Oprah's on/Oprah's wrong

For the past few days I have been sitting on my couch, watching Oprah's 20 year anniversary DVD box set thingy that I gave to Julie for Christmas years ago and borrowed back from Julie years ago and finally started to watch. I started to watch because I have been studying to be me and something that I read in Cesar Millan's dog book made me think, yes, I would like to observe this woman and how she connects with people because I want to connect with people. So this is pure study and not at all entertainment. ;-)

Okay, well, that's how it started and it is still that but it has been very entertaining and enlightening, too. The section about her weight struggles was on earlier and she said something that made me really stop and think. Oprah said that you won't lose weight until you learn to love yourself. And I don't agree. I love myself. I have taken strides to ensure that I love myself. I have worked hard to become myself, to become a person that I do love, to become who I want to be. And I truly believe that deep, deep, deep down, in my very soul, I love myself. Also, I would like to point out that these dvd's were recorded in 2005 and Oprah has since admitted to her continuing struggle with food. Does Oprah not love herself?

And, as I was standing in my kitchen, grating up the cheese to put on my nachos for my mid-afternoon snack - more for something to do than anything - it hit me. I love food. I hate food and the hatred that I feel for food has spurred me into stopping the love affair time and time again but I keep coming back. It's like an abusive relationship. It hurts me and it sickens me and it beats me down, food takes away my self esteem and food is my punishment and makes me feel like I am less than I should be. And I hate food so I leave. But, inevitably, I go back.

We have this honeymoon period. Food promises that it will never wrong me again, food loves me, food is wonderful. Food romances me and food gives me complete control over our relationship. Until the moment that I realize that I got sucked in again. Food has again taken away my self worth, food has made me into something that I don't want to be, food has stolen my dignity. And more I fight it, the more it wins. The more I struggle and make threats and run away, the more it controls me. The only way that I can beat food is to take away it's power. The only way that I can win is to be me. Fat or not fat, I need to live my life.

Because something else occurred to me right after - something that was by no means a secret but needed to be brought up again - I am not fulfilled. I am not happy because I am not living the life that I want to live. I sit here in my comfort zone and I let life happen all around me. That's not enough for me anymore. I want to be me. I want to be the person that I know I can be. I always comment on the struggle of being different and going my own way and taking the long way around but I am still only half doing it. Well, here's my opportunity. Here is my chance to make a change.

It's not about money - I do not care about money. I do not care about stuff. I do not care what kind of car I drive, where I live, how much I spent on my furniture. No matter where I am or what I do, I will always take pride in what I have, my home will always reflect my personality, I will be the person that I am inside. So, how to become fulfilled? That is the question.

I want to help people. I want to walk my talk. I want to do... something. I guess it's time to start figuring out what that is.

Wish me luck.

Run, Forest... Run!

Oh fuck. You have no idea what it's like to be me. Of course, I also have no idea what it's like to be you but we are talking about me here? Hello? Me? Pay attention!

Ya. Stoned.

I hate it when I don't like being me. I like being me. I really like being me. About 95% of the time I like being me... but that fucking other 5% fucks it up for everyone else. God, I have to work on her, don't I? The jealous girl? That part of me that hates every good looking woman on the face of the planet. How odd... I never read it as jealously before but mother fucker, all I wanted to do was leave and cry and go to McDonald's. Oops... let's go back a minute or two.

I love this program that I am doing. I love the people... I have not been in a setting like this in so long. Like, since Newfoundland, almost. Like, high school. All the cool kids go to lunch everyday... but I really make an effort to let everyone know that they're invited. My version of high school = no cliques. This is where I am me at my finest... almost. And every mistake is a step closer to getting it right. I'm struggling, I really am. This is hard. I am already past where I would normally be. Of course, I go every day so its hard to lose the edge. Like swimming lessons. And step class. And dancing lessons. And probably a billion other things that I have started and stopped. School. Guitar.

