It seemed like a fairly normal eventful Saturday — my son had confirmation. After months of preparation, the day had arrived. My husband was nervous that we would get there too late and not get a seat. (That’s what happened last year at my daughter’s confirmation.) He was rather irritating — scolding and complaining that we were not ready soon enough. That really put a bad taste in my mouth, and I was upset. What was supposed to be a special day was turning out just awful. I told him that I had announced at lunch what time we would leave, and that is exactly what time the children and I were ready.
When we got to the church, hardly anyone was there yet. Before we went in, I told my husband in front of the children that I’d had enough of his grumpiness and wanted him to stop. It is a special day, and that’s how I want to remember it. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that this little speech pleased both children, my son especially. They had been ignoring him and refusing to let him take their picture. That was their way of expressing their discontent with his behavior. We went inside the church, found a nice place to sit, and that was it.
Since I’ve already shed so many tears of sentimental disbelief at my children growing up, I was dry-eyed during the entire ceremony. The feeling of pride that he had really made it was stronger. I had told both children that it was up to them if they wanted to be confirmed, as I am no church-goer, and feel more at home with Hinduism and Buddhism. Both children took on the responsibility with no complaints. There were several excursions, several trips to church, and twice they had to be there at 6 am! No complaints. So I leaned back in the pew and thought to myself: “Well done, my children!”
Since I only go to church for funerals, weddings and my children’s milestones (baptism, first communion, confirmation), there usually is a strong tendency towards tears. This time it was strange. I just felt a wonderful sense of calm and not at all sentimental.
Then what happened? Towards the end of the ceremony, the girls’ choir sang “Top of the World” — one of the hits from the Carpenters. For those who don’t know, Karen Carpenter died 25 years ago in February while recovering from her eating disorder. That song shocked me out of my coolness. A wave of gratitude washed over me, leaving a few tears welled up in my eyes, as it occurred to me that I could have died as well.
I am so grateful that I survived those days as a young woman struggling in New York City — a walking toothpick, bingeing and vomiting incessantly, sometimes even vomiting blood, depressed and alone, paranoid and afraid, having blackouts and hearing voices as I walked to work. I wanted to live, but I had lost hope and was waiting for death. Instead, I recovered. And despite all the annoyances that come with marriage and children, I am eternally grateful for this chapter of my life, for the opportunity to raise two healthy children and enjoy them. Thank you, Higher Power!
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Hope, Dreams, Humility, Gratitude and Patience
What do all of these words have to do with each other? They are all essential ingredients for the recipe of daily life. I often find when just one of them is missing, things tend to slide out of alignment.
Hope we need for encouragement. No matter how things look, but especially on those dark days, we need to hope for the best. We hope for ourselves, but also for others —for all of humanity. There is still hope that we as a species can get it together and realize we are not in this alone. To this aim, the individual contribution is essential.
Dreams we need to show us the way. They illumine our aspirations and goals. They are the distant images of all that we can be. We need to believe in ourselves and our dreams, trust in the universal energy, and dare to achieve great things. Yet these great achievements are not about reaching some goal so that we can proudly strut around and say: “Look at me. I’ve done great things.” No, for me these remarkable achievements are to be expected — a wonderful, but also logical fulfillment of each person’s purpose in life.
Which brings me to humility. Occasionally I do something really well and feel exquisite happiness. Without humility, this joy would transform into self-complacency. I need to remain alert, always do my best, believe in myself but know there is always room for improvement. I want to remember that a job well done is simply part of my destiny.
It’s okay to feel happiness or enjoy praise — in moderation. Last year I had a good example of that. I was well-prepared for a concert, and it really went over well. A couple of months later, I gave another concert. Riding on the success and good feelings from the previous one, I didn’t have my heart in it as much. It was more like going through the motions and expecting the audience to react the same as the previous audience. The energy was lacking, afterwards I was dissatisfied, and then it became clear to me: Every concert is a new experience. Each time I need to be centered, put my whole heart into it, and be humble. I cannot assume that it will go over well, just because it did once. That was a valuable lesson.
These valuable lessons are cause for gratitude. I am grateful for everything I learn, for each step I can take. Even if the price seems to be exorbitant, the results are also impressive. When gratitude is lacking, insatiability can run rampant. We get caught up in wanting more, bigger, and better, and lose touch with where we came from and what it’s all about.
