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Getting into communication

11 Apr

Last night I was drinking wine and eating chips and I didn’t freaking care.  I didn’t know what the hell was going on with me.  I definitely wasn’t eating because I was hungry.

Today was weigh in day.  Oh well.  Down .2 which was lucky.  And, I know I would have been down more had I not been so messed up last night.

I didn’t even know why I was eating.  I didn’t even know what I was so upset about.

So today, I started talking.  It started with my work out partner.  He had made a couple of unrelated comments last week that stuck in my brain.  I had twisted them together and made them about me.  In my mind I became so wrong and bad an unlovable that today I could barely talk to him.  I started with the insults and sarcasm.  Then I stopped, remembering yesterday’s “fine, fuck you” lesson.  So I asked him about the comments.  “What did you mean?”  I asked.

One he was joking around and the other one had nothing to do with what I thought.

OK, one down.  Next was the comment from the weekend guy.  He had said “he was willing to overlook my being overweight”.  I was trying not to take it personally, which wasn’t working, and I never wanted to talk to him again.

I shared his comment at weight watchers and they asked if he was still alive.  Yes,  I said, because it was on the phone.  “I couldn’t kill him,”  I said, laughing.

It opened up a whole conversation about not getting triggered by comments and how else we could handle them.  I’m not alone in this.  I love my community there.  Our leader, Zach, is phenomenal.  He gets our struggle and never judges.  We can be free to be ourselves.  It’s the 8:00 Tuesday meeting in Norwalk.  I welcome anyone who struggles with their weight or their mind to join our community.  You might love us.

I also decided I’m tired of running from unpleasant things.  The guy and his comment were still haunting me.  So I texted him how hurt I was.  We went back and forth and got into dialogue and the charge on the whole thing went away.

Then I got on the Wisdom call.  It’s a daily call with a community of people who have participated in Landmark Worldwide’s Wisdom course.  It is a wonderful group of people exploring life.  It was hard for me to speak up today, but  I needed to get out of my head.  I told them that I was afraid of going to Passover this year because it’s the first one without my dad.

“I’m afraid of being sad,” I said.  ” I feel like I have to be alone in a room to be able to actually cry freely.  I’m afraid the sadness will hit me when I am with people, and I won’t be able to handle it,” I said.

My comments actually opened up a whole conversation about humanity, bereavement, communication, and other things.  It became rich with exploration and they thanked me for being authentic.

And I started feeling good again.  I can be sad when I’m sad.  I can ask people what they mean when I take something the wrong way.

And, my weight is my weight.  I’m a few pounds heavier then I was.  That is ok.  What I need to learn is to speak up sooner and not always blame myself when things don’t work. I don’t need to punish myself by eating and drinking.  It doesn’t really get me where I want to go.

This is a journey to discover my freedom.  I’ve never been on a trip like this before and while it’s uncomfortable sometimes, the results are worth it.  Before, I kept my mouth shut and put up with the life that being quiet gave me.

And I suffered and complained and did nothing about it.  And it sucked.

So this is the way life looks when it’s working.  I am surrounded by people that I can have these kinds of conversations with.  We are exploring life and having great lives.  And I am really grateful for it.  And I am blessed.  And I feel a whole lot better then when I woke up this morning.

Thanks for listening.

Tah

 

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Talking to my Dad, God rest his soul

4 Mar

Earlier today I was feeling alone.  And scared and worried about the future.  But when I stopped for a minute and became grateful for what I have, my thoughts altered.

Maybe great things are in store for me.  Maybe my journey is just beginning.  I have a blank slate  – I am divorced, my kids are off to college, and I can create anything I want to.

And maybe that means my life will be way more then I thought it could be.  And I remember my dad who died a month and a half ago.

My dad told the Rabbi two days before he passed away, that he didn’t know life could be this good.  And I am happy that his life surpassed his expectations.  He was a great man and I miss him terribly at certain moments.  I miss knowing he was there and seeing him shuffle from room to room because the nephropathy from his cancer treatments had destroyed the feeling in his feet and hands.

And now I am crying, but I’m ok with that.  I have learned to feel the sadness instead of resisting it.  And it will last less then a minute if I allow it.  Some great mentors have taught me that recently.  Trying not to be sad hurts more.

I sob.  It’s easier to do when I’m alone.  But I know if my Dad is watching, he would be saying, “what are you crying about?  I’m right here with you.  Get on with your day already.”

And I smile as the tears come down.  “I miss you, Dad.  It’s not the same without you.”

“I know,” he answers.  “But you always have me in your heart.  I am with you.  You are not alone.  And you have our amazing family, great friends, and a community that loves you and believes in you.  You will find your way.  It’s just scary and unknown.  But it will all work out.  This is just the way life looks sometimes.  I love you.”

“Thanks, Dad.”  I answer silently.  “I needed that today.  I guess loneliness is just body sensations and thoughts that occur sometimes.  They don’t mean anything.  I have a  great life and I love my place here.  I remember when you came to look at it and you loved it.  I wish you could be here with me, but I guess you are, in my heart and spirit.  Thank you for loving me and giving me my life.  You were a great father.  Thanks for driving me to school in the mornings with my harp.  When I got out of the car you would always say, “Be Terrific.”  I wish you could say it to me right now, but I will hear it in my mind.”

And I’m not going to apologize for crying.  I am trying to learn to experience my emotions instead of numbing them like I did last night.  Red wine, chips and hummus.   And, I might do it again tonight.  Or maybe I won’t.  Either way is fine.

And the grief comes and goes.  Sometimes I am fine.  Sometimes I am a crying mess.  And I know that Dad just wants me to have a great life.  And I do.  (But sometimes I just forget!)