Category: Struggle

The Addition

Last month I wrote about my realization that in my struggles to improve, I believed I needed to be less than…something.  The idea of subtraction to fit in was what I learned and believed to be how “things get done.”  I no longer believe this to be true and, actually, this idea is a very dangerous road of misunderstandings, self-betrayal, and my own death. 

[Note to Gentle Readers: What follows is a tale of my journey to a wonderful realization that I wish to share with you. It is my tale on how I realized that, by struggling with being physically smaller, I became mentally smaller. In writing this blog post, I sought to identify this feeling and found this very valuable information from HumanParts.com: In part, Brianna Wiest writes that “Your “small self” is a combination of habits, behaviors, and beliefs you adopted from those around you. You interpreted their needs and preferences and took them as your own. You assumed certain traits for defense, or safety, or because you just never took a minute to stop and think: But is this really who I am?” I had never thought of life and growing up quite like this. I hope you read and enjoy this article. Allow me to continue….<3]

About 2004-ish, I was given a diagnosis of psoraisis for a small “spot” on my leg.  It looked like a patch of skin no bigger than a dime that would not heal.   With a history of cancer in my family, I trotted off to my local dermatologist.  Unconcerned as the diagnosis did not include the skin cancer I could have sworn I had (delusions, anyone?), I just continued my regular lifestyle.  I was told you just need to live with it or use X or Y cream/salve/lotion.  Yeah? No. Move forward ten years.

In about 2014 where my psoraisis and health were left unchecked, that small patch became larger and slowly expanded, creeping up my calf on one leg and encircling it like a boa constrictor.  Like the movie The Blob, the mass just continued to grow and slowly spread over my lower extremities.  Doctors, creams, salves, etc., did nothing to stop the spread.  I gave up and just let it run amok as a perk of getting older and wore long pants.  I no longer got pedicures, embarassed at the condition of my legs.  In my purely physical evaluation of my condition, I concentrated on the external “result” of my disorder.  What I failed to understand is that psoraisis is not a skin disorder per say but an autoimmune disorder that comes OUT through the skin.  In other words, these eruptions were the tip of my health iceburg and, while my doctors gave me creams for my legs, they really did not delve into my role and how I might help myself.  This went on for about two YEARS and my psoraisis spread to my other leg, front and back of my lower legs, elbows, arms, and hands.  Still living with it as I gave up on steroid wraps, salves, bathing, sunlight treatments….<sigh> I noticed the first lesion on my face and ears. That was the final straw because I could no longer cover up the eruptions with clothing or gloves.

Cue 2016 and the cancer diagnoses.  This was dropped right in the middle of my health Wobble but I was unaware of the impact and how this served as a pivot for me.

Rather than continue on the familiar path I had worn thin through the years , the cancer served to divert me into a new health initiative.  I was so scared at how this foreign thing was in my body and I lived my life unaware that it lurked.  You see, my thyroid biopsies came back clear so to have found cancer during my parathyroid surgery was almost like winning the lottery for me.  This discovery while I was “under the blade” resulted in an immediate thyroidectomy decision by my husband.  (I cannot imagine how my husband must have felt being called in to a consultation room by my surgeon and told that I had cancer and he needed to decide right then and there what to do. He made the right choice for me.)  After recovery and radioactive iodine treatment, I was left with my normal modus operandi: How can I control my health through diet because, obviously, my ballooning weight needed to be subtracted because that was the problem and caused my cancer and unhappiness about myself.

What I failed to consider is that my over weight is a result.  No, not the cause.  A result.  I liked this way of thinking because I could then shift my own sense of blame (and resulting shame.)  I live with a never-ending source of shame, manufactured by yours truly.  I think it stems from being afraid to disappoint people.  (What? Where did that come from?  This is a new thought and just came into my mind as I type. I will put a pin in this because this may give later insight.)

I began to try to unravel the cause of my cancer and health, and relied on my tried and true “subtraction” method because it had been just so successful thus far.  (Hindsight? No, it hadn’t.) I was determined to manage my thyroid through diet along with my psoraisis.  I began a regimen called the AIP protocol which I implemented partially for about six months.  My health worsened, the psoraisis flared into huge red patches with silvery coatings.  The doctors gave me more creams because any drugs may be an issue considering my cancer and that the psoraisis was localized to my lower legs.  It was then that I began ramping up my medical visits to larger clinics, naturopaths — anyone who had an idea.  I was looking to remove whatever it was in my life that was causing me such physical and  emotional distress.  By the fall of 2018, I was depressed, living on very few food items that I enjoyed, and just feeling like I was a full and out failure.  Yes.  I am a failure because I could not manage my health and well-being, the body I was given for this lifetime.

