Picture Day

There is one day of the year where parents win the battle of what to wear, brushed hair, and washed faces.  Picture Day.  It's the day everyone in elementary school panics, making sure the kids get their pictures snapped before they head to gym or recess, so they don't muss up their appearance for the day.
Recently, my school experienced our annual picture day.  400 shiny, smiley faces, all dolled up, patiently waited for their class to be called.  Interspersed between the class photos, teachers and staff members slipped in, cringing as they sat on the stool in front of the back drop, waiting for the camera flash to pass, and comparing this year's picture with the pictures of colleagues nearby.

This year marked the 30th school picture in a row.  In a row.  Yup.  I've been in school since I was in kindergarten, and without missing a year, my picture has been taken every year since.  All of elementary school, all of junior high, all of high school, all of college, and since I went straight from college to the classroom, I truly never missed a year.

Part of me wants to have all of those pictures in my hands right now, so I can line them up and compare how adorable I was as a child, to how absolutely and completely anti-adorable I am as an adult.  It would be a great excuse for a beat-the-crap-out-of-me session that could span many hours.  Productive?  Nope.  But likely exactly what would happen should I get my hands on all 30 pictures.

Another part of me wants to compare the last 12 years worth of pictures, all my years in the classroom as a teacher, and see what changes I notice.  Unfortunately, that will also result in a less-than-pleasant me-bashing experience.

Like many recovering from eating issues, appearance is a sticking point for me.  I whole heartedly believe the lies I tell myself - that I am hideous, a monster, a mirror-breaker, that my appearance makes me impossible to befriend, much less love.

I know they're lies, logically.  My therapist reminds me that they are lies I tell myself, and that I've been telling them to myself
for so long, I now believe them, even though they logically don't fit.  I know that.  I mean, I head into the grocery store and no one avoids me in the aisles.  I walk into school and no one - kids included - run from me.  I guess I don't look that bad outside, even if that's how I feel on the inside.

This year, picture day was a very reflective one.  Looking at my picture, I kinda didn't recognize the person looking back at me.  That person is put together, coordinated in dress, a warm smile, and wrinkly eyes that show laughter.  That person looks like someone who knows what they're doing.  It looks like someone who can take charge and accomplish things.

Which is what I kinda do.....

So while it IS most definitely my picture, and this IS what others see when they see me..... what's it gonna take for me to see the "me" that they see?  What's it gonna take for me to shut down the lies, once and for all, and replace them with truths?  Something has to change.  And while picture day might not ever be a favorite day, one day, hopefully, I will look at my school picture and go "oh, yeah, I like that person!"

Thankfully, I have a long career ahead of me, with many more picture days to practice!

Insecure Comparisons

This.  This is where I am right now.  I didn't realize how much I do this, how much I look at people's outsides and compare it with my insides. How much I look at people's "shared successes" and compare them to my private flaws.  

I can walk through the mall, glimpse someone who looks like they have all their stuff together - they are fit, they look amazing, they've got a friend or friends with them, they're laughing or talking.  They look like what I wish I had.  

Except.  Except I don't have a clue what happens in the rest of their world.  For all I know, their behind the scenes is just as messed up as mine.

I struggle to accept my behind-the-scene life as ok.  If I can finally, finally stop comparing what goes on in my head, and behind closed doors of my home, with what I see in everyone else?  Wow.

Change Your Mind

I was watching a movie this morning, Bedazzled, and as the 

end credits rolled, this song came on.

Funny thing is that as I watched the movie (I only caught the last 45 minutes or so) I kept thinking that there was a bigger message than selling your soul to the devil, that there was more to the film than the humor and Satan references.  I mean, it's pretty obvious, and I knew that, I just couldn't put my finger on it.

Then I heard the song.

And I cried.

Cause this battle, the one I'm fighting with myself, is exhausting.  

Outside In - Take 2

Had to post this comic I just found.  

SO what goes through my head every single time I am out in public.  Every.  Single.  Time.

Good to know I'm not alone?

At What Expense?

The other day I was in the bathroom and I started thinking.  I know.  TMI.  But this isn't actually one of *those* thinking bathroom moments.

I'm kinda into helping the environment.  I try my best to purchase eco-friendly products and products that use eco-friendly packaging.  I often toss only one bag of trash a month, and about 4 bags of recycling.  I reduce, reuse, and recycle as much as I can.  I also turn off the faucet when I brush my teeth so as not to waste water.

And..... for the past several years, I've lived by the motto "if it's yellow, let it mellow, if it's brown...." (Thank you, Falkers.)  Just recently, I realized that in doing so, my toilet gets dirty fast.  Easy, you may think, just clean it more frequently.  Except I despise cleaning.  Seriously.  If I could get a self-cleaning house I'd spend my savings on it.  This realization is what kicked off the following thought process.

