We went to the movies Saturday afternoon. On the way out I stopped in the restroom. When I emerged there was a woman talking to hubby and the boys. Her back was to me and I didn’t know who she was. I walked over to them and turned around. I’m not sure if I audibly gasped or if it was only in my head. It was a friend of ours from whom we haven’t heard in quite some time. Our boys no longer attend the same schools and the mutual friend we had shared is no longer in our lives. It also seemed as if our friend in the movie theater had sort of gone into hiding a little over a year ago. When she was diagnosed with breast cancer.

She’s always been a reserved and private person. We never got too close. But I like her. And I have thought of her often over the past year. I sent a few e-mails that went unanswered and heard other friends had the same experience. I finally just hoped for the best and figured she’d contact me if she wanted to.

She immediately commented that she liked the pink ribbon I was wearing on my coat. The pink ribbon that Gina’s daughters passed out to all the guests at her wake. I gasped (again not sure if it was audible or not), muttered an awkward, “thank you.” without explaining where I got my ribbon or what it represents to me, grabbed the ribbon and continued holding onto it for few moments before giving her a teary-eyed hug. I asked how she was and she said good. There was some small talk about the kids and her husband and then hubby was wrapping up the conversation. I looked into her eyes for a moment. I needed more.

I told hubby and the kids to go on and I’d catch up in a minute. I had to know. She certainly looked healthy and her hair looked much like it had the last time I saw her, before her diagnosis. I asked about the cancer and her treatment. She had chemo, then a lumpectomy, then radiation and has been cancer-free since December! I was so happy for her and her family. I had to hug her again, although I know she’s even less of a touchy-feely person than I usually am. I told her how happy I was for her. We talked some more about how it’s been an “interesting” year but that the worst seems to be behind her, she feels good and is going to start looking for work. She has to stay on medication for five years and get frequent scans but so far so good.

I was awe-struck. I was standing there talking to an actual breast cancer survivor. It felt great, exhilarating even. Like I imagine talking to one of your favorite celebrities would feel. Her kids will not have to know what it feels like to lose their mother so young. Her husband will not be left alone to pick up the pieces. She can move on with her life. Absolutely amazing.

We finally parted and after I was a safe distance from her and back with my family, I lost it. Sobbing. They didn’t understand. It hit me like a ton of bricks. If things had gone differently, that could have been Gina.

An innocent afternoon at the movies with my family turned into this unbelievable encounter with a survivor.

In all fairness, her prognosis was never as dicey as Gina’s had been because she did not have the same type of breast cancer. Gina’s was the worst case scenario.

My emotions were all over the place. An almost giddy happiness for my friend and her family combined with the intense grief in knowing I will never run into Gina in a movie theater. And then the guilt. Guilt for feeling sad for one friend when another friend had beaten the odds and was thriving. An entire roller coaster of emotion within a ten minute time period.

This grief “process” is more like a relative calm before the storm immediately followed by the crashing in of an epic tidal wave with no warning.

I miss my friend.

Thanks for stopping by!

Related Reading:

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Last night I allowed my thoughts to wander to all the horrible places I had been stopping them from going. I had a long cry. Sobbing really. Uncontrollable it seemed. But it wasn’t. It stopped. It didn’t feel particularly good to have done it. Well, maybe a little. I like a good cry normally. At a movie or reading a book, not real life. I also like happy tears. Anytime either of my sons has a school performance of any sort I cry.

It was with significant trepidation that I called Gina’s husband today. I got his voice mail. I felt like an utter moron saying that I was calling to see how things were going. I finally just said I was calling to check in.

I was not prepared for what he told me when he called back.

She seems to be doing better. A lot better. No, the doctors have not changed their prognosis and none of her health problems have changed. But she is better. She stayed up all night talking to him. She was more lucid than she’s been in weeks. She was in less pain than she’s been in for some time. She even threw a pillow at him when he made some obnoxious smart-ass comment about something. She was talking about a clinical trial she wants to pursue. She was miffed that everyone is believing what the doctors are saying!

