Sharing stories

I love stories.  I love to tell stories, love to hear stories and love to remember stories.  My dad used to have us stand on the bricks of the fireplace and tell an account of our day.  He made a rule that if we made any pregnant pauses or said “umm”, we had to start over from the very beginning.  I always started the same way, “I woke up at X:XXam, and umm…”  Buzz!  “I woke up at X:XXam, got out of bed, went to the bathroom, went back to change my clothes, and umm…”  Buzz!  I remember making such an effort to get at least one step further every time before I had to restart. I normally began laughing or was distracted by comments being made from the peanut gallery that I’m really not all that sure I ever finished recounting a day.  I also feel like we did this exercise a lot but maybe it was only a few times.  I just remember it really clearly because it was such a great challenge.  One summer we all had to earn $100 in spending money to take on a trip to Hawaii.  My sister did so and then spent very little of that $100 while we were on vacation.  My dad had her stand on the bricks to tell us why she didn’t spend her money when my brother and I had.  While I don’t remember a word she said, I remember laughing hysterically watching her up there. 

In my active alcoholism and addictions my daily goal was to just get ‘there’, meaning anywhere but where I was.  The strange thing about it though, was that once I was ‘there’, the goal remained the same… get me anywhere but here.  So the cycle went.  This cycle was the beginning of the end of my drinking and using.  My drinking, eating and insert behavior here just stopped working.  No amount of anything could keep me out of me, and I just wanted me to disappear.  Obviously, quite a contrast to the type of escape I get from hearing stories, but I just can’t imagine a better high than laughing so hard my sides split, my eyes water and I lose my breath so badly that I start coughing before I can regain control. 

So, the reason I bring this up is that last week my sister, brother-in-law, mom, dad, husband and I were all in my parents’ kitchen last week, when the retelling of my many ‘wake up fits’ began.  My sister has the imitation of me down so well that it brings the whole event to life all over again.  This time she was focused in on an evening that I woke up at around 7 and frantically ran into the kitchen.  I was getting out cereal and milk and slamming my bowl down on the sink when my mom or dad asked me what I was doing.  Completed exasperated, I screamed back “WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHAT AM I DOING I’M TRYING TO EAT BREAKFAST AND I’M TOTALLY GOING TO FAIL MY TEST TODAY CAUSE I DIDN’T STUDY CAUSE I FELL ASLEEP I’M GOING TO FAIL!  WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHAT AM I DOING??!!!”  Family member, “Fran…”.  “YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND I’M GOING TO FAIL!!” “Fran, it’s 7 o’clock at night, not in the morning”.  “WHAT WHAT?!”  I was still waking up so it didn’t sink in instantly, but several more moments and it clicked that my dad was home and they were eating dinner.  As my sister reenacted the scene, we all broke into fits of laughter.  What a great feeling.  On the way home, I just kept getting the giggles seeing images of her playing the whole thing through and then experience the laughter all over again as my husband was playing her imitation over with me later. 

Stories give me perspective. They allow me to laugh at myself and at things once heavy and consuming.  They remind me of the value that every moment can hold.  They show me another side of my friends and family.  They reveal my own growth and the strength and love of others.   They take me to another place and my emotions and thoughts shift completely. Tell your story.  Listen to the stories of others.  Take it from me, it’s tough to find a better experience. 

MY PATH

I have heard in recovery that the road gets narrower.  Meaning that the longer a person stays clean and sober their scope becomes smaller in terms of things they find acceptable or venture to explore.  The flip side is also said - that life gets bigger.  I used to try to side with one or the other of these ideas, but today I realize both are a fit for me.

