November 2011

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

And they lived happily ever after?

Well, yes…and no. When I look back at our marriage I think of it as charmed. Sure, we had stressors, not to mention some rather intense family issues that arose from time to time, but overall, it was solid and it was good. Our marriage seemed (and still does) to embody the ideals of mutual respect, appreciation, and communication. We don’t fight…we’ve never even raised our voices at each other. From time to time, there’s annoyance or misunderstanding, but it’s quickly resolved.

But inside, I still had a lot of learning to do in terms of love, not to mention respect and appreciation for myself.

Throughout this series of blog posts I haven’t written much about my weight, body, or eating habits, but a little perspective is in order. Here’s a quick history:

As a pre-teen/teen I thought I was fat, even though I was not. Emphasis was on the number on the scale and that number was the indicator of health/beauty. I started emotional/binge eating when I was middle school.

In college I put on weight. I don’t know how much. By the time I was a senior, I was quite heavy, but I lost a lot of weight by taking illegal drugs (mostly speed). I finally liked my body but the only thing I thought it was good for was attracting men.

In my 20s, I gained a little weight, but it was rather stable. I don’t remember how much I weighed. I do remember that I tried lots of diets, like Nutrisystem. I also remember my first husband taking “before” photos of me.

When I met Tim in my early 30s, I was still insecure about my body. It was a couple of years into our relationship that the diet drug combo Fen-Phen came out. I started taking it and lost 40 pounds (thankfully I had none of the damaging side effects associated with this dangerous drug). The funny thing is, I have no idea how much I weighed to begin with.

By the time we got married, I’d regained some of the 40 pounds I had lost. After we married I gained the rest and more. I don’t remember when it was, but I do remember that at some point I passed the 200-pound mark.

It’s only in hindsight that I understand what was going on: I was NOT loving myself AND, although our relationship was as described above, I was testing Tim’s love for me, not just by gaining weight, but by being so insecure with myself that it affected my relationship with his kids and with others in my family. I put several good relationships at risk, while the more toxic relationships tended to flourish. How I treated my self and my body is how I tended to treat others. And this treatment arose out of pain and fear.

It was only my relationship with Tim that seemed to be healthy.

I used to have awful dreams that he was cheating on me. The worst part of the dream wasn’t the actual cheating, it was the attitude he had about it: “of course I’m cheating, you’re pathetic.” What I came to understand is that I was cheating on me, and I thought I was pathetic.

So, if that’s how I felt about myself, how on Earth was I able to love and be loved?

I am married to a man who loves unconditionally  (and, until I met him, I didn’t know what unconditional love looked or felt like).

There’s also an element of luck.

And then there’s the fact that Tim is the kind of guy who doesn’t give up, and who will sometimes stay in situations that aren’t good for him out of sheer stubbornness or misplaced loyalty. I’m not saying that our marriage wasn’t good for him, or that I was a complete and total mess, but what I do know is that if I hadn’t learned to love myself, I am sure our marriage would not have thrived.

When I finally opened myself up to healing and took those first few tentative steps towards loving myself, I started to love him better and more fully.

And the good relationships that I had put at risk? They got better. And the toxic relationships? They fell away.

Earlier this year I decided to try on my wedding dress. It was too big. Way too big.

To be continued…

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File this one under “stuff that I learn over and over again, but in different ways.”

That I deal with anxiety is no secret…and neither is the fact that it seems to get worse as the days get shorter, darker, and colder. Last year around this time I found myself blogging about it quite a bit (here and here), and that’s when I decided I needed some therapy.

I just wanted to be cured…I wanted never to feel anxious again. I wanted to be able to go about my life with nary a thought as to whether someone else might throw up…or that I might.

What I’ve come to realize is that it’s just not possible. “Never again” is not possible. And how many times have I said that (to myself and to others) in terms of such behaviors as mindless eating or looking in the mirror and hating what I see?

The goal isn’t to be cured, the goal is to be okay. Because being “cured” really doesn’t guarantee a damn thing, does it?

I think we’d all like to believe that there are certain things we will never do again, but I’m starting to sense a tiny bit of freedom in realizing that I very well may have anxiety for the rest of my life…and that in accepting it, my anxiety has lessened. Talk about a paradox!

This hit me the other day when a friend wrote to me and said, in regards to using food to cope with various stressors in her life, “I’m exhausted. I’m terrified. I’m scared. I don’t want to meltdown like I did before “

And then she asked me, “How did you make peace with your emotions?”

And I laughed right out loud and thought, “Huh? What? Who me? When did that happen?”

And then I responded:

“Emotions are just…emotions. They’re part of life…as trite as that sounds. It’s the weight (no pun intended) that we give them that bogs us down.  So…you’re moving? You’re saying good-bye? You’re tired? You’re scared? You might melt down? So? You’re allowed. Besides, this isn’t about *not* feeling those things…it’s about feeling them and knowing you’ll be okay. Because you will. And holy cow I’m having an ah-ha moment as I type this LOL! It really is about knowing, on a deeper level, that we are okay, no matter what…even when we’re scared shitless or grieving a loss or kicking up our heels in joy.”

