Hindsight

I find myself wishing recently that I could withdraw or rewrite some of my Grandfather's eulogy.

In the eulogy I wrote, I talked about him being a man's man who loved his family deeply and who held the women in his life in the highest esteem.

And that's all very true, and I certainly felt that way at the time I wrote it.  The man was 150% all about his family.  Through and through - he provided for them, taught them, raised them, had fun with them.  Gave them things his parents weren't able to give them.  And he saved.  My God was he a saver.  But he also had problems that I was blind too - sort of.

1) when it came to loving everyone equally, I'm not so sure he did that.
2) when it came to mental health, I believe he often suffered with what we now understand to be mental illnesses of depression and at times anxiety, but he would have fought you to the death to be labelled as such.
3) he thought the best way to make you strive for more or better was to help you see the worst possible options as a means of driving you to be better than that.  Let me explain, because these are truly the reasons that I wish I could re-write it now.

I've spent many years trying to figure out "how I got to be the way I was."  There were lots of great things he taught me.  For example, he taught me to save at least 10% of my salary from day one.  I did, and it's saved me more than once in a crunch, and I have a real shot at retiring by the age of 55 and living pretty modestly and comfortably throughout retirement despite any of the set backs I've had.  He also taught me that the day I stop learning would be the day I died.  I am surrounded by people who I am often envious of, because they just go about their lives without seeking the meaning of everything, but I am plagued by this innate need to peel back layers, understand, learn from my mistakes and others, while others just simply move from one mistake to the next,  No worry, no dread.  Just meh - and on they go on their merry way.  I learn which is wonderful.  But it also means I've got anxiety at times that can be very debilitating.

But I also beat myself up in insane ways over my weight.  I brood over every piece of food - the good and the bad.  I've done diet after diet and exercise after exercise.  I've done weight loss surgery, plastic surgery, taken pills, and done everything short of actually take myself out of the equation entirely...and even that, well, I'd be lying if I didn't say I hadn't actually tried dismally at that once even.

And when I've thought back trying to pin point who in my family had actually reinforced that I was physically beautiful, or otherwise even Just fine the way I was, I could pinpoint exactly who said what and when.  Because clearly my self esteem or lack thereof had to have come from something I was hearing or seeing regularly enough to warrant it becoming a self fulfilling prophecy.  I can look at a photo of me as a teen, and while maybe I did mature early, I was smoking hot and slim and normal and nothing near what I envisioned myself to be back then.  I am certainly bigger than I ever imagined being possible now.  And the only voices that I remember hearing that countered those other voices were my mom's and a cousin's husband.  I can tell you exactly when each reinforced the good in me, because it was so infrequently heard, and so precipitated likely by a frenzied experience of hearing how horrifyingly fat and worthless I was, that they needed to be loud enough to be heard.

The voices who made me feel worthless, and horrifyingly fat and destined for a life of vomit inducing profiles, hiding from the world or putting myself on display at the circus?  My grandfather's.  My brother's.  In some ways my mother too who tried simultaneously to use similar tactics to my grandfather's and only countered the arguments when I would hit a breaking point, and who I believe tried desperately to overcome those feelings herself.

It makes me wish that the counter voices, the voices who reassured me of my worth and my beauty were louder, more frequent and more relevant than all the other voices.  It makes me wish I'd seen my mother stand up to my grandfather on my behalf, in front of me to stop him dead in his tracks.  It makes me wish our baby boomers didn't respect their elders to such a degree that they'd at least call them out on their bullshit.

And so when I find myself struggling with the decision about whether to reinforce my daughter's beauty or her brains, I try my damnedest to reinforce both at the same time.  At 5 she has already told me how un-pretty she feels.  And this is despite me trying desperately to model body positive behaviour for her even when it's not natural for me to do so.  And I wish I could find the right words, that would be the loudest of them all, that would tell her not to listen to other stupid and jealous people.  Words that would scream from the highest monuments, that other people's jealousy means absolutely nothing and that I've never seen anyone so beautiful as she is.

She stops the world, quiets a room, commands attention in every single way.  And it's her beauty inside and out that does that.  How do I make her believe that...?  How do I believe that for myself now that all the damage is done?

Naval Gazing

There should be a lot of naval gazing happening in the western world lately.  A lot.

Truth spoken, there should be naval gazing done world wide, every single day of our lives, but in recent weeks, there's more need than ever, I think, to look inwardly.  To reflect on what we've learned as a society, as human beings, as contributors to daily active lifestyles, as parents, wives, sons, daughters and husbands.

We know certain truths at different stages of our lives, but nothing is ringing more poignantly for me this last few weeks than this one "how would I do things differently if given the chance?"