It's hard. I am learning a lot but that's not what's hard. It's dealing with all of these different people every day. I have no choice but to be me. There's no one to impress, there's no one to embarrass, no one to say "oh, aren't you smart with your big words?" There's no one to let down so I am free to be me. Sure the people in my course might think badly of me but no one that I care about. And, honestly, I don't think anyone does think badly of me. If they do and they are talking about me behind my back, I am absolutely okay with that. Go crazy! Say whatever you want. I have no idea, I am oblivious and I intend to keep it that way. No, my head isn't in the sand, I recognize the obvious signs that people aren't really interested in talking to me. That's okay. No one likes everyone and no everyone likes one. I can not help it if someone is being nice to my face while laughing behind my back or whatever and if they have enough of a problem, I will be able to tell. But if someone is writing shit about me on the blackboard during recess, isn't that more of a reflection on him? Really? That shit does not bother me. (Anymore, okay? I said it doesn't bother me anymore! lol)

It's when four of us go out for a beer. And it's me and Susan and Dave and Russell. And I am so jealous! So jealous! It's not that I want to be like her or look like her. Susan is beautiful and I really like her. Actually, if there was any woman that I would want to put the moves on, it's her. (That's so funny... I kill me, man! Who says shit like that? But it's how I feel.) So, Mom was wrong when she said that I always wanted to be little like my childhood/teenage best friend, Sue. That was her baggage.

What I wanted was for people to look at me and treat me like they did Sue. Like they look at and treat Susan. But, and here's the catch, for people to look and treat me that way, I would have to act that way. I would have to be soft and delicate and needing to be taken care of. I would have to gag and giggle and flip my hair and tell everyone about how my boyfriend fucked around on me. So, no.

Unfortunately, that doesn't help.

I'm just so different. I'm so different. Not like a girl at all. Stacey might have taught me to carry a purse but I'm not like the other girls.

And that does help! I'm not like the other girls and I don't want to be like the other girls. I can't be like the other girls. I am me and I have to be or I will never be happy. Oh, yeah, my days of faking it are over. Long over. And the moody shit is under control, too. All that's left is this spare tire. Seriously. I don't think that people dislike me because I'm fat, I don't think that no man will ever love me because I'm fat. I think - I know - that I will never get the man that I want while I am fat.

So I need to be less fat. (Have I heard this somewhere before??)

But, fat or not fat, I am not going to be jealous of the way men look at Susan. I don't want to act like Susan (sorry, Susan - if you ever read this - I love you like crazy... this is just old shit... it's nice to set it free but I didn't even know it was there!). And because I don't want to act like Susan, men will not look at me like they do Susan. We both have our strengths. Maybe she is a bit jealous of me. Maybe her need to command the room is because that's what I do. (my aren't we full of ourselves, hmmm?) My joking around and smartass remarking is not helping them, not pleasing them. And I say "them" now because I just realized that the smartassing is what I do to Winn (our facilitator) and I take a bit of her wind. It's not that I plan to be anyone that I'm not or that I will pull back and shrink so that I won't take their spotlight. OMG! MAYBE I TOOK MY MOTHER'S WIND! (fuck, it seriously kills me how much I sound like I'm fuckin' full of my self! I'm really not... I don't think!)

I'm not even consciously trying to get attention. I was thinking of that earlier. I am not looking for rewards. I'm not looking for hugs and looks of pity. Not for me. I think I just want to be awesome at everything and in every way. But guess what? No one is awesome in everything and no everything awesome is in one. I kind of hog the spotlight sometimes. And, like my mother said when trying to make me understand why she kinda forgot about me when I was a kid, you don't pay attention to the one who is doing good because you have to put so much effort into the one who is having problems. When it comes to attention, you almost get punished for behaving or doing well and rewarded for getting into trouble. Perhaps my commanding attention comes from my understanding that it's the only way I can get it and be true to myself.

Failure & Success

I went to give blood today and I was turned away. My temperature was too high (max: 37.5/me:37.9) and my blood pressure was too high (118/42). The nurse had me sit to the side for 10 minutes because she said my gum chewing probably raised my temperature and I always feel my pulse quicken as soon as they strap that black blood pressure thing around my arm. 10 minutes later - I did even worse.

So, what does that say? Why am I still here? Why did I work for almost three weeks to lose four pounds only to gain two back yesterday because I ate too much. Spite. Fuckin' spite.