Sometimes the key to progress and success is simple patience. To be patient with one’s self and the course of things is necessary at times. When I trust that I am doing my best — without burning the candle at both ends — that gives me confidence to trust that all is well. All is as it should be. I do what I can, and the rest is up to higher power, the universe, and time. All good things will come with time.
Don’t even think for a minute that I’m writing this because I think I know everything and have the answers. Although, now that I write that, I do have the answers and knowledge. But that doesn’t always help. Doubt and impatience still manage to rise up at times and the confidence, trust, hope and dreams seem to disintegrate before my eyes.
During the past week I have experienced how essential it is to (re)connect with hope. When I start to slip down into that dark space, or if I’ve been there for a while, I need to seek the light — even if it means crawling on my hands and knees to get there. Or it means admitting great sorrow about the plight of an individual or the masses, and nevertheless going out into the world and being open to receive guidance. My experience at the Buddhist Monastery was a wonderful illustration of what can happen when I open up, rather than hide with my sadness in solitude.
For today, I wish that all of us will find the appropriate proportions of each of these ingredients to mix for a fulfilling day. Yes, I am humble today. I don’t make this wish for a whole life, just for this day. One day on which everything fits together is precious. Do your best, but be patient and know that time is an element of every success. Be resourceful and creative, and trust that the universe will be equally creative and bring you opportunities you’d never imagined.
It can be helpful just to let go of a mindset. Open up to new possibilities, new ways of relating to life, situations and other people. The rules and patterns we absorbed from the moment we were born do not have to determine our path. The magic of being human is that we can reflect, think logically and consciously make changes! That is a miracle.
Hope we need for encouragement. No matter how things look, but especially on those dark days, we need to hope for the best. We hope for ourselves, but also for others —for all of humanity. There is still hope that we as a species can get it together and realize we are not in this alone. To this aim, the individual contribution is essential.
Dreams we need to show us the way. They illumine our aspirations and goals. They are the distant images of all that we can be. We need to believe in ourselves and our dreams, trust in the universal energy, and dare to achieve great things. Yet these great achievements are not about reaching some goal so that we can proudly strut around and say: “Look at me. I’ve done great things.” No, for me these remarkable achievements are to be expected — a wonderful, but also logical fulfillment of each person’s purpose in life.
Which brings me to humility. Occasionally I do something really well and feel exquisite happiness. Without humility, this joy would transform into self-complacency. I need to remain alert, always do my best, believe in myself but know there is always room for improvement. I want to remember that a job well done is simply part of my destiny.
It’s okay to feel happiness or enjoy praise — in moderation. Last year I had a good example of that. I was well-prepared for a concert, and it really went over well. A couple of months later, I gave another concert. Riding on the success and good feelings from the previous one, I didn’t have my heart in it as much. It was more like going through the motions and expecting the audience to react the same as the previous audience. The energy was lacking, afterwards I was dissatisfied, and then it became clear to me: Every concert is a new experience. Each time I need to be centered, put my whole heart into it, and be humble. I cannot assume that it will go over well, just because it did once. That was a valuable lesson.
These valuable lessons are cause for gratitude. I am grateful for everything I learn, for each step I can take. Even if the price seems to be exorbitant, the results are also impressive. When gratitude is lacking, insatiability can run rampant. We get caught up in wanting more, bigger, and better, and lose touch with where we came from and what it’s all about.
Sometimes the key to progress and success is simple patience. To be patient with one’s self and the course of things is necessary at times. When I trust that I am doing my best — without burning the candle at both ends — that gives me confidence to trust that all is well. All is as it should be. I do what I can, and the rest is up to higher power, the universe, and time. All good things will come with time.
Don’t even think for a minute that I’m writing this because I think I know everything and have the answers. Although, now that I write that, I do have the answers and knowledge. But that doesn’t always help. Doubt and impatience still manage to rise up at times and the confidence, trust, hope and dreams seem to disintegrate before my eyes.