Truth is there's plenty I'd do differently, and most definitely plenty I am pleased with the way I did it the first go round.  And this is one of the reasons I'm particularly reflective this week.  If you look at the global stage and then you do an activity like the one offered up by the To Write Love on Her Arms people, you learn that there is a real place in this world for every single one of the people who inhabit her.  And if that's true, then really, why are we all so militantly determined to change them?  If everyone has a purpose, surely none of those possible purposes is harm toward others.  Surely none of that purpose can be to hate, deride, denigrate, convert, bully, be victim, be coward, be unsure.  None of that purpose can be second guessing, and hesitation...because...what if today were your last day?  Have you lived your purpose?  Have you done right by your purpose?  Have you had the opportunity to understand what that purpose has been?  Has it even mattered what that purpose was?

I don't think I have most of these answers.  I think the purpose of lifetimes are the sole deliverance of these answers in piece meal.  But that said, surely, if we agree with this admittedly naive sounding diatribe, in no way shape or form does it condone tyrannical power tripping, extremist conversion and hate crimes.  It doesn't condone disrespect for a single living being anywhere...which is also admittedly quite Buddhist...so why do we see it?

Well, a devout Christian would argue that it's evil, satan, adam and eve and that damned apple of course.  Any child would tell you it's because "he started it" pointing awkwardly to open space - or was that an extremist muslim, jihadist, or some other form of terrorist?  Would it be a stretch to say that drug lords and human traffickers in Africa and elsewhere are all doing it cuz they think it's right, or because somehow they've learned they are better off trafficking than being trafficked?  Or that a rapist, molestor or murderer is doing it for kicks or to silence beasts within that feel less than, victimized, and who need to feel some sense of individual power over something else?  The goal of this isn't to patronize, insult or even empathize with the bad people in our world.  I couldn't...but I can ask why and expect a fairly reasonable explanation.

So much in this world aims at devolving us, breaking us down...making us implode upon ourselves.  There's no rational explanation and no religious one I'm much interested in hearing frankly.  As far as faith goes, I don't think it gets a pass from reality full stop.  There has to be a grounding in what's practical and relevant to the world we live in, or let me tell you, I don't buy it.

So while we reflect on where we were 12 years ago when terrorist occupied planes flew into buildings, fields, and military compounds and we're listening/watching world leaders stand up and talk loudly about whether or not to open up yet another can of whoop ass in a country and a blood bath no one else has any business being in, while we ignore atrocities that are happening in countless other jurisdictions, well, I need to ask myself the kinds of questions you find on the To Write Love on Her Arms site just to feel a little less insane and victimized.

I have to wonder if we all actually did this for even 5 minutes as a global population, could we have a peaceful 5 minutes across the globe...and maybe even a minute more while we took a deep breath to appreciate ourselves after reading it back through?  Does so much of our hatred for others, and our need to change them stem from an inability to recognize our own victories?  Does it stem 100% from a lack of self esteem?  I'm guessing at least that a lot of it does.

So why I can't be replaced?

I am the only one who could be Maggie's Mommy.
I am the only one who knows how vitally important that bunny is.
I am the only one who can translate my husband's thoughts.
I am the only one who makes him laugh with his belly.
I am the only one my mom calls Best Friend.
I am the only one who thinks like me.
I am the only one who speaks like me.
I am the person who has held on to hope after 40 years of proof that hope can be futile.
I am the only me there is.

I have so much more to see and do and experience.  I would like to see a world in tact.  I would like to experience happy people, and while I would never expect utopia, I would hope to see a world where it's safe for my daughter to travel to any country without crippling fear.  I would like the world to naval gaze for 5 minutes like I just did, and see if that actually changes even one small part of the world.

Here's to hope.

Accepting Inadequacies

It takes a lot of introspection for people to even recognize inadequacies.  It takes frail self esteem and a biochemical problem for people to take those inadequacies and explode them to unrealistic perceptions of ones capabilities.

I have long wished I could be one of those people who don't even think of themselves in terms good enough at something or not even.  One of those people who are great at everything they try.

I wonder if those kinds of people even exist?  If they do, what do they do for a living?  Do they have families?  Are they taking some other kind of medication that I am not even aware of?  How easy is it to get your hands on such a drug...cuz let me tell ya, I could do with a healthy dose of "I'm fucking awesome thank you very much and every thing I touch turns to fucking gold."  Yes sir.  I could do with that right...about...NOW.

So for someone who struggles in dealing with significant change like I do, I have to admit I love it at the same time.  I can't imagine a life wherein each new day was remarkably similar to the last.  I can't stand monotony.  Love adventure.  But I have my limits, and I fear I may have opened up flood gates to where I've invited more than I can control into my personal space at work.