At what expense am I trying to "save" the Earth?  Considering my taste for cleaning, the whole "let it mellow" idea means I either have an overly gross toilet, or I clean it every 3 days.  For the last few years, I've had a rather unsightly toilet.  At what expense?

For the last 20-some years, I've gone out of my way to help those in my life.  I've learned to anticipate their needs, be prepared for whatever they may ask me to do, and essentially, I chameleon-ed myself to be exactly who they needed in whatever situation I was in.  At what expense?

In my building, I've become the go-to person for technology trouble shooting.  My colleagues will call me whenever they need something (whether or not I'm teaching at the moment doesn't seem to matter) and have emailed requests to me at all hours of the day and night.  And for the last 11 years, I've indulged nearly every request.  At what expense?

My eating disorder was an unknown secret for many years before it became "un-hideable" and I was "encouraged" to get help.  That eating disorder helped me feel in control of an out-of-control world.  It made me feel like I had some semblance of balance, of control in my life.  Therefore I put myself through a series of miserable food-related challenges that proved to be nothing good whatsoever, yet they made me feel in control.  At what expense?

I am the oldest child in my family.  My parents raised me in a way that trained me to be afraid of everything and everyone they didn't approve of.  They trained me to be the *angel* child, who always did what I was told, always could be counted on to help at family functions, be it setting the table, preparing food, or serving guests (while my siblings were off doing who knows what.)  I always conformed, without question.  At what expense?

There is a secret that I've held on to since I was in my early teens.  It is a secret so big and so terrifying, that I've very rarely allowed it to float into my consciousness, and when it happened to make it to the surface, I put 100% of my energy into vanishing it into the darkness once again.  This secret has plagued my dreams, my thoughts, my choices, essentially, my life.  It was as if I held a concealed weapon in my mind.  At what expense.

So many things in my life have been rather costly.  Whether it was my choice or it was something imposed on me that I accepted as truth...... I paid the price for so many "purchases" that had I been thinking, had I been given the choice and the time to reason, I probably wouldn't have "bought."  Though it wasn't money that was spent, the expense was much grater.  My self-worth, my self-image, my self-confidence, even my health - all were things with which I paid dearly.

I know that some of these situations, these so called "expenses" were out of my control at the time.  Some of them could have been in my control, had I used the tools to help me make better choices that weren't so costly.  At the time, though, these purchases must have served some purpose.

Now?  I'm done spending myself in unhelpful ways.  It isn't going to be easy to change my "shopping" habits, but it will be worth it in the end........

Who?

Courtesy of Sketches in Stillness

Isn't this a good question?  Who was I before the world decided who I should be?

Rephrase:  

Who was I before I decided to let society tell me who I should be?

I have absolutely no idea.

As someone who became a social chameleon by age four, I don't know that I ever really knew who I was, or what I wanted.  I remember one moment, being very upset at preschool because I didn't get to sit on the teacher's lap for my birthday (as was tradition.)  I also remember being told that it is no big deal, you'll sit on her lap another time.

In other words, what I wanted, what I thought should have happened because of the social expectations in the class, didn't happen, and I was told that there was no reason to be upset.  

Did I know the vocabulary then?  Nope.  Did I realize at that moment what was happening?  Nope.  Do I realize now how quickly I learned to surrender my ideas, desires, wishes, even needs, to those who were "in charge" of caring for me?  Nope.

But now I do.

And as an adult, I can change.

Normal?

I've been contemplating normal again.  I've spent time with the idea of normal before, so it's nothing new, but.... always good for reflection.

Normal can change.  What is normal at one point in your life can change to a new normal years later.  That's ok.  Normal is not something stagnant.  Technically the dictionary defines normal as an adjective that means "conforming to a standard; usual, typical, or expected."  It's also defined as a noun meaning "the usual, average, or typical state or condition."

Reading both of those definitions makes me cringe...... because neither of them fit.  Not even close.  I struggle to conform to standards, even at school - I do things different enough to make a difference, but not different enough to get noticed.  Who am I kidding.  It's noticed.  It's frequently noted that I do things differently, and for the most part, no one seems to mind.  Except me.

I am not the usual or typical.  I don't dress like most of my peers do.  I don't enjoy the same activities that are typical or expected of my peer group.  I never have.  I am far from average in many areas - sometimes above average, sometimes below average, sometimes on a whole different planet than average.

I am not normal.
But I am me.

My therapist says that being me is a good thing. Normal is not a requirement to be a good person.  You don't need to be normal to care, to grow, to learn, to change.  You don't even need to be normal to make a difference.  In my case, at least, I just need to be me.

