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Posts tagged growth

Posted 10 months ago

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Checking In From a Happy Place

I haven’t been blogging much lately. Strange, how one form of writing negates the need to do much of any other form. I’ve been writing a lot of poetry this year… a lot more than in recent years. The energy from one thing gets redistributed to another, I suppose.

Or maybe I haven’t had a lot to say. *shrug*

Life is good. Maybe I haven’t blogged with much frequency because saying life is good for as long as life has been good to me becomes boring, even to me. There’s also the fact that a good life usually means you’re out living it and have less time (or maybe desire) to document every second of it in real time (or maybe I just document it in shorter, easier ways that cause less of a pause). I’m not sure.

I love where my life is headed and where it’s been these days. I’ve been working in geriatric psych for almost three years and I continue to love the population and I grow even more confident in my role with said population. I’ve been with the same amazing man for nine years now and we’re planning to make a baby in about a year, after he’s graduated from his commercial electrician apprenticeship.

We have three (including our recent mutt addition) lovely pooches, a feisty little cat, and in-laws that live a mile down the road and are looking forward to more grandbabies. I’ve gained about 5 pounds since hitting my goal weight in October of last year, but I’m alternating between maintaining and losing bits of that, and I’m more physically active now than I was at the time of hitting my goal weight.

I love hiking. I now have a little dog who lasts multiple hours and multiple miles in the woods with no leash, and I have multiple hiking friends (and music-loving friends, and book-loving friends, and lunch-going friends). I love that I’m writing, and that the writing is more full of Me (a really, truly honest Me) than writing I’ve done in the past. I’m currently in love with giving myself fancy manicures as well.

Growth is an amazing catalyst for honesty, and the truth of my life right now is that I am frequently really happy, almost always content, and stronger than I’ve ever been. Maybe I’ll start writing more about that here, maybe I’ll keep writing about it in a million scribbled-over notebooks I have stashed in various places in my life, maybe I’ll just keep up with the daily moleskine scribbles, or maybe I’ll just keep living it. Who knows?

Posted 12 months ago

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Today it’s been a year since I made the decision to end my relationship with my mother on my terms. I’ve been reflecting this week on that decision and on who I am a year later. I remember the night I spent writing that final letter… how surreal it was to choose the last words I planned to ever say to my mother, how I stared at the screen for hours after it was done, preparing myself to click send, dreading whatever would come after. I remember the next morning when I sent the letter, clicking “send” and bracing myself for a feeling of regret or panic and fear… how I immediately felt relief and this almost dizzying sense of weightlessness. I remember how strange it felt to have finally really done it, the feeling that I’d finally snipped all the way through a cord that had been strangling the living shit out of me. I remember the sporadic tears that escaped throughout the next several days, knowing that the rest of my family would be gone from my life as a result of my decision (by their choice), fearing how untethered I felt, worrying about how quiet my head felt all of the sudden, panicked at how alone I feared I might be now, and sometimes simple tears of relief because it was done. I remember my first day of therapy, sitting down, taking a deep breath, and slowly telling my story to someone who had just met me. I remember finishing my story… “and then I sent an email and ended the relationship…” looking up from telling the whole history, expecting and even bracing myself for a challenge or a criticism at the news that I’d disowned my own mother. I vividly remember that moment, because I had been prepared for any response except the one I got, which was a very heartfelt, “Congratulations.” The year before I made this decision was a year of positive external growth. I was running, I was losing weight, I was making strides professionally, I was marching through the last year of my 20’s with a mission. I was ultimately becoming enough of my own person to take this huge step of letting go. The year after I made this decision has been a year of amazing internal growth. I already had a strong outer foundation, a new, healthy body to live in and then suddenly there was a huge quiet space in my life where there had always been either turmoil or the imminent danger of turmoil. I suddenly had the things I wanted and a true quiet in which to enjoy it. In contrast to the previous year of physical challenges and pushing myself past my limits, this past year has taught me that a quiet life is a safe place to call home. A quiet head, absent of planted self-doubt and fear, is a head that now has time to truly think. I love my husband with a better understanding of why he would ever love me. I understand my worth and value the loyalty and love of the family I’ve built for myself. I trust my instincts. I almost never flinch when I hear a car door slam. I allow myself to imagine that I might be a really wonderful mother. It still hurts that it couldn’t have been different, but there’s no regret. This first year has only served to solidify the understanding that I just could never be Me within that entangled mess. I never understood that until I turned it off and really heard my own thoughts inside a quiet head, living a quiet life. There are certainly things that I miss. There are places and moments I miss. There are people I miss, although never her. There are things that I lost in the deal that aren’t easily replaced or rebuilt without the family within which a person has grown all their life. But the quiet… holy mother of… I just can’t express how much I love the quiet. I’m so fucking grateful for the quiet in my head and for that alone it was so goddamn worth it. There is quiet room inside my Self for more now, and my only real regret this week has been that I didn’t build it sooner.

