Never hungry

Partner is by definition a person who comes together with another person in an undertaking with a shared outcome. By moving in together that is exactly what we did. I often fret about whether or not I am holding my even share in this wonderful venture. Living with him as been one of the easiest things I have ever done. It feels natural like I was always suppose to be here… in this place… creating our home and building our lives.

Yet I am nagged by the fact that I can’t remember the last time I cooked something. My guess would be around last December. Yet I never go hungry. Even when he is not around the leftovers sustain me until his return. I am not kidding. This past week I made a fritta and Brussels sprouts stretch four days! I am tired of eggs, but I didn’t have to buy any of the overpriced food they try to sell around where I work. And when he is home… my dinner is always packed and ready to go for the next day. I am hardly around during the week between my hours and the time it takes to commute back and forth. He has made this work transition so seamless for me.

However, I really should cook on the weekends when I am home. I really should. But then does things like making pizza or BBQ chicken. It’s soooooo good. I can’t compete with his kitchen skills. Flavors come natural to him. He can wing something and it will be a party in my stomach. He says he loves to cook and I am forever grateful for that… but I don’t want him to feel like he always HAS to cook. I know my way around a kitchen just not as well. I try to compensate for my lack of cooking by keeping up with the laundry, dusting, and vacuuming…. the last two I been slacking on due to the fact I hate dust and there is cat hair EVERYWHERE. Yet that is only one day a week. His underwear may be clean but I eat everyday! Then again he does wear clean clothes everyday… it’s the same thing right?

I should stop being paranoid about my lack of cooking hours. I should take my solace in the fact that if he didn’t like something he wouldn’t do it. I should believe that I do in fact bring my fair share to this relationship. I’ve done a lot of growing in the past two years. I fixed my credit. I have a back account even though I hate banks.  I am not longer miserable at work because I found a job in the path I have chosen as my career. It’s not perfect but nothing ever is really. Most importantly, to me anyway, I am in a healthy relationship with the man I love and want to spend the rest of my days. Yet I can’t kick these dam insecurities. I feel like a character that is having trouble developing!

Mental pains

I had an appointment with my therapist this morning (I’m super happy she is back from maternity leave). We talked about all the self-deprecative silly thoughts bestowed upon my psyche this past couple weeks.

  1. I turned 35 and I am acting like I am so old. I am getting married soon and I am excited about that… but then I start thinking about kids… and the fact I am still not 100% on where I stand with that… and how I will be 36 if all goes right when I become pregnant for the first time. I know women are having children later in life than in the past but I can’t help feeling scared about it.
  2. I am having many more “I feel fat and ugly” days recently. I am trying to get healthier but every 3 steps forward I fall back 2 1/2. It’s like I can’t east anything without it attaching itself to my stomach. Fat loves my stomach 😦 I don’t place my happiness on being thinner but I really would love to do things without all the extra pain and effort it takes.
  3. My troubled past creeps in from time to time knocking me out of nowhere when it does. This past weekend I was reminded how sometimes… if not most of the time.. people don’t like to get involved in situations that don’t involve them. A conversation was had amongst friends regarding some new loud neighbors… and possible abuse happening. I made the suggestion that the cops be called but I was retorted with a “I don’t want to get involved.” This brought me back to the time my neighbors didn’t call the cops when I was screaming for my life. Instead they called the rental office to complain about the noise level coming from our apartment. This naturally dampened my mood and I ended up crying waiting on a line to buy lake tour tickets.
  4. This led to me hating on myself. I hate that I cry all the time. I hate that these memories and pains can’t just disappear completely from my life. I understand that this is impossible that my past is a part of my but I don’t want it to keep interfering with my future.
  5. This brought my thoughts to what is the point of life and why even exist? No I would never kill myself but that still don’t stop me from questing the point of it all if pain never completely heals.
  6. I actually said the words to myself… I hate being white. Driving through the south we saw a whole lot of confederate flags… a friend who lives down south doesn’t go to certain places because her skin is brown… this superiority complex of some white people does not represent me… so why do I beat up on myself? I don’t treat people like I am better… never have.
  7. I bury my depression in shopping but I need to focus on saving… so my internal struggle to want stuff with the words Harry Potter or Star Wars on it is at odds with my desire to go on vacations… what the hell is wrong with me!

