Tag Archives: therapist

to being strong…

Posted on by
4

I’m struggling.

I have been thinking about my blog every day since the last day that I posted something, what was that two weeks ago?!?  I have been struggling, dieting and emotionally and I just want to keep that hidden.  I keep telling myself that when I turn the ship around and feel better and my diet is better then I can write about where I was and how I’m in a better place.  I think that most stories, novels, successful blogs are all about the after moment.  The before and after pictures.  The story of how said person was in a low place but is writing to tell about how they got through it.  How they struggled to find success but they are now being successful.  I guess we as a human race prefer to read stories and blogs and watch movies about triumph and coming through the dark stuff because it keeps us hopeful.  But what about those of us still in the trenches??  I personally feel like I’ve been living in survival mode since roughly, January of 2006.  That’s 6 and a half years!  Throughout that time I’ve had some good times, happy moments etc, but I really feel like I’m just surviving each day, not living and enjoying those days.  Maybe I say that because when you’re in the trenches the lens you have to look at the past through clouds everything so it all looks pretty grey.

I wanted to wait and see when I would feel a little more sunny but I don’t, in fact I feel darker.  I want to write from the dark place, with the goal of not sounding whiny and complainy.  But here it goes:

I feel alone.  And dark.  And tired.  And sad.  And stuck.  And alone.  And alone.  And alone.

My diet has been shit this week.  Its a reflection of the emotional tsunami I’m trying to swim through.  My space is a mess, also a reflection of whats going on inside of me.  My car even smells funny, although, that I do not think is a reflection of my inner turmoil, I think there’s just something stinky going on.  Things with Preston’s dad continue at a standstill.  I haven’t had more than a 2 hour window of time without Pres in 5 weeks.  When I’m not near Preston I am at work, helping other people sort out their darkness.  I do have a few evenings to myself when I am not working and those prove to be even more challenging for me because I sit, alone.  Needless to say, I’d love to have a weekend “off” where I can get on my bike again, where I could sleep in, or visit a friend without planning how Pres will be entertained while I’m visiting.  I would like to consume an alcoholic beverage and enjoy the cooler evening weather with a friend.  I want to feel more human – more like a person who has needs and wants that are just as valid as her clients or her son’s.

I’m so sick of being alone (yes I find saying that funny when I just stated that I’d like a break from mommy duty for a few minutes but I’m talking about something a little different).  I want a partner, a boyfriend, a husband.  I want to be chosen by someone.  I dream about someone proposing to me and saying, “I choose you.  You are the one that I choose above any others.  You are worth choosing.”  I want a best friend that I can laugh with and play with and sleep next to every night.  I want a man in my life that helps me sort out the harder times and celebrates that happy times.  I want someone to watch the olympics with, someone to have inside jokes with, someone to play rock paper scissors with when Preston makes a mess and neither of us want to deal with it.  I want someone to sit with at mass.  I want someone to dream with and cry with and play with.  I don’t want to be alone anymore.  I want someone to be my someone who is a constant in my life, I want that person to choose me, pick me, love me.

Sometimes I tell myself that my desire to have a partner is so strong that it must mean I’m desperate.  I don’t know – I won’t settle, I won’t marry the next guy that comes along if he isn’t right, but I am definitely ready.  At least I think I am.  I just don’t want to do life alone anymore.  It sucks.  It does, it really just sucks.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful for my family and my friends.  I love all of them so much – the thing is, they’ve already chosen someone to be their someone.  So I get all those parts of a “someone” piecemeal from all my friends and family members.  I get shoulder to cry on here, concoct ideas over there, dream about winning the lottery over here, and share a Sunday afternoon there.  And I don’t get the best part of anyone, those parts are reserved for their someone or family.

At times I do an ok job convincing myself that the deal I’ve got going isn’t so bad.  I have awesome friends and an amazing family.  I get my needs met, even though its piecemeal, I don’t go completely without.  I am aware I have it better than some, many even.  Am I selfish for wanting more?  For wanting to feel validated and worthy because someone chooses me, and just me?

