Letters to Myself, Showing Up

Letters to Myself, # 2 – Slow Down (They Don’t Love You Like I Love You)

Quotes about gratitude

(Thanks, Beyonce, for the title inspiration from your song, “Hold Up” from your best album yet, Lemonade)

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Dear Me:

Hey there, it’s me again. I want to thank you for your response in the first letter when you reminded me throughout a really stressful, busy week last week to find and hold on to my joy.

Thanks for allowing Happier Us to stick by my side through apartment A/C issues (and getting the property manager & maintenance supervisor to realize we needed a new unit), babysitting two small, very fun and active girls two days in a row, traveling to and from Savannah in about a 36-hour period (and keeping Cynical Us from screaming “We’re going to die!” as a very exhausted us and John tried to navigate the last 30 miles home in early morning Atlanta traffic), not getting really good quality sleep, and it being so damn hot outside.

In this letter, I want to talk about something else I’ve noticed directing our life and decisions: Scarcity Mindset. The feeling that there is never enough and we are never enough. The way it makes us settle for shit we don’t want, ignore our intuition, mistreat our body, envy others whom we think have what we can’t have because they have it, pushes us so hard to try to make money any way we can to pay off our debt and be financially secure (knowing that in this mindset, no amount of money will ever make us feel secure), and keeps us trapped in comparison and feeds our feelings of inadequacy.

It isn’t our fault. We were raised in a scarcity-based environment. In America, it is called capitalism. Being shamed for our so-called inadequacies, told we can have “it all” if we just work hard enough or have enough money to buy it (ignoring all of the privileges many have that a lot were not given or born with), and being told to rest is to be lazy, worthless, and dumb.

In our family, we were taught that money is scarce as we watched our family members go into massive credit card debt and then one bankruptcy after another and saw no one ever had enough to be happy. We were taught to fear money or see it as evil. We were never taught how to be responsible with it or how to give ourselves the power over it and not the other way around.

We were taught that appearances matter most. Not who we truly were or how we truly felt, but what we and our lives looked like.

Our family tried so hard to seem financially well off and like everyone had their shit together and there were never any conflicts or issues.

Don’t you remember how Daddy was so mean to Mama, the boys, and us on the way to church and how as soon as we got out of the van and walked in the church doors, he became the man all our youth group girl friends wished their father was like, who the women Mama knew in their Sunday School group wished their husbands were like? And how as soon as we were back in the van, his friendly, warm smile returned to a sneer and his honey-dipped words returned to venom?

Or how Lib, June, Brophy, and Robert congregated on the porch, laughing and talking whenever the police showed up because someone (sometimes us) called 911 because their violent fights were so loud and frightening?

From around kindergarten up, we learned that food wasn’t a security either. It isn’t that we were really ever short on food, but it was the shame around being told we couldn’t eat the food we wanted because it was “making us fat” and being a fat girl was a vicious, dreadful sin. It ruined our “appearance” of how a thinner body was seen as beautiful, smart, hardworking, and cared for, and our fat body only showed neglect, laziness, gluttony, and lacking self-care, self-respect, self-esteem, and intelligence.

The more food was held as forbidden to us and the more we were told our body was “wrong,” the more scarce food felt to us and the more we rebelled, binged on it, and hated our self.

And in puberty, not developing breasts or round hips and instead developing rounder, broader shoulders and a rounder version of the pot belly we’ve had since infancy made us even more of a disappointment and eyesore. Here, we learned that love, acceptance, desirability, and attractiveness was scarce, and we were to blame for it.

In these times of scarcity, or perceived scarcity, we are conditioned to rush. Rush to sneak the “forbidden” food and shove it down our throat thoughtlessly, without enjoyment, and riddled with shame and self-loathing. Rush to lose weight in whatever means possible so we can finally be considered attractive, lovable, and worthwhile. Rush to do whatever we can to please others, regardless of the way we neglect our self and our needs in the meantime. And then rush to numb our pain, shame, sadness, and anger by whatever means necessary, which for us was/is food and spending too much time scrolling through the internet and social media.

There is no slowing down in this scarcity mindset. No time to think. No time to consider. There is so much to do to finally get enough so we are finally considered enough, and with every step we take, the ruler measuring success, achievement, control, safety, adequacy, and being considered worthy of love and acceptance is pushed a little further out.

Driven by this mindset, we went to a college we didn’t really like, settled on toxic behavior by men we were attracted to and wanted to feel noticed and wanted by, accepted the crumbs of attention from toxic friendships out of deep loneliness, a deep mother and father wound, and always being taught to feel worthless and like we had to take whatever we could get.

We settled on one job after another because we were told it was “smart” and secure even though they stifled our creativity and left us feeling miserable and lost.

This scarcity mindset taught us love is scarce and we could lose it at anytime so we better not do anything to “rock the boat.”

Things like:

  • Don’t speak up about your hurts and anger.
  • Don’t do or say anything that could be seen as critical or he’s going to leave.
  • Always be pleasant.
  • Don’t talk too much.
  • Don’t be needy.
  • Don’t speak up for yourself.
  • Squelch those emotions, you know you have too many of them.
  • Don’t do anything that could make you seem like a burden.
  • And for God’s sake, lose the fucking gut already, no man wants to look at that.
  • Always remember that whatever has been given can and likely will be taken away.
  • Don’t get too comfortable.

You know, this mindset keeps me up at night worrying about dying and never getting to live the life I want many years to live. Makes me so afraid we will die young and miss out on all life has to offer us. Makes me feel sick to my stomach at thinking about John moving on, finding someone else, and realizing we were never the woman he thought we were or that he ever really loved.

I get angry too, thinking about everything we want to do and how we never seem to have the money to do it because we can’t find or keep a job in a healthy, fun, creative environment. It makes me think of friends and family who are traveling where I want us to travel, doing jobs I want us to do, having money I wish we had, and comparing way too much of myself and life to everyone else.

Where there is a scarcity mindset, there is a focus on what we don’t have and a furious impatience to get it. To have control. To know what’s coming next, how to get it, when it’ll arrive, and how happy we’ll “finally” be when it arrives. I mean, isn’t that all the lie of every diet and/or exercise program we ever try? Every book or movie or TV show about finding “the one”? The sales pitch behind every beauty product and fashion line?

Scarcity mindset is the mindset that sells and makes billions of dollars in marketing and advertising for every possible thing you can think of from diets to religion to fashion to cars to homes and etc. “Let me tell you what you lack, how others perceive your lacking, and how buying this product will finally make you happy.”

