Asking for support

For many years I felt alone. 

Most of my life in fact. 

I felt like I wasn't allowed to have emotions, let alone express them. So I held everything inside. 

The pain of holding in my emotions led me to self-medicate. I turned to food, and drugs, and purging, and shame. 

I was afraid to ask for help. 

When I was 13, I wanted nothing more than to die. And I told no one. I was afraid that no one could possibly understand my pain. That I would be laughed at. Scorned. That i would be punished for not being able to suck it up and to survive on my own. 

So I suffered in silence. 

As I got older, things only got worse. I had more access to drugs. I had money to spend. I had more privacy for my bingeing and purging. 

I was so afraid to ask for help. Asking for help meant that I was weak. It meant that I would be judged. It meant that I would be deserted. Abandoned. I would be even more alone. So I said nothing. 

I was afraid. 

And time continued to pass me by. I felt trapped by my own fears and sadness. I was afraid of everything. I never wanted to carry a purse because someone might steal it. I couldn't have the car windows open because someone could reach in and take what was on the front passenger seat, or worse, attack me. I couldn't walk alone because I might be raped. I was afraid of the tires falling off my car. I was afraid that I would fall down the stairs. I was afraid that my house would burn down. 

I was trapped by my anxiety. In a prison of fears. 

So I focused on solving other people's problems. I put everyone's needs ahead of my own. I joined a million committees. I took extra courses at university. I took on 3 jobs. 

And this continued into my adult life. Focusing on other people's problems. Helping everyone else. Taking on their emotions until I felt like I was being stretched in 10 directions at one time. 

And then one day, I had enough. Enough of being scared. Enough of holding in all my feelings. Enough of taking care of everyone else and not taking care of myself. I knew that if I didn't ask for help that I was going to snap. 

I needed support. 

So ... I went online and looked up therapists. I looked through profiles, reading about different modalities. But to be honest, I was mostly looking at the photos. Trying to decide who looked kind. Who looked like they wouldn't judge me. Whose eyes I could trust. 

I chose Nosy Nora. 

At first I was resistant. Asking for support was scary. It meant giving myself over to someone else. Opening up and talking about those pesky things called "feelings" and it was hard. She kept asking me about feelings. I actually had to google a list of feeling words. Write them down. Refer to them. So that I had words to choose from. 

It got easier over time. As I got to know her, I grew to trust her. And I started to learn that it was ok to share my feelings. That it was okay to ask for help. 

The more I began to ask Nosy Nora for support, the harder it became. I felt so needy. I felt like a burden. I felt like I was too much. (Sometimes I still do) But the more she supported me, the more I began to realize that it was okay to need support. She kept telling me that everyone needs each other. That no one can go through life alone. 

So slowly, I let myself be vulnerable and I began to open up to friends. I began to ask for support. And shockingly to me .... I got it. 

People were willing to listen. People were willing to be with me. No matter how messed up I was. 

Because I was able to ask for support, I was able to face my darkness. To open myself up. To share my secrets. To tell my story. To start this blog. To use my experiences to help other people. To share with the world that we are not alone. 

As Nosy Nora says, we all need each other (even if I still often struggle to accept that and feel like my need is a burden). 

The more I ask for support, the more I find it. In unexpected places. The more I share my story, the more love I receive. 

And even when I feel completely alone, I am not. 

Thank goodness for friendship. For love. For my spouse. For my colleagues. For my friends. 

Thank goodness for support. And for hugs. 

If you feel alone. Ask for help. It's okay. I promise. 

Be kind to yourself, 

xoxo

...

Shame Cycle

I am caught in a vicious shame cycle. 

I start to feel good about myself. So I panic. I try to identify what is feeling good. And I try to recreate that. I haven't been eating bread. So that must be it. Obviously. 

So I don't eat any bread. And I'm feeling good. 

I can conquer the world. I'm unstoppable. And I don't eat bread. 

Which makes me want bread. But I won't cheat on myself. So I don't eat bread. Until all I can think about is eating bread. So I buy some and eat 2 slices. 

And then that's it. 

I'm a fucking idiot who has screwed up her life because obviously it was not eating bread that had been making things good. And I've already screwed it up by eating those 2 slices, so why not 2 more. And while we are at it, I'll have a few cookies. Okay maybe 5. And now I've really messed up and ruined everything. So I eat a bag of chips. Followed by 9 danishes. 

Then why stop? There's ice cream in the freezer. So let's eat that right out of the carton standing in the kitchen. 