My best friend, Katie, wants me to put myself out there and start dating – I’ve been single for a year now.  I have my moments where that sounds exciting to me, but it mostly just feels like a meat market, and my feelings about my body trump my desire to put myself out there and risk being rejected.  All the things Chris used to say about my weight and how my beauty was measured by my size replay over and over in my mind and I can’t possibly imagine being viewed as beautiful at this weight.  I think, why would I go speed dating, or to some mixer, only to stand awkwardly by myself and not be approached by a single guy?  Why would I continue trying internet dating (ugh I hate it) when its all based so much off of the pictures that you post to attract someone to you.  I don’t even think I’m that interesting anymore – all of my hobbies, interests, and knowledge have been swallowed up by sorting out which dance classes to sign Pres up for, what Pres needs to know before preschool starts in three weeks, and what do my clients need from me this week?  Another person couldn’t possibly find any of that interesting.  All of these self-destructive thoughts don’t help my case at all, but I’ve got quite the crowd in my mind telling me these things and its hard to quiet it all down enough to risk putting myself out there.  :(

I have invested several hours this week looking online for a second job.  I need to find a way to bring more money in, without sending most of it out to childcare for Preston.  I want to work more, I want to make more money, but I want to be with Preston.  I don’t want to miss out on these precious years that he actually likes me.  I know that the reality of single parenthood is generally working two or even three jobs to pay the bills and make ends meet and I get so angry and upset that, that is my reality.  This is nowhere near what I wanted my life to be like.  I never would have laid out this path as the one to take.  Maybe that’s true of most peoples lives and you just have to work with where you are.  I know this.  I help people realize this and work to accept these things about life for a living!!  I am just really struggling with it for myself.  I don’t want my life to be like this but I can’t figure out what move to make in order to change it.  With every move I think about taking it means giving up something else that I don’t want to sacrifice.

I know a man (boyfriend/husband) won’t fix this.  I know having a second job won’t fix this. I know Preston’s dad being completely amicable and flexible won’t fix this.  Only I can decide to feel better about what my life is at the present moment.  I’m just really struggling with that.  I’m really struggling to cheerlead myself through this life.  I’m really struggling to find strength and perseverance through this time, through these years and years of uphill battle, where is the top?  When do I summit this beast of a mountain?  How much further and harder can I push?  Everyday I end my day praying to God that something gives because I simply don’t have anymore fight in me – and then everyday I wake up able to make it through one. more. day.  My definition of strength has always been that if you keep waking up every day and keep making it through each day then you are being strong, even if you feel weak the whole time.  Here’s to being strong…

angry.

Posted on by
4

I’m feeling angry toady.  Really REALLY angry.  My anger is directed at a particular person who made a horrible decision that affects my son.  I am so angry about it I could swear for ten minutes straight and I’m not sure I could convey how much anger I feel inside of me.  Anger is one of the emotions that I don’t have a problem with feeling and expressing.  I am what some in my line of work might deem a ‘quick to anger’ kind of person.  Instead of letting things simmer and bother me for a long time without saying anything until I explode (a slow to anger type) I am ready and willing to express my anger when I feel it.  Neither way is right or wrong, and both ways of dealing with upsetting things can get you into trouble.  But my way is definitely quick to anger.  I get angry sometimes about little things and express it and move on without it feeling like a lasting thing.  I have scorched a few people in my life because of this trait of mine.  But I am also not typically simmering with anger at anyone because I get it out as I express it.  This particular situation last night sent me through the roof.  So angry that I am struggling to find words to describe it.  And as I have grown older and wiser ;) I have made more of an effort not to scorch those around me when I get angry and instead let the feeling subside a bit before expressing it.  It seems to be most beneficial for myself and those around me.

When I work with my clients on anger I typically talk about how anger is a secondary emotion.  That it is the emotion that rises to the top but there are usually other feelings going on beneath the surface that fuel the anger.  Anger is just more socially acceptable than fear or sadness for example.  The example I use is: when someone cuts you off you get angry with the other driver, sometimes mutter some choice words at them, and other times whip out the bird and send it their direction.  Either way you express anger, but what sits below that is fear.  Fear that you could have been in an accident, fear for your safety, and when that was threatened your expression of it turned to anger.  So in this time of waiting out my anger I decided to ask myself what is beneath the anger in this situation.