My old boss (the one who once represented most of my trigger issues that related to a 14 month stint on medical leave) was also the one who took it on the chin hard enough, that when I returned from Mat leave and was dealing with a sick child, he stood up for me, and protected me, and basically made things much better for me.  He got hit from all sides while I was out on medical and maternity leave, and well, I guess he realized I wasn't his worst enemy - and that meant I was no longer his victim.  I never fully trusted the man again, but I think the best reasoning for that was that I now knew where he kept the knife he'd use to stab people in the back.  You live, you learn is the expression...and I learned to watch the knife closely.  I learned how to duck and weave, like any good boxer.  I studied my opponent so I could better succeed in going the next round with him in the ring.  At the same time, his level of protection was leaving my days pretty empty and unfulfilled.  After a while, this gets dreadfully boring, empty and meaningless...I get restless and need visceral change to keep me focused/interested.  So...

Well, he's left the company and moved on to bigger/better things.  And that means I've been re-aligned to someone new.  My first order of business was to beg "Please God, give me something cool to do!"  Historically, she and I have been very friendly, but it's a completely different management style.  I know there's a knife in her arsenal, she's not afraid to use it, but I have no idea where she keeps it.  Seems too, that several of the people on her staff also have them, and use them often.  They're sharp, miniature knives, and their particular brand of torture is more like leaving little nicks in your soft side as you walk by through the veils of their cloaks.  Make it worse, these people are smart...in many cases, smarter than me.  So I need a new survival mechanism, and I'm floundering with not having figured it out.

In the old arrangement, my strengths were noticed, and accepted, and my weaknesses were noted without being highlighted, as were everyone else's for the most part.  You had to be REALLY annoying to be called out for your inadequacies, and generally, if they were that obvious, they were likely related to communication skills or poor etiquette.

In the new arrangement, it seems as though everyone may be aware of both strengths and weaknesses, but they are far more likely to point out the weaknesses.  Whether this is in the interest of assisting others to grow, or to take advantage of the opportunity to shine - I think the jury is still out.  And so, the more I try to better myself and elevate my once dumbed down and severely softened communication style to something more direct (what I was accustomed to doing say 15 years ago) to meet with the communication style largely in use by my new teammates, the more I seem to recognize that I've allowed myself to "dumb down" full stop.  I feel absolutely out-shined and overshadowed by others ability to communicate, process information, and poke holes in "everything".  And the fact that "everything" is up for grabs and "everything" is scrutinized with a fine tooth metal comb, is wearing on my nerves.  Probably because I'm rusty from being bored for so long, and likely too, because I've signed myself up for stuff that's a bit outside my comfort zone already.  Add scrutiny on top of that and well, it's making me feel absolutely inadequate, in way over my head, and wishing I had a Joe Job...you know, one where very little thinking is required - one that requires repetitive action and minimal focus.  One that I can shut off at 4 pm without giving it a second thought.

I just wish I knew what parts of my perception were physically real and what parts were fictitious strings of brain chemicals and anxiety based coping mechanisms making everything seem a million times worse than they potentially are.  I think it's time to make a dr's appt before it goes too far.  Anxiety attacks are on the rise for me...and time to meditate and exercise have been absorbed by new projects at work...bye bye coping mechanisms, hello depression.

Developing a Child's Self Image

There are no easy answers to what ways are the best ways for us to help our children develop a healthy self image, or to help them achieve a strong and confident sense of self ability.

I got a screaming view into this conundrum just the other day when I tried to explain (the way you would to a 3 year old) that my little girl didn't always need to wear a dress to feel like a princess.  My goal was to reinforce that she is awesome just the way she is, and that she may be missing something by  doing things (wearing a dress) that prevent her from really getting dirty and enjoying the grittier side of life (climbing tress and playing in the sand).

ehem...and then after losing the fight to get dirty and love grit, wearing her dress and snuggling into my bosom the way any awesome, snuggly 3 year old can, daddy came up the stairs and commented on her pretty dress.

My daughter's response?  "Mommy said I'm not pretty."

In no way ever, did I say this.  It never even entered my mind.  My thinking was, be strong and capable...not wishy washy and wasted.

So where in the world did this view of herself come from?  I've never said this.  In fact, I can assure you I've done absolutely the opposite, and have been extra conscientious to reinforce it regularly.

I always knew I had an intuitive child.  But for the life of me, I'm half ready to shut off any Disney movie that involves depictions of princesses or fairies full stop.  Somehow, somewhere in my child's wee brain, there is an interpretation that princesses wear dresses and glass slippers, and that princesses who wear such accouterments are the "pretty ones".  How in the world do you combat these impressions when they are so relentless?