Today it’s been a year since I made the decision to end my relationship with my mother on my terms. I’ve been reflecting this week on that decision and on who I am a year later.

I remember the night I spent writing that final letter… how surreal it was to choose the last words I planned to ever say to my mother, how I stared at the screen for hours after it was done, preparing myself to click send, dreading whatever would come after.

I remember the next morning when I sent the letter, clicking “send” and bracing myself for a feeling of regret or panic and fear… how I immediately felt relief and this almost dizzying sense of weightlessness. I remember how strange it felt to have finally really done it, the feeling that I’d finally snipped all the way through a cord that had been strangling the living shit out of me.

I remember the sporadic tears that escaped throughout the next several days, knowing that the rest of my family would be gone from my life as a result of my decision (by their choice), fearing how untethered I felt, worrying about how quiet my head felt all of the sudden, panicked at how alone I feared I might be now, and sometimes simple tears of relief because it was done.

I remember my first day of therapy, sitting down, taking a deep breath, and slowly telling my story to someone who had just met me. I remember finishing my story… “and then I sent an email and ended the relationship…” looking up from telling the whole history, expecting and even bracing myself for a challenge or a criticism at the news that I’d disowned my own mother. I vividly remember that moment, because I had been prepared for any response except the one I got, which was a very heartfelt, “Congratulations.”

The year before I made this decision was a year of positive external growth. I was running, I was losing weight, I was making strides professionally, I was marching through the last year of my 20’s with a mission. I was ultimately becoming enough of my own person to take this huge step of letting go.

The year after I made this decision has been a year of amazing internal growth. I already had a strong outer foundation, a new, healthy body to live in and then suddenly there was a huge quiet space in my life where there had always been either turmoil or the imminent danger of turmoil. I suddenly had the things I wanted and a true quiet in which to enjoy it.

In contrast to the previous year of physical challenges and pushing myself past my limits, this past year has taught me that a quiet life is a safe place to call home. A quiet head, absent of planted self-doubt and fear, is a head that now has time to truly think. I love my husband with a better understanding of why he would ever love me. I understand my worth and value the loyalty and love of the family I’ve built for myself. I trust my instincts. I almost never flinch when I hear a car door slam. I allow myself to imagine that I might be a really wonderful mother.

It still hurts that it couldn’t have been different, but there’s no regret. This first year has only served to solidify the understanding that I just could never be Me within that entangled mess. I never understood that until I turned it off and really heard my own thoughts inside a quiet head, living a quiet life.

There are certainly things that I miss. There are places and moments I miss. There are people I miss, although never her. There are things that I lost in the deal that aren’t easily replaced or rebuilt without the family within which a person has grown all their life.

But the quiet… holy mother of… I just can’t express how much I love the quiet. I’m so fucking grateful for the quiet in my head and for that alone it was so goddamn worth it. There is quiet room inside my Self for more now, and my only real regret this week has been that I didn’t build it sooner.

Posted 1 year ago

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Reviewing 2011: Yearly Questionnaire

Highlights of an AMAZING YEAR:
1. Received my independent social work license (LISW).
2. Turned 30 and loved it.
3. Ran a half marathon and lived.
4. Said goodbye to a toxic parent.
5. Attending 5 beautiful weddings, including a trip to Boston.
6. Hit my goal weight, losing 82 lbs.
7. Achieved my lifetime WeightWatchers membership.
8. Spoke to a class of teenage girls twice (once as a poet, once as a social worker).
9. Wrote my 7th Nanowrimo novel.
10. Made awesome new holiday traditions and family connections.
Who do you know better than you did at the beginning of the year?

