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, Showing Up

Day 16 – Beautiful You – Realize Everything is Just Information

Have you ever thought about how the way we describe ourselves, even to ourselves, affects how we feel about and perceive ourselves?

One way I’ve been thinking about this lately is when we use “I am…” versus “I feel…” and “I have…”

One way attaches a feeling, judgment, and even a diagnosis to encompass our identity which almost sets up a permanence in our self-perception and maybe how others perceive us. For example, saying, “I’m so dumb” when we make a mistake or “I’m a worrier” when we struggle with anxiety.

Another way is a description and observation. It could describe a chronic, permanent condition in your life, but if you say, for example, “I feel depressed” or “I have diabetes,” it feels more like we are describing just a small part of the wholeness of ourselves, like, “I have blue eyes and brown hair.” It solely describes us without trying to tell our whole story. In regards to chronic health issues or disabilities, it can put a responsibility on us that we don’t deserve and don’t need to bear beyond managing them with self-care.

This isn’t a “you aren’t fat, you have fat” type of thing or me trying to politicize how we describe ourselves. I AM tall. I AM fat. I AM white. I AM a cis-het woman. But that’s not my whole story. I have chronic physical and mental health issues, but they don’t identify me, just name how my body responds to my DNA and environment. I have privileges, but they don’t define me and they aren’t something to feel ashamed of. My identity is not wholly wrapped up in nature or nurture. You get what I’m saying, I hope.

It is about expanding, not diminishing, ourselves. Not narrowing ourselves down to a few words. Seeing what happens to us and how we perceive it is important. Attaching our identities to temporary experiences like making a mistake or permanent conditions like chronic mental or physical health or something traumatic that happened to us growing up limits us and can invoke unnecessary shame. Narrows our story.

It is totally okay to acknowledge the experiences we’ve had. To share what we feel and experience. I’m not trying to diminish that or silence anyone. Telling others what we feel, have, deal with, and are healing from is part of the human experience. All of our feelings and perceptions are valid and happen for a reason.

A few weeks ago, on my way home from a weekend at my mom’s, I decided to skip the 30 seconds it would take for my apartment complex’s entrance gate to open and go through the exit gate. Chewy, my dog, had to pee and had whined about it for 50 miles, it was 12:30a, and I was tired. All I could think about was “I hope no one tries to come out as I go in.” It was as I pulled over the tire strips that I realized what I’d done and why you don’t enter that exit gate.

“Oh, fuuuuck” came out of my mouth as air began gushing out of my front left tire. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten, the first time in the nearly two years we’ve lived here. How could I be so stupid? I chastised myself.

But I had been thinking about the topic Rosie wrote about in the prompt at the. Bottom of this post, so when I walked into the house with Chewy, I looked at John and said, “I did something really stupid and I need your help.”

Calling running over the spike “stupid” is still a little shame-inducing, but separating my actions and my identity in the moment helped me realize it was a temporary experience, a mistake and lesson learned. I was tired and ready to get Chewy and me out of the car and I made a mistake. Shit happens, ya know? And thankfully John is a kind and compassionate husband. He and I immediately started making jokes about what happened while he put the spare on, and the next day, he took my car to Walmart and bought me a new tire. Crisis averted, gratefulness and relief felt, lesson learned.

It is so easy to allow shame, trauma, health issues, and abuse to reduce who we are and cloud our judgment and perception of ourselves. We can’t control a whole lot in life (but I struggle with control issues; I’m not a “control freak”), but we can decide how to perceive ourselves and how to live our lives.

One exception (but not the only one) in this I am vs. I have/feel/do idea I’m writing about here is when we want to label ourselves by things we do but feel like we can’t because we haven’t won public accolade for it. If you write, you’re a writer even if you never get your words published. If you sing, you’re a singer even if you never sing outside of your shower. Dancer, if you dance. Hiker, if you hike. Runner, if you run. This is where participation awards totally count. If you want it and do it – or sometimes not do it because creativity is vulnerable even with us as our only audience – you are it.

