Something Big

Last night I shared with James bits of my blog.

I also gave him the address. I said "If you start reading it, you can never let me know" mainly because I don't want to ever censor myself. Not that I would, but knowing who my readers are is kinda scary. Because I would rather be as truthful as I can.

Everything I write is all in my head, it's the internal conversation that I have with myself. It's like taking the mute button and making it a speaker button. So there I am, my life on loudspeaker.

If you see this, Hi James. I love you. And I love that you don't judge me. I'll be home tonight to give you kisses at the door.

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I am working through so many things this week-- the idea if I didn't have the struggle against my weight, what would my life be like. If I never lost another pound, what would my life be like. I got to that I would want to take care of my body-- to maintain the way it is right now. To treat it well, with good food, good exercise, being active. Feeding my creativity and my mind. To just be. OK. With. Myself.

It's nice to get there.

Its all a journey. A journey to me.

Is it bad?

is it bad to get moved by your own writing?

A couple years ago a friend comissioned me to write text for his most amazing dance solo piece. And we came across it the other day.

My life is written on the backs of sleeves full of tears and snot in lieu of Kleenex

Waiting on corners for him to show up

My life is written on ticket stubs and burned out metro cards and buttons from shirts I never owned

My life is written on the backs of coffee cups with red ring sides full of kisses shared with liquid happiness

My life is written on church bulletins and post-it notes in my mother’s handwriting written out in highlighters

My life is written on postage stamps to cards never sent to family members unseen and unheard

Picture perfect events that never happened while I was around

My life is written on white paper with black pen as I patiently wait for my cigarette to finish smoking itself

My life is written on the pills of my middle management wardrobe and “what do you do for a living”

Its written on the sidewalks of my worn shoes back and forth to make some money

My life is written on the empty boxes of food and banana peels that make up my pile of garbage

My life is written with cigarette stained fingers and spoken in acts of an addiction

My life is written on bathroom mirrors and plate glass windows, words following me everywhere till I have no where to run

There is no hiding from my life, there is no absence, no structure, it’s life

I collect these words as they trail after me, stuffing them into my body, eating them again and again, and throwing them up into small bits and pieces until finally someday, one day, someone besides me will be nourished by them

It's not as easy as a song, or as pretty as a picture, I can't touch it or feel its warmth or hold it as I fall asleep at night. I can't wear it like a cloak or funny hat, I can't smell it like the trash truck hurtling down my street at 4am.

I can't describe it other than black pen on white paper, written in my mother's handwriting, broken into my own language.

I had forgotten this girl existed. This sad and thoughtful and miserable person with a very good sense of picture painting in greys and blues.

At the time during this was written, I was working for a bank, not happy at all, on the second shift. I was miserable in my body, so so lonely, and just hoping that someday, one day I would figure out how to date someone, anyone. I ate too much, I smoked too much, I lived with roomates and was still pining away for some guy who's name I can't even remember.

It's nice to revisit her. She's still lonely. She can't believe that this relationship, this body, this life is going to last. She comes out every now and again, snarky, bitchy, whining, and angry. Like I said, nice to revisit, but not to stay.

However, I am moved by that person. Wow. I forgot she can feel and write. And so it goes. I'm in the process of uncovering great things about myself, and slowing down..... but how can I slow down when I have nothing to do all day but find a job--- well, dear reader, that is the key. Spinning my wheels is useless. So now I am enjoying the day and being productive without jamming everything in there.

She's a good writer. I like her.

Letter to myself

When "I don't want to you can't make me" comes up, I call it my "little Kimmie". She's a rough and tumble, rounded belly girl who is way too smart for her own age, she likes things like kitty cats (which her mother won't let her have), playing in tents made with gramma's high backed chairs, and singing songs that don't make any sense. She is super sassy, but cries easily because she doesn't understand why everyone doesn't like her. She hates the rules, although she follows them, she would rather be jumping in the swimming pool, or running through the soccer field or eating ice cream for breakfast, or watching tv with complete control over the remote.

She is not a fan of structure at all. And as an adult, when Kim needs structure, little Kimmie comes out and rebels. She wants to watch tv, she wants to eat chocolate, she wants to take a nap, she would rather be bored and by herself than with others, because again, she doesn't understand why everyone doesn't like her.

Here is my letter to her.

Dear Kimmie,

You are such a beautiful girl, although you may not think so. Your friends have longer hair and are much smaller than you, but you can protect yourself from anything except from your heart getting broken. Not everyone has to like you, and it will take years for you to understand that people just may not be interested in talking to you or being your friend. But that this their problem, not yours. You can love them and appreciate them all you'd like, just know, they may not return it.