At that point in the binge there are no thoughts. There is only numbness and the automatic muscle memory of lifting hand to mouth, chewing fast, without thinking. Swallowing. Fast. Gulping down the food. Maybe if I can make the food disappear then I can disappear with it. Or at least my feelings can. 

At some point the trance breaks and I am left with wrappers and crumbs and a very full belly and mounds of guilt and shame. 

Them comes the struggle. The tears begin. I am a disappointment. I am a loser. I am out of control. My life is shit. I'm useless. Worthless. Undeserving. 

Then the anger. How could I have done this? Why I am I so stupid? Why can't I stop myself? Why do I do this over and over again? Who is the boss of my body? How am I such an idiot? 

And there is only one way to end the physical discomfort along with the shame. I need to empty myself of these feelings that I have shoved deep down inside of me with piles of food. 

So I go up to the bathroom, close the door, put my hair in a ponytail and crouch down over the toilet. 

And then comes the release. The purging of all that is bad and rotten and dark and secretive inside of me. It all comes out and I can flush it away. 

For a few minutes. 

Then reality sets back in. The reality of being weak. The reality of being stuck in this eating disordered way of thinking. And the shame comes back. Stronger than ever. 

Because I know better. 

So I promise myself that I'm not going to do that anymore. I'm going to be "good". I'm going to take care of myself. I'm going to eat right and exercise and I am going to feel good. When I want to binge I am going to do something active instead. When I want to purge I am going to email nosy Nora and tell her all the things I am thinking and feeling. What she aptly named "word vomit". I'm going to go to therapy and talk about my feelings. So I have no reasons to binge or to purge. 

Then I start to feel good. And I panic. What is making me feel good? And what happens if I lose this shred of happiness. What am I doing different? And how can I keep doing it? 

And the cycle repeats. 

Restricting. Rebelling. Shaming. Restricting. Rebelling. Shaming. 

There must be a way to climb out of this hole. To break the cycle. To break the chains that hold me in this pattern of shame and blame. 

When I find the way out, I'll let you know. In the meanwhile, I will keep hanging on and I hope that you can too. 

Be kind to yourself, 

xoxo

...

Thirteen

Being 13 is never easy. Hormones start raging. You hate everyone. You hate yourself. Nothing seems to go right. 

13 was especially difficult for me. Many things happened to me that year. This is what 13 was like: 

Be kind to yourself, and to the 13 year old self inside of you, 

xoxo

...

Beauty

I have been studying bodies. Curvy bodies. Voluptuous bodies. Round bodies. Plus-sized bodies. Bodies you don't see in magazines, billboards, movies, or the centrefold of playboy. I have been studying their folds, their creases, their curves, their shadows, their light. This is what I have learned: 

Be kind to yourself, and to your body,

xoxo

...

Words through art

I haven't blogged in a really long time. I miss it. A lot. 

I have discovered that sometimes images say more than words. So I have decided to blog with my art work. Oil pastels and oil paint. They speak for me when I have no words. 

Be kind to yourself, 

xoxo

...

unexpected loss

nosy nora says that everyone dies, just not all at once. 

i hummed and hawed over whether or not to write this post, and more importantly, whether or not to publish it. i deal with life by writing about it. and i hope that one person will read this post, connect with it, and in some way feel better. 

while it is true that everyone will some day die, the unexpected death is the hardest. 

it feels like the rug has been pulled out from under you and you are falling endlessly. and you think that the floor has to be there somewhere. and you think that you have landed and then it falls out from under you again. 

my family experienced a loss this weekend. and my heart aches for B who lost a sister. 

it makes me think about all the potential losses. the inevitable losses. it makes me think about the mortality of everyone i love. 

so how do you deal with an unexpected loss? where do you turn? what do you do first? 

an unexpected loss is often accompanied by intense grief. because there was no preparation for the loss. there was nothing leading up to it. 

the first step is to keep up your regular routine. having structure maintains a sense of control. 

try to get enough sleep. 

ease your stress by moving your body. 

don't forget to eat. 

find something comforting - something that feels good. something as simple as a cup of tea by the fireplace, a hot bath, a walk in the park, or a cuddle. 

take things one day at a time. 

one hour at a time. minute by minute. 

and ask for help. you don't have to do everything on your own.  

acknowledge your grief. 

it is real. 

acknowledge your feelings of helplessness, your questions of why, your questions of faith. your feelings are real. they are acceptable. your anger, your hurt, your laughter, your memories. they are all real and valuable. they are feelings. 

grieving can feel very lonely. it can feel like the world is passing by, like everyone is living their lives, like no one else seems to know that your world has just fallen apart. 

but know that you are never alone. people are connected creatures by nature. we all need each other. and when you reach out, there are people there. 

often, people don't know what to say. they want to help but they don't know how. for ideas about what to say and how to help someone who has experienced a loss, read my previous post  http://aprilgigiangels.blogspot.ca/2014/07/death.html

What to say to someone who has lost a loved one

It is common to feel awkward when trying to comfort someone who is grieving. Many people do not know what to say or do. The following are suggestions to use as a guide.