I am in so much mental pain I don’t know what to do with it all.

Memory of that first house

Memory of that first house

I lived in a place prior to the first house. I was told this by my parents but that apartment rests in a part of my memory I don’t have access. The home I do remember was owned by my maternal grandparents. It was a greenish color with 4 levels. You had to walk up a ton of stairs to get to the house. I on the other hand preferred to take the dirt path that was between the railings of my grandparents’ house and the neighbors to the left.  I imagine that is because I always wanted to do things differently but that is for my parents to confirm. Regardless I thought it was more fun than taking the steps. To the right of the stairs was a three level bush/tree garden. Least that is what I call it. I used to like to play there. Continue reading

M: Meditation 

I am currently reading through the pamphlet Guide to Meditation by Roy Davis. I had originally downloaded this book on my Kindle… I want to say… almost three years ago. It was either free or under five dollars. I can’t remember off hand and I am too lazy to look it up! In it he states that “Meditation correctly practiced, is simply the process of removing attention from conditions and circumstances which… fragment and cloud our perceptions.”  Simply put it enables us to easily experience other levels of our consciousness. Practice makes perfect and with a daily routine we are more likely to open ourselves up to “physiological and psychological rest” in addition to being spiritually awakened.I will say that I have made several attempts at putting myself on a meditation routine. I mediate maybe two times a week at most. I will also mediate at random times like when I am feeling my anxiety rising. When I feel like this I stop what I am doing, close my eyes, and focus on my breath. Often times this is enough to calm me down.  Just from my limited experience with meditation it has made me wonder what other great things it can do for me in the long haul. 

However, part of my problem is I expect immediate results from myself. If I start to try and lose weight I immediately become disappointed when I wake up the next day looking the same. Yea I know this sounds extreme but I like instant gratification haha.  So it goes without saying, but I will say it anyway, that when I start to mediate I expected to reap all the positive benefits from it in one sitting. David mentions how when you go to meditate that we must leave the anxiety of it behind. The need to be worrying about the outcomes of meditation is kind of counterproductive to the process. That has been my issue with keeping to a schedule. Imagine how much further along I would have been in my spiritual journey should I have practiced every day for the past three years?

Some of his tips for beginning are almost all common sense.

Tip 1- Consider your meditation practice to be the most important activity of your day (I would say put it to a routine such as brushing your teeth… unless you don’t do that every day)

Tip 2- Schedule your meditations at a time when you can give your total attention (For example, I want to take time out during the mornings. Now that I work primarily evenings my mornings are no longer rushed so I can use this time to meditate before I start my day).

Tip 3- Mediate minimally once a day

Tip 4- Find a private spot and make it your personal sanctuary (You are more likely to get into the headspace when you condition yourself to think of a certain area as your meditation zone!)

Davis then goes into the stages of the meditation practice.

1.       Sitting– The most ideal posture is to sit upright (I have often time meditated lying down. To me that felt the most relaxing but sometimes I fall asleep)

2.       Beginning– The book says to begin with a prayer to however you visualize God to be. However, ultimately it is up to you how you want to begin your practice. Another way could be the use of mantras. Focusing on chosen words or short phrases can help pull your attention away from external distractions.

3.       Internalization of attention– means you take your attention away from external distractions and focus inward. (This is usually where I begin but I think I want to try the prayer step.)

4.       Concentration– It is the undisturbed flow of attention to the point of focus

5.       Pure meditation– Uninterrupted flowing of attention to the object being contemplated

6.       Peak experience– When awareness is partially or completely removed from identification with mental processes and transformation, superconsciousness is experienced.

Was this at all useful? I may need to reread this chapter… especially the part about the superconsciousness. The book states that the superconsciousness is natural to our souls and that there we are already free. I am not sure I fully understand what this means but I want to learn.

Most beginners do not experience “spontaneous awakenings” because our awareness is still too involved with our physical senses, emotions, and thoughts. This is the stage I am stuck in.

Does anyone else meditate and have tips for this novice?

My First Post Revisited

My First Post Revisited

One of my longest blogging buddies Giggling Fattie tagged me for the #MyFirstPostRevisited challenge.