During the past week I have experienced how essential it is to (re)connect with hope. When I start to slip down into that dark space, or if I’ve been there for a while, I need to seek the light — even if it means crawling on my hands and knees to get there. Or it means admitting great sorrow about the plight of an individual or the masses, and nevertheless going out into the world and being open to receive guidance. My experience at the Buddhist Monastery was a wonderful illustration of what can happen when I open up, rather than hide with my sadness in solitude.
For today, I wish that all of us will find the appropriate proportions of each of these ingredients to mix for a fulfilling day. Yes, I am humble today. I don’t make this wish for a whole life, just for this day. One day on which everything fits together is precious. Do your best, but be patient and know that time is an element of every success. Be resourceful and creative, and trust that the universe will be equally creative and bring you opportunities you’d never imagined.
It can be helpful just to let go of a mindset. Open up to new possibilities, new ways of relating to life, situations and other people. The rules and patterns we absorbed from the moment we were born do not have to determine our path. The magic of being human is that we can reflect, think logically and consciously make changes! That is a miracle.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Coming back down to earth
It just occurred to me that today would have been a prime candidate for a binge day. After the emotional upheaval recently, followed by the fairytale to reinstate hope and faith, today I am exhausted. Unable to continue at that pace, what’s a girl to do? I mean, I just don’t see a superlative to yesterday on the horizon, so what do I do now?
Like I said, a long time ago, in another lifetime, I probably would have bought a couple of bags of groceries and binged for a few hours. Why? That’s a good question. I guess to somehow deal with the turmoil of the past few days and come to rest. By evening I would feel lousy, have a splitting headache from all that bending over the toilet, and then it might occur to me: “OH! I was just tired from the past couple of days! If I’d just breathed for a few minutes, I could have avoided this miserable waste of time, energy and money today!” Most bulimics can probably relate. Most people without eating disorders may scratch their head in disbelief. It doesn’t matter.
What I’m getting at is, today is an ordinary, uneventful day. I am using it to catch up a bit, putter, write a grocery list, go watch my son play tennis, and later I have a dentist appointment. No fairytale today, folks! I guess today I’m kind of like Snow White the day after the ball. From that perspective, that’s not so bad. The next ball is sure to come!
So, if you fall into a slump for whatever reason, take heart. Things will look up again. These breaks give us a chance for regeneration, if we can recognize the opportunity and take advantage of it. This empty space is just that. It doesn’t need to be frightening, nor does it need to be filled. We don’t need to binge to relax. Just take it easy. Or even take a nap! Days like this are also about going with the energy flow. There is simply less excitement.
Like I said, a long time ago, in another lifetime, I probably would have bought a couple of bags of groceries and binged for a few hours. Why? That’s a good question. I guess to somehow deal with the turmoil of the past few days and come to rest. By evening I would feel lousy, have a splitting headache from all that bending over the toilet, and then it might occur to me: “OH! I was just tired from the past couple of days! If I’d just breathed for a few minutes, I could have avoided this miserable waste of time, energy and money today!” Most bulimics can probably relate. Most people without eating disorders may scratch their head in disbelief. It doesn’t matter.
What I’m getting at is, today is an ordinary, uneventful day. I am using it to catch up a bit, putter, write a grocery list, go watch my son play tennis, and later I have a dentist appointment. No fairytale today, folks! I guess today I’m kind of like Snow White the day after the ball. From that perspective, that’s not so bad. The next ball is sure to come!
So, if you fall into a slump for whatever reason, take heart. Things will look up again. These breaks give us a chance for regeneration, if we can recognize the opportunity and take advantage of it. This empty space is just that. It doesn’t need to be frightening, nor does it need to be filled. We don’t need to binge to relax. Just take it easy. Or even take a nap! Days like this are also about going with the energy flow. There is simply less excitement.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Fairytale of hope
Today I feel more hopeful than I have in a long time. You know — that real, true, energizing sense of hope.
This morning I drove to the Buddhist Monastery. I got just a tiny bit lost driving there, as it was only my second visit. The first time someone else had driven, so I didn’t really pay attention how to get there. Now I know.
It was a beautiful, warm, sunny day. I parked the car and decided to walk up the grassy hill towards the Buddha shrine. Two monks were walking the path around it, talking, so I continued past, up the hill, on a footpath through a field of wildflowers, not wanting to disturb them. For some reason, I felt lucky passing them. Last time we hadn’t seen any monks. At the top, I surveyed the beautiful landscape. There are rolling green hills, bright green trees, and blue-grey mountains capped with snow in the distance. Behind all of that was the bright blue sky with some fluffy cotton ball clouds. I stood there for a while, breathing, taking in the energy, and enjoying the effect of nature all around me.