But more than that, I really want to like me.  And I don't.  At least not yet.  There are too many things about me that I am embarrassed by, ashamed of, or afraid to acknowledge out in the world.  I'd rather hide.  I'd rather hide my shameful bits, my embarrassing secrets, and fade into the crowd.

I know that's impossible.  I've spent so much of my life trying to hide, trying to blend in, when the reality is that it just makes me stand out even more.  I just choose to ignore that fact.  Cause I still think that I am hiding everything, when really, I'm only hiding it from myself.  And unsuccessfully at that.

It's time to stop striving for normal and instead, strive to just be me.

Comparisons

I watched the cutest piece the other day showing groups of kids freestyle dancing.  That always makes me smile.  That clip was followed by a commercial showing a design rehabber and construction guru looking fit beyond words, driving a back-hoe.  Changing channels found a home-cook turned tv chef talking about a delicious Thanksgiving dish his family loves.  A few channels later the screen was filled with a DIY-er sharing simple yet beautiful home improvement projects.  Then landscape artists.  Swimmers gliding across the pool filled the screen next.  Then an unplugged concert by a pianist with a beautiful voice.  There were more channels, too, full of talents and gifts and knowledge.

Sounds like a pretty typical weekend morning, right?  Well, at least for me it is.  It's a nice treat to get up and be able to couch it for a little bit before beginning the day, which is vastly different from weekday mornings.

I hadn't realized it before that morning how much I *still* want to be someone I'm not.

I wish I could dance.  It looks like fun, despite the fact that I tend to trip over my own feet.  I wish I knew how to design and build and woodwork - I loved it as a kid, but now?  I value my fingers, thank you very much.  Cooking?  Yeah, right.  Home decorating?  I wish.  My house looks almost exactly the same as it did when I moved in ten years ago.  Landscaping?  Heck, I wish I could keep a plant alive or grow some herbs and veggies, much less put the pond into the yard that I've wanted to do since childhood.  And I still kick myself for quitting music lessons when I was a kid.  I'm envious of those who can play an instrument, it sounds so beautiful.  Throw in singing, too?  You've got me.  I'm turning green on the inside.  And not a day goes by that I don't miss the athletics I used to participate in on a regular basis.

I have my own gifts and talents.  I know that.  My therapist reminds me of them fairly regularly, too, as I often forget that I do have things to offer the world.  I see the talents of others to be much more valuable than my own.  Instead, I see myself as too clumsy to dance, to weak to do anything requiring sustained physical exertion, as far from a homemaker as possible, too lazy to pick up any athletics, and when it comes to music?  I see myself as selfish for quitting lessons as a child.

Sounds pretty grim, I know.  So is the work I'm doing to change that.  Cause you know what?  One of these days, I'm going to feel good enough.

I'm going to feel good enough.

I'm going to feel like my gifts and talents are good enough offerings for the world.  More than that, I'm going to feel like I'm valuable, just as I am.

Homework

I rarely get homework from my therapist.  I sometimes wish she'd give me homework more often.  At least until I actually get homework.  You know how that goes - you wish for something, then when you get it, you regret wishing for it in the first place?  Yep.  I'm there.

We've been dancing around the topic of self-image.  Mine is sucks.  Like, seriously sucks.  I have such a twisted perception of myself - both in how I look and in who I am.  I see nothing but flaws and failures.

Well, supposedly I am the only person that sees me this way.  My therapist *promised* me that no one else sees me the way I see me.  She also made a point of reminding me that she's never lied to me in the past.  She's always honest.  She is right about that.

Which means that I have two choices:
I can trust her, taking her word that no one else sees me the way I do. 
or
I can actually ask others what they see in me.

Because I rarely follow the rules, I chose both.

I DO trust my therapist, more than anyone else on this planet.  And she has never lied to me.  Ever.  Everything she tells me is honest, sometimes brutally honest, but always spoken with care.  Yet, I need a little help in trying to see me from the kinder eye of others.

So I've selected a select few, whom I trust more than most (which says a lot, since I trust few!) to ask the question "what do you see when you see me?"  My request was specific, I only want facts (thank you DBT!) as it is more helpful to work with facts than opinions (also known sometimes as judgements in the DBT world.)

Now....... I wait...... and hold on to the fact that I trust my therapist..... I trust my therapist..... I trust my therapist......

Challenge 7, Part 5: Beauty

I don't know about you, but there are sooooo many quotes out there swirling around the subject of beauty.  This one struck me because it mentions nothing of appearance or accomplishment.  Instead, it emphasizes that beauty is who we are when we are at our best.  Which means we can ALL be beautiful, despite what we might think, or what a number might say.  If we are working to be the best version of ourselves, and that radiates from the inside out.... well then, we are beautiful.  You, my beautiful reader, are being the best version of you, and that is true beauty.