I realized that I was echoing what my father (who had the same anxiety issues…and they showed up the same way for him) was telling me in a dream I had about him a few weeks ago. I wrote a password-protected blog post that describes the circumstances in much greater detail and if you’re interested in reading it, email me at karen {at} kclanderson {dot} com and I’ll send the password to you.

And so today I did something that amazed me. It will sound trivial to you, but it was a huge victory for me. My stepdaughter, who is Mom to a seven-and-half-month-old baby boy was feeling ill, exhausted, and overwhelmed this morning and she posted as much on Facebook. I texted her and offered to come over and watch him so she could rest. I didn’t ask ahead of time, “what kind of sick,” (although I certainly thought about it and my heart raced a little) I just offered and went. Turns out, yes, last night she’d thrown up.

And it was okay. And I am okay. I’m not cured. And that is okay too.

P.S. I promise that there is more to come in the “How I Learned To Love” series!

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I’ve been thinking about what went on at Penn State University through a greater lens…that the idea that “too big to fail” has become our cultural bellwether. And yet we’re still shocked to hear of it happening again.

For centuries the rape and abuse (whether it be sexually, emotionally, physically, financially, or in any way) of those with less power has been tolerated and/or even accepted and certainly covered up by some of the biggest institutions on the planet. People have been afraid to speak out, not only for fear of retaliation, but because so often those in power work together and corrupt together. And, if you do speak out, try to protect, or otherwise intervene, then it’s your ass on the line and besides, other, more powerful people and institutions are protected.

What if…WHAT IF, instead of being threatened, degraded, or retaliated against, those who spoke out and tried to protect were rewarded? What if they were embraced and thanked instead of being turned away, ignored, or disbelieved?

There’s a shift happening on this planet…that’s what 2012 is bringing. It’s not the end of the world; it’s the end of the “known world” and the centuries-long domination of the masculine. And no, I am not saying men are bad…I am saying the yin/yang, masculine/feminine energy, which has been way out of balance for so long, is coming back into balance. Men and women have both masculine and feminine energy and both of these energies can be used for evil and ill intent, or they can be used for love and peaceful intent.

Things are changing…embrace the balance. Be aware of the messages you’re allowing yourself to absorb and check the energy of those with whom you surround yourself. Embrace the wave of love as it sweeps across the planet in each time zone, and 11:11 comes and goes on 11/11/11.

 

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Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

So yeah, I was getting a little antsy. I wanted to be with this guy on a regular basis, but there were obstacles: we lived 90 miles apart, he had a job and children, and I had a job in New York City.

Oh, and we hadn’t actually talked about marriage. And not only was I afraid to bring it up (because I wanted him to bring it up first), I really didn’t want the relationship to end and I figured that a discussion about marriage could very well do that. I am so not an ultimatum giver.

Some may consider it silly, but I knew that I wanted and needed a committed relationship (meaning marriage) beyond living together. It wasn’t a moral or religious issue, we certainly were not going to have children together, and I knew that getting married wouldn’t guarantee a thing, but as I said, it’s what I needed. We kinda sorta talked about living together but I vetoed it based on not wanting to set a bad example for his kids. To be honest, that wasn’t my highest priority, but it wasn’t a complete lie, either.

And looking back at myself from the perspective I have now, I also recognize that I was afraid that I didn’t respect myself enough to ask for what I wanted. I thought the only way to get what I wanted was to give up something of myself.

Then came the second trip to Paris…

…which got cancelled at the last minute.

So there we were, continuing on with our relationship as it was. And one Saturday morning in April 1997, about two weeks after we were supposed to go to Paris, we were having breakfast at his dining room table, and then all of a sudden we were engaged.

Is it terrible that I don’t remember the details of the conversation?! What I do remember is that he told me that he’d planned the perfect proposal for our trip to Paris. He was going to take me to the top of the Eiffel Tower and give me a fake ring he’d purchased (because he wanted to have the diamond that my father had given my mother set for the “real” engagement ring).

And since that wasn’t going to happen, he felt that anything else he might think of would never come close to his Eiffel Tower plan.

Paris or kitchen table, my answer was the same: YES!

Something I understood right away is that our marriage was infinitely more important than our wedding, but it was important to me to have my closest friends and family there to witness and celebrate our commitment. We both agreed that sooner was better than later, so we set a date about six months off.

I didn’t know what I was going to do about my job, but then the stars aligned and I met the publisher of a new plastics industry magazine based in Florida who was looking for an editor who could work from home. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. I had a month off in which to move and put the finishing touches on our wedding.

We were married on September 6, 1997, at the Amphitheater at Harkness Memorial State Park in Waterford, CT.

To be continued…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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