This is all just a little newborn idea in my head so I’d love to hear what others think. I like the idea of holding thoughts at an arm’s length and observing them, not immediately absorbing them. Being curious about them. Curiosity is how we keep ourselves open to what life has to offer and helps us expand and grow. Shame and judgment are the opposites of curiosity, creativity, and vulnerability.

Like Brené Brown says, while paraphrasing Teddy Roosevelt’s grand speech, if you are brave with your life, if you live in the arena, you are going to get your ass kicked.

Don’t be an extra foot in your ribs and face in that arena. Use those feelings instead to pull yourself back up to persevere. There’s a lot of beautiful life to be lived in between those ass kickings.


Today: I want you to continue to shift your energy away from judgment to curiosity. When you feel inclined to judge yourself, shift your words. No longer condemn your choices or reality. Instead, I want you to gently ask, what information is this experience giving me? And prepare yourself to powerfully move forward with that information as a guide.

Beautiful You

Day 15 – Beautiful You – Consider What Self-Acceptance Can Add to Your Life

Last night, John and I went to the Atlanta Braves’ home opener against the Chicago Cubs, our first real date night in a long time. This game was special because of our ties to both cities.

We both grew up Atlanta Braves fans – me in Alabama, him in Georgia. Three years ago, we moved to Chicago for his then-job with American Airlines at O’Hare Airport. While in Chicago, I worked in concessions at Wrigley Field and got to watch the Cubs go to and win their first World Series in 108 years. Some say I broke the long-standing curse, haha. Because of this, I have such a special place in my heart for the Cubs, but I am also a Braves fan. You can see where it might get tricky.

Either way, John and I decided that he would come to my job and we would walk to SunTrust Park because it’s only about 4 miles away. Four miles is nothing for us. We’ve walked from Evanston, IL to Chicago, IL before, about a half-marathon in itself.

We’ve all heard our parents lament about having to walk “uphill, both ways, in the snow, barefooted” before, right?

Well, it wasn’t snowing last night and thank goodness I had on a comfortable pair of shoes, but damn.

Walking from Powers Ferry Road to Windy Ridge Parkway to SunTrust Park is literally uphill both ways.

My body was not prepared for this.

When we got to the biggest hill near the stadium, John bounced ahead of me like the little unlimited stamina bunny he always is when it comes to anything steep, and behind him, I gasped for air and forced myself to think of anything else to distract myself from the burning in my thigh and calf muscles. He turned around and asked if I was going to make it. All I could do was nod and grunt.

There were moments I felt embarrassed because the thoughts rolling through my head were, oh my god, I am so out of shape / I have got to lose weight / I am holding John back / this must be so embarrassing for him.

But then I had this flashback of myself when I was this size before, trying to walk a half mile down a mostly flat street and having to stop because my legs and chest hurt too horribly to go any further and here I was, pushing myself up one huge hill after another. I only stopped when I had to, like with red lights. I made it up to that goddamn stadium without stopping to catch my breath.

I am really fucking strong.

That was the voice that emerged from them all. I mean, think about it. John only carried 150 pounds up those hills, I carried around 265 pounds. A whole 115 pounds more. How strong do my legs, lungs, and heart have to be to accomplish such a feat? If John wasn’t impressed, I sure as hell was when I thought about it once we arrived at the stadium.

I gasped for breath just as much fifty pounds lighter too, but this time I had more to carry.

And then we did it again on the way back from the stadium and even he was groaning and complaining of his legs and feet hurting.

I walked over 10 miles yesterday, mostly up some extremely steep hills.

It was so uncomfortable, but it was yet more proof that my body can do and does incredible things, and this is so much of what I am trying to focus on when my anxiety over my body size and shape tries to creep in.


Today: In your “Beautiful You” journal, consider what self-acceptance would give you if you decided to embrace the practice in your life. How would your life be different? In what ways do you need to see the world as more abundant? How do you begin today?