Then I walked back down. The two monks were still walking. I had an urge to greet them and ask if I could walk a few times around the Buddha with them, but I was too shy, and afraid I would cry. As I approached them, the younger of the two greeted me with a friendly smile. He asked where I was from and told me a bit about the monastery. I asked if I could walk with him a bit, and he said, “Of course.” His older companion walked silently a few steps behind us. He spoke a bit, then I burst into tears, apologized, and told him I was there to pray for a very sick child. He took my hand and told me not to worry. He said they will pray for him, and asked me the boy’s name.
We circled around the Buddha several times, and then I felt calm and thanked him for walking with me. He shook my hand. His older companion bowed to me and I bowed back. Then I walked down, peacefully, to the meditation room.
I walked into the building, took off my shoes, and walked up the wooden stairs to a large room. There are pictures of various Lamas adorning the wall behind the altar. To the right and left of it are two tables with several tea lights burning, and a large golden Buddha statue almost as large as I am presides on the right hand side. In front of the altar are two low tables on either side, decorated with flowers and other ornaments, and then several pillows in a row behind them on the floor. The monks probably sit or kneel on them when they meditate. Brown wicker chairs with burgundy pillows line the other three sides of the room. I sat in a chair at the back of the room and took in the beauty of it. Then I closed my eyes and meditated.
After a while, that monk came into the room. He sat down next to me and showed me a red silky cotton band with a knot in the middle. He said I could have it to meditate. He gestured how to use it, but I misunderstood him, so he gently took it out of my hand and then tied it around my wrist. Then again, he told me not to worry. They will pray. He smiled, touched my cheek, and was gone.
I stayed in the room a while longer. Gradually a sense of peace began to flow through my body, filling me up. I felt light and peace within me. Shortly thereafter I left. Again I took a slight detour, but I basically knew where I was. I drove past a very interesting house, with paintings painted on the outside. They almost covered two whole sides of the house. There were bright objects in the garden. It really looked like someone has a fun place to live.
Eventually I made it to the lake, which borders on a large town. After walking around there for a while, enjoying the view of the water, the houses in the distance, boats, and lots of ducks swimming around, I walked a couple of blocks into town and stopped for a cup of coffee and a piece of apple strudel. It felt so good to be quiet, among people but only observing.
There was still an hour left on the parking meter, and I happened to walk by a museum that I’d read about just a few days earlier. I walked inside. The first installation is a carousel. It’s an old ride from an amusement park. There are two-seater cups which you sit in, and pull the bar down. There’s a round umbrella roof over each one. The visitor can get on it, and go for a ride. It is extremely slow, so one round takes approximately 13 minutes. All kinds of things go through one’s head during that time. There were only 4 other people there (a family). Everyone was very quiet. When they spoke, then only in whispers.
After looking at the brochure for a few minutes, I sat back to enjoy the ride. It was a strange sensation. After a while, it was as if I was simply drifting off in space, off on a tangent from the rest of the planet, in this hushed room in the middle of nowhere. The only noise was the quiet humming of the machinery. Just letting go, sitting back, letting my feet dangle and existing was very relaxing. There were three other installations, but the carousel was my favorite.
A few years ago, His Holiness the Dalai Lama recommended (among other things) to go somewhere you’ve never been once a year. I took that advice to heart, and do it more than once a year. Sometimes I go somewhere new emotionally, in an otherwise familiar situation. Today was like stepping into a little fairytale. I’ve told you the story in detail, and hope that you will be encouraged to have your own fairytale once in a while.
Take a few hours, or a whole day, plan it a bit, but be open and let your feet lead you. Anybody can do this. Whether you are actively bulimic, in recovery, have some other eating disorder, or none at all, you are invited to have a fairytale hour or day — or anything in between. My plans for today were changed on me yesterday, so I used the unexpected window for a spiritual experience and adventure. My only real plan was to go to the monastery and pray, and then go to the lake.