• Acknowledge the situation. Example: "I heard that your_____ died." Use the word "died" That will show that you are more open to talk about how the person really feels.
• Express your concern. Example: "I'm sorry to hear that this happened to you."
• Be genuine in your communication and don't hide your feelings. Example: "I’m not sure what to say, but I want you to know I care."
• Offer your support. Example: "Tell me what I can do for you."
• Ask how he or she feels, and don't assume you know how the bereaved person feels on any given day.

Source: American Cancer Society

i have experienced loss in my life. young loss. unexpected loss. and it took me years to come to a place where i could grieve. the way i was raised, i wasn't supposed to have feelings. i wasn't supposed to fall apart. 

over the last few years, i have learned that it's okay to have feelings. it's even okay to fall apart. and the pieces will be there, ready to be put back together.  

my cousin wrote today, "when sunlight bounces off the face of someone you love, and finds its way into the eye of the lovely beholder, its image stays burned forever." i hope it's okay that i quoted him. 

it struck me. and it stayed with me. the people you love are forever imprinted in your mind and on your heart. burned into your memories. the people you love stay with you, leaving you changed in some way because of their having been there. 

be kind to yourself, 

xoxo

...

life is a jumble of socks

life is like laundry and it's full of missing socks. 

“One can never have enough socks," said Dumbledore. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books.” 
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

every christmas i get new socks. and they are always warm and fuzzy. like hugs for my feet. life can be full of hugs. or it can be full of missing; missing someone, or something, or some experience. no matter what we do, loss is inevitable just like all the unmatched socks that come out of the drier. 

“When I was young I found out that the big toe always ends up making a hole in a sock.
So I stopped wearing socks.” 
― Albert Einstein

one way to deal with the pressures of life is to stop living. to hide away from the world by not dealing with it. dp says that my feet eat through socks. she accuses my toe nails of ripping through the fabric. i think that's how people approach life - they either rend slowly, making holes, or aggressively rip their way through the fabric of their life. i am a slow hole maker. i often sit back and let life pass me by. i often feel like i am the missing sock. 

“Granny always said finding justice was as tough as putting socks on a rooster.” 
― Jessica Maria Tuccelli, Glow

it feels like justice is lost in this world. so many terrible things are happening and there is nothing i can do to help. the news makes me anxious and sad. all around the world there is violence and loss. not the inevitable loss that comes with the cycle of life, but loss caused by violence. it has reached the point where i can't listen to the news.  

“I experience the same level of intense concentration watching a thrilling tennis match as I do hunched over a heaping pile of warm socks diligently searching for exact matches.” 
― Gregor Collins, The Accidental Caregiver: How I Met, Loved, and Lost Legendary Holocaust Refugee Maria Altmann

the laundry is not my job. i do the cooking and dp takes care of cleaning our clothes. but i do have the job of folding the socks. folding socks is like searching for the meaning of life. there on the table is a jumble of colours, sizes, textures ... and it's my job to sort them out, match them, and fold them. then put them neatly in the drawer, into baskets sorted by colour and type. life is a jumble of experiences and our brain sorts out those experiences through our senses. life is a jumble and we spend it trying to fit everything into baskets, sorted accordingly. and no matter what we do, there is always an unmatched sock. 


be kind to yourself, 

xoxo

...

friendship and support

i was never the kind of person who reached out for support. i was the kind of person who tucked away my troubles and pretended to the world that everything was fine. 

i was too busy taking care of everyone else and didn't have the time or energy to take care of myself. so i let my health go. i let my body go. i pushed all my emotions down inside of me and buried them tightly in the bottom of my heart, so that my heart became filled with hairline fractures. which are harder to mend than a deep single crack. 

but over the past few years i have been seeking support and finding true friendships. and discovered that, as nosy nora says, we all need each other. 