I think if I embraced the way I saw myself last night, with more admiration or even just acknowledgement, so much of my anxiety over my body, food, and how others perceive me would melt away. I have struggled to trust myself – body and mind – my whole life and have so heavily depended on the guidance of and validation from others, people who can only talk to me via their own experiences and knowledge of themselves. I have sought diet and nutrition advice from doctors, relationship advice from my friends and books, financial advice from friends and books and the internet, and even when everything in me is screaming to run the other way or is so aggravated with myself for allowing others to try to run my life, I have felt like they know something that I don’t and their perspective is more valid than my own.

If I lived in my body with more acceptance and grace, my life and everything in it would feel more like it was mine, like it belonged to me, and with that authority over it, I would feel more freedom to live like I want to live.

I have lived with such a sense of scarcity around love, affection, acceptance, and personal freedom my whole life. They have all felt like they need to be earned with some sort of grand performance of perfection. And if someone else is getting it, there is less to go around for me. It has gotten me caught up in comparing myself with others and feeling like shit because I can’t seem to measure up.

If I could shift to a sense of abundance and realize all of those things are around me and in me, I feel like the sense of competition would simmer down because there would be nothing to compete or fight over. (Of course, I also understand the privileges I have too, in that scarcity is a real thing for far too many people in this world.)

Walking out of the stadium last night with John’s fingers interlaced with mine, it hit me how much love is right here for me in my own life. I’m not alone. I’m not invisible. Instead, I have been blinded to it because of the fear, shame, and insecurities I’ve allowed to create my perspective on everything.

I am strong because my body can do great things, but I am also strong because my body and who I am have overcome amazingly hard things to get me here. Life doesn’t have to be all or nothing. My acceptance of myself doesn’t either. There’s no perfect way to do anything, just the way I was meant to do it, mistakes and all.

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

Being the Mother I Never Had

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Credit: @decolonizingtherapy // Instagram

As I try to understand self-care and intuitive eating for myself, one thing keeps coming up: Treat yourself as you would treat your daughter. // Be your own parent. // Treat the child within you the way you weren’t treated growing up.

It kind of sounds like psychobabble, but it also makes a lot of sense.

I love my mom very much, but if you’ve been reading long, you know we did not have a very healthy relationship growing up and there are still some potential hot zones I have to tip-toe around even now.

We both grew up in the deep dysfunction of my grandmother June, great-grandparents Lib and Brophy, and uncles Robert and Charles. Any vulnerabilities we allowed ourselves to show were used against us and especially used to shame us. Our bodies and how/what we ate were constantly policed. Brophy, Robert, and Charles all said inappropriate things about our bodies, touched us inappropriately, and made us feel gross and ashamed of our bodies. She was chubby until high school when she lost a lot of weight and her weight went up and down over the next few decades, and there has never really been a point where she has felt great in her body. And being around men who always talk shit about our bodies with their also not-perfect bodies doesn’t help.

Feelings, except anger, were wrong. Having needs meant we were weak. Crying was not allowed.

She learned how to shut off her emotions and needs, and I never did, and out of that experience, she found herself treating me the way she was treated because she saw her pain and shame for herself in me. Because of this, I have felt like such a disappointment and eyesore to my mom my whole life, and a lot of my own pain has come from trying to be a daughter she loves and isn’t ashamed of.

The weight I have gained has been even harder for me because it takes me back to the pain in how she treated me when I was this heavy before. She would feign stomach aches whenever I asked her to go shopping at Lane Bryant with me, and she would leave me to try on clothes alone and then return just as I was ready to buy the clothes I liked. She joined my brothers in calling me a whale and made fun of how I walk and how I carried myself. She said I smelled bad, would never be happy in my body as it was, and told me no “normal” man would love me.

I’ve been through several rounds of therapy over the past 20 years and in each of them, I’ve been told to accept that I will never have the mother-daughter relationship with my mom that I have always wanted and that my mom is a hurt person who hurt me out of that hurt.

In all of this, no one has really ever asked one question: What do/did you want/need out of a mother?

And that is what I am trying to figure out now because I have spent too much of my life hyper-focused on what I never had and what I will never have. I have sold myself short because of the worthlessness I’ve felt, because I could never measure up.