I recall once writing about the fact that without even having seen ANYTHING princess related, my daughter was able to pin point the Disney Princess pink colour from across the Walmart.  It's that pervasive in our culture, and there's simply no avoiding it.  How do you consistently tell a 3 year old that the characteristics of "most" Disney princesses are tolerable at best in the real world?  What if she really is that wishy washy and gut wrenchingly in need of saving all the time - if that's truly her character, can that be so bad?  Certainly not simply because I wish it to be different.  She's perfect no matter how she chooses to live her life...which then leads me back to the beginning of this circle of insanity - does it matter then if she wants to be a princess all the time?

Well ultimately, yes.  Because we are neither royalty, nor do we hang in those circles.  My child has to be prepared for the real world, and I know all too well that the real world crashes in on us far sooner than any of us would prefer.

We named her for a strong leader.  Her namesake was highly criticized, even burned in effigy.  And while I've been clear that my choosing this namesake had nothing to do with her politics, it did have something to do with her will, her umph, and her tenacity.  She was a trailblazer and marked the shift in our western world for women in positions of power.  Her namesake was known as the "Iron Lady".  If I were to desire something more than mere contentment and happiness and safety for my child for her whole entire life, I'd only wish this:

1. That she be confident in recognizing her ability and her capability, for driving change and doing incredible things 
2. That she be energized and edgy enough to try almost anything once
3. That she be willing to get her hands dirty and driven enough to make them clean again.  

I don't wish her to be hardened, or mean or resentful and aggressive.  But I do want her to fully comprehend her potential to turn things on their end, shake them out and make something new from the pieces.  Can she do this in a ballgown and high heels?  Of course.  I just want those fashion statements to be just that - fashion statements.  They should make herself feel that her outside matches the opulence of her inside, but not that they define or help her divine what she is supposed to feel on the inside.

I've spent so much of my life grappling with the issue of self image and how disconnected it has always been from my self confidence.

How in the world does someone as broken as me, figure that out for her very impressionable child?

Everyone needs a reminder now and then

I've had a wild and frenzied couple of weeks, and I'm ultimately glad to be busy.  But that means I've neglected this space and that makes me feel bad.  I had occasion to read through some old blog posts wherein I took an opportunity to figure out what I'd say to a much younger me.  It struck me again, and it still rings truth with every single word.  It made me feel infinitely better about neglecting my blog and thereby in every sense of the word, neglecting myself the past few weeks.  And it reminded me to enjoy my weight loss success and my current state of mental health.  I can be frantic, but it's not over-stressing me at the moment.  I can be losing weight extremely slowly, but  it's heading in the right direction, no matter it's pace, and once again, I got here for absolutely incredible reasons.  I can live with that.  And moreover, if it was required, I could die knowing it went on for good reasons, and it's coming off with good decisions.  What about it could be seen as bad then?

So, what would I tell my younger self, in the hopes that I'd worry less, feel better and know more, preventing potentially years of unnecessary heartache?  Well...simply this.

        1. You are beautiful  You are perfect and thin and don't change a hair on your head.

        2. You don't need a man in your life to be rich and settled and happy.
        3. Keep your eye on the prize of motherhood, but relax about it.  It's going to take time to happen, and it will be awesome,     
           and you will never know another love like it.  It will be so worth the wait.

        4. Sacrifice isn't really sacrifice at all.  When you give one thing up to accomplish something else, it's just about evolution and
          moving on.  You've learned the lesson you needed to learn on the last thing, don't beat yourself up for putting it back down. 
        5. You will have the opportunity to be supermom.  It feels great, but it is also overwhelming.  
        6. A broken heart never heals completely, but it's always worth venturing out and taking the chance that it might get hurt.

The Power of a Strong Self Image

An inherent impacting factor in most cases of depression and anxiety in women would have to be their self esteem and self image.  In the last two weeks, I've recognized the veritas of a thing called Body Dysmorphia or "Self Enhancement".  Often you hear it in connection with people who have experienced such devastating illnesses as anorexia, bullemia, and exercise addiction.  But I'm telling you today, that I too have what I think is some sort of body dysmorphia.  I'm no doctor, but when I look at my mirror, or I consciously look inward and actually feel my own physical presence, I realize that I feel a certain size and I look a certain way.  Then I see photos that were taken very recently, and I see something entirely different and very discouraging.  Something I feel embarrassed by and something that makes me feel like there's a bigger mountain to climb than I ever dreamed it would be.