The story doesn't change. Change it already! God, I am so fucking sick of this. I need a job. I need to be around people. I need structure. I need a purpose.

And yet...

it's the same story.

Beverly, yesterday's tomorrow is TODAY!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There is something else going on, too, and I have been back and forth about whether or not I want to comment on it. It's totally embarrassing but has been a part of my life forever. My shame. You don't even know me and I still can't say it. Because what if? What if someone that does know me finds this? I suck. Okay. Fuck. Just say it. Christ. I don't know if I...

Okay. I quit sucking my thumb the other day. Can you believe that? A grown woman who sucks her thumb. This is something that I have done for 38 years (and I'm only 37.5!)... since I had a thumb.

I was probably about five when I started hiding it - if not before. I remember thinking that I didn't have to quit until I was seven because that's when Cathy quit. But seven came and went. I tried to stop over the years but it was kind of like food, I guess... it was a crutch. It was a comfort. It was a habit. Eventually I just stopped trying to stop. I hid it, it was a secret (remember I told Stacey that I needed the right bed in Mexico? Because I didn't want her to wake before me and see it... I was turned the other way).

One thing that always made me laugh - but a sarcastic sad laugh instead of a laugh of pleasure - I lived with Karl for 5 YEARS and he didn't know. Fabian stayed over a million times and he didn't know. I lived with Ian for a year and he didn't know. How is that possible? No one knows except Debra and Julie; Mom and Cathy used to know but it hasn't been the subject of much conversation over the past 20 years or so.

Anyway, I stopped because I just felt it was time. And I really don't want to do it anymore - although I wonder if I am still doing it in my sleep. I will test it eventually. But I miss it. It's unbelievable how much. I crave it. I physically feel the loss.

And I'm a big fucking baby who always has an excuse. And nothing ever changes. Except now I'm a big fucking baby who has one less big fucking baby habit.

This just in...

Well, here's an interesting development. Actually, I don't know if I should call it a development - what's the opposite of that? Perhaps, here's an interesting realization. Hmmm, realization doesn't work, either. I know, I know... here's something that I have probably said a million times before. How frustrating.

I am always trying to figure out if I am too hard on myself or not hard enough. That sounds kind of weird but, as someone who has tried so hard to change the things that are wrong in my world, I seem to be missing something. Well, here's the answer: I'm not hard enough. Yes, it may be true that I used to be terribly hard on myself. I was constantly putting myself down and projecting those feelings on to everyone that I know and thinking that they were putting me down, too. I was so constantly kicking and berating and kicking and screaming. But when did I actually follow through with something? When did I really do my best? When did I put in the effort that was required to succeed in my work, in my weight loss attempts, in my relationships? Realistically? When???

Never.

But I finally realized and accepted that it's okay to not put in 100% all the time so I stopped hating myself for not doing so.


************

I stopped writing at that point because I couldn't find a way to get my point across - because I really wasn't sure what I was trying to say. I believe that if you let it go, the answer will usually come to you... just not always the answer that you expect.

Firstly, I have pms so I am crying at the drop of a hat. But good crying, mostly. Not the old depressive episode crying but empathy crying. It's driving me crazy because everything moves me but, realistically, it is a good cry. Also, I want everything right now - I am craving, craving, craving. I want to eat, I want to smoke, I want to get drunk, I want to stop the craving. But, when I look at it logically, it's really just how I am reading the signals that I am getting... which doesn't mean that I am reading them correctly. (Believe it or not, I'm not even stoned right now but I still can't seem to make a point!)

Okay, the point is - tomorrow never comes. The point is - I don't hold myself accountable. The point is - I can always find an excuse.

Am I looking for a job? Seriously? Or am I sitting here waiting for someone to give me one? Yes, I've sent out some resumes. And I really don't think that it was in any a half assed attempt for the ones that I want. I put time into my cover letters. I worked to improve my resume. I made an effort. But did I make enough of an effort? Did I do the things that I meant to do? Did I do the things that I should have done? Did I put in 100%? Did I put in 75%? How about 50%? Tomorrow I will try harder I say. But tomorrow I don't really feel like it so I will wait until tomorrow. But tomorrow I am busy and I will be busy tomorrow, too, so how about the day after tomorrow? Yes, that will work much better. Well, the day after I don't really feel like it again - I've been so busy! - I'll just do it tomorrow.