What do I wish I’d received from my mother growing up?

More positive attention, encouragement, and affection. Being told it was okay that I was sad or angry. Feeling like she was on my side. Not feeling like I was already sentenced as guilty before I even opened my mouth. Feeling safe to explore my thoughts and beliefs. Being supported in all I wanted to do. Feeling loved in my body no matter what it looked like. Being encouraged to intuitively eat and move my body in ways I enjoyed.

I know my mom didn’t know or have the capacity to do those things. Neither did my dad. And even as much as June doted on me and encouraged me in the things I enjoyed, like reading and my teenage obsession with the Backstreet Boys, she was still very shut off emotionally and didn’t have the best relationship with her body and food either. I don’t blame my mom or think she is a horrible person because she couldn’t do what she didn’t know or have for herself.

I also can’t just give her this grace and forgiveness and not give it to myself too. I can’t shame myself for needing what she wasn’t able to give me. I can’t keep holding on to the pain and shame I felt growing up and still feel now either.

Yesterday, when I was so upset, I cried in the shower and just asked God to let me let go. Allow me to have a voice of my own and to trust it. To hear it and respect it. To validate it. I am trying to listen to all of those critical thoughts and picture myself as a child or my own daughter telling me she feels this way. It feels so weird and awkward.

So I am starting small.

I wish in all of those times I cried to my mom about how ugly, stupid, and gross I felt in my body and as a person, she’d said, “Amy, I hear you and I am sorry you feel this way.” I wish she had hugged me and told me she loved me, asked me why I felt like that, and helped me understand that how other people talk to or about me is about them and not me.

I can do this for myself.

I wish my hunger had been honored and that I’d been given unconditional permission to eat and trusted that I could do this. I wish I hadn’t been made fun of for the shape of my body and instead encouraged to move it in ways that I enjoyed instead of dismissed because I was “uncoordinated.”

I can do this for myself.

I wish I had felt allowed to make mistakes and learn from them, to speak out and question things and not be shut down. To try new things and not have to be perfect at everything. I wish as her child, I would’ve been a higher priority to her.

I can do these for myself too.

I wish I could’ve been her child the whole time and not at some points, her mother, and most of the time, more like her sister.

There are two parts in all of this: forgiving my mom for not being the mother I needed growing up and giving myself the love and care I needed and also realizing my needs matter so much and are so valid and I am worth speaking up for them.

I have done so much work in the first part even if it doesn’t always sound like it, but I still struggle to do the work in the second half.

I can do it too and also realize that just as my mom couldn’t be the perfect mother to me, I cannot be the perfect mother to myself either.

I found this graphic on instagram yesterday and think it will be very helpful:

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For those of you reading this who have struggled in your relationships with your parents or who never had a relationship with your parents, what has helped you heal and give yourself the love and care you need? 

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 & Intuitive Eating

Intuitive Eating
Source: @lindatuckercoaching // Instagram

Well, I didn’t go into writing about my need for better self-care with the intention of starting a series, but here we are.

And today, I am writing about my history (albeit a dysfunctional one) with intuitive eating.

“Intuitive Eating” has become quite a buzzword in the health community and on social media in the past several years as fat and body positivity circles have increased the awareness that diets don’t work and eating disorders are being seen in girls as young as 7 or 8 years old. It was a term first coined by Evelyn Tribole and Elyse Resch back in the 1990s when they wrote the first edition of the book with the same title (note: not an affiliate link). 

Intuitive eating involves trusting our bodies to tell us when we are hungry, how and when to eat, and when we are satisfied. Though the term “intuitive eating” has been hijacked and branded into another restrictive diet on social media, true intuitive eating has absolutely nothing to do with weight loss and everything to do with listening to and trusting our bodies.

The sad and hard truth of body trust is that many of us have been told from a very young age that we cannot trust our bodies, that we need someone else (i.e., parent, partner, doctor, etc.) to tell us what our bodies need. I think this is especially true for cis-women and anyone who has or has had a uterus, ovaries, and a vagina, as we see in the constant political battles over reproductive rights. Our society has told us from the very beginning that our bodies, sexuality, thoughts, behavior, and decisions cannot be trusted and need to be kept under lock and key, the key to that lock belonging to anyone else but us.