Where there is scarcity, there is depression, war, greed, famine, sexual/physical/emotional violence, addiction, infidelity, genocide, treating people who don’t look like us as an “other” and dehumanizing them, anxiety, power-grabbing, fear-mongering, and depravity. Scarcity makes us take whatever we can get, however we can get it, no matter who – including ourselves – gets hurt.

Most of all, it takes us out of the present and robs us of joy, peace, love, and gratitude. It clouds our intuition and depletes the quality of our life. And quality always matters more important than quantity.

Amy, we are enough. Our life is happening as it is meant to, in the timeline it is meant to be on. There is no one set timeline for everyone. There is no need to rush.

We don’t have to worry about not having enough or being enough. There’s nothing we need to do or change about us to be worthy of love. Our very name, Amy, MEANS “beloved.”

If there is anything we can hold on to in our constantly evolving spiritual faith and what we learned in church growing up, it is to not allow ourselves to get wrapped up in the trappings of this world. Everything is temporary but it doesn’t mean it is scarce. Being weighed down by all of the stress that scarcity brings mean not being able to see the constant flow of joy, opportunities for new beginnings, love, and good still alive all around us.

Let’s slow down when we think, rest, eat, and dream. Our body is worth trusting and wants us to trust it. We are so privileged and lucky, Amy, we really have no idea. Let’s focus on our abundance so we can share it with others. When we know what we have, we know what we can give.

There is enough food to fill our belly and to give us pleasure and we don’t have to feel ashamed of what we eat. We can enjoy, savor, and be mindful of how and what we eat and why we are eating. We don’t need permission to feed our body when it is hungry. We don’t need to eat past fullness out of fear we will never get to eat that food again. We don’t have to restrict anymore.

We can move our body for the sheer joy of it and in appreciation of all it has done, is doing, and will do for us however many years we are meant to live.

Let’s not be inactive because the diet mentality is so deeply ingrained and twisted around exercise in our brain that it is hard to separate moving our body from the hope of weight loss, which is really just a hope of being seen as worthy of love and acceptance.

Our body is strong and still somewhat flexible (let’s try some yoga for this, okay?) and healthy, let’s focus on the abundance of this and move our body out of that mindset.

We aren’t our family. Their money issues aren’t ours. Their inability to have healthy relationships and marriages and live authentic lives don’t reflect on us. We are not doomed to repeat their mistakes. If anything, we have learned from them. How about we stop living from all the “what not to do’s” we learned from them and start focusing on what we have overcome, let go, forgive, and move on to the healing and the abundant future awaiting us?

Perfectionism is another scarcity mindset lie. It doesn’t exist, nor should it. We are free to make mistakes and learn and grow from them instead of feeling ashamed of them.

We were not born evil and in need of being made good and lovable by someone else. We were born in the image of God, who is all things love and goodness. Forget all of the fear-mongering, shaming, narcissistic religious bullshit shoved down our throat as children. That was all about control, another scarcity mindset tactic, and Amy, we are free. We are so fucking free to be exactly who we are.

Our marriage to John is beautiful because it is real. It is raw, vulnerable, and ever-growing, and it is authentic, transparent, and real. Don’t compare it to someone else’s marriage. We can’t see into the lives of others.

Let’s not rush the healing, depth, effective communication, and intimacy in our marriage. God willing, our marriage is growing into a mighty oak wrapped in decades of rings with unbreakable, replenishing roots that sway with the wind without snapping.

Right now, it is still a young, vulnerable sapling, only eight years old. It needs love, care, grace, understanding, forgiveness, nurture, trust, faith, rest, unity, sunshine, and patience. It needs time and it will need storms. Don’t be afraid of this.

Let’s not worry so much about money. We have enough to get by on. Let’s not be in such a rush to pay off debt, save money, buy a house, or whatever we see others doing that it’s not yet our time to do that we settle again for work that isn’t right for who we are, forces our self to stifle who we really are and what we really want, and lie awake at night in such unnecessary fear, anger, envy, resentment, and frustration. And remember, just because someone else has what we want doesn’t mean there’s now less of it left for us.

Amy, the way out of this scarcity mindset we’ve lived our whole life in is trust. Trust in ourselves. Trust in God or destiny or the Universe or whoever created us and is running things. Trust in our body to work and look as it was written in our DNA. Trust that we are always abundant in love, even if rejected, abandoned, and hurt by the ones we love. Trust that pain and suffering are a part of life and not to be feared because we also trust there is an abundance of good and joy in the world, no matter what our Twitter feeds tell us daily.

Slow down. Take deep breaths. Live in the present. Feel emotions and know none of them are wrong and all of them are valid and valued. We are not too much. We are not a burden. We matter. Our dreams and passions matter.

Our purpose is to live as our authentic self, love who we are exactly as we are, love others exactly as they are, and know our purpose will shift and change as our story weaves, waxes, and wanes through everywhere we’ve been and everywhere we are headed, no matter how long or short the story is.

Everything is happening as it is meant to. Listen to your gut. Listen to your heart. Take care of yourself. Be responsible for how you treat yourself and others and how your words and behavior affect others. And live in gratitude because really, we have been through hell, but we have never been defeated and we’ve truly never been unloved. There is nothing scarce in who we are, what life has given us, or what life still has left in store for us.

Love,

Me

Letters to Myself

Letters to Myself, #1 – Can We Be Friends?

Dear Me:

You know we’re together through it all, right? Like where you go, I go? Who you are, I am? Who you love, I love? You and I, you and I, you and I, we can conquer the world in loooove. Oops, got sidetracked at the thought of Michael Buble singing “You and I.”

Anyway. I know, it often feels like we are twins, two bodies developed from one egg, similar bodies and faces but totally different personalities. One of us is more adventurous, creative, silly, fun, outgoing, affectionate, optimistic, and joyful. The other of us is sullen, critical, brooding, mean, depressed, anxious, distrusting, cynical, and prefers to be left alone in a dark room and never touched. Both are pretty hilarious. I guess they at least have that in common.

And by God are they always at war with each other. The happier of us two says, “Go live life, it’s great, everything is so beautiful, let’s make the most of it, I love everything!” while the other creeps away, walking backwards with two middle fingers in the air, screaming, “Everything is fucked. Nothing is safe. How can you be so naive?!”

