not necessarily in my best interest, in order to provide great perks for other people…well, maybe it’s not actually what’s best for me.

Left turn.

I have recently looked very hard at an important relationship in my life.  It is a relationship that for years has caused me anguish and discontent, searching for validation where there was little, approval where it was rare, and presence where it was absent.  I have decided that, although the relationship will continue in some necessary form, I am consciously changing the parameters that I go by in that situation.  I will no longer engage.  I will no longer have any expectations.  I will let go of resentment and choose to see it as a learning opportunity.  I will feel love for the lesson: I can choose what I do and don’t contribute, and I choose to no longer give myself away when I get nothing in return.  I choose to take care of myself by not engaging emotionally.  Of course there will still be communication, but all I am willing to have is surface conversation.  I will not engage emotionally.  It is unfortunate that the other party will probably not even notice the difference.  But it’s really not about that.  That’s their piece, and I have come to terms with the fact that I can’t make them want something that is not in their vocabulary. It’s about taking care of myself and being conscious of my boundaries.  Choosing not to engage emotionally frees me up to enforce my own boundaries, because I am no longer tangled up in needing approval and validation where there is none forthcoming anyway.  And being able to enforce my boundaries without guilt is the best way to take care of myself, and it is long overdue.

Aaaaand, back to the main road.  (See, it’s all connected.)

The thing is, when I look at my work situation, it is the same thing in a different package.  I get caught up in the validation I get from working at a job that is not what I really want to be doing.  (Yes, I do get validation from work, and do not from the relationship in question.  But bear with me here.  The end result is the same.)  In doing so, I lose sight of what matters to me.  I have tried before to just go to work, and not engage – not commit myself.  But I find it very difficult.  I’m kind of an all in or all out person.  And we spend a significant portion of our lives working…I don’t want to be working at something that I don’t actually want to commit to.  That just seems ass-backwards to me.  And it is so not in line with the life I want to create – in which I feel an overwhelming passion, gratitude, and joy for ALL the parts of my life.  But that life is going to take some big changes to create.  Big, scary changes.  Big, scary, leaping off the bridge and trusting in the intangible kind of changes.  But there is no question, it’s time to realign.  (Jonathan Mead has a great take on realignment and motivation vs. inspiration, which all relates to my the point I’m making here.)

Where it gets tricky is finances.  And I’m sure this is the big hurdle for everyone in a similar position.  It is terrifying to consider giving up a job where I finally make pretty decent money, actually, for my qualifications on paper.  (I am qualified in a multitude of ways, for a multitude of things.  Unfortunately – or maybe ultimately fortunately – they don’t really transfer to paper.  I have lots of almost-but-not-quite-completed schooling, and a shit-load of soft skills to go with.)  It is terrifying to jump off that bridge, three kids in tow, with no safety net.  But if I dissect it a little more, is it really?  I haven’t been able to work at that job for 4 months now, because of my health.  Truth be told, I’m not sure when I’ll be able to do so again – my body is just not cooperating.  And, unfortunately, living with chronic pain is not something that is quantifiable to those who don’t deal with it, and inspires disbelief in some.  But here’s the thing: they’ve denied my disability claim anyway, so there’s not really any financial goings on, regardless.  There is only the sort of phantom promise of a job to eventually return to, and the ever-important benefits in the meantime.  I am currently very dependent on the government for medical disability.  Yes I want that to change.  However, I have to be able to function before that will actually happen.  SO…what, exactly, is this “security” that I am considering walking away from?  Not much.  Just kind of a mental security – not really one that manifests physically.