THAT is the Gina I know. She sounds like herself. He said she even looks markedly better. I was blown away. Hope. It’s a beautiful thing. He sounded hopeful. She has a friend who has lived with bone cancer for several years. Apparently she was in Gina’s current condition at some point in the past. He tells me she doesn’t look sick at all today.

At first I was afraid to get too hopeful. Then I thought…why? Why in the hell not?! Even if our hopes are dashed tomorrow or even in the next 1/2 hour, why not revel in the hope while we can!

If anyone can pull off a miracle, this is the woman to do it. And if she does….I am in BIG trouble for having written about her impending death. I can live with that.

Thanks for stopping by!

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I feel a tiny bit relieved after seeing Gina today. My sister graciously volunteered to accompany me on the 2 hour drive and to be there with me for moral support. I’ve always been notoriously uncomfortable, anxious and many times, even nauseous, in hospitals, doctor’s offices and nursing homes. That was then. That was when we all spent most of our time in these places. That was when my father was sick.

It appears that I’ve grown quite a bit since then. I was anxious about going. I was afraid of how she would look. I was afraid she would be suffering. I was afraid she would be completely out of it. I was afraid I wouldn’t get to say goodbye. My sister and I talked about this all at length during the long drive.

The hospital Gina is in is amazing. It’s beautiful and peaceful. The staff is more accommodating than any other hospital I’ve ever been in. She’s in the best possible hands.

Her room was overflowing with people. People who love her. Family and close friends. They all graciously announced my arrival and stepped aside, allowing me to enter her room. She didn’t look nearly as bad as I had envisioned. After I carefully hugged her and we had a brief whispered conversation, I stepped away from the bed and she resumed the conversation with the group that I had inadvertently interrupted.

The doctors have said that she has a week, week and a half at best. She knows this. She was telling stories. Things that remind her of the people in her room. Stories about them that she remembers fondly. It was incredibly touching and gracious. She was saying goodbye.

My sister and I stayed for several hours. We talked with various friends and family members. We talked with Gina. I felt a tiny bit relieved to see first-hand that she is not in unbearable emotional or physical pain. They are keeping her comfortable. The combination of pain-killers and her body shutting down appear to be sparing her from the extreme emotional pain I would imagine goes along with the knowledge that she is dying. I got to tell her how much I love her. I got to say goodbye.

As has always been the case she seemed more focused on how everyone else was doing. It felt like a somber party with her as our hostess. There was laughter and there were tears. Everyone there was open and honest. No one was pretending everything was ok. Everyone was doing what they could for her and each other. We all seemed to be working on reassuring ourselves about her level of comfort while at the same time coming to terms with the fact that we may never see her again. Her grace helped me a great deal today, as it always has the entire time I’ve known her.

Her kids were on their way with their grandmother. It was getting late and we had a long drive home. It was time for my sister and I to leave. If she’s still there I’m going back on Friday. I went into her room to say goodbye but Gina had fallen asleep. She looked peaceful. She looked beautiful. I watched her for a few seconds. I hope I get to see her again on Friday but if not, I am eternally grateful that I got to say goodbye today.

Thanks for stopping by.

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There is one delusion, one giant denial, that all humans share. Death. Our own mortality. Of course we learn at a young age that we are all going to die. But we delude ourselves into thinking that we will all live to be 80 and die of natural causes in our sleep having lived a full life. We tell ourselves that parents die before their children. We have to buy into this delusion in order to function. It’s necessary denial. If we constantly believed and thought about the truth that we could each go at any moment we would be paralyzed with fear or we would never take responsibility for anything. We’d simply see life as being pointless since everyone dies in the end and there is no set time, place or means for any of us.

I’ve been avoiding writing this post for a week. Avoiding it has caused writer’s block as it always does. If I have something on my mind and I don’t write about it I can’t write about anything else. I have found that it always works that way for me.

In the past week I found out that my friend Gina, who has been battling breast cancer is not doing well. Her health has taken a significant nose-dive.