Happier us says, “Amy, you are beautiful, loved, and wonderful just as you are. You don’t have to be so afraid of being yourself.” Cynical us says, “You really need to lose some fucking weight, Amy. Why else do you think your body aches so much now? Why bother trying to live a life you’re not fit enough to live. Who could love you, really? Really?”

Ah, Cynical us, I see you’ve invited shame to this party. How cruel when you know our history. 

Look, I get why we don’t trust each other. Happier us is sick of being dragged down by Cynical us. Happier us is sick of cynical us’s shit. Cynical us is tired of comforting Happier us when Happier us gets its feelings hurt. Cynical us thinks it’s the adult and wishes Happier us would grow the fuck up because there’s too much shit going on that we need to be prepared for.

Neither of us trusts that the other is telling the truth about who we are.

Cynical us lost hope years ago when it saw there was none in the context of all the dysfunction of our family. All it wants is to not be like them. Not be like them. Not be like them. So it focuses on things like being smarter with money, moving to a bigger city, trying to have a healthier marriage, thinking, “God, if I could just do [this], everything would be perfect,” not realizing the set up for disappointment and inescapable failure this sets us up for. (By the way, totally okay to fail, just not okay to wallow in that failure or encapsulate that failure with shame.)

However, none of this touches the core of what we are clawing the steel walls to escape from: that deep, dark, aching, fucked up, vicious cycle of shame, hopelessness, and fear.

Happy us has been fighting to be heard since Day 1. Look how we find things to laugh and smile about even when there is so much to be sad and angry about around us. Look how much we love the ocean, clouds, pink sunsets, rainbows after thunderstorms, the view of and from mountaintops.

Think about how our heart swells with joy when we see puppies, babies, people treating us and each other with kindness, songs that lift us from our feet and having us jumping all around, when we play with children and forget how “grown up” we’re supposed to be.

And writing, oh my god, while Cynical us has definitely inspired more words, it has also, probably without meaning to, opened us up to our pain and helped us empathize and view the perspectives of others. We make a really good first-person perspective writing team. Hey! Maybe we should write a book together! Huh? Huh? Whaddya think?

I know it hurts to get excited about something then let down. I know it feels like we are forever waiting for whatever is meant to happen to us. I know it is easy to think we are what we do. And sometimes, we are what we do. But doing is not the entirety of our being or self-worth. We are worthy just by being…alive, happy, sad, cynical, optimistic, however we show up day to day.

And that life that we keep waiting to happen for us? It’s happening right now, guys! It’s been going on THIS ENTIRE TIME. Mind blowing, I know. Of course, we think about that too, but get so impatient. Oh and there’s also the whole thing where we’re going to die one day but we don’t know when and oh my god, what if I don’t get to do all the things I want to do? That loves to keep us awake in the middle of the night, doesn’t it? We can collectively agree we hate it when we can’t control everything even though we know being in control takes the fun out of life, right?

Okay, Cynical us, maybe this is your realm. Maybe knock it off a little bit?

Cynical us, did you know Happier us feels scared too? Joy feels so good that it is frightening. It is fleeting, yes, but what we don’t understand is that one joy moves out so another can move in.

Joy is an ever-rushing current with an infinite number of stops along the way. We hold so tightly to one joy, one memory, and squeeze our eyes shut til we see stars behind our eyelids because we think if we let go, we’ll never feel joy again. Cynical us, I think you see this happening and you love Happier us so much that you step in to protect us, but it’s okay. You can both open your eyes and arms, let that past joy go, and look together for the next moment, which should be here any second.

Happier us, all Cynical us wants is to be loved, safe, and to be seen as good enough. You have both been taught that to be vulnerable is to be weak, that vulnerability is to be avoided at all costs. You have been through so much, and what you don’t realize is that you’ve had each other this whole time. You’ve worked as a team through it all.

The divide is not as large as it seems and guys, it is most definitely NOT your fault. Not your fault, not your fault, not your fault. You did not do this to each other. This divide was dumped on you by people who had their own inner divisions and pain dumped on them. HOWEVER…it is your responsibility to try your hardest not to dump your inner turmoil on anyone else. We are meant to stop this intergenerational trauma, which is why I’m writing all of this in the first place. It is really important we find a way to get along.

Happier us sees being openly joyous as being vulnerable – naive, childish, silly – so it allows Cynical us to step forward with its complaining, sarcasm, bitterness, and resentment. That seems to speak the language of the media and of most of the so-called “adults” around us and acts as a protective shield. The only thing is, that shield doesn’t just protect us from painful emotions, but every emotion. There’s no filter. 

Cynicism, rage, shame, bitterness, and fear have been the water around us for a very long time, and we, with our empathetic, sensitive spongey nature and need for love and acceptance, have soaked it all up until we are so swollen and dripping with it.

Life is hard enough as it is. Division outside of us will destroy us if there remains division within us.

Cynical us, keep protecting us as you do, as what you do keeps us alive. I appreciate that. I know you are doing what you’ve always done, survive in whatever way possible. There is nothing wrong with you, nothing to be ashamed of. (Ha, I sound like Happier us and can feel you side-eyeing the fuck out of me. Sorry. I promise I’m not taking sides here.)

All I am saying here is that you can relax. We don’t live in that dysfunctional family home anymore. There’s no violence, abuse, gaslighting, or negligence going on anymore.

I know you must be sweltering under all of that armor you’ve layered on throughout the years, so take some of it off.

You had to grow up so quickly. You never really got to be a child. I know you resent Happier us sometimes because it is so child-like, bright, sunny, light, and free, but I know how much you want to protect that joy too. I see you. I’m not going to ask you to be who you are not because you are needed and loved just as you are. Like I said, you’ve kept me alive, you’ve gotten me through a lot of shit. I am only asking that you don’t close yourself completely off and that maybe you tell shame to fuck off, we’ve had enough for a lifetime, it’s no longer welcome here.

Happier us, thank you for keeping the child in us alive. Keep looking for the rainbows after storms. Don’t be so afraid to sing out loud when a song comes on that you love or it just gets stuck in your head. You have the most infectious, deep belly laugh and you always find stuff to laugh about. Keep making up goofy songs about your dogs and picking them up and dancing around the house with them. Don’t stop unabashedly loving “The Little Mermaid” or other Disney princess movies. Be the little girl you never got to be.

Bake cookies because you love to bake cookies – quit worrying about sugar being “the devil” and don’t let diet culture take you away from something you love to do. Enjoy your ice cream and don’t let guilt or shame about your body keep you from savoring it.