Now I’m home again, centered and in the present. Right now. And right now everything is as it should be. I focus on what is, letting go of fears about the future — whether immediate or long-term. None of that matters now.
This morning I drove to the Buddhist Monastery. I got just a tiny bit lost driving there, as it was only my second visit. The first time someone else had driven, so I didn’t really pay attention how to get there. Now I know.
It was a beautiful, warm, sunny day. I parked the car and decided to walk up the grassy hill towards the Buddha shrine. Two monks were walking the path around it, talking, so I continued past, up the hill, on a footpath through a field of wildflowers, not wanting to disturb them. For some reason, I felt lucky passing them. Last time we hadn’t seen any monks. At the top, I surveyed the beautiful landscape. There are rolling green hills, bright green trees, and blue-grey mountains capped with snow in the distance. Behind all of that was the bright blue sky with some fluffy cotton ball clouds. I stood there for a while, breathing, taking in the energy, and enjoying the effect of nature all around me.
Then I walked back down. The two monks were still walking. I had an urge to greet them and ask if I could walk a few times around the Buddha with them, but I was too shy, and afraid I would cry. As I approached them, the younger of the two greeted me with a friendly smile. He asked where I was from and told me a bit about the monastery. I asked if I could walk with him a bit, and he said, “Of course.” His older companion walked silently a few steps behind us. He spoke a bit, then I burst into tears, apologized, and told him I was there to pray for a very sick child. He took my hand and told me not to worry. He said they will pray for him, and asked me the boy’s name.
We circled around the Buddha several times, and then I felt calm and thanked him for walking with me. He shook my hand. His older companion bowed to me and I bowed back. Then I walked down, peacefully, to the meditation room.
I walked into the building, took off my shoes, and walked up the wooden stairs to a large room. There are pictures of various Lamas adorning the wall behind the altar. To the right and left of it are two tables with several tea lights burning, and a large golden Buddha statue almost as large as I am presides on the right hand side. In front of the altar are two low tables on either side, decorated with flowers and other ornaments, and then several pillows in a row behind them on the floor. The monks probably sit or kneel on them when they meditate. Brown wicker chairs with burgundy pillows line the other three sides of the room. I sat in a chair at the back of the room and took in the beauty of it. Then I closed my eyes and meditated.
After a while, that monk came into the room. He sat down next to me and showed me a red silky cotton band with a knot in the middle. He said I could have it to meditate. He gestured how to use it, but I misunderstood him, so he gently took it out of my hand and then tied it around my wrist. Then again, he told me not to worry. They will pray. He smiled, touched my cheek, and was gone.
I stayed in the room a while longer. Gradually a sense of peace began to flow through my body, filling me up. I felt light and peace within me. Shortly thereafter I left. Again I took a slight detour, but I basically knew where I was. I drove past a very interesting house, with paintings painted on the outside. They almost covered two whole sides of the house. There were bright objects in the garden. It really looked like someone has a fun place to live.
Eventually I made it to the lake, which borders on a large town. After walking around there for a while, enjoying the view of the water, the houses in the distance, boats, and lots of ducks swimming around, I walked a couple of blocks into town and stopped for a cup of coffee and a piece of apple strudel. It felt so good to be quiet, among people but only observing.
There was still an hour left on the parking meter, and I happened to walk by a museum that I’d read about just a few days earlier. I walked inside. The first installation is a carousel. It’s an old ride from an amusement park. There are two-seater cups which you sit in, and pull the bar down. There’s a round umbrella roof over each one. The visitor can get on it, and go for a ride. It is extremely slow, so one round takes approximately 13 minutes. All kinds of things go through one’s head during that time. There were only 4 other people there (a family). Everyone was very quiet. When they spoke, then only in whispers.
After looking at the brochure for a few minutes, I sat back to enjoy the ride. It was a strange sensation. After a while, it was as if I was simply drifting off in space, off on a tangent from the rest of the planet, in this hushed room in the middle of nowhere. The only noise was the quiet humming of the machinery. Just letting go, sitting back, letting my feet dangle and existing was very relaxing. There were three other installations, but the carousel was my favorite.