I have such a big life today!  I simply cannot physically or mentally experience everything I’d like to, and I imagine that my list of to-do’s will never shrink short enough to do it all.  In fact, I bet it just keeps growing.  People like having me around and they trust me.  With that I have discovered how much time a relationship, a close relationship, really demands.  It’s funny that I didn’t know that before, but I suppose I never really pursued healthy relationships, or probably more accurately, I never had the ability to put any consistent time or care into them.  Today I have been blessed with all these people in my life as the certain result of working off a different moral code than ever in my past.  I don’t tolerate deception or drama or bullshit of any kind for very long today.  I used to live immersed in lies and cheating and manipulation and gladly welcomed the same from people around me.  Now it’s just too uncomfortable for me to operate in that environment.  I simply find the pain of my old way of living unacceptable since having discovered and practiced a different way.  I really don’t try to push the limits all too much anymore.  I still crave excitement and once in a while I consider that crazy life again, and that lasts about 10 seconds.  Haha!  Seriously though, it only lasts a moment because it’s fairly impossible for me to think past a drink in my hand without then seeing complete chaos and destruction.  I find it comical that so many people draw an immediate assumption that I’m a goody-goody and always have been.  Actually, that can be bothersome to me at times because I want everyone to know that I’m not some naïve little princes, and I’ve seen more pain than they have probably only heard about.  You can see my enormous ego has not left me entirely!  Good part is that I don’t have to say a word about my past and the feeling of desperately needing them to know who I really am passes.  Lately two instances have occurred at work in which coworkers have tried to entice me into trying out some booze.  It’s hilarious that they assume I have never drank before.  I have forever assumed that people can detect the alcoholic in me.  I have hated that because I have felt branded.  Now, I feel uncomfortable with their assumption of my clean living.  Man, I spend a lot of time worrying about how others see me.  So silly. 

So yes, in many ways my road has narrowed.  I don’t seek crazy.  I don’t break the law.  I don’t keep secrets.  I quickly and directly admit when I lie.  I do not manipulate people or institutions.  I don’t go to bars and clubs just for a thrill.  I try not to hurt others.

My road has also widened.  I get together with bunches of recovering men and women, and I share and listen.  I babysit for my cousins and niece and nephew.  I have traveled to another country (yay!!! Finally!).  I coach teenagers to become better at my favorite sport and present them with more possibilities for their future.  I go out to eat and enjoy food.  I dance and sing and hike and swim and craft and play.  I have game nights with my husband.  I host alcoholics and addicts in our home when they seek my husband and I out for help.  I have made a home with my husband.  I pray and find peace in quiet.  I ask for help.  I really love who I am.  I am a recovering, faithful, smart, professional woman who loves her family and the silly things life, and most of the time I OWN IT!

A Letter to Little Me - HFC Day 15

Write a letter to yourself as a child – you can choose which ever age you feel is most relevant to you. What do you want to tell that child? What wisdom can you share with him/her? What encouragement can you give to that child? Tell that child what good qualities you see in him/her. After writing reflect on what you have written and recognize that those qualities still lie within you, as does that child.

Dear Francie,

Hello beautiful!!! So you are only six and I am thirty two but believe me when I say, I get you.  I know you love making lists so here’s a checklist for you to complete every day.  Feel free to rewrite it as many times as you like, and to cross out your completions with bold marker or circular scribbles, whichever you like. 

• Giggle.
• Tell your sister and brother you love them.
• Raise your hand in class and ask a question.
• Ask your parents to tell you a story about them when they were your age, they have some doosies!!
• Do a dance – freestyle.
• Get good and dirty.
• Mess up your hair.
• Sing a prayer or say it aloud.
• Cuddle with mom or dad or brother or sister.
• Give yourself permission to cry, even if you don’t cry, just remind yourself that it’s okay if you do.
• Find some water and get yourself soaking wet (bath, shower, hose, pool).
• Keep dreaming BIG.
• Remember you’re a kid and your parents will take care of you and your bro and sis no matter what, no matter what.
• See you body in the mirror and love it.  God gave it to you and it can do so much already!  You’re so fabulous exactly as you are.

This should be a good start.  Everything is going to be okay.  You are okay!  Have fun and be bold.  Be grateful for what you have and embrace it all with joy and laughter. You’re six!!!  Woohoo!

Choose between 1 and 10 people, alive or dead, who you feel are or were positive role models. What are their names? Tell us a bit about them. What do you admire them for? How do they inspire you?