I can tell you with stark honesty that I have never felt as big as I look.  That's not to say I didn't always feel too fat or too large, unhealthy or uncomfortable.  It's obvious if you've read anything I've written, that my size and my health are at the forefront of just about every singular thought that runs through my mind.  It conditions my response to the world I live in, in every single situation I face.  And when it has become glaringly obvious to me that the way I already felt was better than the reality, well, that leaves me with a distrust in my own perceptions of the choices I've made, in addition to making me wonder that with all the beating up I've done of myself, if it was nearly enough.  Which in turn (as you've probably already guessed) triggers a new round of anxiety and depression for me.

So, this is how I looked at Halloween:

And this is how I look now:

courtesy lesleywongphotography.com

I can see a glaring difference, though I'm sure many won't.  Though it's not what I would have hoped for.  And it's certainly not how I feel when I step into pants I've not worn in over a year.  The major differences are what create the woman in this photo.

courtesy lesleywongphotography.com

I am happier today than I have been in such a long time.  I am more well rested and more balanced than I can remember being since I was a teenager.  I have more energy and more ummph than I had last Halloween as I feverishly tried to fit carving a pumpkin between rounds of children's tylenol, yet another sick day and a sad little review of the bank account.  Oh yeah - and bath time, dinner dishes and planning for the next day.  And in the "after" photo, most of my body is hidden.  Disguised.  Not discernible as a particular shape.  Thank goodness for black on black!

What makes me happy is that I'm not lugging around the extra 30 odd pounds, but also that I have a husband and child who adore me as much as I adore them.  But all of this comes from a strong sense of self and willpower to be strong and independent.  Beneath all of the anxiety and depression and obesity, lies a strong and confident, intelligent and resilient woman.  I carry the world on these shoulders, for at least 5 people, probably more.  And my God they are strong.

courtesy eonline.com

Which brings me to the actual way this post was originally envisioned.  There's a bruhaha over Disney's redesign of it's character Merida, in advance of releasing her as an "official" princess.  And  I know I've been sitting on it for a while, but I was honestly trying to find the right way to describe why it offended me.  At it's most basic level, a cartoon is just that, and it's their property to do with as they wish.  I should have very little to even think of it, as a wise woman suggested in her post on the same topic.  But here's where the rub started with me, and where it ends is with the ever constant imagery we get from the world at large around us that influences (to my own shock and horror) our view of ourselves in the mirror.

Merida and the movie Brave by Disney signaled a real paradigm shift for women at large that reinforced what we've been trying to overcome for centuries.  Women are capable, independent, fiery and naturally beautiful.  If we can simply exude confidence and courage enough to show it, we're capable of redefining this world for the better.  For me too, the story within the movie reinforced something that every other Disney princess movie has blatantly pushed aside and in many cases tried to cast as not normal.  That it's possible to have a confident, fiery, capable princess who bucks the system and doesn't require a man, but more over who recognizes the strength, love and transcendent bond that a real mother and her daughter share.

courtesy themarysue.com

Merida and her natural mother Elinor battle bears and nature and often each other to find a way to mend their bond and save the mother.  Unlike the evil step mothers in every other princess movie, this mother shows angst over choosing to try and steer her child onto a path she believes will be the best for her and the kingdom she will inherit.  "She does what she does out of love", never for profit or personal gain.  Never for the evil and selfish betterment of her own biological brood.  There's no sending Merida out with a huntsman and a box...especially not when Merida's amply armed, trained and capable of defending herself.

courtesy wired.com

So when a corporation does what it always does, without even thinking of the injustice it serves it's own brand through Merida, you feel gobsmacked, disheartened and angry.  I am not letting Disney raise my child, or allowing my child to grow up believing that the best thing in the world to idolize is a Disney Princess.  But there is absolutely no shielding them from the draw of the Disney brand, and with Merida in the mix, potentially, it's not so harmful to let them fantasize and explore the world of princesses a bit.  When I was my own daughter's age, I watched them faithfully, and still one of my favourites is Sleeping Beauty.  Note there's no evil stepmother in this movie, and the girl lands with the prince she thought was just an average guy.  He also fell for a girl, thinking she was just an average girl.  Kind good fairies kept her safe from evil for 16 years and loved her as their own daughter...not all the other dark, sordid tales of woe and despair that you see with Snow White and Cinderella and the like.

The end result of taking such a dramatic change on such an impactful character in the lives of young girls who are finally getting outside examples of strength in a medium they connect with, is truly criminal.  It has no choice but to show the smarter ones of the bunch, that there's a difference between average and "vavavoom"...and most of us don't have what it takes to get the "vavavoom" makeover.  It contributes to the way we look at ourselves in the mirror at such an early age.  And that's shameful.