After finding out that the cancer had spread to her liver she started a clinical trial. Just like all the other treatments it worked at first. Then just like all the other treatments her body became immune and it stopped working. She had to stop the trial a week early because her platelets had dropped too low.

After two telephone conversations in which she did not sound at all like herself, the second of which was particularly alarming because she sounded completely out of it, unreturned texts, e-mails and voice mails, I contacted her family.  I won’t go into all the gory details of her current symptoms because I know for sure that she would never want anyone to pity her. In fact, even in her current condition this desire to not be pitied is strong. I know it’s one of the reasons she doesn’t want to see me. She doesn’t want me to see her. She doesn’t want to see the pity in my eyes or hear it in my voice.

We’ve talked about her cancer hundreds of times since her diagnosis. We’ve never talked about her dying. A few times she’s mentioned what would become of her daughters if she dies but that has always been quickly followed up by a conversation about how that just can’t happen. I’m sure I didn’t pursue the topic because I don’t want to have to think about losing her and because I don’t want to force her to consider the possibility. Denial. In this case, it’s healthy denial. What good can come from her focusing on dying when she’s fighting so hard to stay alive?

Since I’ve learned of her current condition I’ve been forced to consider the possibility that she may die. I’ve been forced to consider the possibility that she may actually be dying right now. I hope it’s just a bad drug interaction that has to work itself out of her system that’s causing her current symptoms. It’s possible that it’s spread to her bones and even her brain. We have to wait and see.

All this time she’s been such a warrior. All the disappointments over the treatments that haven’t worked, all the bad news….through it all she has remained positive that the next thing she tries will work. Until now she’s always been upbeat and surprisingly healthy. She really hasn’t felt sick until recently. And now she’s extremely sick. And I don’t know if I’ll ever talk to her again. I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again. I don’t know if this is a temporary setback or the beginning of the end. I just don’t know.

Women our age, moms, are not supposed to die. It’s as simple as that. We’re supposed to watch our kids grow up and then travel, gossip and have fun together just like we always have. I’m not supposed to have to live the rest of my life, no matter how short or long it may be, without her. Denial.

I can’t even find the words to express how profoundly sad I am. How absolutely terrified I am. How much I hope she is not thinking about all this or in too much pain, physically or emotionally. How intolerable it is to know that she is. How much I want to see her, no matter what condition she is in. How much I don’t want her to die.

I hope this is a medication-induced temporary setback and that when she feels better she will read this and be pissed off that I wrote about her possible death. I hope she really lets me have it. But I just don’t know. Either way, a part of me is, and always will be, with her.

Thanks for stopping by.

———————————————————————————–

Update 11/20/2009:  She’s been admitted to the hospital. She’s not responding to transfusions. I’m going to see her tomorrow but I don’t know if she’ll be awake or alert.

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It seems as if my son has made a full recovery from his bout with the H1N1 flu virus.  I was starting to worry on Thursday and Friday. Although his fever stayed down around 101 (an improvement), he was exhausted. He slept for the better part of those two days. This is not like him at all. This is a child who still, at age 9, after having to do this every night his entire life, still pitches a fit at bedtime and will never admit to being tired.

By Saturday his fever was gone and he was so bored. Yay! He even went outside to play for a bit on Sunday and went back to school (he seemed almost happy) yesterday.

So far, no relapses, signs of blood clots or pneumonia as in some of the articles I’ve read. We did nothing unusual to treat him. No TamiFlu, just chicken soup, Tylenol and Motrin for the fever, and lots of fluids and rest.

Miraculously, none of the rest of us caught it either. We’re well past the incubation stage and I’m pretty sure I’ve disinfected every surface in our house. I hope this is our one and only experience with this dreaded and much publicized virus and happy that it seems to have been no worse than the regular seasonal flu.

Thanks for stopping by!

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self-aware:  adj. Aware of oneself, including one’s traits, feelings, and behaviors.

After mentioning that I was in pursuit of becoming self-aware in a previous post, two readers (thank you Heather and Dawn!) commented that I should check out Byron Katie. I’ve been listening to her workshops here for the better part of the past 2 days (Thanks again Dawn!). It really is a revolutionary way of thinking and I’ve listened to several of her one-on-one workshops. Many have been obviously life changing for the individuals she is working with. Many have been painful to hear. Extremely painful.