The constant monitoring of the female (whether cis or otherwise) form is a means of control in a patriarchal society and financial gain for the beauty and “wellness” industries.

I can remember being as young as 5 or 6 years old and being told I could not have dessert because I was getting fat even when I was maybe 10 pounds overweight as determined by my pediatrician. All I wanted was an ice cream cone or my Easter basket candy or a Little Debbie Oatmeal Creme Pie. I watched over the years as my brothers were allowed to eat pretty much whatever they wanted, even when they were chubby, while my meals and body were constantly monitored and scrutinized, and where they were praised for being broad-shouldered and tall, I was made fun of and shamed.

Thus began my dysfunctional relationship with food and my body.

I know as deeply as my mom’s actions and words towards me hurt me, they were coming from her own pain, shame, and the same battles she faced in the same household – my maternal grandmother and great-grandparents and uncles – and her desperate desire to prevent me from experiencing what she experienced. But dysfunction breeds dysfunction if you just repeat the words and actions done to you.

I first learned about intuitive eating in the 1990s and even read the first edition of Evelyn and Elyse’s book back then. I mean, when you’ve been dieting since age 6 and you’re a voracious reader always looking for some way to improve yourself, you come across these things. Back then, it was still heavily steeped in diet talk because they were just learning and developing what intuitive eating meant and no one in healthcare or the media was ready to give any attention to anything that might lead to fewer buyers of all of the diet and “fitness” products.

I stumbled upon it again about 3 or 4 years ago when I first began following people like Jess Baker, Christy Harrison, Kelsey Miller, and other anti-diet bloggers, dietitians, and podcast hosts. At this point, I had kept off 50-60 pounds for about 10-12 years, but still felt like I was on shaky ground. I still tracked my food and exercise in MyFitnessPal nearly daily and was still absolutely terrified that if I ever stopped, I would regain all of the weight I’d lost and then some.

And then my fear came true.

I have felt like such a failure over the past 2 years now. And I am so exhausted from fighting with my body daily and trying to work through the noise in my head that tells me I am killing myself, I’ll get diabetes before long, probably die of a massive heart attack like my maternal grandmother, great-great grandmother, and great-great grandfather did, that John is probably disgusted by me, I’ll never be able to wear cute clothes again, how did I let this happen, all of the hard work I did is gone, etc.

I probably worry about dying every single day here lately, and I know so much of it is because it is so ingrained in me that being “obese” (or even “morbidly obese” by the bullshit BMI standards) means I will get diabetes, have a heart attack, and die by age 40 if not sooner.

I keep making half-assed attempts to log my food in MyFitnessPal again and weigh myself daily and all, but then I just stop because I get so angry at myself for knowing better and still buying into the diet mentality bullshit.

I am so tired of this.

I am tired of not trusting my body and my hunger and fullness levels. Tired of ignoring all of the ways my body talks to me like with my exhaustion and craving for sweets and when I turn to food when what I really need is to be heard and maybe hugged. Tired of feeling afraid to let go completely of my desperate desire to lose weight. Tired of still seeking a body that I am very likely never meant to have because my body is so set in how it wants to work and what it wants to weigh. I am tired of the shame in feeling like I’ve “ruined” or even “destroyed” my body when it actually works pretty fucking well every single day.

Intuitive eating feels like such a foreign concept for me because I don’t think I was ever allowed to eat intuitively, not even as a young child. I was forced to clean my plate, even threatened with a spanking if I didn’t (though finishing my plate has hardly ever been a problem for me).

I was told I could not have the sweets I wanted, so I learned how to sneak them. I got really good at muffling the sound of the cellophane housing an oatmeal creme pie by pressing it against my leg as I shuffled into the bathroom to damn near swallow it whole.

I overate as a big “fuck you” to my parents, grandmother, great-grandparents, and uncles who always had some critical comment about how and what I ate.