Frustration, disappointment, fear, disbelief, betrayal, and sadness are the feelings that come to mind.  Frustration for me is almost always and immediately turned to anger.  When I’m frustrated with something anger happens very quickly.  A very clever way of avoiding feeling frustrated.  Disappointment is something I feel somewhat confident in handling – everyone experiences disappointment and it doesn’t have an isolating feeling associated with it so I’m ok with a little let down every now and then.  Fear is something I don’t like, I typically cope with fear by reaching out – talking to people and expressing my fears helps me to normalize my fears and get a grip on reality.    I cope with disbelief similarly to disappointment.  I don’t live the same as a lot of people in this world, I have different viewpoints and at times other people act in ways that lead me to disbelief but I reason that they are simply wired different than me – I’m big on the ‘different strokes for different folks’ mentality.  Betrayal and sadness lead me to eat.  Plain and simple, I don’t like dealing with these two.  They lead me to feel isolated, lonely, disrespected – and all of those play into my fears & insecurities about my self worth.  Particularly in this situation because it was something involving the care of my son it reminds me about my status as a single mom and that enhances my feelings of loneliness and thoughts of “how did I get into this mess?”.

I was proud of myself that yesterday after discovering that my sons care had been neglected and disregarded to the level that is in the ABSOLUTELY NOT OK category I thought about taking a bike ride.  I was so mad and had no words that all I wanted to do was get on my bike and ride around until I felt clear inside.  So I am happy that my initial reaction for coping was something that is healthy for me.  However, at that moment it was time to get my little man some dinner and put him to bed.  I swallowed my anger down and focused on my responsibility as mom.  After I said goodnight to Preston and shut his door I allowed myself to fully feel/reflect on this information I learned about how he spent his weekend away from me.  The anger was so quick to appear that all these other feelings quietly sat unattended beneath the surface.  I made my dinner and ate alone.  This is when the real stuff started to creep up.  This is when I thought about food in a coping/avoiding kind of way.  I didn’t actually feel like acting on this desire my body was informing me of – I tried to stay focused, recognize it, and allowed it to pass.  I told myself no.  I didn’t allow any space to entertain the idea of what type of food I might want to binge on or anything like that.  It was the people that read this blog and what it represents for me that helped me shut down that possibility very quickly.

But now I’m left to deal with all this ugly anger and all of its little buddies that follow along behind him.  In times like this I think a lot about how much I struggle being a single mom.  I tell myself that if I were married I wouldn’t feel so alone.  I make up that people that are married always have a person they can seek solace and support in.  Rationally I know that isn’t always the case – in fact sometimes it is the person you are married to that brings up the feelings that I have been feeling for the past 18 hours.  So I know that I’m lying to myself – that I’m feeling lonely and frustrated (and wanting a prince charming to rescue me) and the story I make up about married people fits with how I feel.  But continuing to believe that I don’t have what all married people have is not really helpful for me.  I may not have a husband but I have family and friends that listen to and support me.  Might it be different if I had a husband?  Maybe.  But only maybe.  So for now I will sit in and process my frustration, disappointment, fear, disbelief, betrayal, and sadness.  I will try not to avoid feeling those things and instead let them help me take action.  Let them help guide me in what to do next and how to respond to a situation that has left me feeling so angry.

How’s that working for you?

Posted on by
4

Yesterday was the first day I had to work since starting my diet.  Have I mentioned I love my job?  I do.  I feel like it is the perfect job for me and it also allows me to be home with Preston a bunch which is really good for the both of us.  I love my job because of what happens when I’m working with couples or families (or individuals).  Perseverance, rethinking, clarifying, honesty, change.  I offer possibility and perspective that my clients may have been unaware of before they came into the office.  I encourage people to see how they impact their world, their family, and themselves – and when they don’t like the impact they’re having I help them find ways to change.  The job requires a delicate balance of stirring the pot and being sensitive and empathetic, being straight-forward and walking the winding path with your clients.  It’s a great job for me.

At one point last night I felt a twinge in my chest and I began to think about food (in an unhealthy, binge triggering kind of way).  I observed this and moved on as I was focused on what was happening in the session but as I drove home last night I began to think about the feeling I had and the topic that was being discussed.  The topic was how a married couple could rely on each other and work together when parenting… every time this topic comes up it reminds me of what I don’t have in the parenting department (a partner) and sends a signal to my brain to cope with emotions I don’t like eat to dull the pain.  Like I said before, in session I can observe it and move on and remain focused but its after work that those feelings come up for me.