1.  Grandma Frances - My grandma and my namesake.  Classy and quirky all in one.  She was athletic and smart and easy to laugh and delighted in victory.  She played a mean game of horse rummy and took no mercy, even on eight year olds.  She played basketball when she was seventy some years old.  She was deaf and never apologized for raising her voice to an accidental yell in public.  She could be quiet too.  She could sit in the sun and nap and read for hours.  She made the most delicious peanut butter cookies and had a way of making root beer floats the most exciting grandma treat EVER.

2.  Mr. Nish - My high school cross-country coach.  This is going to sound strange but the most overwhelmingly amazing gift that Mr. Nish gave was listening.  He was the greatest listener I have ever come across and it's no surprise he was the most popular and beloved teacher at my high school.  From what I hear, he still is.  All of us want to be heard and when we are, we don't forget it.

3.  Father Roberto - A priest I very recently met who has the most contagious smile I've ever caught.  He can share and lend joy to anyone within moments.  His eyes are clear and his gaze is free of doubt.  He is joy, embodied.

4.  My sister and brother - My best friends and the greatest siblings anyone could ever have.  My brother and sister taught me how to stick by the ones you love, no matter what.  They taught me how to forgive in the purest sense.  No love is lost, the harm is left behind and the bond gets stronger with time.  I don't know where they learned this stuff, but I know I learned it from them.  

5.  Mom and dad - They never ever gave up on me and will never ever stop teaching me how to live.  My most natural desire is to be with others, to socialize and enjoy the company of others.  I love people and I love the relationships I've formed today.  I have learned to communicate and to add to a relationship because my parents have always sought to give more than take to one another and to the people around them.  They are my examples of married life and the finest I know. 

Top Five of Me - HFC Day 5

Whether you have body image issues or not, eating disorders attack the body. Write today, whether poetry, list, stream of consciousness or whatever way you choose about what you appreciate your body for, what parts of your body you treasure most and why.

My top five body appreciation parts:

(Hahahaha! Who would have ever thought I’d be writing something like this?!!!!  I remember all the times they asked me for just one good thing about myself and even with suggestions I couldn’t do it!  Now, I whittled my list to five in order to save my wrists and hands on the typing because I have three entries to write - I take the weekend off from writing.  Anyway, when I wrote the title with a giggle, it just  struck me as such a miracle/gift/oddity.  I’m looking forward to this.  What?!!  J)

1. My feet – I’ve always liked my feet.  This one stands at number one because I can’t really remember a time that I HATED my feet.  I don’t know if I can say this about any other part of my body.  My feet have been true companions if you will.  I did break my big toe a couple months ago and it was extremely ugly but it’s almost back to normal.  Still a little on the swollen side but I’d say all in all… my feet are still pretty cute.  Also, my feet are pretty amazing, functionally speaking.  I have excellent balance, strong toes and pretty decent flexibility in my toes.  How cool that I can dive the way I can much thanks to my feet!
2. My hair – Now this was in top competition for the number one spot because my hair has provided hours upon hours upon hours of pure entertainment.  I love playing with my hair and creating funky do’s and trying on different colors.  My sister encouraged me to be a hair dresser for a long time because I have so much fun with it.  She and I used to have races to see who could French braid our own hair the fastest, then backwards, then inside out.  I once made an affirmation art therapy scrapbook for an assignment and title it ‘Crazy Hair’.  I still have it.  My hair has spoken to my personality, my mood, my acceptance or rebellion, my self-worth and altogether me over the years.  My hair is an expression and I love expressing me.
3. My hips – Yeah and it’s number 3!!!  I never, ever thought I’d appreciate my hips.  I fought against my hips.  I put my hands over them as if cutting off that section of my body when I looked in the mirror praying they would disappear one day.  You know the drill.  I just wanted them cut off.  Well today that’s not the case.  One thing I’ve learned in recovery is to love other women.  In turn, I’ve learned to love myself as a woman.  This did not happen overnight nor did I consciously work on, getting rid of the fear of having a woman’s figure.  The hatred of my hips kinda just slowly but surely faded into the background.  Then, after a time, I started to see beauty in them.  Amazing.
4. My tummy – My tummy is my signal.  It signals when I’m straying from my course.  Warning, warning, warning!  Any mind games or food games I play, I will recognize the consequences of them in my tummy.  Whether that’s in the form of feeling bloated, seeing new weight added, having cramps, having gastrointestinal problems or feeling empty and flat, it will reveal where I’m at with my body image and my abstinence.  It’s a gift really.  I don’t have to wonder what’s up with me for too long before my tummy tells all. Heehee.
5. My shoulders – I’m strong.  My shoulders are broad, yet feminine.  I love my strength and athleticism and find a quiet comfort in that.  I love that my shoulders allow me to carry a posture of confidence and openness.  I pull my shoulders back, open my eyes and welcome the world in.  And it’s so, so beautiful.  