Wear all the floral prints you want. Buy the skirts and dresses that twirl when you spin in a circle and twirl your heart out.

Who cares if no one else gets as excited when the thunder roars as you do?

Those pretty flowers you notice on your walks are there for you to notice and see beauty in them. And that eternal need to see and hear the ocean? Don’t laugh it off or ignore it. When you need to see the ocean, go see the fucking ocean.

Ride your bike, dance, hike, go for walks or jogs, swim, and forget you ever heard anything about calories burned or weight loss or any of that bullshit that tries to take the joy of just moving your body for the joy of it away from you. There’s nothing wrong with simply enjoying your body and your life, and there’s absolutely nothing you need to be or do to “earn” or “deserve” that joy.

Cynical us tries to shut you down so much, I know, but it is trying to protect you because all it was taught is that there is nothing in this world but fear and shame. When you’re vulnerable, it feels vulnerable too. I’m not saying it is healthy, but it has always done its best with what it knows, as have you. And this is not me shaming or bashing the Cynical us, but showing I understand where it is coming from and I feel so much compassion for it.

So, friends? Can we really try being this? I’m not asking for perfect harmony, that doesn’t exist. It’s okay if we fight, but can we do it more productively? Can we start the work of understanding each other better and empathizing with each other? We are all equal here. We all serve a purpose. We can protect each other without demoralizing one another.

Can we work together to heal all of the hurt, anger, shame, criticism, betrayal, abandonment, rejection, negligence, and abuse we’ve been through together. Can we try to thrive now and not just survive? Be okay with each other as we are? Not argue so destructively and angle to continue the cycle of abuse we experienced at the hands or words of others? Try to love each other even if we don’t always like each other? (And understand it is okay if we don’t always like each other as long as we respect one another?)

Can we have peace? Compassion? Forgive each other? This body we share is exhausted. It is so worn down from this war we’ve been waging throughout our life together. My nerves are raw. My bones ache. My spirit is ragged. Please, I beg, can’t we find a way to get along?

I hope this letter has brought some perspective to this division inside of us. I surrender, white flag and all, and await your response in the hopes you both will come to an agreement on the best way to move forward…together. I really do love you, I hope you know that, just as you are.

Love,

Me

Showing Up

There Is Only “Now”

A few weeks ago, as we were eating breakfast, I went to get a second piece of the quiche I made right as I finished the first, and John said, “Maybe you should wait before you eat anymore. It takes at least 20 minutes for our brains to register that our stomachs are full.” I both felt enraged that he was spitting that diet mentality bullshit back at me and like I’d been stabbed in the heart. The look I gave him was enough to motivate him to get up and cut that second piece for me.

I didn’t know what to say. I knew I needed to say something to let him know that I cannot have him commenting on my eating habits like everyone else has my whole life. All I got out at the time was, “You sound just like my mom right now.”

While sitting there, barely acknowledging the piece of quiche I’d wanted just moments before while I ate it, I thought about my baby book. My mom gave it to me a couple of months ago. I remembered all of the notes about my weight she’d gotten from doctors and decided to hold onto as keepsakes. After breakfast, I grabbed that book and sat down on the couch opposite of John and started flipping through it.

I knew there were a lot of notes from my pediatrician about my weight in the book, but I was appalled to find out how far they went back.

The first one was dated September 28, 1984. My brother Adam wasn’t even a month old yet. I was about 2 weeks shy of my 2nd birthday. I first remembered being conscious of my body and weight around 5 years old, but it turns out the seeds were planted much earlier on. In the notes, my then pediatrician told my mom to carefully watch my weight. She, with her own lifelong history of disordered thinking around her body and weight, took that shit seriously and never stopped until just recently.

When I finished reading note after note about watching my weight, I looked at John and said, “I have never been able to have any peace with my body or with food. I never got to learn how to intuitively eat. I’ve never been allowed to trust my body. My weight and what I eat has been a topic of great concern and commentary my entire goddamn life.”

I have been thinking about this ever since, and unpacking the trauma behind it all. I have a lot of internalized fatphobia around it that I am continuously unpacking as well.

I have been obsessed with my weight and body my whole life because I thought I had to be, to seem like I was paying attention to it and working on it to make other people happy. I’ve been blogging about it since October 1, 2001. I’m beyond exhausted over it all and just want to stop.

I told John today that I don’t give a shit what people think of my body when I’m out in a swimsuit at the pool or beach, but that was a lie. Today, I almost didn’t go to the pool when I heard a couple of teenagers talking and playing in it. Then I turned away from them, like I turn away from John even though he knows what my body looks like from all angles, to take my pants off, took a deep breath before I turned around, walked to the edge, and jumped into the pool.

I worry about people thinking I’m pregnant because my belly sticks out a lot in comparison to my proportionate chest, hips, thighs, and shoulders.

I worry about John telling me, “Okay, this is about as fat as I can stand you. You need to lose weight.”

My brain continues to remind me that it doesn’t believe that I can take care of myself without the strictness of weighing myself and counting calories.

I talk about others never allowing me any peace or trust in my body, but I don’t have it for myself either. I instead run a continuous loop of all of these scenarios in my head to prepare myself for the comments of others that never come and if they did, do not define me.

I decided to take the above pics tonight to make a statement to myself to stop looking at myself as some project to fix and a body I can’t fully inhabit until it is societally acceptable. There is nothing wrong with it, nothing that deems me unlovable, but yet…

I have stopped dancing because I don’t like seeing my belly and thighs flopping all around when I shake my hips.

I have stopped wearing some of my favorite dresses because they still fit but more snugly around my belly.

I always wear leggings under my dresses because I don’t like how lumpy my legs are and because my thighs merge into one large mass when there is no fabric between them.

I am always making jokes about how fat I am in front of John.

Last week, I listened to @the.holistic.psychologist’s (Instagram) inner child meditation on YouTube. In it, you envision walking up to your childhood home (in my case, my grandmother June’s house since my parents moved every 2 years until they divorced), seeing the little child version of yourself, taking them by the hand, walking through the house and seeing every room, walking back outside, kneeling down to the child’s level, holding them, and telling them, “You are safe, you are loved, you are wanted, you are enough.”