WHEN IS TOMORROW?

When do I say no fucking way - do it now! When do I say I will do it today?

The putting off theory does work in many situations. Last night it stopped me from having a Big Mac at midnight. I couldn't stop thinking about it, I wanted it. I tried to substitute, I tried to take my mind off it, I tried to talk myself out of it by remembering what I look like, by looking up the nutritional content (1110 calories!!!!!!) but nothing worked until I said, shut up and if you still want it tomorrow then just have one. And the craving went away. That was the magic trick. So tomorrow does work sometimes.

But when am I going to start exercising? Not just a bit here and there, really doing something about how I look. I want it bad enough. I have a healthy vision of who I am now. I have no excuse so I will get to it tomorrow. Oh, that's today? Well, maybe tomorrow then.

There's always a reason, always an excuse. But I don't want to be consumed by it. My all or nothing way of life was what got me here and I know that I can do better. I just don't know when.

I hereby declare today...

THINKING DAY!

Ian & Daisy just left. (pssst... we smoked a dooby! tee hee!) (oh, and, I LOVE THAT DOG!) Debra called while he was here and left a message that she wants to talk about Dad's big trip to Ireland next year. I didn't call her back. I was supposed to call Mom back last night but got so caught up in the cover letter I was writing that it was too late by the time I thought about it. I intended to call her tonight instead but I won't. I have also decided that I won't answer the phone if it rings tonight... I'm going incognito! But it's DEBRA! was my first thought. Good god, have I ever willingly in my whole life not taken a call from Debra? I highly doubt it. And, instead of feeling guilty, I decided that there is nothing wrong with a day off every now and then. It sounds pretty shittin' funny that I want a day off from doing nothing when I have spent so much time bawling my ass off because I was so lonely!! But this is how I feel and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. I know if there was some problem or emergency I would be there for whomever needed me but... I guess I need me tonight. Ian brought the party favours and graciously left two hours later.

Okay, if I'm totally honest, I don't want anyone to know that I smoked pot today. I don't know why - I just don't. For the same reason I never admit to that very last cigarette that I had in October, after I quit smoking in August. August 7th is still my quit date... the fact that I had one months later was not smoking as much as it was the final step in quiting. Perhaps that's what this is. Then again, that 'one last piece of chocolate' and the fact that Mondays apparently have never existed in my world until now tells me to tread cautiously. I'm not playing with this. I don't think it was some big addiction scenario but I promised myself that if something was interfering with my life and the things that I feel I need to be happy, it has to go. End of story. I'm not saying I will never forgive myself for a relapse. Quite the opposite, actually... I will not only forgive a rare relapse, I will accept it for what it is and not let the guilt at letting myself down YET AGAIN!

I make my choices and I live with them. That's the way I need to live. Everyone else has been telling me my whole life that what I do is wrong. I don't care anymore. I have to do what is right for me. Poor Ian. The reason he was here for so long was because he was so devastated when I told him that I am considering selling my condo. It was killing him. He went over it and over it and I could tell that he couldn't let it go but I was patient and I said that I realize it is not what you would do but I have to do what's right for me. This is what I need and it will make me happy. Just like quiting my job. I understand that it was killing people but I will make my decisions and I will make my mistakes and I will learn from them and I will continue on my path because I am happy. I am different now. This is who I always was but I can handle it now. I accept that I am different and, although it sometimes causes me great IMMENSE pain, it is who I am and it is how I need to live my life. And I am proud of it! This is a part of what people like about me... I was just never able to let them see it. I had to have a nervous breakdown before I would allow myself the time that I need to just be. I still need this time... but I also need to let myself need this time. Without guilt, without resentment, without pain. Just be.

The escalation of this is no different than any other time. The gazzillions of times that I have encountered the roller coaster way of life that I have going for me. This way I have of understanding that something just isn't wrong and, perhaps for the very first time, allowing it to happen naturally. I didn't need to eat, I didn't smoke drugs, I didn't get drunk, I didn't have sex with a stranger... I just accepted it and let it happen. Holy shit, dude... holy fucking shit.

