My husband likes to tease me sometimes, bemoaning the fact that having a conversation with me can be challenging. I tend to switch topics quite a bit, flitting along like a bee in a wildflower garden. In his book Parenthood, Paul Reiser writes that the ability to distract is of great benefit to new parents. "If [babies] get bored, or scared, or cry for any reason, you just pull a sleight-of-hand and misdirect their simple little minds elsewhere." Reiser goes through a charming imaginary conversation with his infant son, about a fuzzy tiger, a water bottle cap, and keys. My advice to those of you brave enough to read till the end of today's blog: hold on tight – we've got some flitting to do.
First of all, today was WOW (Women On Weights) day, and today's class was FUN! We started out at the dreaded leg extension machine (where I'm at nearly 100 lbs now, about 25 pounds more than when I started in Nov.), but David ribbed us enough that it was tolerable. My very favorite exercise today went like this. We got on the floor in crunch position. At the top of the crunch, David (who was standing) tossed a medicine ball to us; we crunched holding the ball, then at the top again tossed it back to him. It was so much fun! As I anticipated him tossing the ball to me, I felt like our beloved retriever mix Max (who died a couple summers ago). In his younger days, we'd toss a ball for him, and he'd go tearing off at a hundred miles an hour, snag the ball, run a few laps around the yard holding the ball, then return to us with shining eyes, lolling tongue, and a canine smile, ready to go again. That, sans doggie breath, was pretty much me today.
Second: For the past several days I've been reading Mark Summers's book, Everything In Its Place: My Trials and Triumphs with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I've never sought diagnosis and I'm certainly not a doctor and have absolutely no authority on OCD, and I don't claim to suffer full-blown OCD. That said, in reading Summers's book, I've recognized anxiety traits that I've had all the way back to childhood, which I'd always considered to be a result of my serious nature and general nerdiness. Ever since childhood, I've naturally panicked when people haven't shown up as expected. Especially as an adult, I find myself fighting an internal battle against heightened panic which is triggered by stress (for example, last week's episode of coming unglued in anticipation of Sunday's paper). The list goes on, but so does the blog.
Third: Another book I'm reading (I usually read more than one a time) is Shrink Yourself: Break Free From Emotional Eating Forever by Roger Gould, M.D. From this book I'm learning how to deal with insecurity and other profound challenges.
Now – hold on, there's a flower over there I want you to see – for the past few months I've had a couple quilting projects for friends that I've wanted to undertake. I've wanted to, but I'd been held motionless by fear and dread. Literally, when I thought about cutting the fabric I'd end up snacking on something. And then something else would come up, and before I knew it, another day had come to an end, and I hadn't so much as touched a piece of fabric.
Reading the books by Summers and Gould has freed and empowered me, and I'm only halfway through the books. Now that I know my emotions and behaviors aren't in my imagination, I can see that I'm not broken – I just need to teach myself how to manage my feelings. How often had I heard at Weight Watchers that if hunger's not the problem, food isn't the solution? Yet I hadn't been able to see what I was doing. I was eating my anxiety.
Yesterday afternoon, I decided I was going to get quilting. I really like quilting: the fabric, the creativity, making something my kids might treasure in years ahead. What had caused anxiety was that these projects were for other people; loved ones who are appreciative and supportive, yes, but still I put special pressure on myself.
Before I started, I emailed a couple friends, including the recipient, and said that I'd be bravely cutting some fabric soon. I meant it. To cut that fabric was a huge deal to me. What if I cut it crooked, or with a little wiggle in the middle? I didn't want to waste fabric or my time by having to do it again.
So I went through the process. I coached myself through it. When I felt the urge to run and nibble on something (after all, I'm learning it's easier to beat myself up for eating than for being a novice), I instead left the environment entirely: folded laundry, hopped online, anything which would help relieve the sense of panic. I got through and cut the fabric strips.
Then I decided that since I was the evening's PSR chaperone, I'd bring the strips with me and pin them together. No big deal, just pinning strips: a way to kill time while I waited. When I got home, I decided to just sew those first strips together.
Step by step.
Before I knew it, I'd overcome a broken sewing machine needle, changed presser feet, sewed those strips together, AND fixed my son's coat! Sure, I can name five of my friends who could have done it better, but I did it.
I. did. it.
My imperfection wasn't the end of the world.
Every day is an adventure with times of ease and challenges. At my doctor's office today I couldn't resist peaking at the scale. When I saw the number, I smiled reflexively – especially since I was wearing shoes at the time. But I was quick to remind myself that every scale is different, and to instruct myself that I was not going to weigh myself at home. Compulsive weighing, I realize now, is one of my behaviors – not just something I do – which gets me into trouble. When I don't weigh myself or follow the lure of comparing myself to others, I am calmer and more successful in all parts of my life.
If you're still with me, thanks and congratulations for making it to the end. In honor of Fat Tuesday, I invite you to have a paczki on my behalf. In honor of Shrove Tuesday, I'm making pancakes for dinner. They'll be buckwheat pancakes, but if I distract my family with bacon, maybe they won't even notice. And tonight I'll celebrate Mardi Gras by watching my favorite show with my kidlets – something which brings me joy and empowers me.
~Karin
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