Enjoy Your Body - it's the only one you've got!!!  YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL!

My Mascot - Hungry for Change - Day 3

Woo!  This brings me back to all those art therapy sessions.  I loved art therapy even though I’m a terrible artist.  It was one time I felt like there was no right answer and I didn’t have to try to be the best at it because it was all from our own experiences that our creative pieces came.  I thought they were all beautiful.  After looking at the other mascots chosen for the third day of the Hungry for Change May challenge https://www.facebook.com/hungryforchange, I have to say I haven’t changed a bit.  I find them all so beautiful!

My eating disorder recovery mascot is now, from today, A DIVER.  

In some sense it has been my mascot for years but I certainly didn’t call it that.  This picture is a perfect representation of my diving mascot for a couple reasons.  One is that she’s diving from a springboard.  I have developed a springboard diving metaphor for life.  It goes a little something like this…

In diving just about 90% of the dive’s success depends on the work that is done on the board.  You take careful steps, maintain strong and balanced posture, drive all your weight and power into the board to push it down and you up just so, and carefully time your arms and second push so that the board will seamlessly fling you up into the air and safely away from the board.  The success of the rest of your dive, however simple or complicated, will absolutely be affected by how well you’ve executed your board work.  The best part is in the freedom that comes after you’ve essentially catapulted yourself into the air.  If you’ve done it right, there’s not a whole lot you can do to mess it up.  If you’ve done it wrong, you might be saying some prayers as you come closer to hitting the water!  Either way you basically get to enjoy the ride and probably get a lot of laughs if it turns out to be more of a painful go.  Life is this way for me today in recovery.  I do the footwork and keep the ‘plug in the plate’ (as a good friend of mine likes to say), and I get to experience a freedom that welcomes all kinds of unexpected pains and pleasures.  What a thrill!

Before recovery, I knew what the day would bring – misery.  Today I have no idea what the future holds, so I continue to put one foot in front of the other and watch the results as they are revealed around me.   

The second reason I like this picture for my mascot is that she is doing my favorite type of dive, a twister.  This is my favorite because it’s both extremely complicated and fairly impossible to ‘think’ about.  You have to just do it and trust that your body knows how to take care of the dynamics in the air.  In diving this is called muscle memory and it takes some time to build up but once you’ve got it you learn to absolutely rely upon it.  In eating disorder recovery, this is compared to intuitive eating, turning away from the magnificent magnifying mind in the mirror, and the human instinct to survive no matter what.  The body know best and I have come to enjoy the freedom I get when I trust that. 

I’m built strong and healthy.  My body is able and capable.  My recovery allows me to take some pleasure, joy and comfort in that.  No more fighting.  I’m doing the work; I think I’ll enjoy the ride. J

  

I just love this picture.  I wish we still wore suits like this!!!