I will not attempt to explain her work as I am a rookie, haven’t read any of her books yet and am still attempting to wrap my brain around it all myself.

Having said that, I have noticed that I find myself attempting to practice her work when I experience a thought, an internal belief or feeling. In some cases, when my belief (or “story” as she calls them) is only slightly painful or slightly annoying to me, it’s fairly easy to reframe my thinking and it absolutely does work in those cases.

Where I’m struggling is when my thoughts provoke a strong emotional reaction. I have to do the actual written work as explained on her site in order to find out if I can work out any of these deeper issues for myself. I haven’t taken the next step to even print out the questions. I’m afraid of what I will uncover.

In the meantime, October is National Breast Cancer Awareness month. What does that even mean? That we should be aware that breast cancer exists? Kills the women we love? Buy more cute pink products with ribbons on them? Or is it more about raising awareness about prevention, such as annual mammograms, frequent self-exams, etc.? I don’t know the answers to these questions.

I do know that I am acutely aware of breast cancer. My friend has been battling it for over 2 years. After countless rounds of chemo, a double mastectomy and significant dietary changes, it still came back and spread to her lungs. The next round of chemo worked for while, shrinking the tumors in her lungs. Then those tumors started growing again so a different round of chemo was started.

Two weeks ago her markers were elevated. At first she was devastated, explaining to me that it meant that her existing tumors had either grown or that the cancer had spread (again). A few days later she found out there could be other factors causing her markers to become elevated. We were both somewhat relieved.

She had her scans yesterday. I knew that she would have the results of the scans today. I asked her to call me as soon as she could once she got the results. Instead I got this text: “It has now spread to my liver.”. I gasped so loudly that my sick son who was sleeping downstairs, heard me and came upstairs to find out what was wrong. He thought I had hurt myself. He was right. Based on my limited knowledge of Byron Katie I understand that she teaches that our only suffering is caused by our own thoughts, our own attachments to beliefs that are not based in reality.

I can write about applying her work to my beliefs and feelings about my friend’s illness. I can’t actually apply it though. I can’t even deal with experiencing the emotions. I can’t even begin to fathom how my friend is dealing with her emotions. She doesn’t want to die. I don’t want her to die. Her children don’t want her die. Her husband, mother, sister, brother and other friends don’t want her to die. None of our wishing is going to make one bit of difference.

She is going to pursue a clinical trial for which she may or may not qualify. There are two possible options for this trial. One is in California and the other is in Pennsylvania (in the same state in which we spent our fabulous spa weekend just a few months ago). As of this afternoon she was waiting to hear back from both of them.

I can’t be aware, on any level, of her feelings, everything that’s running through her head. She’s 40 years old with a toddler and two teen-age twins. They need her. She needs to be there for them. I simply cannot yet apply the quote I chose for this post to her situation. I am attached to the thought that she doesn’t deserve this. That her family doesn’t deserve this. That I will be devastated if I lose my friend. I don’t know if or when I’ll be able to detach from those thoughts.

She and everyone who is close to her is now attached to the expectation that this clinical trial will work. It feels similar to gambling. You go in with high hopes for winning big. The odds are stacked against winning. On the other hand, we hear stories all the time of people beating all odds and making remarkable recoveries after their doctors had said they were all out of options.

All I know for sure is that I am aware that I love her. I am aware that I have not yet even begun to deal with the emotions I feel about her illness. I am aware that I want to be self-aware but am terrified to allow myself those feelings. I am aware that I will experience significant pain on that path. I am aware that my friend has already experienced, and continues to experience pain far more frightening and intense than mine. I am aware that my friend has breast cancer and that I don’t want to lose her. That’s all I can manage today. Which leads to the questions, how is she managing today? How is she supposed to like it and how will that make it easier for her?

Thanks for stopping by!