Anna and Carrie from Nanowrimo. My Grandma Benedetti, who I hadn’t seen in a long time prior to this holiday season.

Who have you listened to carefully?
Jim, Laura, and my therapist.
Who have you cheered for?
A whole slew of newly married couples. A ton of our friends got hitched this year, and a lot of my cheering this year was done at weddings.
What do you understand better than you did in January?
I understand limitations, both my own and those of other people. I am limited in that I am able to maintain a healthy weight, but not always by way of a perfectly healthy lifestyle (I’m less active than I was during half marathon training). I am limited in other ways, but that’s a new one for me. In terms of other people’s limitations… in January, I was still worried about what unknown thing I’d done to make it hard (once again) for my mother to just love me, and now I understand that her limitations simply don’t allow her to love people without that love becoming inevitably twisted and cruel. I understand limitations and my new relationship to others’ limitations, not just my mother’s.
What are you explaining to other people that you weren’t able to explain then?
Largely, what I want from relationships and what I won’t accept. Ending an abusive relationship clarified a lot of my relationships and what I want/don’t want from them. I’m better able to explain myself without standing under an oppressive umbrella of emotional abuse and manipulation. I’m also able to explain how I became the healthy person I am now that I’ve crossed the finish line. Last year I wasn’t sure how I was going to get to my goal weight, but I knew I would get there. Now, I’m past the finish line and able to talk about the entire journey. “I lost 82 pounds and here’s how I did it,” is a cool thing to be able to explain.
Where have you been that you didn’t expect to be this year?
1. On the other side of a half marathon finish line. Hot damn but that was a big moment for me. :)
2. In my paternal grandmother’s living room last week. In ending certain relationships this year, I’ve found room in my life and confidence within to allow new relationships to grow. That was an unexpected blessing this year, and a wonderful way to end the holiday season, with someone who has loved me continually during every absence.
Where have you stopped going because you needed to stop going there?
Beloit, Ohio. 
When were you most comforted during this last year?
The messages that people recorded for my half marathon playlist were absolutely amazing. A hug from Laura when I arrived in NYC to travel to her bachelorette party in June. The moment when I sat down in front of therapist and put it all on the table and heard the words “congratulations on an amazing first step.” Every moment this year when I’ve needed the peace and quiet of home and Jim has given it to me. Every moment when I’ve laughed, mostly with Jim when I least expected to be able to. The hug I shared with my grandmother when I left her apartment last week. The family and friend time I’ve shared this holiday season with a drama-free group of people. 
When did you say, “I’m not sure I can do this” and then discovered that you could?
First, I ran a half marathon. Second, I ended an abusive relationship I’ve agonized over for three decades of my life. Third, I hit my goal weight, losing 82 pounds. Fourth, I kept that motherfucking weight OFF for the rest of the year. Oh, and I wore DRESSES this year. Oh, and I purchased a BATHING SUIT and wore it in front of other people. I also spoke to a room full of teenagers TWICE, first about my book of poetry and then on career day (scary). I did a whole lot of shit this year that makes me really fucking proud.
What is your favorite sentence, blog post, paragraph, or tweet that you wrote since January?
This blog entry is one of my favorite that I’ve ever written. I’ve gone back and read it more than once: http://brandicesays.tumblr.com/post/6287854605/wishing-for-time-travel
What was the most encouraging thing you did for someone this year, as measured by their smile?
This year I would say this would be one of my interactions with a patient, one that left me changed for the better and left the patient a little less lost. My job allows me to have a lot of these moments, but one in particular this year was pretty special.
What question have you actually spent time trying to answer this year?
“What is family?” The answer for me has involved allowing myself to be closer to a lot of really special people this year and accepting that genetics plays no part in the family that has emerged for me at the end of 2011.
Where, geographically, did you find the most delight this year?
Boston. Between Laura’s wedding and the days Jim and I spent there afterward, it was a really wonderful vacation.
What item did you cross of your list this year that had been on it the longest?
Achieving a healthy weight and learning to maintain it. I didn’t have a handle on food or my health long before I became overtly fat, so that’s a battle I’ve been struggling to win for a LONG time. I also finally turned in my supervision hours and got my independent social work license (LISW), which is pretty friggin’ cool!
What book did you intentionally quit reading because you knew, halfway through, that you didn’t need to finish to get the author’s content?
What book did you read that was written before 1846?
I finished a volume of really beautiful poetry by Rumi. He’s an artist in every sense of the word.
What picture you took did you look at more than once because you liked it?
It’s hard to pick just one from a year that including a half marathon, 5 weddings, two bachelorettes, and hitting my goal weight. There are a LOT of great pictures from 2011 that I’ve gone back and looked at more than once, but my sentimental pick would be this shot of Jim and I (we always look so relaxed and happy when we get away and just spend time along together!) and my photography pick is this one (for whatever reason I’ve gone back and looked at it several times… just love the image).
What was the best conversation you had this year?
The ongoing (now two-years going) memo-versation I have with Laura. I tell her everything, I talk to her almost daily and sometimes multiple times a day, and the advice and support she’s given me this year has been invaluable. I hope the replies I’ve recorded and emailed back to her have done the same. She’s family. :)
What was the most satisfying $5 you spent this year? (and you get to define satisfying).
The parking fees outside of House of Hunan in Akron, where I’ve had some of my favorite lunches with Tim and Rob, two psychiatrists that I work with. Two nerds, great green tea, sushi, and lots of talk about books and science fiction and generally nerdy subjects… totally worth the occasional $1 for parking and a great break during the work day.
What piece of mail that you received this year made you smile the most.
The package Laura sent me earlier this fall that had a plethora of fun items, the funniest of which was a random red and black granny square (and a Dave Barry book I plan to dive into one of these days). 