I read the news today

I was prompted to write while perusing news articles today.  Man oh man is it depressing to read the headlines alone!  I have asked why news has to be so violent, traumatic and tragic as a blanket question my entire life.  I’m not exaggerating. I think I’ve wondered this my entire life, or at least as long as I have had a high enough level of cognizance to wonder it.  I used to ask my mom to turn off the news or just not to watch it at all, because I couldn’t handle hearing all the chaos being reported.  I’ve always compartmentalized ideas, events, actions, people, and just about everything else. I couldn’t fit ‘the news’ in any of my acceptable spaces so it went into the unacceptable and intolerable bins. Yes, I lived a charmed and somewhat sheltered childhood.  My rather naive brain could not have possibly made sense of it all in my accustomed way - which was to make sense of it all.  This is probably pretty normal but what is a little odd is that I still do the same thing today as a 32 year old woman! 

I suppose I’ve gotten more comfortable with some of it. The major headlines that include just an overview idea don’t completely revolt me or send horrible visuals and/or real fear through me.  I certainly can decide whether or not to watch longer or read on based on those headlines.  If I decide to read an article and it immediately exploits someone, delves into unnecessarily horrific details, or contains a tone that is unsettling, I stop reading.  The problem comes when someone else, most often my husband, has chosen to watch something that I don’t like.  I can hear the crap through closed door and the shows I recognize, I can’t even stand all the dramatic music and I get pretty moody and bossy about what can and can’t be played in our home when I’m home. 

Again, I feel like I was born with this hyper sensitivity to violent or vulgar media, and as you can imagine it has really caused some frustration and embarrassment in the more recent years.  I used to put myself to sleep in a theatre if a movie was overwhelming to me.  Falling asleep anywhere on my own volition was a skill that served me well for years. I can’t do it as easily anymore but that might have to do with the absence of copious amounts of psychotropic drugs in my system.  From about 18 – 28, I was pretty much sleepy and lethargic all the time so given the opportunity to check out, I chose sleep quite often.  I think I also take after my dad; he fell asleep in the theatre (the real theatre) during The Phantom of the Opera which is like the loudest (in a good way) production ever!  Honestly, it was just so much easier, and I still think nicer, than cutting the movie short for me and whoever I’d gone to the theatre with.  So now that I don’t have such an easy switch to sleep capability, I don’t have another solution – yet.

I’ve tried a few things to no avail.  I’ve tried to close myself in the bedroom and play music while I read.  This usually ends in my temper flaring up because now I’ve cut myself off from socializing and from the kitchen J.  So that’s out.  I’ve tried to actually watch the shows.  Total disaster has ensued every time.  I have zero ability to control my extreme and emotional reaction to these shows – yet.  I’ve prayed and prayed for acceptance of both my limitations and other peoples’ tastes that I can leave if I’m bother WITHOUT acting the victim.  I need to pray more cause this hasn’t worked.  I’ve tried mandating that only the shows I approve of be played when I’m home.  This is actually where we’re at now because it’s kept the peace.  So far my husband has proved much more flexible than I, and yet I still react when suggestions for ‘the other’ shows are made.  Oh well, here’s room for growth.  Maybe some therapy is in order.  Maybe more creative outlets are options for me.  I don’t know what but more will be revealed.

Fixing Fear with Food

For a girl who once lived every single day wondering where, how, when and how much I could binge and purge so that I could relieve the excruciating pain in my heart and quiet the noise in my head, it seems strange to say I’m having any trouble at all with food today.  But for a girl who lived 15 plus years in the throws of bulimia, I can’t afford to decide I’m just the same as every other woman out there worried about body image and dieting.  This isn’t because I’m such an abnormal eater today or that I’m in a constant battle with food and weight because that’s just not true.  I enjoy a great deal of freedom in my meal plan and certainly ‘look’ normal in my approach to food.  People appear almost shocked when I do share my eating disorder story with them.  The reason I cannot afford to say I am a ‘normal’ food person is because that’s just not true either.  If I begin to playing with my food, adjusting portions to fit into a new size jean or feel better around certain people, I’m playing with my life.  If I allow myself one day of restricting, one binge, one purge, I’m opening a whole box of crazy, and there’s no telling if it will close again, ever.  I know how fast and hard I fall when I go there and in a very short time most everyone can see I have changed.  They might not know it is food that’s striking me psycho, but they know something is seriously wrong. 