I am living this, mutherfucker! Go me! Muthafeking high five bitch! I'm taking the day off of frekin celebrate!

Say it ain't so

Could that horoscope be true? I feel like I'm getting myself all worked up but, in doing so, am I just doing the old self-fulfilling prophecy crap again? Half of me is temped to start up the pot again because at least then I wouldn't be sitting around crying my ass off constantly but that was a convenient excuse, wasn't it? I was stoned so I wasn't doing the things that I should have been doing. But now I'm not stoned and I'm still not doing those things. Even worse, I'm not doing those things and I'm freaking out about it. I know I'm not giving this my all. Especially the eating/exercising lately. I certainly am beating myself up about it, though.

This is so hard. I know I will come out better on the other end. I know that I have to go through the bad stuff to get to the good stuff. I know that if I don't work for it I won't appreciate it as much. I sure could go for some easy right now, though.

And, you know, the hardest part is, again, being alone all the time. That's where I get all worked up, discouraged, down on myself. I know that being around other people will make a big difference. And I have tried, I've been in contact with a lot of people, I've put myself out there time and time again. My confidence is dwindling away these days and, if it's mainly because I am so lonely, what can I do about it? Right now. Today. Tomorrow. Next week.

Right now I can be active. I haven't exercised or really done anything that didn't involve having the couch strapped to my ass since Monday. I can hop on my stationary bike. I can practise playing the piano. I can pull out my DDR and jump up and down. Clean the kitchen. Clean the bathroom. Work on my resume. Apply for more jobs. Kiss ass on the ones that I really want.

Today I can go to that Langley Players audition, as scary as that idea is now that the time is here. I would love to do that again - be in a play like in high school. In high school I felt that I totally crapped out in the end and let my insecurities mess with my performance. Am I going to do that again? What if I go there and audition and they say no. Can I take more fucking rejection right now? But what if they say yes? But what if they say no. Where did that fearless, challenge confronting, confident, happy version of me go? Squashed like a bug. But who did the squashing?

Tomorrow I can get a dog. That's what I've been wanting so badly forever, isn't it? But I look outside at the rain and... fuck. I look outside and inside and I make excuses. Always excuses. It just kills me to make a commitment, doesn't it? I hate the idea of not everything being peachy keen so I don't do it at all and sit here and be miserable. Of course, at this point, I have to say that a dog just isn't a good idea. I don't have any money and I don't know where I am going to find some. There is a distinct possibility that I will be challenged to find a way to feed myself soon... how can I feed a dog, too? Yes, I do have to wait on that. Not because I'm making excuses but because this isn't the right time. I don't know where my life is going. It wouldn't be fair, to me or to the dog. Okay, I am comfortable putting that aside for right now.

So I still need to find a way to get some company. And soon. The play? Oh. Could I really do it? I honestly don't know, right now I honestly don't know.

Here's what's going on today

I love you. Did I mention that before? Man, the freedom that this blog has given me is like nothing I have ever experienced. Of course, I am different now... able to be more open and express myself but a lot of that is because I can pull out my keyboard at any given moment and work out whatever happens to be boggling my mind. So thank you. How silly, thanking an inanimate object but that's okay... I'm silly. *grin*

Okay, so there are three things that I want to talk about. Firstly, as this is of immediate importance, I hate food. I know I have always had a love/hate relationship with food but today it's mostly just hate. And not because I want what I can't have but because I don't want. I don't want to eat. I have no appetite. I had a bowl of cereal this morning because I had to stop the growling and that is the only morsel of food that has entered my body today. And I know that this is a big stumbling block in my weight-loss efforts. When this happened in the olden days, I would eat junk. I only ate junk because I had no interest in good food - if I could order it or run out and get it in five minutes or make it in ten, I would eat it. Otherwise, no thank you very much. But now these pictures are ingrained into my brain and I don't want the junk either so now I have nothing. I'm munching on an apple to try and use Ian's trick of making me eat something small so that I could get an appetite for something big... it usually works so we'll see. I need food for fuel because when I don't eat, I don't exercise and I my body will start freaking out and holding on to the fat tighter as it foresees starvation mode. Picking here and there isn't enough... and right now I would normally pick up the phone and call the local pizza joint but now that is no longer an option either. Fatty.