I felt a wall of resistance at the beginning of the meditation. I thought, No, this is dumb. This is stupid. I can’t do this. I can’t meditate. I can’t get the breathing right. I don’t want to do this, but I persisted. Just at the point of holding my little child version’s hand and going into the house sent sobs wracking through my body. I could see every room in that house, and I heard June and Lib in the kitchen, but I didn’t see anyone. I could feel all of the pain, trauma, shame, and tension that I lived in at that time and for years to come. Coming back out and kneeling to about 5 or 6-year-old me, hugging her, and saying those words, more sobs came out instead of the words.

I never felt safe in that house. It was impossible to with all of the fighting and dysfunction and two uncles who made me feel very aware and very protective of my body while also very ashamed of it.

I never felt loved or wanted by parents. I only felt in the way. Hearing my mom say years later that I was too emotional, a burden, and that neither her nor my dad wanted me when they got divorced felt like a confirmation of that lack of love I felt from them and that it was my fault.

I never felt secure then and I don’t now. I know that’s why I go so all-or-nothing and fantasize that if I could just lose weight/get out of debt/find a husband/find a job I love/etc. as fast as possible, I can finally relax and enjoy my life. And life doesn’t work like that.

The peace I want isn’t just about being able to eat without diet advice or commentary. The trust isn’t about just preventing myself from binge and emotional eating so I don’t get any fatter.

This is all about grounding myself in who I am so that I don’t base my identity on how others see, think, or feel about me.

It is like those poles you see at the beach that tell you how high the storm surge of each category of hurricanes can get that actually survive the hurricane with the marks to show disaster assessors how high the waves got during the peak of the storm. I want to be firmly planted but able to bend and sway in the wind without snapping in two.

A friend of mine recently said my “color” (fire) seems to dim more and more every year, and she questioned if my marriage has played a role in that.

I don’t believe it is my marriage itself, but my expectations of myself in our marriage and my issues with codependency and people-pleasing. (This is not about the conflicts in my marriage that relate to both of us, and I’m not bearing all of the responsibilities and blame in them either.)

This is about me always putting myself and my desires on the back burner, something I have done my entire life. Spending more time wanting to be a different person, or at least have a different person’s body because I’ve been convinced my whole life that mine is wrong and flawed. About me still believing I am too much and being afraid of shining too brightly. About me being so intent on developing relationships with others that I don’t have the time or energy to develop the lifelong one with myself.

I’ve wanted to felt seen, known, and heard my whole life, yet I procrastinate and do everything I can to avoid allowing the person to see, know, and hear me to be me. I ache to be encouraged, celebrated, and affirmed, but withhold those things from being done by me. I thought the other night that I keep looking back at the me John found more attractive nearly eight years ago that I don’t stop to acknowledge how much I’ve been through in those eight years and that maybe, quite possibly, I’m a completely different, but stronger and better, person now. And that being in this relationship was the catalyst that made me face a lot of the trauma and associated emotions that only being with someone else, no matter who it was, could help me face and heal from.

Last Friday, I quit my second job in the past year and a half because it wasn’t right for me. I went against my gut yet again and wound up with a boss I had doubts about from the get-go. Again, settling and selling myself short. However, in this one, I began to find my voice and speak up for myself. I also decided to trust that my debt will get paid off, but that it is better that it is not at the expense of my mental or physical health. I am very fortunate as well that John is a supportive husband and has the means to cover the majority of our living expenses while I figure out what to do next.

First step is that it is time to get to know myself. To spend my free time alone and start not only hearing myself, but actually listening. To live fully in and enjoy my body as it currently is because no matter what, it will change numerous times throughout the remainder of my life. To write and maybe learn to meditate or at least figure out how to slow the swirling thoughts down in my head. To find things that scare me and do them.

To enter into a peace treaty with myself and decide okay, I am going to trust myself.

My goal this summer is to take life as it comes each day and take myself just as I am in those days because “now” is all I really have.

Beautiful You

Day 14 – Beautiful You – Banish “Have You Lost Weight?” from Your Vocabulary

Credit: @jennifer_rollin // Instagram

So excited to be finally getting back to Rosie Molinary’s wonderful book, Beautiful You. It feels like exactly what I need right now.

Today’s reading is about asking people if they’ve lost weight when you see them as your first response to how they look.

I remember when I started losing weight in 2005 and I was constantly asked if I’d lost weight. There was a sweet older woman who saw me on the elevator about once a week and each time, she asked me how much I’d lost and told me I was getting “prettier by the week” and to “keep up the hard work.”

I don’t believe it is intentional but whenever people have said to me, post-weight loss, “Wow, you look so great now,” my first thought is, How horrible did I look to you before?

And everyone seems to think you want to know what they thought about your “former” self. I was told by coworkers how I looked like the Unabomber in my black trench coat when I started walking at my heaviest and told things like, “I’m so glad you are doing this for yourself. You have such a pretty face.”

And after I lost a considerable amount of weight, I was damn near harassed by these same coworkers anytime I came into work in a new outfit or did something differently with my hair. “Look at you, girl. You look great. You must have you a man now or something.”

And when I regained the weight I lost, the compliments went away and all of my meals were critiqued and I was asked if I was going to go walk that day.

At home, it was criticism until I lost weight and being told I’d never keep it off and then silence once I lost the weight and kept it off for about 14 years. It was refuse to shop with me when I couldn’t wear clothes in “regular” sizes and then delight in shopping with me when I could.

Now that I’ve regained the weight, my dad says I need to “do something about it.” I went into a Lane Bryant outlet store last summer and though my mom had gone into every other clothing store with me in that outlet mall, she found an excuse not to go into this one with me.

When you ask someone if they have lost weight, unless they’ve told you they’re trying to lose weight, you don’t really know what is going on with them. Like, for example, my Aunt Debbie. About 5 years ago, she was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. She was a fat woman at the time, but as the disease progressed, she lost a significant amount of weight. It always made me cringe when I read comments under her photos on Facebook where people said things like, “You look so great now, Debbie!” even while she was dying from one of those worst, most painful cancers you can suffer from.

As a society, we are still so far from understanding that how someone looks does not require a comment and does not have to be attached to their size or weight or looks. We can find so many more things about people to compliment them on that do not have anything to do with these two things. When we sum up people by their size and weight, we are telling them that is all that matters about them even if that is not our intention. And since so many of us are still clawing our way out of the diet mentality, or are still drowning in it, it is hard for us to get out of this habit and so hard for us to separate our self-worth and self-validation from the observations of our own bodies by ourselves and others.

I like the suggestions in the photo I shared in this post. People are so much more than the size of their bodies so let’s find something else to compliment each other on. And like Rosie mentions below, if we think someone looks great, let’s say exactly that.

