Day 2

My life lately has been defined by the fact that I am either working or on days-off. It shouldn’t be like that, but for some reason it is. I spend both too much, and not enough time strictly deciding what needs to happen during my too-few hours at home with the fam. Working days consist of merely making it through, and not thinking of how many more I have left, what I’m missing out on, or how lonely the bed feels at night. It’s like my head is in the clouds. I should never wish away time. Not working consists of celebration, hugs, kisses, cuddles, waiting for J to come home from work, waiting for the weekend, way too much sleep, and making up for everything (I think) I missed out on during my previous week. Both feel too fast, too un-tasted and under-appreciated. My life is like a whirlwind and days are flying by like they don’t even count. . I want to take time, live like in a movie or the cover of a great novel, sit on the front porch and count the minutes with the people and things I love.

This year, instead of making a resolution, I thought back on 2014 and talked with J about our memories from the year. Not surprisingly, we had very few. I don’t know how many memories one should be able to recall from a year, but a mere handful seems too few. 2015 will be the year of remembering, a start to making memories and a stop to wishing time away. I hope this time next year we will sit down and think of many times: from hikes to adventures to camping trips, to cuddle sessions and breakfasts in bed (we had dinner in bed for our first time and it was magical).

Since I am resolution-less, and surrounded by the madness of January dieting and gym-goers, I have decided to do the Whole30 (just to fit in 😉 ). Today is my Day 2.

Near the end of the day yesterday I was sitting at my desk thinking “Ha! I don’t see what the big deal is. This is easy-peasy“. I then went to the website to check out how other people have felt on Day 1. Well, it appears I am not alone. Day 1 is easy for most people, and the euphoric high you get from following through for an entire day (go, you!) is a happiness booster for many. The information also informed me to be prepared for Day 2 and 3 to feel less than ideal. I got this.

Day 2:

I woke up with a slight headache (very minor) and it has gone away since then. I feel okay, but I would have liked to have toast for breakfast.. I will survive. I thought about why I wanted toast, and all I could come up with was that I liked it. I had raspberries instead, I like those too.

It’s 30 days of the rest of my life, so even if I learn one single, tiny thing about myself, it’s a challenge, and it was worth it. What else do I really have going on?

Whole30 is supposed to change your relationship with food, and how you think about what you put into your body. I tend to do best when my options are strictly limited, anyways. One bite of chocolate and I’m eating the entire cupboard. I don’t know why I am like that, but for me, I am easily de-railed and the flood gates open wide after a small slip-up. I have an all or nothing mentality when it comes to food… This will be good for me, I think. I need something  to focus my energy on (or maybe not focus my energy on). Something to succeed at and something to force me to check in with myself, my feelings, and what is happening my life —  daily.

Love,

A

Defining Moments

Yesterday, my Dad must have been taking a trip down memory lane as I received a few consecutive pictures in my Facebook inbox. There I was. A beautiful, dark haired little girl with her bangs cut straight across, wearing my early 90’s finest and blowing out the candles on my birthday cake. What was I thinking in that moment? I bet I was excited it was my birthday, and even more excited for cake.

I wonder what my wish was?
I wonder what my wish was?

The picture made me sad, almost instantly. I’ve never seen it before and I feel like I have no idea who that little girl is. I can see my round little nose and my big brown eyes and my dark hair..I can see it all. That’s me. That’s where I started. It made me wonder where things changed. When did I stop being this innocent, happy little girl? When did I become this person who is so critical of herself? This girl who spent years crying when she looked in the mirror, wishing she could have a different nose and a skinnier body, and no stretch marks, and even longer agnoizing over her future and what it would be like. What changed?

I wasn’t born fat, but I got there pretty quickly. I was a chubby kid (not quite unhealthy, but plump). When I started kindergarten I was bigger than the other kids, but I was always tall and had a large structure (I won’t say big boned, because we won’t go there…haha). I didn’t feel weird or out of place then.