Judy from Big Sisters just left... we had our second meeting here - the "home visit". We had a good talk and the last hour or so was mostly her talking about her frustrations with recent problems in the organization and her impending retirement. (Basically her replacement isn't working out and she has not been able to effectively communicate the issues with the board of directors that make all of those decisions) I lost count of how many times she said that she had told me more than she should have, that it was inappropriate to discuss these things. And, yes, it is in general I guess but I have always drawn people out in this way and I assured her that the things I told her would go no further than my ears - perhaps I should have mentioned my blog! Anyway, I guess my point is that I like the fact that I draw people out in this way. I am glad that there is something about my personality that makes people trust and confide in me. It renews my faith in the path that I have been travelling.

And my third topic - surprise, surprise - is Rob. Somewhere during my conversation with Judy, I decided to email Rob and put it all out on the line. Not the crush, although I am sure that's what you are expecting. No, I want to tell him that I'm totally cool with things not going in that direction and I would still like to be friends and not feel like I am making him uncomfortable when I ask him to do things. A little, teeny thought that goes something like "should I??" pops up but the answer is yes! I won't be any further behind than I am right now and I like him... I like him as a person and that shouldn't be pushed aside just because I'm a girl and he's a boy! So, I'm gonna. I think. I will. Maybe...

Buns of flab

Well, those pictures are doing the job... I don't want to eat. At all. And I hate myself. That's the only way that I know to describe what I have been going through this past few days... pure hatred. Mixed with shame. And a couple of dashes of regret. What the fuck was I thinking? I fucking want some fucking chocolate. And lots of it. Mother fucker. What is going to become of me? It's not looking good at this point.

Fed up

OMG! I am so sick of this, I can't even tell you. I'm fucking bored and lonely and nobody wants to love me and nobody wants to give me a job and I'm an outsider everywhere just like I have always been for my whole fucking life. Why can't I just be like every body else? Why do I torture myself like I do? I want food. I want out. I don't know how much longer I can take this. I'm so full of shit. I'm nothing special. All of this blahg crap is a load of bullshit and I WANT OUT!

I will get it

I will. I will be wrong as many times as it takes for me to be right. I will lose this tire around my heart and I will show me. I just have to. I'm sitting here wondering what I've done wrong, should I ask Rob for feedback, ask Fabe what he thinks. And it occurred to me that maybe that could be why I can't find anyone. I keep asking other people's opinion on who they think I should be. How would you rather I act? Okay, I will change then. But that didn't help things work out - quite possibly the opposite because I would try to be something I'm not. And the next guy would come along and not want me because of how the first guy told me to be. And all I'm hearing is you're wrong. You can't do anything right. Forget them. Be yourself... eventually someone will see it, appreciate it, want it. What a fucking curse. Being too nice. Is it that people think I act too nice so I must be faking it?

Muther father, dude... how funny is it that I think that men don't want to be with me because I'm too good, too wonderful... they just can't handle it. Hahaha... holy shit, that is funny. Where the fuck did you come from, girlfriend! Go get me a chocolate bar! Sweet.

Yes, I will get rid of this gut. I don't like it. I don't want it. I have been so certain my whole life that the reason guys didn't like me was because I was too fat. Wouldn't it be hilarious if I lost all the weight and it turned out that, after all of this pain and frustration and mental exhaustion of looking under every single stone and uncovering every scar, wouldn't it be hilarious if the reason guys didn't like me was actually because I am too fat? That would be pretty ironic. It's a theory that I am fairly certain I am going to test. I figure it's one of those win-wins... I deserve the right guy and if he's looking for someone smaller - not skinny or thin... just fit and real - I will find him. And, even if I'm wrong, at least I will look good in a pair of jeans.

Fear and common sense

I'm afraid. I'm afraid that he won't like me. Also afraid that I won't like him but more that he won't like me. I'm afraid he will think I'm too fat. I'm afraid. And yet... waddaya gonna do, right?