Then, I had my vision.  [Gentle Readers: If you are wondering about this, please read my prior post called The Subtraction where I discuss a very odd dream.] In thinking about it, I still become emotional although the dream is a few years past.  This is how powerful an important “vision” can be…it is what is driving me to create this blog.  I felt in my vision so relaxed and confident.  I KNOW that this was me if I were in another life or path.  Me, if I had lived my life without such a degree of shame and blame…both on myself and those around me.  I decided that I liked feeling confident and relaxed and wanted that to be my full-time feeling.  I began toying with managing my diet not be subtracting anything but by adding healthy habits and keeping all of the other habits, too.  My thinking was to let those habits that I disliked fall away as no longer necessary once I had a better “addition.”  So, instead of removing sugar, grains, dairy, fats, etc., from my diet in an immediate and drastic “shift”, I began to add a piece of fruit to my diet.  That’s it.  I stopped mentally shaming myself when I preferred a bowl of ice cream.  As long as I ate my fruit, I met my goal.  I then decided to add a slice of bread to my diet.  Like my mother, I love bread…the old German kind with full grains.  Some of my most favorite memories is my mother and her bread.  I still visit and bring her a loaf or two of Heidleberg Bakery’s bread.  (Note: Must have toast for breakfast.)

I began seeing diet as a road map and not a punishment and, in January of 2019, joined Weight Watchers (now Wellness Wins), and, by June of 2019, I’d lost about 50 pounds.  The plan made sense and became second-nature to me.  Then, I hit the Wobble….and skid right down through it into a pit of my own emotional garbage.  I’m still here…struggling to maintain my weight loss in the middle of quarantining.  But, my struggle?  It’s a good thing as I am using the time to create a sense of ease for myself.  I’ve gained weight…and I’m okay with that, too.  I just refuse to subtract as a means of improvement.

If you’ve gotten this far in your reading, thank you. In my struggles to achieve, I’ve recognized that a good plan, daily check ins, and being kind to myself are key.  These will be my new additions and I’m looking forward to being able to do more “adding” to my day that will include more physical activities that I would enjoy.  For today, we have a cold, frosty morning.  I plan to finish my coffee, enjoy a nice slice of toast and send good wishes to my mom and sister so that they, too, find a sense of joy and peace in this world.  Hey, why not add it to your day??

The Subtraction

About three years ago, I began to seriously contemplate my death although I didn’t know it then.  I was fretting over wanting to get a haircut and not knowing where to go, having made a decision to go ‘au natural’ with my silver hair color after dying for 30 years.  One might say that I’ve lived in a rainbow of hair colors.  From the darkest blacks to bleached blonde, I’ve run the gamut of natural and unnatural hair colors.  In 1983, we had the purple period; circa 1999 was my best blonde look.  Looking for the perfect salon to tell me the perfect hair color/cut/style that would make be feel better about myself was a daunting task that had gone awry many years prior.   At the same time, I was diagnosed with a tumor that was found on accident during a routine dental exam.  How random, I thought when, in fact, both were a part of a larger plan that I see with some hindsight.

Faced with the uncertainty of life in a small parathyroid tumor in my neck and seeing my own personal situation changing to a health emergency, I ceased to worry or be concerned about what haircut will make me feel beautiful.  My need for an improved self-worth no longer absorbed my full focus and, putting my neck-length hair into a simple clip, I got on the road to wellness. 

During my surgery to remove the tumor, cancer was randomly found and required additional treatment and the removal of my thyroid.  The idea of my death also began to ruminate in my mind so the idea that I could have been living with cancer and was unaware really stuck a fork in my thinking.  The cancer had been a surprise yet I still had my hair on my mind and began to contemplate life with a wig.  I guess when we don’t feel well physically, the idea of my hair became a welcome distraction because it was within my control.  It’s like the super-serious life and death questions needed to be countered with the superficial parts of my life like a hair style.  The idea seemed absurd in comparison to my logical mind yet my emotions embraced the comparison, turning it over in my head on a constant stream of thinking.  Until that point, my mortality hadn’t been a factor in my decision-making about daily life.  As an event at some future point, my demise was a necessary part of life but did not encompass any more thought than that.

Then I had a “dream” which I quote because the “dream” was more of a vision.  Unlike my dreams that would take me on journeys or activities, this vision was more of an instant “flash” that I saw in my mind’s eye.  I’m calling this a vision because it was different, like a foretelling so the idea of a “dream” seems to light or fluffy.

