Category: My Story

Compulsivity and Change

Between stimulus and response, there is a space.

In that space lies our freedom and power to choose our response.

In our response lies our growth and our freedom.*

STIMULUS —————> Freedom to Choose –————> OUR RESPONSE

For years it has been a compulsive habit to chew my nails.  Frankly it’s a disgusting habit, and it is an instant signal to me (and to others unfortunately) that I’m feeling insecure.  When I was in high school I noticed that my very accomplished and well-educated teacher had disgusting, chewed to the quick, nails.  And I realized in that moment, which felt extremely profound to me as an 11th grader, that my teacher was  insecure.  And if you combined the fact that she over-weight, in my mind, she was extremely insecure.

My take away, I was not the only one! I know it seems strange, but at that point in my life, I was self-aware enough to see that I was insecure I didn’t realize that other people were too.  But in that amazing moment in my class I accepted that other people were insecure too.  I will never forget it.

What makes us so afraid of change? It takes three weeks to make a habit, supposedly.  So are we basically lazy, or don’t believe in ourselves enough to change, do we think we somehow deserve what we have, or are we afraid of change?  I’ve been thinking a lot about this as I work on internal and external issues.  Internally, I am working on liking myself and acknowledging good and positive things about myself.  Externally I am working on liking myself and fixing the things I don’t like.  Actually, I’m working on change in both places.

But it’s seriously more familiar to stick my head in the sand, as they say, and just ignore the scale, my energy level, my moods, my low esteem for myself, and the good people in my life that love me and accept me.  Even as I write I can see how screwy it is.  But, it is….what it is.

But I’m working toward looking for the indicators in my life that say other truths.  Although I have some friends who have said that I’m too difficult, manipulative, unpredictable, mean-spirited ….  I have others who have said my story, my experiences, my processing my pain, helps them.  Do I focus on the one that feels like rejection or on the positive?

Well, you know what I do choose, habitually and compulsively. The NEGATIVE!

Listening to those positive people, it doesn’t mean that the others were wrong.  Alcoholics are manipulative.  I am broken. Many times extremely dysfunctional.  I am needy.   I a’m impulsive.  I am unfaithful.  I’m … see how easy it is to make that list? (Deep breath.)  But not always.  Not completely.  And I’m working to change. I cannot change the past, and even some relationships I can’t fix.  As much as that hurts, I can’t stay there.  And I trust that some day, something redemptive will happen there.

But for now, it’s on to mastering my life!

So, about the life change:  I’ve been dieting and exercising for two weeks, Sunday, and had gotten pretty discouraged because I wasn’t losing weight more quickly.  I started at 168.5 and yesterday, at noon the scale still said 165, which makes me fucking furious. (Please excuse my cursing.  It’s a inelegant habit.  Perhaps one of these days I’ll work on it too, but until then …)

Today I was finally at 163!!!!!!!!!!!!!  I’ve changed two things.

1) I weighed myself first thing in the morning, before I got ready for the day, before eating, drinking my coffee, and exercising, and it was lower. Wahoo!

2)  I actually think I may have been eating too few calories, so as Tom has told me a million times, my body thinks I’m starving it and goes into hoarding calories.  It is impossible to lose weight in those circumstances. And although the fact is weird, I just lose my appetite when I’m not eating.  And I’m just compulsive enough to not slam a bunch of carbohydrates if I happen to feel hungry, like I normally would.  A chocolate croissant or even a Big Mac for lunch, yes that is me.   (Did you know a Big Mac is 600 calories or something?  That’s like half the day’s calories if you’re watching it.) So instead I’d have a couple pieces of string cheese or a hand full of almonds or a protein bar, none of which is more than 200 calories and not enough for a meal.

Anyway, lessons for life.  Making positive change in your life is firstly about believing in yourself.  Deciding, just for today, I’m going to do something different.  Not glancing back at yesterday, for it is likely to have some failures.  And NOT looking at it like it is for the rest of your life.  It’s today.   What am I eating that is in the positive column, if you will: fruit, veggies, protein, even carbs if they are grains that are good for you.  Did I exercise in any manner.  Why not a 15 minute walk?  or, something else.

If I’ve learned anything about this alcohol addiction it is live for today.  Today is the one I can do something about, not yesterday, and not tomorrow.   Just this minute.   Make it count.

* The Seven Habits of Highly Effective Familes, Stephen R. Covey

Mastery of Life: About Face!