Posted 1 year ago

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We’re All Working Through It

I just had the most amazing experience at my WeightWatchers meeting tonight. It was one of those meetings where you walk out feeling supported, understood, and prepared for what’s coming next, and considering that this week “what’s coming next” is Thanksgiving, it was exactly what I needed.

Mainly, we talked about the challenges of a holiday like Thanksgiving and how we all handle that period of time while still remaining healthy. A lot of people spoke up about how they often feel judged by family based on their appearance and what they put on their plate, and this really resonated for me, because at last Thanksgiving I had at least three different people comment on how I was apparently having a “cheat day” or was “off plan” because I had delicious food on my plate and ate pie.

We talked about prioritizing what we really want to eat on special meal days and how to stay on plan but also enjoy pie, stuffing, and whatever else is our #1 Thanksgiving favorite. It was just a really great meeting full of suggestions and people saying, “yes, I get that and I feel it too, and here’s how I get through it.” That’s what is so incredibly great about WeightWatchers meetings.

At one point though, a lot of us were giving each other suggestions on how to handle those difficult social interactions and one newer member mentioned that she had just recently moved back home from out of state after more than two decades away and had gained weight and was now living with her mother. She said that last week’s meeting was the first time she’d left her mother’s house in weeks because her brain kept taunting her with the imagined embarrassment of leaving the house to find all of those old friends and acquaintances waiting on the streets to point and comment on her perceived “failures.”

When I left the meeting tonight, I heard excited noises behind me and turned around to see that woman suddenly being embraced by two women who’d known her 25 years ago and were nothing but happy to see her again.

It reminded me that we’re all struggling with something, we’re all in this together, and we’re all so much more loved and appreciated than we realize, especially when we’re struggling to remember our unique worth underneath the literally heavy burden of obesity.

I’m so happy for that woman and the moment she was able to have tonight simply because she came to a place where she felt safe to share her insecurities. I’m proud of her honesty and the bravery it took for her to leave the house last week (and this week) and start her weight loss journey. I’m grateful for the tearfully happy moment it gave me as I walked out to my car. I’m thankful for something to be thankful for today, which had up until that moment felt like a pretty dreary day. Good for her.

Posted 1 year ago

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A Change of Season

 

Fall is approaching. It’s not here yet, but I can definitely feel the retreat of summer, and I’m particularly glad to see this one coming to a close.

August Yard

I’ve had an inordinate number of wonderful memories in the past few months (half marathon, wedding after wedding, bridal showers, Boston, baseball games, good books, a fresh new tattoo), but amid all of the pleasant commotion, I’ve been making my way through a significant life transition, and I think that transition has largely reached its close.

Even before this summer, I felt that I was becoming someone new. Someone who was healthier, more active, more confident, thinner… someone comfortable in her own skin in a way she’d never been, who after decades of feeling like someone not quite good enough or cool enough or pretty enough or charming enough suddenly found herself feeling like she was just another person in the world, just as worthy, just as cool as the next person, and on occasion maybe even a little cooler.