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I wouldn’t normally devote two entire posts (or even one for that matter) to my son’s flu symptoms and the scintillating details of our lives while infested with H1N1. However, with all the media hype around this strain of swine flu I thought maybe other parents would be interested in reading about a real child who has H1N1. If not, please come back next time when I may decide to write about my most recent trip to Target or which laundry detergent I prefer. God, I just about bored myself to sleep.

If you’re still with me (and awake) my youngest son is an otherwise healthy 9 year old with no known underlying medical conditions. Here is the timeline so far:

Sunday: Complained of cold-like symptoms, sore throat, stuffy nose, headache

Monday: Complained of headache and mild dizziness, had a low-grade fever that went down almost immediately upon taking Tylenol (this was the day I once again forfeited any possibility of the ever-elusive mother of the year award by reminding my mother that he can be a hypochondriac)

Tuesday: Woke up with a fever of 101 degrees, complaining of more severe headache and dizziness, by 2pm his fever spiked to 104 degrees and he was diagnosed with H1N1 by his Pediatrician

Tuesday Night: I set my alarm to wake up every three hours to give him alternate doses of Tylenol and Motrin just to keep the fever down to around 99-100 degrees (it reminded me of having a newborn who wakes up every 3 hours to be fed and changed – further confirming that I do not miss those days)

Wednesday: Woke up with a fever of 101 degrees, seemed to start to feel a little better throughout the day and the fever is not as stubborn. It has turned into a cough so we’ll need to watch out for signs of pneumonia and/or respiratory distress.  I’m exhausted after no sleep + working from home, as my employer graciously allowed me to do so I could stay home with him for the rest of the week (they secretly don’t want me spreading germs in the office anyway…just in case). My sister and her son developed flu-like symptoms, 48 hours after being in contact with my son.

So, still it’s looking very similar to the seasonal flu. Hopefully, as seems to be the case, he is on the mend. However, I have a cousin in another state whose daughter has H1N1 and was improving but then seemed to relapse, only to find out it had developed into pneumonia (even though she was given TamiFlu – my son was not). She is doing ok and did not require hospitalization.

I am about as far from germaphobic or OCD as a person can get but even I am using excessive amounts of Lysol, Listerine, alcohol swabs and hand sanitizer. I’m afraid to even touch the blanket (my favorite blanket) he’s been using while vegging out on the couch all day. I just want to keep the rest of us from getting it if I can and must admit, I’ve become creeped out about all the germs infesting our home.

So there you have it. So far, nothing more or less than the regular old seasonal flu. I know this was so fascinating (wake up!) that you’ll be checking back obsessively for more updates on this breaking news story.  :)

Thanks for stopping by!

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There’s a toxic person in my house! No, for once, I am not talking about psychology. I’m talking about an actually toxic person.

My youngest son. He’s been diagnosed with the dreaded H1N1 flu virus. And for the record, he will not be shot. I just thought the quote was funny.

Poor little guy. His fever got as high as 104 today. Tylenol alone isn’t touching it. We have to do the Tylenol/Motrin thing every 3 hours.

Hubby and I had just been talking this weekend about the vaccine and what we would do if/when it becomes widely available here. We are both moderately suspicious of the government, government agencies and major corporations. Ok, I’m moderate. He’s practically a conspiracy theorist. We pretty much decided that all this hype was just an effort to get us scared enough to buy more drugs, thus further lining the pockets of all the corrupt individuals who stand to profit from a pandemic.

When my son reported to his Grandma that he had a headache and felt a little dizzy, I told her to keep an eye on him but also reminded her that he tends to be a bit of a hypochondriac. Mother of the year award….down the drain again!  I’m quite a hypochondriac myself. I don’t feel sick a lot but when I hear someone has something bad, I start to feel as if I have it too. I feel that way now. I hope I don’t have it, but only time will tell.

In the meantime, he’s feeling pretty crappy when his temperature starts to climb, but otherwise seems much like himself. He’s stuffy so he doesn’t exactly sound like himself. His heart rate was elevated at the doctor’s office but that was when his fever was the highest. He gets chilled easily, especially right before it’s time to take Tylenol or Motrin. It’s all pretty standard flu-like stuff.