A few years ago, His Holiness the Dalai Lama recommended (among other things) to go somewhere you’ve never been once a year. I took that advice to heart, and do it more than once a year. Sometimes I go somewhere new emotionally, in an otherwise familiar situation. Today was like stepping into a little fairytale. I’ve told you the story in detail, and hope that you will be encouraged to have your own fairytale once in a while.
Take a few hours, or a whole day, plan it a bit, but be open and let your feet lead you. Anybody can do this. Whether you are actively bulimic, in recovery, have some other eating disorder, or none at all, you are invited to have a fairytale hour or day — or anything in between. My plans for today were changed on me yesterday, so I used the unexpected window for a spiritual experience and adventure. My only real plan was to go to the monastery and pray, and then go to the lake.
Now I’m home again, centered and in the present. Right now. And right now everything is as it should be. I focus on what is, letting go of fears about the future — whether immediate or long-term. None of that matters now.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Expect a miracle
I wasn’t going to write today, because the mood is rather subdued. I ran over a cat while I was driving home last night and feel terrible about it. Not that I could have prevented it. I was driving slow enough, but it just shot out of nowhere right in front of me. Until last night, I’d always managed to stop. There are several cats in the neighborhood and I’m used to watching out for them. So today I am pondering how suddenly things in life can change — from one second to the next, and how important it is to always be aware and alert. In the now. I intended to pick a goddess card, but got distracted. (By the way, here’s the name to google: Goddess Guidance Oracle Cards if anyone is interested.)
In the meantime, I just heard from a friend that his son’s illness has worsened and they don’t expect him to live more than a few days. That really devastated me. I’d known he was ill, but he’d been stable for a while, so I kind of expected him to recover.
When I got the email about his son, I sat here and cried, not knowing what to answer. We’d planned to meet tomorrow, and he was cancelling due to the worsening situation. I sat quietly. I did not want to already offer condolences. Then I knew what to say. I told him what I’d heard just the other day: “As long as you are breathing, there is hope.” And I promised to light a candle, which I’ve already done.
The friend I had moaned to this morning about the cat wrote back and asked me which goddess card I’d picked. I had completely forgotten about it! (I’d mentioned to her that it seemed like it was a good day to pick a card.) In the middle of writing back, I stopped, not wanting to get distracted again. The deck nearly split as I lay out the cards.
Who did I pick? Mother Mary. She says: “Expect a miracle. Trust that your prayers will be heard. Trust is the light which shines upon your path. Without trust, the future appears to be terrifying. Thus it is necessary for you to take every step in good faith and trust. Please don’t give up hope — not for yourself and not for others. Let the light of faith shine in your soul. Even the smallest spark of hope can chase away the darkness of doubt. Be the light that can shine for others when they lose hope. When you support others, you not only help yourself. You help the whole world.” She advises one to “Think positive. Let go of all worries and fears. Be aware and follow the godly direction you receive. Pray. Focus on spiritual healing.”
That is exactly what I needed to hear. I will pray and trust and expect a miracle. I cannot determine ahead of time what the miracle will be, but I will pray until I glow with hope and faith, and that miracle will occur.
Remember: As long as you are breathing, there is hope.
In the meantime, I just heard from a friend that his son’s illness has worsened and they don’t expect him to live more than a few days. That really devastated me. I’d known he was ill, but he’d been stable for a while, so I kind of expected him to recover.
When I got the email about his son, I sat here and cried, not knowing what to answer. We’d planned to meet tomorrow, and he was cancelling due to the worsening situation. I sat quietly. I did not want to already offer condolences. Then I knew what to say. I told him what I’d heard just the other day: “As long as you are breathing, there is hope.” And I promised to light a candle, which I’ve already done.
The friend I had moaned to this morning about the cat wrote back and asked me which goddess card I’d picked. I had completely forgotten about it! (I’d mentioned to her that it seemed like it was a good day to pick a card.) In the middle of writing back, I stopped, not wanting to get distracted again. The deck nearly split as I lay out the cards.
Who did I pick? Mother Mary. She says: “Expect a miracle. Trust that your prayers will be heard. Trust is the light which shines upon your path. Without trust, the future appears to be terrifying. Thus it is necessary for you to take every step in good faith and trust. Please don’t give up hope — not for yourself and not for others. Let the light of faith shine in your soul. Even the smallest spark of hope can chase away the darkness of doubt. Be the light that can shine for others when they lose hope. When you support others, you not only help yourself. You help the whole world.” She advises one to “Think positive. Let go of all worries and fears. Be aware and follow the godly direction you receive. Pray. Focus on spiritual healing.”