“A fine glass vase goes from treasure to trash, the moment it is broken. Fortunately, something else happens to you and me. Pick up your pieces. Then, help me gather mine.” 
― Vera Nazarian

being able to reach out for support hasn't been easy for me. it made (makes) me feel weak, and needy, and clingy. it makes me feel like i am not strong enough to face up to the world. but i am discovering that people are there to pick up your pieces and help put you back together. no one is humpty dumpty. it doesn't take all the king's horses or all the king's men to mend a broken heart, or to support a friend. (on a side note, do you realize that there is nothing in the humpty dumpty poem that says he is an egg? where did that image come from? i looked it up and wikipedia has several theories but nothing proven. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Humpty_Dumpty) picking up the pieces isn't something that you need to do on your own. the world is full of supportive people who are there to help with the shards of your life. 

“Support and encouragement are found in the most unlikely places.” 
― Raquel Cepeda

what i have discovered through this process is that support can come from places you never expected. an online support group, for example, has been a place for me to share my stories with people who understand. and these strangers offer me strength and guidance in ways i never thought possible. 

my emotional growth through this experience of writing a blog has been tantamount to a miracle. in a million years i never would have thought that his little blog would reach 25,000 page views. that strangers would email me to thank me for my writing. that friends would read my posts and tell me that they connect to my stories. being able to write about my life, my struggles, my heart ache, my successes, my happiness, my sadness, my weaknesses and my strengths ... being able to write about my life gives me strength. it makes me stronger to know that i am putting myself out there. even if it is anonymously published for my own protection - i'm not impervious to pain or embarrassment you know. 

“Friendship is born at that moment when one man says to another: "What! You too? I thought that no one but myself . . ."” 
― C.S. Lewis

i have also discovered that people have way more in common with each other than we first believe. we live with such shame and secrecy and privacy and the inability to share our stories. and it turns out that there are people in my life who have been on similar paths. and we can connect with each other and support each other in ways that no one else can. 

“You can't stay in your corner of the Forest waiting for others to come to you. You have to go to them sometimes.” 
― A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

i learned through this process of wanting to take care of myself, that you have to ask for help. and when you do, you actually get it. 

what what? 

no, really. when you ask someone to help you, they actually do. when you reach out for support you actually get support. ok, not from everyone. some people are selfish assholes and you can't change that. they aren't worth your emotional energy. but most people? most people will give you the support that you need. 

“There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.” 
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone


there are some stories that no one else can understand unless they have lived that truth. and those are the people whose support can surprise you. unless you share your stories, you'll never know that there are people out there who can relate ... who can commiserate ... who truly understand. knocking out a mountain troll doesn't have to be the only way that you make friendships. but sharing your truth is one way to be sure that those friendships are genuine and are built on truth and understanding. 

i am so very lucky to have a fabulous partner who loves me, adores me, and supports me. i am appreciative and grateful for the people in my life who offer me friendship and support.  i am fortunate to have a fantastic therapist with whom i can share my stories and my emotional tornadoes. i would list the people that i have gratitude for ... but i know that i would forget someone. so if you are someone that i have turned to for emotional support, or for a listening ear, or a shoulder to cry on, or advice, or just a helping hand ... i thank you for being there. you know who you are. 

and in closing ...

“There is nothing better than a friend, unless it is a friend with chocolate.” 
― Linda Grayson

be kind to yourself, 

xoxo
...

infertility

this week was another hard week. one minute i was heartbroken and devastated and the next i was hopeful and looking forward to potential and possibilities. 

this week i did a lot of thinking about infertility. and let me tell you, they weren't happy thoughts ... 

being infertile makes me feel defective. 

broken. 

one thing that sets women apart from men is the ability to bare children. and i can't. 

and i wont. 

“The English language lacks the words to mourn an absence. For the loss of a parent, grandparent, spouse, child or friend, we have all manner of words and phrases, some helpful some not. Still we are conditioned to say something, even if it is only “I’m sorry for your loss.” But for an absence, for someone who was never there at all, we are wordless to capture that particular emptiness. For those who deeply want children and are denied them, those missing babies hover like silent ephemeral shadows over their lives. Who can describe the feel of a tiny hand that is never held?” 

― Laura Bush 

infertility hurts. i ache. there is no cure for my infertility and there is no cure for this pain. there are no words for the absence of a child. if i had a child and lost it, then people would know. people would understand that i am grieving. 

this week a student asked me, "why don't you have any kids? aren't you going to be lonely for the rest of your life?" 

stab.

right in the heart.  

we tried. for 2 1/2 years. we tried hormones and pills and injections and daily blood tests at 7am, and intrusive ultrasounds every second day and hundreds and hundreds of dollars. and each time we would hope. we would dream. we would be sure that this was the time that would work. and it never was. the test would always come back negative. i can't count how many test strips i peed on. 