In the past year I had developed a habit of coming home from work (around 10:30pm) and eating.  On one hand sometimes I didn’t have dinner before I went or I ate very little before I left for work because I was rushing to get Preston to bed and therefore I would feel hungry at 10:30.  But mostly it was an excuse.  Late night eating has always been a struggle for me – and tends to be a time most overweight people indulge because no one is around to watch.  So on my way home from work I’d stop and get a second dinner or I’d come home and eat whatever I could find in the pantry.  My after work eating was not an all out binge in the 5,000 calorie range or anything, but it was an additional meal which was still likely over 1000 calories so still a binge in my book.

On top of possibly feeling hungry this was also a way of avoiding feeling sad or frustrated about the situation I find myself in, in terms of single parenting and lacking a partner who supports me.  I am so good at avoiding those feelings – I would come home eat my meal and watch TV until midnight or 1am to completely distract myself from thinking about how I felt (and virtually trash myself for the following morning).  I would let myself get lost in TV shows just to escape and avoid feeling.  Of course, no one can keep those feelings inside forever so they’d bleed out in various areas of my life – onto Preston, in my attempt at co-parenting relationship with Justin, to my lack of effort put in other areas of my life etc.  So clearly this was not really working for me, but eating and avoiding has been how I have coped for many years.

So back to last night.  As I drove home (passing Taco Bell, Chipotlé, McDonalds, Five Guys etc) I thought about how easy it would be to go home and follow the same pattern of eating to dull whatever pain or discomfort I was feeling.  But I knew if I indulged I would only be perpetuating the problem.  So I told myself no; no Megan you don’t need to eat anything its 10:30pm you need to go home and go to bed.  So that’s what I did.  One might argue that I still avoided the feelings I have about disliking my single parent status, but I am not sure that 10:30 at night is the best time to attempt to process those feelings anyway.  In fact, I know its not because it would’ve kept me up until well past midnight.

I woke up this morning feeling really good.  I was also proud of myself for doing what I knew I needed to do.  It gave me confidence in myself.  It helped me believe that even though I want more for my life than living in my parent’s basement and being a single mom, I can still be content in the present.  I can still manage me.  AND the more I manage myself now the better the future looks for both myself and for Preston.

My Story – Part 3

Posted on by
7

I packed up my car and drove the 850 miles to Atlanta listening to music from my past and reflected on the previous year.  I had all of my worldly belongings weighing down my back seat and trunk and thought that the sooner I arrived in Atlanta, the sooner the pain would stop and the healing would begin.  The family I moved in with was nice – single mom, two kids a boy and a girl.  I had a room and bathroom of my own and a car to drive the kids around in.  My first night there I cried.  I missed my friends and my family and felt really overwhelmed.  The second night I cried because I realized I would have to create a new life in Atlanta all by myself while working 60+ hours a week in a job that only exposed me to two small people that were mostly interested in swimming and riding bikes.  And I had become far more shy as an adult than I was in my younger years. What did I get myself into??

My first weekend in Atlanta I watched the first season of 24, start to finish.  I didn’t really know what else to do.  On Sunday I went to the nearest gym and bought myself a membership and signed up to meet with a trainer.  Gyms intimidate the hell out of me and I thought doing the “complimentary” hour with a trainer might make me feel more comfortable.  I ended up signing up to meet with a trainer regularly and was nervous and excited all in one.  I had managed to only gain about 10-15lbs since my break up with Chris and I HAD to keep the weight down for the summer because I was my best friends maid of honor in August and had asked them to order my dress a size BELOW my measurements since I was so confident I’d have lost the rest of my weight by then. (NEVER DO THAT!!!!)

Because I was still an emotional wreck I binged on white bread and little baggies of chips, cookies, and other “kid” snacks that I could find at the house.  I bought myself a lot of fast food and then showed up for my appointments with my trainer making excuses about why I wasn’t losing.  I never got the impression the trainers I worked with were really invested in me, but I still assumed everyone judged me as harshly as I judged myself.