It is human nature to notice the differences in the sizes of our bodies and others’. Don’t shame yourself for that. However, keep that thought to yourself and if you feel compelled to compliment the person, find a way to do it that has nothing to do with that difference in size or shape. Let’s remind each other that we are way more than the bodies we carry our beautiful souls and personalities in.


Today: Make a commitment to banish “Have you lost weight?” from your vocabulary. Our weight shouldn’t be up for grabs in conversation-as either question or commentary. When you ask someone, out of the blue, “Have you lost weight?” you leave her wondering what you think of her and why. It’s one thing if your sister reveals to you that she wants to get healthier and hopes that you’ll help her on her journey. But it’s another thing entirely to ask such a loaded question of someone whose goals, insecurities, needs, and medical issues you know nothing about. If what you are thinking is really “You look great!” then just say that, with no qualifiers attached. By banishing weight loss comments from your vocabulary, you keep yourself from perpetuating the notion that someone’s weight and body size are fair game for discussion and up for both grabs and judgment.

Showing Up

Self-Care & Self-Sabotage

For the past month, I have been keeping a food/mood log to write down what I eat, my hunger levels before and after I eat, and my mood when I eat. For the first couple of weeks, this was really helpful. I was more in tune with my body, understood why I wanted certain foods at certain times, and felt like my body and I were finally beginning to work together.

But then something went haywire.

I don’t know if was my stomach being so upset and angry following up to my period or what, but I find myself ignoring my body again and going against it. And my moods are all over the place. I will start off the day in a really great, excited mood and then hit the bottom of the barrel by the end of the day, angry and sullen.

I refuse to allow myself to feel good for a long period of time or to celebrate any progress or to acknowledge and appreciate where I am.

I just fucking hate everything, including myself, when I get into these moods.

And I want to binge eat. I want to eat pizza and ice cream even if I am stuffed to the gills and my body aches afterwards like it does today. It’s like in the middle of it, my body is demanding for me to listen to it, “we’ve come so far, Amy!”, and I am like, “Fuck you, I don’t want to hear it.” And then I eat too much and I physically hurt and then I feel awful the rest of the night.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Why can’t I allow myself some self-validation, self-acknowledgment, and self-compassion? Why am I holding that impossible and ever-moving measurement stick to MYSELF? Why am I treating myself the way I was treated my whole life, a way that shattered me into millions of pieces over and over again? Why do I refuse to see the good in my life, to see where I am loved?

I really don’t know but I am so over it all today. My whole body aches from trying to smother all of this anger and sadness with food last night and from not being able to sleep well from the pain. And like I mentioned before, anytime my stomach aches, I start cramping around all of the endometriosis in my pelvis so that’s happening too.

I have had it beaten into my brain so long that my body is not okay, that I am not okay, that I can’t seem to think anything else. I just keep expecting to be treated and leered at and made fun of like I always was growing up even though that never happens anymore. Nothing I could’ve done then or could do now would give me the acceptance and validation from those people who constantly belittled me about my body that I still so desperately want. I mean, if I wasn’t fat, it’d be something else. Even now, it isn’t so much about being fat than me not thinking along the same lines as them politically and religiously.

I think everyone sees me and my body the way those people did and it casts a big, black shadow on all of my relationships, including the one with myself.

I still want to punish my body for things that were never supposed to be seen as wrong, like its size and shape and how it works or doesn’t work.

Maybe I still don’t believe I deserve healing or to have a healthy relationship with anyone, including myself.

I haven’t gone to the gym in about 2 or 3 weeks and every day, I’m like, okay, go today, and then I go home instead. I want to start running again, but just go home instead. I have a bike now and the weather is nice, so it’s like, go ride your bike, but then I make my stomach hurt and I sit inside instead.

I wish I could stop being like this. I don’t even want to post this blog post. I don’t know how to take care of myself when I feel like this – so agitated and angry. I feel like I can’t communicate with my body or anyone else. I am so stuck in my head that it exhausts me and I can’t travel any further through my body.

How do I get out of this whirlwind of self-loathing and self-pity and how do I stop sabotaging myself? How do I allow myself to believe I am worth all of the effort I make to have a better relationship with my body, food, friends, family, John? How do I focus on validating and acknowledging myself without worrying so much about getting the same from others? How do I focus on my needs and feeling like they’re worth to be spoken aloud?

I am in a lot of pain today, probably more so emotional than physical though the physical pain is there too.

What do I do on days like this?

How do I take care of myself when I want nothing to do with myself?

I am so tired of feeling this way.

 

Showing Up

Self-Care and the Diet Mentality

Diet mentality

Yesterday, I wrote about how difficult self care is especially when you struggle with lifelong codependency issues. I mentioned how another difficult aspect of learning self care is how intertwined it can get with the diet mentality.

This is also another great struggle of mine. Self care and the diet mentality are tangled worse in my head (and I would guess, many others’) than the Christmas lights we retrieve from the attic after we just ripped them off the tree, bundled them up, and threw them carelessly into the attic.

The media often tells us being thin is self care because fat equals high blood pressure, heart disease, stroke, diabetes, and a slew of other things that, in reality, can happen to anyone of any size, age, weight, and etc.

We are told to eat a “clean diet” consisting of things like organic produce, whole grains, cage free eggs, pasture fed beef, and more. We are also told to exercise daily, drink water, take vitamins, and wear sunscreen.

There is nothing wrong with eating those foods, exercising, or any of the other on their own. They are good things to do if you are physically and emotionally able and have the financial means to do so.

But weight loss is not self-care. Or it is not the main focus. It can’t be. If it is, there will always be this unnecessary pressure we put on ourselves to have a body we may not be meant to have, and that in itself is not self-care. That can lead to self-loathing, low self-esteem, low self-compassion, and can severely affect our relationships with ourselves and those closest to us.

I am a lifelong member of the “When I’m thin…” club. I’ve been trying to cancel that membership for years, but it is worse than those emails you never subscribed to that still come to your inbox regardless of how many times you request to unsubscribe and report as spam.

Because of this, it is so hard for me not to connect taking care of myself with weight loss and dieting. This is especially so right now as I am close to my highest weight ever and being horribly triggered by it because of memories of how I was treated when I weighed this much 14 years ago. My impatience with my body to drop this weight runs hot and fast through my veins. I feel myself getting desperate and wanting to throw myself back in the world of dieting even though at the same time, that small voice I mentioned a couple of entries back is asking me, Why is it really bothering you so much to be this size? Why can’t you sit with those feelings for a few minutes instead of trying so hard to ignore your body and treat it pretty much how you fear others will treat it – like it’s temporary, with disgust and harsh criticism?