That is exactly what I needed to hear. I will pray and trust and expect a miracle. I cannot determine ahead of time what the miracle will be, but I will pray until I glow with hope and faith, and that miracle will occur.
Remember: As long as you are breathing, there is hope.
Mothers
They love you dearly. They are always there to listen. They can drive you crazy. They don’t have a clue. They give up a lot for you. They are your biggest fan. And now I know how it is to be one. I am fortunate to still have both of my parents, but with my husband went through the loss of both of his parents, just two months apart from each other.
The last New Year’s Eve we celebrated with his parents, I told my mother-in-law how much I appreciate her and the fact that she accepts me as I am. I know it was difficult for her at times, because we had very different ways of doing things, but she never criticized or put me down. So I told her that she was a great mother-in-law, so different from the ones in films! And I gave her a big hug. That fall she called me on my birthday and wished me the best of everything. She said she hoped that I would accomplish all I set out to do in life. Two weeks later, she passed away, unexpectedly. It was as if we both had known we had to make use of the time we had.
For my husband it was especially difficult, because he was not close to either of them. His relationship with his mother had just begun to blossom after many years of silence, and then she was gone. His father loved him dearly and was very proud of him, but they just couldn’t talk. There were many things left unsaid. I felt his pain for a long time and often cried for him. It was so sad.
My mother can drive me crazy, but I love her very much. We are very close and I treasure that. It pains me to know that someday she will go. As long as we still have our parents, we can express and share many things. But when they are gone, they are still with us.
The last New Year’s Eve we celebrated with his parents, I told my mother-in-law how much I appreciate her and the fact that she accepts me as I am. I know it was difficult for her at times, because we had very different ways of doing things, but she never criticized or put me down. So I told her that she was a great mother-in-law, so different from the ones in films! And I gave her a big hug. That fall she called me on my birthday and wished me the best of everything. She said she hoped that I would accomplish all I set out to do in life. Two weeks later, she passed away, unexpectedly. It was as if we both had known we had to make use of the time we had.
For my husband it was especially difficult, because he was not close to either of them. His relationship with his mother had just begun to blossom after many years of silence, and then she was gone. His father loved him dearly and was very proud of him, but they just couldn’t talk. There were many things left unsaid. I felt his pain for a long time and often cried for him. It was so sad.
My mother can drive me crazy, but I love her very much. We are very close and I treasure that. It pains me to know that someday she will go. As long as we still have our parents, we can express and share many things. But when they are gone, they are still with us.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Numbers and Self-Worth
My recent thoughts on weight have inspired further reflection. When I consider the power that numbers have over us, it just seems insane. How many years did I step on the scale — several times a day — to monitor my weight? Those numbers on the scale determined my self-worth! I used to count calories as well. Those weird numbers determined if food was good or not, and if I was good or not. There are other numbers as well: salary, bank account, value of the house, price of the car, that apparently have something to say about our own value.
There's a great song in German which translates to: Why am I not satisfied? That’s what it’s about. We try to compensate or build up our low self-worth with symbolic numbers. And what happens is, we invest these numbers with an immense power over us, and struggle each day in the hope of achieving certain ideals. Generally, these numbers are unattainable, because as soon as we reach them, we want more (or less, depending on the situation) — to the point of becoming addicted.
Clothing sizes are also numbers. Think about it. What are they for? Their purpose is to help us find clothes that fit us, rather than having to try everything on that’s hanging on the rack. Whether I am a 7, 9, 11, 12 or 14 doesn’t matter. It does not determine my value as a human being. It simply helps me find something to wear that will fit me. During the time when I began to lose weight, I greedily eyed the “petite” sizes, hoping to eventually fit into them. Now I know better — 5′ 7″ is not petite!