In my vision, I am floating above a woman below me who I believe is also me.  It is a quick flash of sight but full of richness in how I felt. I see the back of her/me.  It is daylight and I feel the light shining through the many windows as if it were mid-morning or early afternoon. We are in an open kitchen/breakfast area/living space as I see an expanse of light floor tiles throughout the space.  To my right is a breakfast bar and kitchen area. I feel like I’m moving through the space to my office or for another purpose.  I have a long, single, gray braid down my back; that is what I focus on.  I’m wearing a flowing top and skirt that “swishes” and “tinkles” as I move with an ethereal quality almost akin to Tinkerbell. My clothing tinkles with small wind chimes that make a musical noise as I walk; I’m carrying a large hand-thrown mug of herbal tea. I’m graceful in my movement, light and airy.  It was then that I realized in my split-second vision that this woman was me.

I woke up knowing that I had envisioned myself at some future state.  The most startling besides the gray braid was the confidence I embodied. This was unfamiliar to me in this form as my confidence up this point had been based on my achievements and not just being alive. Unlike my current hair, my braid was thick, ropy, and elegantly hung with a simple tie at the bottom ending at my lower back. I was happy and felt fulfilled but as a core state that was emanating from me, not an external causation. 

Instead of removing my hair to achieve a personal sense of style and confidence, I began to grow my hair, and to exercise improved patience and acceptance with myself.  As my hair began to grow, I lovingly tended to it while also working on my health.  The reconciliation of both created an understanding in me that, during my own wobbles, I believed that I should subtract a part of myself to achieve my desired state of being. For me to be me, I needed to be less than.  How had I allowed myself to believe all of those who belittled me?  When did I begin to believe that I needed to be smaller, both in size and mind? 

I began to grow my hair to prove all of those school yard bullies wrong.  Your labeling of me had no meaning in my life and no longer defines me. To all of those young boys who teased me about myself, shame on you. How sad your lives must have been to take your misery out on me, a poor, defenseless ten-year old girl who stood out.

I began to grow my hair to stand out.  After hiding myself in clothing that was too big and too masculine, believing that I was not pretty enough for feminine touches or tighter fits. Why show off my better parts when everything was lousy and ugly?

I began to grow my hair to exercise and hone my patience with myself and others.  Waiting for my hair to grow and nurture it through conscientious trimming and styling resulted in taking time to develop my sense of style. I was okay with waiting to see what was next on my new horizon.

I began to grow my hair for those who still continue to believe that “less than” is an appropriate behavior and mindset.  Stopping the idea that I have to settle for less than I (or you) deserve.  When we show up to take what we deserve, we become who we truly are meant to be.

I began to grow my hair for all of those young women who suffer through no fault of their own yet they are made to feel less than by those who truly are less than. Please listen to your inner voice. It is powerful, durable, and a true guide.

I grow my hair for all of those times I was told that I had such a beautiful face and what a shame it was that my body was overweight.  This was the compliment I would get.  It never occurred to me to be angry because if these were meant to be hurtful, why would they tell me?

I was and am beautiful. I may believe it one day.

I continue to grow my hair for me.  Each day, when I style my hair, I’m reminded about how to show up and be myself and not subtract which, unfortunately, is my “go to” coping mechanism for all things difficult.  I’m reminded not to lower myself to someone else’s expectations of what is appropriate behavior for me. 

I style my hair simply to my desires.  Early in my life, I began to wish I was invisible.  I’d hide in corners or dark spaces, or hide in plain sight behind my own lack of esteem. Today, my silver mane stands out and that is okay.

Note: The author’s hair, like her confidence, continues to grow.

The Wobble

I woke up one day. In waking up, I realized that my struggle of the day continued from the day before – and the day before that. Instead of beginning the day with the normal round of negative defensiveness, I began with wanting to understand the reason for my struggle. While lying in the warmth of bed (luxury), my thoughts turned to gratitude and the joy of being warm, comfortable, and surround by my loved ones. In that, I realized any struggle paled in comparison.

Through the lack of negativity and the overwhelming positivity, I recognized that the struggle was mine and based on perceptions of what I – or someone else – should be doing/being/behaving. The judgment that poured off me was startling and I felt the weight being removed from my shoulders in a physical feeling like one I had only known once before in my lifetime. (Another story.) Suffice it to say, I paid attention. A voice said to me you are just in the middle of learning.

Recognizing that I have something to learn in the experience is the wobble. It is our reluctance to own up to the wobble that keeps us in the wobble. Once you acknowledge your own wobble, you can begin to understand it and how you are benefitting from it. Believe me, you are benefitting from the wobble and, while it may not feel that way, the more positive the psychology, the better your outcome. It is my goal with this blog to help you in the wobble with information. This blog is my own personal experience as a professional wobbler resistor. It is not intended for medical or psychological treatment or guidance. It is my own view point. Take it or leave it.