The doctor and my mother (she’s a nurse) assured me that the symptoms are the same as the regular old seasonal flu and to just watch his fever and for dehydration. As is also the case with the seasonal flu, any sign of breathing difficulty should be treated as an emergency.

I’ve read quite a bit about H1N1 and about swine flu and the flu in general. I’ve talked to health-care professionals. They all seem to agree that the media is blowing this whole thing out of proportion. Not that it isn’t something to be taken seriously, but certainly nothing to panic about. The swine flu has been around since the ’70’s, just not this strain. According to the doctor, swine flu vaccine has been part of our annual flu shot for years.

I’m going to keep a close eye on him but my heart isn’t racing like it was when I first heard the diagnosis. However, I am feeling a little flushed and light-headed. I better go lay down.

Thanks for stopping by!

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This was to be the topic of my last post but that ended up turning into a post all on it’s own. What I wanted to write about is mothers who are in abusive relationships. Again, I am no expert, just a woman who has realized the effects childhood abuse had on me and witnessed, as an adult, women who are in abusive relationships and how that affects their children.

As has been well documented here, I am extremely interested in psychology and am back in college pursuing a degree in psychology myself (I will probably be around 87 when I actually get there).  I am constantly studying and researching anything and everything having to do with the way we humans behave and why.

If you get into therapy, you will get at least one diagnosis. Even if you don’t, you may recognize patterns of destructive behaviors on your own. This diagnosis or recognition can be helpful. Knowing that diagnosis is not necessarily a good thing. Why? Because it can result in a perpetual victim mentality.

For example, I have been diagnosed with seasonal allergies. I have several different options for dealing with that diagnosis. I can take an over the counter allergy medication every day to avoid all symptoms and complications (sinus infections, etc.). I can sign up for desensitization shots in which I am injected with all of my allergens every week for the next five years. I can ignore it completely and suffer during spring and fall. It’s all up to me. Because I did the 5 years of shots as a child and they wore off in my early 30’s, I really don’t feel like dealing with the weekly hassle and expense for the next 5 years, knowing it probably won’t last forever anyway. I choose the over the counter allergy medication and very rarely have into any symptoms. Problem solved.

The same is true for many psychological diagnoses and even just emotional problems that have not been diagnosed. For example, I have been diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder. Sounds ominous, possibly even crazy, right? No. It basically means I worry too much, am high strung and am frequently on high alert for trouble.

Armed with this diagnosis, I could do nothing and just deal with the symptoms. I could choose to work on getting to the root of why I have developed anxiety while taking anti-anxiety medication. I could choose to not deal with getting to the bottom of it and just stay on anti-anxiety medication for the rest of my life. I chose working on it.

Let’s look at what would happen if I chose to do nothing and just accept the fact that I am an anxious person and “stricken” with this “disease”.  I would not sleep well. I would be irritable. I would have a difficult time concentrating. All of that would result in other health issues, problems within every relationship I have, and problems functioning at work. In fact, problems functioning at all. It would mean complete chaos for me and anyone who chose to stick around me. My kids would suffer when I was irritable. Our finances would suffer when I performed poorly at work. My whole life would be a mess. I would focus primarily on whatever was worrying me and everything else would fall by the wayside.

That, in a nutshell, is the problem I see with accepting a psychological problem or diagnosis and doing nothing to work through it, especially in the context of mothers who allow their children to be abused. It would be much easier for me to just say, well, I’m a victim of this disorder and you all just have to deal with the consequences. Sorry. Or, I can take responsibility for working it out, getting better and finding ways of managing it, for myself and my family.

I am not a victim. I have allergies and I take measures to control them. I am anxious and I take steps toward controlling it and eliminating it. This is the difference between simply accepting a victim role and taking personal responsibility for my life. I believe this applies to any problem.  We either give up, blame our problems on someone else or some disorder or we fight for better health and a better life. It’s our decision, the professionals can only help inform and guide us. What we choose to do with that is entirely up to us.

Thanks for stopping by!