What you should know about yourself as a 36 year old woman is that you are still beautiful. And you are so super smart. People comment all the time how funny and sassy you are, and it is a testament to you, for just being yourself along the way, that will have you feel comfortable in your skin. So you can hide in a little bit of that smile knowing that you turn out a-okay.

But, sassy Kimmie, you hate the rules. Rules are boring. Here's the deal-- you have lost a job you loved, but people you have met along the way are from all over the world-- you've travelled to Asia and Europe and South America, and you have hundreds of friends. And they like you for you! However, you have been sad, so so sad, and no one can do anything to make you less sad. You have a great boyfriend who will become your husband, and even he cannot get you out of being sad. You feel like crying alot, because it feels like those people who took away that awesome job were mean. And perhaps they were, but what they didn't see is how truly amazing you are. You really can do anything once you set your mind to it.

So here's the deal, there are going to be some guidelines I am going to set. I don't want to call them rules, but perhaps, just a structure you can work in. You will get time to write and daydream and sing songs-- just so you can fill up your pot of mischief and mystery. But as an adult, I am going to need your help in getting the adult things out of the way to have that time.

First, together, we are going to look at your resume to see what it is you have accomplished, and together we are going to write it in our own words. Then we are going to talk to people who are our friends, or that want to be our friends, to see if there is anything they may know about that will have you create that dream career that I want. You have to remember the house you created with the red door and the room to dream in is our goal, you created it, and I am holding onto it, so that together we can find it.

Second, we will have scheduled things that need to be done. There will be running and playing and discovering and thinking and writing and all of that, all of which you love to do, but sometimes we are going to be doing them whether you want to at that time or not. It's not a punishment, you haven't done anything bad, but it's just a way to keep things like school-- a time table. It'll be like PE or Music class at St. C, you hated getting dressed for it, or walking down the hall, but once you were on the kickball field or in the choir room, a whole new world opened up-- and it didn't matter that you didn't want to just before. You did it because you said you would. And you actually like doing it. So you can make all the faces you want, and be a sour puss, but you are still getting up and doing what you said you would.

Every week, you will have 3 hours of a free pass during scheduled times. You have to use this time wisely-- and in those three hours you get to do anything you want. It will be our special little date together.

I hope you can see that together we are going to make this structure work. I know there are things you don't like that I am doing currently, like smoking and drinking, and I will need your help with that too. remind me what it's like to be a kid again, and run and jump and play and enjoy new adventures, and together we can be the best Kim we know how to be.

I love you. In partnership and play--

Kim

PS: the best thing about being an adult is that NO ONE ever calls you Kimberly. So you won that battle!

Living MY Life

Yesterday I started with a new women's coaching program-- and it's pretty awesome. I am taking on three BIG projects-- 1) health and well-being 2) creating a passionate life (whatever that may mean is yet to be determined) and 3) Dream career.

I am very very specific about what I want in a dream career-- I forget that when I write things down and then forget about them, they somehow come together. Years ago I started writing about my dream man/ partner-- the nameless faceless bastard that I am going to make miserable for the rest of my life, and lo and behold-- James. It took 7+ years, but overall, a nice wait. I often say that before I wouldn't have been ready for a relationship.

Before. Before what? Before surgery-- perhaps. Surgery and all the steps leading up to surgery had me get my shit in order. I had to get super real with myself. I had to understand the games I was playing with myself, and clear them out of the way. And for 8 months work non-stop as if this were my goal. And I had to really address some of the underlying behaviors and thoughts that had me get to my top weight. So before surgery, yes.

But before something else..... at some point I made a choice to not be alone. To want a partner in crime. And I talked about who I wanted that to be, wrote about him, dreamed about him. Sometimes I tried to date him, but alas, it wasn't him. Because I was still coming from "I'm not good enough", and settled for men that were not in my best interest. Or waited for someone to like me first. This happened well after surgery-- but around Feb or so of 2008 I shifted. I was and am good enough to be in a partnership with a man who is crazy about me, who wants to hold my hand, who can be respectful and loving, and on and on. And for the first time, I BELIEVED IT TO BE TRUE.......And then I really began the search for him. It was like I was opened to some thing inside myself that said "Okay, now" and I jumped in the pool.

Before, what else? Before my mid thirties. Before coming into that knowing part of myself where I feel strong and wise and I have grays on my head and creaks in my bones, before when I was supple and lucious and round (which I still am, just less round). Before when I was nervous and awkward and loud and bold and "It's never going to happen".

Now I am looking at my "before" for my career. Before my last position, I was just doing things for other people, recently I am doing for myself. Before I was scared they wouldn't like me, now, scared doesn't even come into it, I have to work with all kinds. Before I punched a clock, now I am always connected. Before I did the same thing every day, recently I had new exciting experiences that had me see that work can sometimes be what you love.

Thus, dreaming of the career.