The whole idea of blogging about diet and exercise is such a pedestrian stereotype. But be warned, this is a journal about a personal transformation. No, even better, my personal body revolution!  No blood will be shed, but change is occurring!  And if, by following along, it is meaningful to others, that’s a reward too.  I won’t be preposterous  and say it with help someone.  But I know MANY people struggle with  “issues” of weight loss or gain, disordered eating and body hatred, so that’s why I make this journal public.  It will be about mastering my body and life.

A week ago Sunday I began to use our treadmill for a long walking workout.  Every day, I walk for at least an hour, because this gives my body a “wake up” time and then once it (my body) is fully awake and functional, I give it a good hard sweat.  Doing this, I am able to burn from 500-750 calories in about an hour.  And I feel great afterwords.  I drink about 32 oz. of water during and after the workout and am feeling really good.  I know I just said that, but it bears repeating!  This type of workout makes me feel really, really good.

When I quit drinking in July, 08 my weight was up to 169, which is the very highest my weight has ever been when not pregnant or recovering from pregnancy.  I’ve always said I will never ‘get fat’ I am not certain that I have the willpower to take it off.  As members of my family have struggled with their weight for years, the yo-yo of a life of dieting was something I feared.  I do not want that!!  I’m afraid of that eventuality.  An yet, here I am at 42 and 168 or so pounds, and the scale and my BMI tell me I am over-weight at 5’6″.  As I said, I thought when I quit drinking that the weight would drop off, but I guess that my body had adjusted and was comfortable with it.  This puts me at a size 14 and uncomfortable.  For about a half a year I have been in MAJOR denial about this weight gain.  But you can’t deny it forever and hitting 170 would be it for me.  There’s no denying it.

Since giving birth to three kids in 1997, 1999 and 1991, I carried about ten pounds for each child.  In 1992 I tried the first diet of my life more out of a desire to be supportive to Tom.  I can actually say that South Beach diet works and I lost 17 pounds in about two months.  I was a beautiful size ten and I have to say that I felt fantastic.  I wasn’t working out at all and people told me I looked “unhealthy.”  But for the first time in years the heavy, bloated, thick-waisted feeling was gone.

So now, in my closets I have my skinny clothes (did I just say my skinny clothes? Ew!) (9-10s), my medium clothes (11-12s), and my heavy clothes (solid 14).

All this rambling brings me to today.  As already mentioned, a week ago Sunday I started working out and watching my calories.  Tom’s the kind of dieter that counts calories, tallying in his mind all day long.  When he gets to his limit he stops eating.  For me, counting calories doesn’t work.  I can’t remember the value of everything and after about three or four days of writing everything down on scrap pieces of paper in the kitchen, I want to scream and stop writing things down.   But with eating through out the day and then a workout to subtract and have no idea where I am.

During the first week, I fluctuated up and down, but couldn’t break the 165 barrier.  Frustrated and confused, I kept limiting calories and exercising every day, and drinking lots of water…. Yesterday, finally, after two weeks, I weighed in at 165.  Today it is 166 again.

OH, just to be clear: My commitment is daily exercise and I’m going to apply Phase I of the South Beach Diet.  The South Beach is perfect for me.  It’s simple, healthy, and kicks my body into turbo calorie burning.  I need the  immediate results.  I can’t wait to see what happens next although today I’m frustrated to not see results yet.  To be sure, it didn’t help to eat some birthday cake last night.  Strictly speaking I broke all the rules, but, I’m back on the plan today.  Cheese and meat for breakfast.  Lots of water.  I woke up with a pick ax behind my eyeballs, which has been a reoccurring problem and Tom’s theory is I’m dehydrated.

More later on, the psychology of dieting and the South Beach program and why I like it.

Goal: 140 March 15th!

1/16/09 168

Meeting Patrick.


humbledOriginally uploaded by M e l o d y

It’s been a while since I’ve posted.

This is worth re-posting (from April, 08 on my flickr account.)

Humbled. It isn’t often that I meet someone who I instinctively want to protect; to grab hold of and hold on tight. And take them home with me to keep them safe. Take them home to my warm house full of laughter and hugs, and a home cooked dinner at 6:00, with books, music and photographs, a warm cozy bed with a fluffy pillow and most importantly love.

I met that person today and he knows who he is. It seems overly dramatic to say I’ll never be the same, but I think that is true.