So I am struggling with food lately and it’s really affecting my body image.   Interesting now that I wrote that, I don’t know which came first.  You see, my husband and I moved across town a few months ago, and I have been uncharacteristically shy around new people since.  I feel such a powerful loneliness even when surrounded by a hundred folks in recovery and I have frozen up and closed myself off.  So I show up and am in my head at meetings and gatherings thinking that everyone is judging me… BY THE WAY I LOOK.  Danger, Danger, Danger!!!   I don’t know about you but if people are just going to judge me by what I look like and decide from that if I’m good enough to talk to, I better look super duper uber HOT!!!!  I have no idea how much better I need to look to get to superduperuber, but I know darn well I’m not even close.  That’s enough for me to start the mental tirade against my own body and overall self worth.  I’m not pretty enough.  I’m not skinny enough.  I’m not fit enough.  I’m not good enough.  I’m not what I used to be.  I’m a failure.  I SHOULD FIX THIS.  If I can be skinny and fit and drop dead gorgeous again, THEN people will talk to me and like me and THEN I can be happy and outgoing again.  THEN I can be me again.  

The temptation to actually act on the barrage of criticisms in my head has been extraordinary.  I have felt the extra bites, the skipped breakfasts, the late night eating that I really, really wish would just fix my discomfort.  I want to believe my screaming head that says I can fix it with food, because that seems the quicker way.  Thankfully, I have been taught to seek the truth in all things before I act out of desperation and before I go on a full scale binge or purge or start weighing myself multiple times a day.  So, I took some time today to find the truth through all the bullshit in my brain and found it fairly quickly.  The truth is that change is really hard, and I am uncomfortable.  That’s it!  I have not recently become ugly or gross or less than or incapable of forming new friendships.  Nothing about the funny, outgoing, grace-filled, caring, friendly, recovering woman I am has changed.  I simply don’t like feeling vulnerable and am afraid of rejection.  Duh, I’m human.  So after two weeks of internal turmoil and self deprecating thoughts, I can see that my perception of myself, my own worth and my security were knocked off balance by the fear of change.  I will ask to be put back to center now and smile into the mirror a few times today in gratitude of the woman I see looking back.

 

Maybe this week I’ll play a different tape when I go to meetings that says, “I’m okay and what you think of me is none of my business anyway so what’s your story?”

Related Posts:  So little talk of food

I still get crazy sometimes

After over two and half years in recovery and over a decade of therapy, the smallest things can throw me back into my old thinking.  What a terrible feeling! 

Yesterday I had a total meltdown.  I was by myself during lunch from jury duty and began to panic about all the money I wasn’t making by serving.  I went to call my husband and found that my phone would not turn on.  That’s when I lost it.  Within seconds I was in tears and yelling that I hated my life.  All while driving recklessly to find a place to get my phone checked out.   I drove around the neighborhood for about fifteen minutes with no direction and then went through a drive thru hoping food would help me calm down.  I got ‘the look’ from the kid working the window when he saw the tears streaming down my face but he didn’t say anything.  I was too upset to eat once he handed me the food.  I threw it into the passenger’s seat and sped away with a new plan.  I drove to a friend’s house knowing that he was at work.  When he wasn’t home, I used that to continue ranting about the terrible luck I had and how awful my life was.  I ended up stopping to use a pay phone a few minutes later and getting a hold of my husband.   After about five minutes of talking to him, the panic and rage had passed and everything seemed completely manageable again.   He suggested I remove the battery from my phone for a couple minutes and then restarting it.  I had thought of that but quit on it when I couldn’t get the back open right away.  Of course, this time it was simple and it worked.  I was back on track and ready to continue my duty. 

That might sound like a painful process to get back to calm and clear-minded, but I did return to the courthouse and sit the rest of the day doing what I was supposed to be doing.  A considerable success for someone like me.  I wish I didn’t react like that to anything, but I know my journey in recovery is just beginning.   I’m really grateful that I don’t take it to the dark places I used to.  From the thought “I hate my life”, I find myself looking for support rather than a fix.  Pretty cool.