Two weeks after I moved to Atlanta I met Johanita.  We became very close friends the night that we met – due to a series of ridiculous happenings and also just because we were such a perfect fit.  Johanita was a single mom to the cutest two-year-old boy, Dylan.  We were both live-in nannies and bonded over our need to be out of our “homes” as much as possible.  Especially on the weekends!  Thankfully she was one of the most adventurous people I have ever met.  We spent our weekends hiking in the North Georgia Mountains, riding bikes along the Silver Comet Trail, camping, going to various parties, and events.  We stayed busy.  We stayed active.  It was awesome.

That winter I met a guy, Justin.  He wasn’t exactly my type, but he liked me.  He didn’t judge my weight at all – in fact he thought I was beautiful – an adjective Chris was never able to use.  I remember apologizing for showing up at his house once with my glasses on instead of contacts because I had felt so scrutinized in my previous relationship that I thought it was expected I look my best.  It was refreshing to be with someone who simply wasn’t concerned about my physical appearance.  Justin liked to eat and it quickly became something we shared together – wings, fries, chips and queso, pizza, sub sandwiches, more wings, beer…  My friends wedding had come and gone so there wasn’t a tiny dress I needed to fit into anymore and the freedom I felt being with Justin made me let go of the part of me that wanted to stay in shape and continue losing weight for myself.  I realized early on that we weren’t exactly the right fit so we broke up but then got back together – I was always pushing him away and then asking to get back together.  Having someone support me was too comforting for me to end, when I lacked any feelings of self worth.  It felt safe so I kept going back even though I knew it wasn’t quite right.  We did this several times and just before we had been dating a year I found out I was pregnant.

At that time I had climbed from around 215lbs in August 2006 to 271lbs in November of 2007.  Sometimes I wonder how shocked my family must have been when I came home to visit during that year.  Putting on that much weight so quickly is so obvious.  No one ever said anything to me about it.

Anyway – so I was pregnant.  It wasn’t planned.  It was horrible to tell my family and friends.  I was both mad at myself for letting that happen (I’m well informed on how to prevent pregnancy and could have avoided it from happening very easily but didn’t) and also a little excited that I was going to become a mom.  I had always wanted to be a mom.  Justin and I held onto our shell of a relationship throughout my pregnancy – we even talked about marriage pretty seriously – but it just was not the right fit.  I couldn’t fathom not having my child’s father in my life before he was born so we stayed together.

I put most of my energy into being excited about becoming a mom.  I kind of felt like I was the only one that was excited about the baby that was on his way.  Eventually my family came around and many of my friends were excited and supportive, but it was a far cry from what I had envisioned my first pregnancy would be like.  I called my best friend Katie in tears on a regular basis.  I was headed down a path that I had never considered for my life.  Once my belly grew (my baby belly on top of my overweight belly) and Preston started moving around I felt connected to him and that kept me focused on him and staying positive.  I’m not sure I’m conveying very well just how hard this time was for me.  IT WAS AWFUL. (lonely, ostracizing, shameful, regretful, angry)  But again this was a situation where my feelings on it were so conflicting because I was overjoyed and excited to become a mom and felt Preston deserved to have a pregnancy at least his mom was excited about.

I put on 32lbs while I was pregnant which is pretty standard – but when you start a pregnancy at 271 adding even more weight to that is really taxing on your body.  I had a planned c-section which went very smoothly and was confident that nursing would help me shed the baby weight and maybe even a little more to jumpstart a trend of heading back down on the scale.  Nursing did help!  I lost all of the weight I gained during my pregnancy in less than three months.  By the time Preston arrived my family really got on board and were ecstatic to welcome him to our family.  Things were going well. Mostly…

My relationship with Justin did not transition well to parenthood.  I had lots of experience caring for kids/babies and lots of expectations of him to go with it.  He was dealing with his own demons and we were rarely on the same page.  Before Preston was 10 weeks old Justin and I broke up.  Shortly after Preston hit 3 months old I packed up everything that would fit in my car and drove through the night with Preston back to Illinois and moved in with my parents.  Justin was devastated that we left but I haven’t once regretted my decision.