I am back here for a reason. Yes, I’m sure part of it is getting older, being more sedentary, having several hormonal imbalance issues, emotional eating, and allowing myself the foods I have told myself were bad for so long and restricted myself from having. But I think there is more to it.  I believe we keep going through things until we really sit down and learn from them. The more we squirm and avoid what is really going on, the longer the issue will last.

And for me, it is that belief that started generations before me that I cannot be feminine, beautiful, sexy, desirable, and have the life I want in this body unless it is smaller. Where I am proud to have my mom’s soft round cheeks (facial cheeks here, haha) and my father’s strength and sturdy build, I am still struggling with the shame of also inheriting my dad’s big round belly and thick calves and my mom’s small breasts and flat butt even though I don’t feel ashamed of them for having them. Why am I ashamed? Because I’ve been told they’re wrong, gross, and ugly on my body, sometimes from the people I inherited them from.

Self-care, to me, has always been something that the thin version of me gets. She gets bubble baths in a tub she fits nicely in, nice soft clothes, beach trips, good sex, dance classes, and more. She deserves them. She worked hard for them. She is beautiful, lean, fit, strong, and sexy.

On the other side, I get calorie counting, zero sugar or bread, exercise that damn near kills me and that I dread, and disappointment with myself and my body every morning when I step on the scale and see it hasn’t budged, I’m still fat.

This doesn’t mean I’ve always treated myself like this. I eat ice cream and pizza. I have taken belly dance and Zumba classes and even performed in front of a crowd (though I’m scared to dance alone in front of John). I’ve even had some pretty good sex with a man who wants to leave the lights on and see and touch every part of me. But there’s still this part of me that feels wrong, like how do I get any of these things? It tells me sure, I guess you can have them but don’t enjoy them too much because the fat version of you doesn’t deserve any of these things. Or it tells me that John is picturing someone else or the thinner version of me and tells me I can’t speak up for myself because how dare I try to derive any pleasure from my fat body.

This sounds so awful, right? It feels awful too, and I have carried this feeling with me for most of my life. Being told not to enjoy the foods I love. Being told I have to exercise to make up for how I eat and there’s no enjoyment in it. Being belittled and having all of my insecurities being brought out in comments about how I walk and carry myself and told no “normal” man could ever love me unless I’m thin and that I could never truly be happy unless I am thin.

So how do I break up this connection in my mind? How do I stop connecting self-care to dieting and weight loss? How can I allow myself to be feeling loved and desired in my body as it is?

I think part of it is seeing everything I’ve recognized here as self-care. I am paying attention to my body and all of the pressure, resentment, disappointment, disgust, and fear I feel. I think it is actually noticing myself. Maybe not yet loving myself or even accepting my body as it is, but saying, “Hey, I see you.”

It is actually sitting with the discomfort I feel in my heavier body. Telling John what is going on when I start shutting down. Not dissociating during sex but actually allowing myself to feel him touching and connecting with me and the intimacy that is strengthened between us during that time. Moving my body when I want to. Catching myself when I start thinking about how much I’ve eaten that day and just acknowledging that I was hungry (or maybe I wasn’t, but something in me wanted whatever it was I ate).

It is definitely not being so critical of myself.

One of the things I think about a lot is how I don’t want to get to 80 years old and be like, Damn, I really spent my whole life worrying so much about my body and size that I didn’t really get to do or enjoy all of the things I wanted to do.

It is being present in my body.

It is going to an exercise class after a year-long sedentary period and seeing how tight my muscles are and how much my endurance has decreased and thinking, Okay, this is where I’m at right now. That’s okay. I can regain that flexibility and endurance. I can also, like I did, enjoy the class otherwise. I did my best last night and feel better for it.

I can’t pretend I will ever fully sever that well-worn neural pathway in my brain that equates self-care with thinness or as something I only deserve when dieting, but I can always acknowledge those thoughts and try to redirect them.

How do you define self-care? What are your favorite self-care things to do? How do you disconnect self care from the dieting mentality? 

Showing Up

Self-Care is Hard

Last week, I signed up LA Fitness and went through the fitness evaluation. I did not sign up for personal training, but I told the guy who evaluated me that I would be coming to the gym and working out on my own.

I haven’t really started doing that yet.

Why?

Because I realized that if I go to the gym every night during the week immediately after work, the only days I will see John are Saturday, Sunday, and Monday because he leaves for work around 6:30p and gets home around 8:30a, after I have left for work.

And I felt guilty. Or felt like if I go, I am abandoning some part of my marriage by choosing to do something for myself over seeing my husband every night before he goes to work.

This is not even close to the only time I go through these thought cycles.

My issues and struggles in our marriage that come up every time we have a fight are that I am resentful because I am putting him first and trying to meet his needs and expect him to do the same, and he doesn’t and really, honestly, can’t. Not because he’s a terrible husband, but because a lot of my frustrations I am putting on myself. I do resent him at times for my perception of him as unavailable and closed off, but I mostly resent myself because I see myself as doing all of the work, getting nothing in return, and I am putting myself and my needs on the altar to be sacrificed for the sake of our marriage.

It has always been way easier for me to put all of my focus on my relationships and trying to make other people feel wanted and needed than to focus on my relationship with myself and my needs and desires. It is ingrained in me and has been from the very beginning.

In college, I saw my first therapist who listened to me tell her about my family history and everything I’d been through – and was still currently going through – and she listened, took notes, then recommended a book for me by Melody Beattie called Codependent No More.

I think I need to read it again now, some 17 years later.

Catching up on Shameless last night, I heard Fiona and Lip talking about the questions for Al-Anon, and one of them was about putting the needs of others before yourself. I went to see if I could find the actual questions online and I found Codependents Anonymous instead.