When I went to college, it turned into a food free-for-all because no one was there to tell me no. Too bad the shame didn’t stay back in Montgomery too when I moved to Mobile because this food freedom turned into a vicious binge then shame and self-loathing cycle until I was finally as fat as my family had been calling me my entire life.

I still moralize food and congratulate myself on the days I eat “well,” meaning within a certain calorie range or something along those lines. When this happens, I sabotage myself out of anger towards myself for still patting myself on the back for following the dieting mentality that has plagued me my whole life.

But like many of my dysfunctional habits – like being codependent and controlling – binge eating served a purpose in my teens and college years. I didn’t yet know how to process all of the trauma I was experiencing at the time and didn’t yet know that my being an empath and highly sensitive was a good, healthy thing, so I used food as a coping technique.

And now, at 36, I am in some ways thankful for that food but also really fucking confused with how to implement intuitive eating for myself.

Sometimes I have moments of clarity, like realizing I really like to eat egg sandwiches for dinner even when I have the makings for a salad or some kind of meat and veggies dinner. Sometimes self-care is making and eating an egg sandwich because I am too tired to stand at the stove and cook anything that is going to take any longer and I just need something easy and somewhat healthy to feed my body with. Or I understand now that with my thyroid being out of whack again over the past year and the exhaustion it, PCOS, and endometriosis bring, I will crave sugar for some kind of burst of energy. And on the backside of that, being insulin resistant means my body will struggle to process that sugar I am consuming for energy and my hunger levels will go haywire.

But maybe that’s how it works. My brain thinks it’s all just supposed to click into place like the clarity and resolve that always comes in the first few days or weeks of a new diet.

I don’t want to approach intuitive eating with the diet mentality. I want to approach it with my desire to have a healthy relationship with my body. Just as I am still learning to trust John in our marriage because of my fears of repeating the dysfunction I was raised in, I know trusting my body will take time. I’m just not the most patient person, haha.

In my desire to practice better self-care, I have deleted the MyFitnessPal and Happy Scale apps off of my devices. I can’t say I will stop weighing myself completely, but I am weaning myself off of the scale. I have unfollowed all of the keto and weight loss Instagram accounts I’d been following in the hopes of having an “amazing” before and after transformation picture where I’m suddenly lean and talking about how I can finally be me and have the life I’ve held myself back from for so long. (EYE ROLL emoji here.) Instead, I am following intuitive eating, body positive, and health at every size accounts.

Yesterday, I had this thought that I need to feed myself how I wish I’d been fed as a child. Without the rules, shaming, and criticism. Some of my weight gain has been because I decided to stop restricting myself from eating ice cream and found myself eating it for dinner 2 or 3 nights a week. Now, I have it maybe once or twice a month because I’m finally starting to trust that it is never off-limits. I know if I had a little girl, I would want to treat her how I didn’t get treated, so maybe I need to treat myself like that little girl? It sounds very psychobabble, but maybe the key to being kinder to myself and more accepting and trusting of my body is to treat myself like I would treat my daughter.

This post isn’t meant to solve anything but to share that I understand how important feeding my body what it needs regardless of its nutritional or caloric value but also share why that is still so hard for me right now.

Self-care is not a familiar practice for me because I was raised to believe that I’m supposed to put others first, so it would make sense that this also means acknowledging, listening to, respecting, and trusting my own body would be difficult.

This post will also not be the last time I talk about my journey with intuitive eating, and I definitely won’t ever have it all “figured out.”

I started this blog to work through all of the stories I’ve told myself my entire life in order to either end the stories or change the plot. My story about my body is a lifelong one but it can be a better one. My brothers and I talk about how we learned what not to do in all of the dysfunction we grew up in. I have applied that in my marriage and finances and my constant striving to know myself better and help myself heal and become stronger and healthier.

I want to do this with my relationship with my body too. It feels like the final frontier which I guess it is because it is the relationship that will be with me until I take my final breath.

What do intuitive eating mean to you? Have you ever had a troubled relationship with food and your body? How do you handle the constant barrage of messages on how you should eat, exercise, look, and weight?