Perspective. My life with its ups and downs, even my struggles to heal my mental health, my life is good. I have shall we say ‘issues’ and I find it difficult to find balance, but my life has been a cake walk compared to so many people’s. And I am grateful.

I am loved unconditionally. I am accepted for who I am as a woman, a wife, a mother, a feminist, a person of faith, a white person, and a heterosexual. Oh sure, I didn’t exactly feel unconditionally loved by my parents, but I think in retrospect I was accepted, encouraged, and affirmed. I was safe (mostly.) Those things that are huge to a child. At a minimum, what every child deserves. But they deserve better than just food and shelter, they really do.

People need to be accepted. I am aware today how as you live and work around people you never know their challenges. They may not have the next meal, they may not have a place to live. They may not have anyone in their life that loves them unabashedly.

I keep thinking about how blind we can be. We need to care for those around us. Do we truly accept friends and family just as they are and not expect them to change for us or for any person or institution. I certainly don’t do this perfectly, but at least I am aware of my own propensity to want my kids to ‘be smart’ to ‘do better’ or ‘behave according to standards’ or ‘be x, y, or z.’ I’m aware of it and because of what I’ve been through, and because of people like the person I met today, I will continue to fight against that thing inside me that says ‘fit in,’ ‘don’t make choices that will alienate you from Society.’ Okay, I’m dancing around the issue of our children’s sexuality something we have no control over. Oh, I know there are debates about whether sexuality is nature or nurture, a choice or biological. I’m not having that conversation simply saying love each other damn it!.

Unconditionally loving others. It is a profoundly difficult way to live but so important.

Enough preaching.

A poem I wrote a while back about growing up NOT feeling loved.

It returned, again
The dream that continues to visit me
Night after night
Year after year,
Unbidden. Uninvited
Not unexpected, but unwelcome.
A dream that says
You are unwanted.
Question yourself.
Question love.
Doubt everything you know to be true.
Nothing is real.
A solitary thought that says
Night after night
In various, complicated dreams
You are Unlovely, unlovable.
The fragile peace that comes by day
Is broken during the dark hours of sleep.

My Poetry: The Quandary of Motherhood

As with all my poetry, this is written to be read ALOUD, slowly.

Motherhood is not simply a connection

from womb to life.  It is that, and

a bond created by choice.

In the choosing, it is the care of another that ties you in a life giving way.

It cannot be fully understood, only carried out.


Many a day I am incomplete.

I question how I could be the one

doing the loving, the providing, the choosing of another.

Ah, then I realize, again and again,

motherhood isn’t perfection

nor accomplishment.

But it is in the choosing, daily.

Choosing to be the advocate, the provider, the buffer

between the world and this one child that I love.


As I sit on the floor with her.

As she sobs the sorrow of a thousand broken hearts.

As I think “who can I hurt” for causing this anguish?

As I consider the quiet relief that I want to confer,

likewise the pain I want to inflict on someone else;

As I think, I know the answer.

I am duty-bound to my child that I love

and to all children

to love.  Destined to listen, to bring solace.

To uphold all in my path.  And it is not glorious or praise-worthy.

It simply is a choice

of Motherhood.


Although it is not even possible to anticipate and prevent all pain

from this child, my child, any child;

I am beholden to all children,

to endure this quandary of motherhood.

Written by MHH, January 26, 2009

memory


Originally uploaded by M e l o d y

Memory   believes

before   knowing

remembers.

Believes   longer

than   recollects,

longer   than   knowing

  even   wonders.

~ William Faulkner

Flow of Consciousness – 2

Unlikely AM thoughts.  I’m home with two sick kids, one whining, one enduring, and I am so frustrated with the whiner!!!! She’s refusing to take her antibiotics. Can kids do that? She’s so eleven.  So I may have to end this suddenly!

About yesterdays entry:  Thanks for all your emails.  Wow.  A rush of support and friendship which I am so grateful to receive.  At times I feel kind of stupid for being so vulnerable and then I remind myself this is me.   Though I don’t want this, it doesn’t mean I’m incompetent or undesirable or unlovable or unhirable (technically not a word, but you know what I mean) or unwhatever.

It’s just me, complicated, kind of a mess some days, but really okay so many others.  And I’ve come to understand that perhaps my words can help; I know it helps me, but maybe it will also help someone else.