Interesting related post about:  Playing The Victim by Dr. George Simon.

Another interesting related post:

“This excuse that “I would be lost without him, which is why I couldn’t do anything about it when he abused my child” is complete nonsense — especially today, at a time when therapeutic and financial resources are made available to anyone. It makes my blood boil. The children suffer from the mother’s betrayal almost as much as from the abuse itself. Our criminal laws pay insufficient attention to the moral culpability of mothers.”

- Dastardly Dads

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I’ve struggled with my weight for as long as I can remember. I was a chubby kid, then a constantly dieting teenager. As an adult my weight has been an almost perpetual yo-yo. I lost a lot of weight right before my wedding, promptly got pregnant, got pregnant again, ignored my weight for years, then lost a lot of weight again a few years ago. Now I’ve put some weight back on. I’m not near my heaviest but would love to lose about 20 pounds.

Looking back at pictures of me as a teenager, when I thought I was a huge disgusting cow, I realize I was probably one more diet pill away from an eating disorder. In those pictures I now see that I was thin. I can’t believe I thought I was obese, not just overweight, I seriously thought I was grotesquely fat. I vividly remember taking Dexatrim and No Doze and going as many as 4 days without eating any actual food. I would only drink diet coke or an occasional Slim-Fast shake. The headaches and stomach growling made me feel good, like I was accomplishing something. Fighting off the hunger felt like a victory. I stopped all that after I met hubby (then high school sweetheart) during my junior year of high school and thankfully never went back.

Today I have a realistic view of my body. I don’t see myself as disgustingly obese, even now when I’m not happy with my weight. I want to lose some but don’t think I’m an elephant either. I just really enjoyed being a size 6 and want to get back there.

I’ve read about emotional eating and figured I probably am an emotional eater but never gave it much more thought than that.

Emotional eating: Emotional eating is the practice of consuming large quantities of food — usually “comfort” or junk foods — in response to feelings instead of hunger. Experts estimate that 75% of overeating is caused by emotions.
- medicinenet.com

A few weeks ago, as I was looking longingly at my size 6 jeans, I started to seriously think about emotional eating. I decided to begin asking myself each and every time I went to the fridge, pantry or vending machine if I was actually hungry or not. I noticed that much of the time the answer was no so I stepped away from the food.

This was an important step and a good one. The one thing I didn’t even think to ask myself though was why I was reaching for food when I wasn’t hungry. This came up during the same intense conversation I mentioned a few days ago in my post Did I Really Say That. As a result of that conversation I am going to start trying to figure out what I’m feeling when I get to the fridge, ask myself if I’m really hungry or not and determine that the answer is no. What emotion am I experiencing that I am attempting to avoid by eating?

After pondering that conversation some more I remembered that this was the topic being discussed when I inexplicably said, “Men are scary.“. I was talking about the fact that I have been ignoring myself lately and that one of the things I have stopped doing for myself was working out regularly. I also mentioned that while I enjoy the extra male attention I receive when I’m thin, it makes me nervous too. Why? Apparently because men are scary. That’s how that conversation went.

If you had asked me three weeks ago if I was afraid of men, I would have laughed and said, “No way!”.  If you had asked me three weeks ago if I intentionally put on weight in order to avoid male attention because they are scary, I would have thought you were nuts and said, “HELL no!”.  Now, I have to seriously consider the possibility that my truthful answers to both of these questions are, “yes” and “yes”.

Yikes.

Reading all of this I can come to the conclusion that as a teenager I had a distorted image of my physical appearance that disappeared when I felt loved by a man. I can also conclude that much of my self-worth is derived from continuing to receive positive male attention but at the same time, that attention scares me. Seriously, Daddy Issues AGAIN?! I need to learn to feel good about myself on my own and that male attention is nothing more than what it is. It’s not that important and certainly nothing to be feared.

Thanks for stopping by!

Related Reading:

True Believers #2 (Daddy Issues)

The Weight Loss Cure "They" Don't Want You to Know About

James: Working Out Your Faith (Christianity 101® Bible Studies)

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