Preston and I hadn’t been home long before I started talking to Chris again. (BIG MISTAKE!!)  He was only twenty-five miles away and my desire to have those intoxicating feelings with him again was strong.  We spent time together and he apologized for the hurtful things he had said in the past about my weight and the expectations he put on me.  The chemistry was still there.  I was SO self-conscious about my weight because at that point I was somewhere in the 260s – down from where I’d been but way up since I had last seen him.  We discussed my fears and he said he no longer minded the ‘weight thing’ (WHAT?!?!?).  He told me his feelings for me were still there and he wanted to spend time with me to see where things went.  Of course I took that to mean we were getting back together and I instantly dropped my guard down.  Second big mistake.  Several weeks later he was dating someone else and I haven’t spoken to him since.  He broke my heart again.  I allowed it to happen, I put myself in that position, I was already vulnerable enough being a brand new mom and a recently single mom at that.  I should have known better but I didn’t.  I was so angry with him.  I felt so betrayed and ugly.  In order to cope I ate.  I had a baby to take care of all on my own, I was hardly making any money, and I was lonely and sad.  So I ate and ate and ate.  Of course I’d have my bouts of exercise and dieting but nothing lasted long.

When Preston was 6 months old I decided I wanted to go back to school and get my master’s in marriage and family therapy, just like my dad.  So my family helped me study for the GRE, I applied to the only school that was workable for Pres and me to continue living with my parents and somehow by God’s divine plan I was accepted!  When Preston was 12 months old I started taking classes.  The program was two years and it was tough!  It was tough on all of us.  My classmates helped me with Preston (I am forever grateful to all of them for helping me make it possible).  My mom and my sister took shifts with Preston as well when I was out until late at night seeing clients – I have yet to find the words to express my gratitude to them for helping me.  People would say to me, “I can’t believe you’re doing this as a single mom and your son is so young”.  I kind of can’t either – and I know without a doubt that my master’s degree needs to have a few names added to it because without those people it NEVER would have happened.  The problem with grad school is there is a lot of sitting required; in class, in the car to and from (45 miles one way 4/5 days a week), seeing clients, observing other clinicians, studying/writing papers… It was two years of little activity.  It was also so stressful that I used food frequently to cope with the stress.  Again, I’d have my moments of trying to do better but it would never last.  I graduated last May 2011.

I am now almost a year out from graduation.  Preston is going to be four in two months!  He can buckle his own seat belt; use the potty by himself, dress himself and most recently is able to put on his own socks and shoes! – these among many other things.  He is becoming independent in many ways and the “child care” aspects of being a mom are far less overwhelming than they once were.  Its all the other aspects of parenting that are now overwhelming – teaching about honesty, patience (I am a horrible model for this), sensitivity, and using an indoor voice (we struggle with this daily, hourly) among many others.

Parenting alone is very lonely for me.  I want a relationship simply so that I can parent WITH someone.  I want to roll over at 6 in the morning and say, “your turn to get up with him” while I go back to sleep.  Every once in a while my parents will play that role (or my sister if she’s in town) – no they aren’t in my bed when I ask them to do it – but Preston stomps down two flights of stairs to get to my room so sometimes they’ll intercept him, that’s heaven :) .  But most of the time its just me and him.  We live in suburbia with a lot of married families, or divorced single parents that are at least put together enough to own their own homes; they aren’t living in their parents’ basement.  I tell myself these stories because I feel so different than most of the people that live around here.  The lonely feelings I have invade my body on a daily basis.  I struggle some days to leave the house because the loneliness and pity party I have going on for myself are sometimes too heavy to get my ass moving.  Those are the days I feel sorry for Preston that God chose me for him, those are the days I eat my feelings.  This single mom thing is hard.

I’m so happy and feel so blessed I am Preston’s mom – he is so amazing, so creative, loving, loud, funny, adaptable, intelligent, and passionate.  He likes star wars and barbies and loves to wear dresses and my scarves as his long beautiful hair.  He is the perfect child for me.  I struggle with the juxtaposition that this child is my most precious joy and yet the responsibility of raising him tears up my soul.  So, we’re doing all right.  I weigh far too much to think I’ll be around to meet my grandchildren someday and that will simply not do.  I want to see Preston get married some day (or not if he so chooses).  I want to see him graduate from college (he has no choice about this one ;) .  I want to be around a long time for my sake and for his.  So now is the time to make the changes – eat better, move more, get more sleep, find contentment and happiness in my life, get on track financially so I’m not living in this basement in my 30s, return to church a place that fills me so much, and simply find a better way of living.  My hope is that sharing my story and even processing my story for myself will hold me accountable to reach for the things I want and not get swallowed up by the things I don’t.