I also feel like being on hold with this company keeps me from living fully in my truth.  And that, under no circumstances, is healthy.  I’m constantly afraid of doing or saying something that could be misinterpreted by somebody (on Facebook or Twitter, say), that would lead them to the assumption that I’m just taking them for a ride.  I’m sure it has lots to do with feeling like I have to justify stuff because many people don’t understand chronic pain well, or simply disbelieve it.  It is a very bizarre thing to feel like I constantly have to prove that I’m really as sick/incapacitated as I say I am.  I can’t imagine that it sets the stage for healing, because my mindset is always focused on proving the negative.  Believe me, I see how twisted and unhealthy it is.  And I think the first step to changing it is to divest myself of the situations in my life that keep me in that framework.  Work is one.  Personal relationships that are not supportive are another.  I have to set myself up for achieving success, which specifically means not feeling like I have to prove my failures.

So what if I take the leap?  What if I jump off that “security bridge” and make my own qualifications for bliss?  What if I create work for myself that I can manage around the particulars of my body?  What if I trust that I’m finding my truth and own my shimmering path, and that the pieces will fall into place, including the income I need?  Nobody ever got rich working on somebody else’s terms…or something like that, right?  I don’t even need “rich.”  I need “enough.”  Karol Gajda talks about finding your sweet spot – that place where you have enough for what you need, and the immense freedom that comes from accessing that place.  No massive mansions in the hills, no Porsches required, not for me.  I need a comfortable house, a reliable car for me and my family, the ability to pay my bills with ease, some savings, and the income to do what we want, when we want to.  It doesn’t need to be exorbitant.  It needs to be enough.  But that requires some hard internal questioning.  What exactly is enough?  What exactly is necessary in your life, and what is excess?  You can’t ever have enough if you haven’t identified exactly what enough is in your life.  As in, to the dollar.  Only then can we start mapping out how we will actually get to that illusive sweet spot: enough.

And so that is the process for today.  What is enough?  And how will I get there?  Because it is not going to be working at 5am every day.  That doesn’t work for me and my family.  I need to be home to get my girls off to school in the morning, and here to be with them for all their after school stuff.  Every single day?  No.  But almost every day?  Yes.  That’s what’s important to me.  That’s what’s important to them.  As in, big capital letters kind of IMPORTANT.  That’s what fosters the relationship I treasure with my kids.  And it is time I started creating a life around what is important to us, instead of cobbling together a make-do of what’s important based on the life we have.  The whole “take it where I can get it” mentality.  Nope.  I’ll take it where I can make it, thanks.

Afterthought: I was going through some of my original songs this afternoon, and I came across one that I’d totally forgotten about.  I wrote it about three years ago.  Imagine that…it is exactly what I’m talking about here.  Clearly this is an ongoing process, coming into one’s self.  I thought I’d share the lyrics with you.

There’s a little piece of gold

In the silence that I hold

It’s the still small voice inside

Crying out to me to come alive

And I feel jaded

I feel wasted

I feel broken inside

But it’s the last moment

The last solace

‘Cuz I’m pushing through the tunnel for the light

Every moment holds a choice

To ante up or quiet my own voice

And in the choice there lies a gift

It’s the sacred space where we choose to persist

And I feel jaded

I feel naked

I feel broken inside

But it’s the last moment

The last solace

As I’m pushing through the tunnel for the light

(Breathe in, breathe out

Breathe in, breathe out

Breathe in, breathe out

Breathe in, breathe out)

I am holy

I am divine

And everything I could ever want

It’s already mine

There’s opportunity in loss

An elemental truth underneath that rock

And I feel jaded

I feel naked

I feel broken inside

But it’s the last moment

The last solace

‘Cuz I’m pushing through

And I feel jaded (I am holy)

I feel naked

I feel broken inside (I am divine)

But it’s the last moment

The last solace (I am holy)

‘Cuz I’m pushing through the tunnel for the light


PS – I’m gonna keep delving into the messy stuff, but in a fun way, wherever possible.  I love hearing your comments.  And I’d love it if you wanted to share something from here that you found worth sharing.  There are lots of pretty buttons for that.  After all, the more of us there are, the more united a voice we can create.  Peace and love.  XO



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