On their website, there is a list of patterns often seen in codependents, and I can check off quite a bit of them. Here are the ones that I know I do:

 

  1. Denial Patterns:
    • minimize, alter, or deny how they truly feel
    • think they can take care of themselves without any help from others
    • mask pain in various ways such as anger, humor, or isolation
    • express negativity or aggression in indirect and passive ways
    • label others with their negative traits
  2. Low Self-Esteem Patterns:
    • have difficulty making decisions
    • judge what they think, say, or do harshly, as never good enough
    • are embarrassed to receive recognition, praise, or gifts
    • value others’ approval of their thinking, feelings, and behavior over their own
    • do not perceive themselves as lovable or worthwhile persons
    • seek recognition and praise to overcome feeling less than
    • have difficulty admitting a mistake
    • need to appear to be right in the eyes of others and may even lie to look good
    • are unable to identify or ask for what they need and want
    • look to others to provide their sense of safety
    • have difficulty getting started, meeting deadlines, and completing projects
    • have trouble setting healthy priorities and boundaries
  3. Compliance Patterns:
    • are extremely loyal, remaining in harmful situations too long
    • compromise their own values and integrity to avoid rejection or anger
    • put aside their own interests in order to do what others want
    • are hypervigilant regarding the feelings of others and take on those feelings
    • are afraid to express their beliefs, opinions, and feelings when they differ from those of others
    • accept sexual attention when they want love
    • give up their truth to gain the approval of others or to avoid change
  4. Control Patterns:
    • have to feel needed in order to have a relationship with others
    • demand that their needs be met by others
    • use blame and shame to exploit others emotionally
    • adopt an attitude of indifference, helplessness, authority, or rage to manipulate outcomes
    • pretend to agree with others to get what they want
  5. Avoidance Patterns:
    • act in ways that invite others to reject, shame, or express anger toward them
    • judge harshly what others think, say, or do
    • avoid emotional, physical, or sexual intimacy as a way to maintain distance
    • allow addictions to people, places, and things to distract them from achieving intimacy in relationships
    • use indirect or evasive communication to avoid conflict or confrontation
    • suppress their feelings or needs to avoid feeling vulnerable
    • pull people toward them, but when others get close, push them away
    • refuse to give up their self-will to avoid surrendering to a power greater than themselves
    • believe displays of emotion are a sign of weakness
    • withhold expressions of appreciation

 

A lot, huh? And unfortunately, John bears the brunt of a lot of this behavior. When we had our fight and I finally said a lot of the things I had felt unable to say, he asked, “Why don’t you talk to me like this to begin with?”

Because I don’t know how to. Because I’ve never felt allowed to. Because I feel like I will be judged or rejected for it. Because I still feel like a burden and too much and like I can’t ask for what I want or express how I feel. I just expect eye rolls, heavy sighs, and projections of shame, resentment, and anger like I always received growing up. “You’re the one with something wrong with you, not me.” That sort of thing.

I don’t speak up soon enough when my feelings are hurt or when there is something I want or need. I want sex but I don’t initiate so the only time we have sex is when John initiates which isn’t as often as I’d like to have sex. My reasoning for not initiating is that I fear rejection and I struggle so much to feel like I deserve sex and pleasure or like I am desirable because I still have such deeply rooted issues with my body shape, size, and weight.

But yet, I push all of that down and continue seeking validation, affirmation, and acceptance from John. I also don’t talk about what I really think or feel with my mom because if any of it goes against how she thinks or feels, a fight ensues and I feel completely powerless and feel like I have to earn my way back into her good graces so I continue to feel loved and accepted by her.

I am someone who desires being known wholly, but who is also afraid of this if it means by doing so, I create conflict with the people who want me to be who they want me to be. To believe in God the way they do. To have the same political opinions. To go against this creates a backlash, and I find myself scrambling and pretending to agree and pretending to believe something I don’t so I’m not once again rejected and abandoned.

During our fight back in January, I told John I too often try to meet his needs and ignore what I want. That year and a half that I lived on my own before I met John was the one brief time in my life where I had only myself to worry about. I could move freely. Go where I wanted. Do what I wanted. Sit in my pajamas all day, all weekend long and not worry about being seen as lazy or unattractive or boring. I ate what I wanted. Went to bed when I wanted. It was quiet, I was alone, and I really grew to love it.

Being married with two small, very needy dogs, life is a lot different. I love both of our dogs (and I loved Louie, who recently passed), but oh my god, they need so much. Sometimes it is sweet, and I like being on the couch with them on each side of me. Other times, it feels like way too much, and I want to go into another room, and I can’t stand the idea of anyone or anything touching me.

So much of this is because I spend so much energy trying to meet others’ needs and keep others happy that I am overwhelmed. I know no one has asked me to do this. John doesn’t want me to be his mother. He knows he has a great one. I have dug into my maternal instinct for so long, I don’t know how to dial it back.

I know I’ve seen myself as a martyr and victim to this, I still do sometimes. I know why I do it. I know it can be manipulative as well as controlling. I also see how I use it to avoid taking care of myself.

Self-care is hard. It has always felt selfish and like I’m not supposed to do it but allow someone else to do it, though that is way too much to put on another person. I’m not saying I shouldn’t allow someone else to be there for me, listen to me, or help me. It’s not black or white, and John shows up in so many ways to do those things. I lose sight of it sometimes because I still carry a dysfunctional view from my dysfunctional family of what it means to be in a relationship with someone and to love and be loved by them.

I told John last night how I felt torn about going to the gym after work and not seeing him. He said, well, you can get up and go early in the morning. I said, yeah, no, I value my sleep and don’t want to go to bed early. He said, well, just go after work then. Simple as that, I guess.

I don’t think he worries about our marriage the way I do, but maybe he also knows I’m worrying so much about it he doesn’t have to. He also doesn’t seek validation or approval from me, which I just realized it this week.

I love John and want to be married to him, of course, but I also want to get back some of what I stopped doing (of my own volition) when he and the dogs moved in. I am not the sole guardian of our marriage nor the sole gatekeeper. I don’t have to do all of the work. I need to understand that I am safe to speak up and I will be heard even if I don’t always get the response I want. I am still figuring this out.

I’m going to go to the gym after work. I need some exercise for my self-care. I also need to learn to differentiate self-care from the diet mentality, but that’s another post of its own that is likely coming. I need to put my oxygen mask on.

I put in a request for that Melody Beattie book so I can read it again.

I know I need to try therapy again as well as see a HAES/IE nutritionist to help me work through my dysfunctional history with food and my body.

I know I need to work on my relationship with myself and stop doing my own projecting on others, especially John.

It feels so uncomfortable and difficult, but I know it is necessary. This is just another level of all of the work and healing I’ve already done. I guess the closer to the center of the pain I get, the harder the layer is to peel off. This feels like the hardest one thus far, but I guess so did all of them as I progressed through them. Healing is the hardest thing we can do in life.