When I was really skinny, I can remember not going clothes shopping. I was afraid, because I didn’t know what size I was, and I didn’t want anyone to find out. (Not that I had much spare money to spend on clothes, since most of it went towards bingeing!) Yet I am just as guilty of proudly announcing my size to a woman who was a few sizes larger. As if that made me better or something, it gave me sick satisfaction! Now I accept myself as I am, and the competitive comparison is no longer necessary. On the contrary, I enjoy the company and presence of other women, and treasure each one’s unique appearance, without value judgment.
I don’t like giving other people control over me, and the thought of numbers having control over me is even less desirable. I grew up reacting, discerning my worth through the reflection perceived in other people’s eyes. My self-esteem was a situative variable that had nothing to do with me. That was a poor existence, and no numbers either way could help it. I always assumed the worst. Yet this very desire to please made me willing to undertake immense efforts to try and change myself to fit some predetermined image, size or number which had nothing to do with me.
My tendency towards faith in conspiracy theory supports the notion that this supposed importance of numbers regarding weight and size is instilled in women to keep them under control. Can you imagine the blast of energy, creativity and power that would be unleashed if women stopped expending so much energy and time on these numbers? Wow!
There is still a lot of anger simmering inside of me. Anger at myself for buying into this crock and being so deep into self-destruction for so long, and anger at my environment for promoting these plastic, superficial values. I royally screwed up a lot of things in my life because of it. I damaged my body, I betrayed myself, I barely remember my youth and young adulthood. If I hadn’t written so much in my journal, the gaps in memory would be much worse. True, I trust in the universe, and I am doing a damn good job at making the most of what is left, but sometimes it makes me want to scream. Still, let’s not forget the big picture. Everything happens for a reason and in the end it will all make sense. Remember, this is life now and we can reclaim it and enjoy it. And I want to have some fun!
There's a great song in German which translates to: Why am I not satisfied? That’s what it’s about. We try to compensate or build up our low self-worth with symbolic numbers. And what happens is, we invest these numbers with an immense power over us, and struggle each day in the hope of achieving certain ideals. Generally, these numbers are unattainable, because as soon as we reach them, we want more (or less, depending on the situation) — to the point of becoming addicted.
Clothing sizes are also numbers. Think about it. What are they for? Their purpose is to help us find clothes that fit us, rather than having to try everything on that’s hanging on the rack. Whether I am a 7, 9, 11, 12 or 14 doesn’t matter. It does not determine my value as a human being. It simply helps me find something to wear that will fit me. During the time when I began to lose weight, I greedily eyed the “petite” sizes, hoping to eventually fit into them. Now I know better — 5′ 7″ is not petite!
When I was really skinny, I can remember not going clothes shopping. I was afraid, because I didn’t know what size I was, and I didn’t want anyone to find out. (Not that I had much spare money to spend on clothes, since most of it went towards bingeing!) Yet I am just as guilty of proudly announcing my size to a woman who was a few sizes larger. As if that made me better or something, it gave me sick satisfaction! Now I accept myself as I am, and the competitive comparison is no longer necessary. On the contrary, I enjoy the company and presence of other women, and treasure each one’s unique appearance, without value judgment.
I don’t like giving other people control over me, and the thought of numbers having control over me is even less desirable. I grew up reacting, discerning my worth through the reflection perceived in other people’s eyes. My self-esteem was a situative variable that had nothing to do with me. That was a poor existence, and no numbers either way could help it. I always assumed the worst. Yet this very desire to please made me willing to undertake immense efforts to try and change myself to fit some predetermined image, size or number which had nothing to do with me.
My tendency towards faith in conspiracy theory supports the notion that this supposed importance of numbers regarding weight and size is instilled in women to keep them under control. Can you imagine the blast of energy, creativity and power that would be unleashed if women stopped expending so much energy and time on these numbers? Wow!
There is still a lot of anger simmering inside of me. Anger at myself for buying into this crock and being so deep into self-destruction for so long, and anger at my environment for promoting these plastic, superficial values. I royally screwed up a lot of things in my life because of it. I damaged my body, I betrayed myself, I barely remember my youth and young adulthood. If I hadn’t written so much in my journal, the gaps in memory would be much worse. True, I trust in the universe, and I am doing a damn good job at making the most of what is left, but sometimes it makes me want to scream. Still, let’s not forget the big picture. Everything happens for a reason and in the end it will all make sense. Remember, this is life now and we can reclaim it and enjoy it. And I want to have some fun!
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