“I found that each time a test was negative, it stopped the dreaming and hoping for a while. Taking the test was a way of puncturing the balloons of hope, because if I didn't, they would lift and lift without any evidence, and their falling back down every month was too painful. Essentially, I took all these tests to keep myself from hoping, because the hoping was breaking my heart.” 
― Shauna Niequist

infertility makes me feel like i wasn't supposed to be born a woman. like everything about me is all wrong. like i am broken inside. the cause of my infertility is too many androgens - too many male hormones. and i have male pattern baldness. what the fuck? how is that fair? i am a woman. i am supposed to have female hormones. i am supposed to have hair on the top of my head. i am supposed to ovulate. i am supposed to have regular periods. 

i am supposed to be able to make a baby. 

and i can't. 

since the beginning of human history, all over the world, a woman's worth has been defined by her uterus and it's productivity. i am supposed to have the CHOICE of whether or not i want to have a baby. i don't have that choice. 

and it kills me. 

“I remember thinking about how mothers were prepared to run into burning buildings to save their children's lives. I thought I should be able to go through a bit more suffering, a bit more inconvenience to give my children life. It made me feel noble. But now I realize I'm a crazy woman running into a burning house for children who don't exist.” 
― Liane Moriarty

eventually we had to stop. stop the craziness that was our lives. stop the roller coaster. stop the hoping and the dreaming. stop the heart ache that came with every negative test. 

and every negative test came with guilt about my body and it's inability to do such a simple thing as ovulate and fertilize and keep a child. something that billions of women across the world do every year. and i couldn't. 

guilt. 

i am trying to take my health into my own hands. to fight against this disease that i have. to take strides to take care of myself. i am trying. and it is hard. and no matter what i do, i have to live with this. i have to live with too many male hormones. i have to live with too much insulin. i have to live with hair loss. i have to live with weight gain and difficulty losing weight. i have to live with not being able to handle eating sugar. i have to live with being infertile. 

... needless to say, this was an emotional week. and i can't believe i made it to friday. but here i am, alive and full of possibilities. 

be kind to yourself,

xoxo

...

hard week

i haven't blogged in awhile. i just haven't had anything to say. but this has been a hard couple of weeks and i wanted to write about it to help me process what has been going on. 

first of all, DP and i made a fundamental and monumental mistake and we are in the process of trying to fix it which is terrifying and anxiety causing. 

second, the coordinator of my special education program came into my classroom and basically told me that everything that i am doing is wrong. she was kind and gave me some new ideas. but she also put a great deal of pressure on me to improve the levels of my students (which is my job, i understand that) in a short period of time. she made me feel like i am a terrible teacher and that i have no idea what i am doing. she made me feel like shit to be blunt. and i am left feeling weepy and helpless. 

third, i have started a program called pcos diva jumpstart (www.pcosdiva.com) in which i have been instructed to make many changes to my diet and lifestyle. this all or nothing approach, going cold turkey and diving in to a lifestyle change has been really difficult and i feel like a failure. 

the eating part has been fairly easy. it's not the first time i have eaten this way, so i know what foods to eat and what foods to avoid. i had already cut out caffeine, so i am not having withdrawals. 

in terms of my diet, i am not eating:

• wheat
• gluten
• sugar
• caffeine
• dairy
• red meat

i am also taking a number of supplements. easy peasy. 

the challenge for me is the lifestyle change. i am supposed to get up early each morning and do some sort of exercise. i have yet to manage to get out of bed early enough to do anything except make a smoothie. some mornings i have had to drink the smoothie in the car on the way to work. i am not acting at all like a diva and am not taking care of myself. 

i feel like the world is crushing me. like there is a huge weight pushing me down. like i am walking through molasses, unable to lift my feet. 

i have been doing well with my depression. managing it with medication and therapy. the sadness and constant weepiness is back. but i think that i have legitimate things to feel weepy about. it's hard to tell the difference between a bad day and depression sometimes. and it's scary to think that i could go back to that dark place that i was in last year at this time; off work, cocooned on the couch, crying every day, not wanting to be alive. 

i want more than anything to be able to get out of bed in the mornings and practice healthy living. it isn't that i don't have the motivation - i WANT to do it. but something is keeping me in bed. something is keeping me from succeeding. i think it is my fear of failure. if i don't try, then i can't fail. 

so ... this has been a hard couple of weeks. and i feel like next week will be hard too. 

i feel scared, helpless, and stuck. 

i need encouragement. 

be kind to yourself, 

xoxo

...