I will be stealing What Sandra Thinks corrected rules! I want to participate but then my annoying inner insecure self doesn’t want to bother people. I never get bothered by these just so you all know! I enjoy them.

Here’s what I’m supposed to going to do…

» Copy and paste your old post into a new post or reblog your own bad self. (Either way is fine but NO editing.)
» Put the hashtag #MyFirstPostRevisited in your title.
» Tag five other bloggers to take up this challenge.
» Notify your tags in the comment section of their blog
» Feel free to cut and paste the badge to use in your post.
» Include the rules in your post.

I think a reintroduction is a great idea. My blog has grown significantly since I began nearly a year and a half ago. I think at times I have stepped away from what I said my goals were when I began. However, the more I thought about it the more I realized that this blog often flows with the way my mind works… jumping to random topics. I have worked all that out… after all it is my blog!  Without further ado here is my very first post But let me first write an introduction. It was done probably 2 to 3 weeks after I signed up with WordPress. I was overwhelmed by the emptiness of my newly minted blog that I waited for one of the Blogging 101 classes to begin before I posted anything. It was a fun class that brought me to many of you!

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I would like to begin my blogging adventure with a short introduction and intent for what I will be sharing with whoever stumbles across my ramblings. My name is Stephanie and I am 33 year old woman from New York City. Like so many people I have had a life long struggle with allowing others to shape my opinions of myself. Over the past year my life has changed in so many profound ways that I have had this nagging feeling to write about it. That is why I have begun this blog. I am blogging publicly because I want to join in the body positive revolution by contributing my story and journey in hopes of helping others. I also want to contribute to the fight to end emotional, mental, and physical abuse. I hope to inspire others to do the same because no two peoples’ stories are the similar. We may share in the struggle but we each handle them in our own unique ways. We can learn from one another. Form a community with a stronghold of support. It took me decades to finally get a grip on myself and now I want to extend the invitation to join me on my journey to sustainable happiness and self-acceptance.

The title of this blog, “When I thought I was fat,” was born from my constant complaining about how “I wish I was the weight I was when I thought I was fat.” A mouth full I know, hence the shorter title, but for me, there is no truer statement. Ever since I was around six years old I believed myself to look like a “rollie pollie.” This was a result of how adults spoke to me and how it made me feel. From my cheerleading coaches to family members, no one was exempt from my overpowering abilities to let the words of others shape my self-esteem as I grew up.

Yet now when I look at old photographs of myself I do not see a “rollie pollie.” I see an active child. An athletic child. A child capable of doing all the same things, and sometimes even more, than children that were considered “thin” or “light.” I see a young high school girl that wore clothes that were entirely too big to hide this hideous thing people called “fat.” Yet I sit here now typing my first blog 70 pounds away from my high school weight wishing so bad to get that number back.

I began diets every Monday. Meal skipped. Joined a gym. Began weight watchers. Gave up. Rejoined a gym. Rejoined weight watchers. Starved myself. I was stressed and living in an unhealthy environment where I was made to feel worthless by a man who claimed to care for me. I wasn’t good enough as I was. I wasn’t pretty until I was thin. I didn’t deserve the respect of a man until I was thin. Everything was just on the other side of the “until I was thin.” All this accumulated to my highest weight of 338 lbs. Last June I joined weight watchers for the last time. Ditched the gym because I discovered long walks worked best for me. Through the support of my family, friends, weight watchers groups, and therapy, I have learned to take things day by day. I learned that I am more than just a number on a scale. I learned to be happy with myself as I am now. I have not mastered self-acceptance perfectly but I am so much stronger than I was two years ago.

 

Stranger Danger?

Stranger Danger?

The following tale is not one looking for praise and admiration. It is a story of a flawed human being. A facade. This may come as a shocker to some of you but… I am talking about me. Yes I am flawed. It is true. However, in my defense I believe that there is not a single perfect human being on this planet. We may find that one person or persons in the world that we think are… but in fact they are just perfect for us… a compilation. Continue reading

Ode to arms

I’m my worst critic… but aren’t we all? I am the first person to jump on my imperfections and criticize myself. For one I can say with certainty that I never liked my arms. Besides the fact my ex called them man arms they are also full of scars. Scars from being whipped with a rod or hanger or fists of fury. Continue reading