It's actually very interesting, tapping into the calm wisdom that is in my center, my heart, and not all in my head. A bit of advice for myself, slow it down. When I slow down, I actually get so much more accomplished-- just listening to what I need. When I feel I have too many options, just choose one and stick with it until it doesn't work.

Living MY life.

If you want to know my coach and her programs, here she is. Check out her site if interested (I should probably warn her about my blog..... hmmm.)

http://www.soulfulcoach.com/

Living life when I want to live MY life.

James and I have been doing WW pretty regularly. And things are just not working. I lose, I gain, I lose. But it's the community that gets me through, the going to the meetings and talking about why we do what we do and having the insight to change the way we are doing things.

I've lost motivation to job search. I feel helpless, and yet I just want to sit in jammies all day and watch tv. And snack. And then feel bad about myself. And then look on facebook, and talk to friends and then feel bad, snack. I have been doing an enormous amount of drinking over the last couple of weeks and it's time to end that.

So we are getting ready for bed, which means that I am in bed, he is putzing around, getting coffee ready for the morning, brushing his teeth. I am watching a dvr'ed Law and Order (because I am obsessed). He comes to bed, I turn off the tv and we snuggle. I start to cry.

"Are you getting weepy?"
Yes.
Why, what's wrong?
Nothing, I just love you so much. I love you so much that I am afraid that some terrible accident is going to take you away and I'll never love anyone like I love you.
I hope you don't love anyone like you love me. I'm here for the long haul. I'm not going anywhere.

Then I tell him that I snack all day long, being unemployed sucks, and I have no purpose. And that I am changing up my routine-- doing a little detox off the coffee, off the soda, off the alcohol and a couple of days of liquids. Just to break the cycle of snacking. To get myself back to myself.

He says he's proud of me for recognizing that things have gotten out of control, but he makes no judgement on it. He says that because I say things have gotten out of control than they have, and his opinion doesn't matter because it's me who is going through it. He says he loves me no matter what size I am and to always remember that.

And then we fell asleep side by side.

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Yesterday I was talking to a friend that is doing this really cool program for women. It's a leadership institute for women-- working on goals and issues that mean something to us individually and working together. For instance, say I want to write a book, but I am blocked by it. I now have 10 women who can coach me on that, who can hold me to account. Say another woman wants to start her own business, 10 women to coach her. And on and on.

I wrote to my friend and told her it would be out of integrity for me to take on the program because of finances, but laid out all the things I could do in trade. And she said yes. And I am so freaking stoked!

Because really, for the last few weeks, I have just been living life. I want to start living MY life, saying how it goes, creating every day as something that pulls me forward and has me spring out of bed. It has me take on challenges and problems and solve them, create opportunities. I want that life.

My confidence has been shot for a long time, and I haven't reached out. So here it is....

It is time to live my life outloud.

Okay-- here's the plan. Journal every day, blog three times a week. Let you know what's up.
Right now, today, I am 271. I'm not happy with the number but everything fits well, an dI am active, going to the gym 3 times a week and toning up. I can lose 73 pounds. I can I can.

When I started, I thought it would be easy. Not easy. I wanted a running head start to lose the weight. Well, I got it. And now it's time to start running with it. 73 pounds is nothing.

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James says as we are falling asleep, just think that you only have 5 pounds to lose. You can do that. I know you can. I believe in you.

Wow. My eyes tear up with how much I love this man.

Gym and Spiriual Reconnection

Yesterday morning I went to the gym and ENJOYED it. I did legs and then walked/ran for 48 minutes. Today I am a bit sore, but the nice thing is that I got a lot of stuff done yesterday-- namely nails and toes.

I went to a sister Circle last night. Now before people get all weird on me, this circle is just a gathering of women who are taking 2 hours out for themselves to honor the women that have gone before them. It has nothing to do with witches and warlocks and Harry Potter-ish things.

Think a puritan gathering of women who come together to sing and share and laugh and create.

I forgot how much I enjoy that. The candles, the sage, the calm of being in the presence of other women who are honoring themselves by creating intentions for the month on the New Moon. It's like wishing on a star, a little girl wishes being told to her best friend, and going back to a much simpler time.

Last night was a guided meditation on what we have forgotten, that part of ourselves that we have left abandoned. I found my creativity again. It was just waiting for me, and I picked it up and dusted it off, and so now it's with me.

Along the line from my move from So Cal to NYC (14 years ago), I decided that I needed to be grown up and not be creative. I decided that having a real job that makes money that gives me the life I want was more important than being creative. But really, I decided that my creativity wasn't worth money-- that I couldn't make a living being creative-- whether that's writing, singing, dancing, painting, acting, comedy, sculpting, etc etc. And because of that decision, I left my creativity up on a shelf in a room I moved out of long ago.