My Dad left when I was 3. I have no memories of my family as a perfect little “unit”. My mom went to school and worked a night job–I spent most of my younger years at my Grandma’s. She fed me whatever I wantedfood is love, you know. It is abnormal for a 7-year old child to feel like I felt. I developed OCD and ate like crazy. Food made me feel safe. Hiding in my room made me feel safe. My Mom was stressed and she was busy.. She had so much going on, but she still did everything she could have done. She yelled sometimes like any normal parent, but I don’t think it ever crossed the line of ‘normal’. I hope one day I will be as amazing of a parent as she was. I don’t know what distinguished me from the other kids, or what made me have these feelings, but I don’t believe anything my family could have said or done would have changed it.. It was something deep inside of me. It’s who I was. By the time I was in my first year at University, I was 220lbs and miserable. I was just existing.

There are several, defining moments that stick out when I think about when everything changed. When did I loose that happiness, and that innocence? When did I stop feeling like that happy little girl in the picture and star feeling like the fat, unhappy  girl (the one that still lives in a big part of my heart and soul). Now of course, my life isn’t defined by these moments but they definitely made an impact. They are so small and so seemingly insignificant, but I think they’ll always be etched in my memories.

I remember in Second Grade, measuring the school field with a partner–we had one of those wheels on a stick that clicks for every meter travelled? I was pushing it around and he was walking slightly behind me. He said he was cold and I said I wasn’t.

“It’s because of all your whale blubber.”

It’s funny now, I guess. It was a witty comment for a second grader, but man it hurt.. I remember waiting until I got home after school, locking myself in my room and crying. I’m sure that little boy doesn’t remember that. I’m sure he said it, and that was that. Funny how that works.

I vividly remember standing outside my fourth grade classroom in my purple leggings and having kids tease me as they walked by.  I remember leaning up against the hard, brick wall with my backpack in front me, feeling so alone and trying to hide my pants from the kids as they walked by. All the other girls could wear leggings..but I was different. I was fat. I remember trying to hide the fact that I got teased. I didn’t want my Mom to think less of me or to be embarassed of me. From such an early age I was so worried about disapointing her..I didn’t want her to know she had the fat daughter that no one liked–she deserved more.

And then there was  back-to-school shopping. The one, dreadful year that I transitioned into adult clothes. I hated them. I didn’t want to wear old lady clothes..but I didn’t fit into kids clothes anymore. This was probably around Grade 5. I remember my Mom standing outside the change room while I tried to hold back my tears, telling me it wasn’t her fault I didn’t fit in kids clothes–I was just too big. I remember this day so vividly. I remember the feeling I had, and being so hurt by my Mom.  I’ve never told her this, and I’m sure I never will.

I wish I could go back to that happy little girl blowing out her candles and tell her she was beautiful. I wish I could help her become a confident, happy young lady. I wish I could go back to that 14-year old who quit basketball because she didn’t want to wear shorts and tell her she was GORGEOUS. I wish I could run back and tell her everything would be okay, and she’d be getting married to the man of her dreams (who is SO, so, so, SO, SO, SO handsome), and that she’d have a beautiful home, and beautiful puppies, and a happy, happy life. But I can’t go back, all I can do is go forward…and going forward, my outlook is going to change.

I can’t explain how this strange, random sequence of thoughts has occured in the past few days since receiving those pictures…but this is one of those moments. All I’ve been thinking about is how I wish I could go back and change so many things, but I can’t. All of them are just thoughts, and feelings, too: I wish I had more confidence, I wish I was happier and that I’d made different choices. But maybe I don’t need to go back, maybe all those things made me the woman I am today. I am learning to love her. She is a beautiful, compassionate person. She has more empathy than a lot of people, and loves deeper than anyone I’ve met. From this day forward, I am going to start loving that girl. I’m going to eat chocolate when I want and not feel guilty, and I’m going to run like the wind. I’m going to wear a bikini on my honeymoon and rock it, stretch marks and all. Everything is going to be okay. I’m going to make that little girl proud.

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