That feeling came with the weight loss and the mental changes that come with pushing yourself to be the best that you can be, but other feelings came along for the ride too. I found myself in a life that was largely healthy and wonderful and drama-free, and the things in my life that didn’t fit into that overall picture started to stand out like glaring irregularities.

The people who didn’t fit into that overall picture started to chafe as they failed to embrace the new Me or just perpetuated unhealthy patterns that didn’t fit into the new life I had built for myself.

It’s amazing how people react to a person who makes major life changes. It threatens a lot of longstanding ideas people have about whether we’re capable of that kind of change, like I am walking reminder that a person could be making the same changes. It also challenges the views those people had about me, and who I am within their social structure.

A few male friends suddenly realized that, without all that extra padding, baggy clothes, and insecurity, I was a girl (*gasp!*), and suddenly I became an alien creature whose language they no longer spoke. A few gal pals like spending time with me a lot less now that I’m thinner (and often, no longer their “fat” friend). A couple of co-workers have hinted that I might have an eating disorder (have you SEEN me dig into a pizza? it’s called planning and portion control, people!).

None of that was my goal, and observing those things isn’t about my ego. It just is what it is. Ultimately, the positives have vastly outnumbered the negatives anyway.

One relationship that really stood out like a sore thumb was one that should have been at the forefront of this journey, one that is usually core relationship in any woman’s life: the one with my mother. I crossed the finish line of a half marathon one rainy day in May without a single family member (other than my awesome husband) present, and I suddenly realized that one crucial part of my new life hadn’t been resolved: family.

Explaining the history between my mother and I would take too long and just isn’t worth the time or the emotional toll. Suffice to say that the already complicated relationship between a woman and her mother just isn’t sustainable within the strangle hold of a mental illness that goes untreated and is constantly excused by other family members (even with a shared and tangible history of abuse). It’s impossible to make it work, and it’s impossible to be healthy within that prison.

I realized in May that I was working toward an unachievable goal: a functional relationship with a dysfunctional person… a person I will never be able to consistently please, who only wants me to affirm their view of the world, who loves conditionally and sparingly, who had already done enough to me in thirty years to warrant walking away if it had been anyone other than my mother. I spent some time thinking, I spent some time talking with trusted people in my life, and finally, I spent a great deal of time constructing a firm and final goodbye.

It was a terrifyingly huge relief.

The terrifying part of it was the uncertainty of what my life would look like After The Goodbye; whether any of my family would remain in my life (they didn’t), whether my mother or some other family member would find a way around all of my blockages (blacklisting her number, filtering her email to trash, etc) and create an emotional storm (she thankfully did not), and ultimately whether I would regret such a huge and final decision (I haven’t, for even a minute).

The relief has come in small but increasing doses in the past few months, as I’ve learned that life without my birth family is not that much different from life with the dysfunctional family that I hadn’t heard much from in the six months leading up to my decision, and realized that I have a family in a great number of friends I trust more than I ever have my mother, and a husband who is helping me to make a whole new family, one with unconditional love and (someday) children who will know that love.

Family

I trust the life I’ve built around that new family, and I feel better about myself with each day that passes, free of concern for whether I’ve tripped some invisible wire in my mother’s inexplicable mental alarm system, free of fear that something is going to fall apart for a reason I won’t be able to piece together, free of obligation to apologize simply because it’s easier and safer than trying to present reality to an unrealistic person. I don’t have to wonder about love, because I know love in a way that I couldn’t fully trust when some of the love in my life was conditional, unsafe, and unpredictable.

The process hasn’t been easy. I’ve spent a few months in therapy (something I think any good therapist should do for themselves from time to time), I’ve spent months processing the grief of losing something (even if that something was dysfunctional and painful), and I’ve spent a lot of time allowing myself to believe good things about myself without the unneeded filter of one powerful person’s view of me.

It’s been exhausting. It’s been rewarding. It’s been amazing, and surprising, and terrifying, and I think I’ve finally come out of the toughest part of it with some closure. There’s certainly still work to be done, and I’ll probably still have things to say about the journey, but the end of this season marks the end of the hardest part of the journey for me, and I’m ready to let it go.

I’m ready for autumn.

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