So when I was doing this meditation, I found that although there have been times when I have transformed my creativity to suit the job, and have written/ sang/ danced/ etc off and on, that I haven't cultivated it. I haven't given myself the gift of what I love to do-- to be expressed artistically. At the time I abandoned it, I felt that since I couldn't make money "being creative" then I had to let it go. Which now I know is not necessarily the case. Do I have to give up swimming or cooking or anything else I love to do because I can't make a living doing it? No. I can keep cultivating my creativity, feeding it, watering it, and letting it be-- to grow into something great.

I feel connected.

Merry meet, merry part, merry meet again.

New Me meet Old Me

Over the weekend, James decided to clean the apartment, which of course freaked me out. I mean, he moved in with me, so I should clean, because the place still very much feels "mine". And I for sure should clean because I am home all day, although I am interneting, interviewing, phone calling and job searching. But I am HOME ALL DAY so it should be done by me, right?

James explained that he too lives here, and wanted to clean and straighten the mess, not "my" mess, not "his" mess, but "the" mess. Our mess. So away he went, I worked on the kitchen for a moment, the office for a while, the closet, and then left him to clean the bedroom-- pulling furniture away from the walls, sorting out the garage sale stuff from the just throw it out stuff. During the course of his cleaning, he came across my trunk of journals.

He's asked before if he could read them, and I've said no. I don't mind him reading my work, but he only knows the new me, I don't want him to see the old me. I don't mind showing him pictures of old me, or having friends tell stories of my antics, or trying to explain to him my mindset I used to have, but I can't have him read my very very intimate thoughts. From just past college to now. He put the trunk in the corner and started piling things on it for the sale.

Yesterday morning, I went through each page from Sept 1995 through just before surgery. The sum of my thoughts and words are:
"I am going to lose weight, a pound a week, exercise more, quit smoking, get off the couch, start a diet"
"I failed at my diet, losing weight, exercising, I'm still smoking, etc"
"I hate that I am alone"
"My so called friends are anything but"
"I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up"
"I hate myself, my body, my decisions, my apartment, my roomates, my lack of roomates, my boss/schedule/job/commute etc"

The old me worked through so much garbage on self-esteem. She made plans and deadlines and goals. She wanted to be 260 (which is what I am about) and be able to run (I can) be a non-smoker (I am) have a boyfriend (I do) and have a job beyond her wildest dreams (I did, and am currently uncovering that again). I wonder if old me actually worked on this stuff, or just declared it.

Old me on her way to the new me created possibilities, she took courses that changed the way she looked at herself and life, she met people that impacted her existence and sometimes gave her a purpose much larger than herself, she learned to be an amazing coach in life and career, ask for what she wants, not lie, etc. Old me was the one that chose to get weight loss surgery. Little did she know she signed her death warrant.

New me appeared. She slowly got more confident, unrecognizable, pretty, thinner, older and wiser. New me is fun and frolicky, she has energy and everything she puts in her mouth she thinks about. She no longer eats automatically-- she thinks about food as fuel first and then taste. She takes her vitamins, she pays attention to her body and the aches and pains. She reads up on health, mental and physical, and works on her well-being. She says "no" way more often, doesn't feel guilty all the time, and has a solid relationship based on trust, fidelity and love. She has a good idea about what she wants her life to look like beyond just losing weight.

She is also scared that her new addiction is red wine and she is taking steps to correct that.

New me, meet old me. As I was reading my words I got so confronted that I lived that way for so many years. It's just a tape in my head, and it's playing it's greatest hits with me now-- along with a few new ones-- you haven't lost all your weight, you only made it to a size 18W, you should have done more, done better, etc. You should have never started smoking, drinking, eating ice cream, testing out pasta/bread/sugar. I can eat it all, minus very oily things, and not have an issue. You should you should you should.

That's all part of the old me trying to resurface. The new me says you made it to your old me goals. Now, time for new ones. Ones that are meaningful to you. Ones that are about life, work, relationships, health. Ones that have nothing to do with "when i get to this weight i"ll be...." and then fill in the blank. I am healthy, active, and strong. I have very slight amounts of being down, and yet that road is always just a turn off the highway of my life. I don't want to dwell there. Just visit when it's necessary to re-group.

I went through the journals. Ripped out the important things I wanted to keep. Tossed out the stuff that was old me, old negative me. The half filled journals, the directions on pages to places i'll never go again, the old phone numbers to people I can't remember how I know them, notes from classes taken long ago. I kept a very small box of things that were important to me.

It's not like I am trying to get rid of that old me. I just don't need her past clouding up my future. I know I will not go back to read most of it, so out it went. And it felt good.

The only room in the house that is not clean is the office. It's time. Oh boy, it's time.

I might let James read the old stuff I kept. Perhaps.