With two kids home sick at this point, I am marooned and thereby forced to get a few things done like take down the Christmas tree (no, it’s not down yet!) and balance the family budget (not done since before the holidays – yikes – and was keeping me awake last night) and sort out what to eat for dinner. Planning ahead helps with the “moods” and actually plowing us out from a big snowy dumping this AM helped a lot too.  That fresh air and exercise was brilliant!

Today I am thinking and will get back to you later.

Flow of Consciousness – 1

1/11/09 It is stunning that it is mid January already.

It is a fine time as any to reflect on the past few weeks. My house is quiet. I have my youngest snuggled in against me as he “can’t sleep” (after five minutes of trying) and I’m a sucker for cuddles.

The holidays were really a blur ending with the death of a friend that has thrown me in major ways.  But I just can’t process that yet.

We had lots of family, mostly at our place, which was actually fine and quite fun to cook. I baked a lot and remembered how much I love to bake: pies and cakes, and many meals including crepes for Christmas morning.  Most memorable was baking and decorating Christmas cookies with the kids which I’ve decided to turn into an annual tradition it was so much fun and the kids were literally giddy!  I have tons of good memories, mostly centered around sharing food.  But I missed not seeing two of my sisters, their kids and husbands.  My sister Tonya has a new son Daniel whom I haven’t yet met.  I hate that we live such a distance from one another and right now are too “poor” to travel.

It really wasn’t an issue not drinking. I’m not sure if it was because it isn’t around (Not much anyway; some people still drink around me and that’s cool. It’s just that a few of my friends that I sometimes drank with are not around, but that’s another story. I get a pit in my stomach every time I think of it.) Or is rather simply because I’m at a place in my abstinence where it isn’t an issue. I’m not so naive that I believe I’m done with it being an issue, but at least for this holiday I felt okay about it.

I am feeling my age and you can see it in my face, puffiness around the eyes and age spots, wrinkles.  And gray hair, though you can’t see that in this image.  I am carrying extra pounds that haunt me and make me feel old, make my knees hurt on the stairs and just make me plain lazy.  My TMJ is acting up again, just like last Christmas strangely enough. It must be some internal stress that manifests at night, as I dream I clench my jaw causing it to ache in the daytime. And ache in the evenings when I am reading to my kids so that by the time I am done it’s throbbing.  But I won’t give that up, I enjoy it too much! We’re reading the Narnia series and it’s so terrific to read aloud. I do have a good memory of my dad reading that series to us when I was around that age.  Anyway, I suppose it’s time to visit a specialist for the TMJ.

My depression has held itself at bay for a long while, but reared its ugly head at Halloween, and again before Christmas and then again recently. It’s strange when you have a chronic thing like this which is something that people don’t understand. I’ve had it so long, and know so much about it at this point.  But it never ceases to amaze and dismay me how little people know about Depression; how they lack true understanding, which makes it difficult to feel or express real compassion.  I hope that it has made me kinder and more sensitive to others – at least that would make one positive outcome from this hellish illness.

I think in our culture we don’t really believe depression is a disease. Honestly, I might have been in that same place before this happened to me. I have always been one of those “pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps” kind of people and in many ways I still am actually.  I do believe that if you’re feeling ill you should get up and face your day as if you aren’t. Nine times out of ten, you can work through it and the world is none the wiser.  And sometimes I can even do that with this, but it takes so much to do it.

[Caviat: I have been thinking that it is time to start writing about this experience and some of the others of my life.  If there was one thing I will take away from my friendship with Pete (there were many) it is WRITE!  He even went so far as to scold me, gently, about it.   Pete, if you can hear me, I heard you!  I promise to start writing!!  I don’t know what will come of it, but I’m starting with this Flow of Consciousness series. ]

But back to the topic at hand, silly me, I’ve got major depression which is not like anything I’ve ever experienced. Oh, I’ve always been melancholy, (“Melancholy Melody” my friends used to say jokingly in college and at that time it was true. I also put a pessimistic spin on everything and was always slightly anxious and filled with dread in social settings.)   But this, which began in June of 2004 (I’m not sure I’ve got the right year ’cause I’m terrible with dates and will have to think back which I’m far too tired to do right  now) is by far the most difficult thing I’ve encountered in my 42 years. Worse than my dad getting sick, worse than facing my mom’s alcoholism, worse than the shit of my childhood, being raged at and shamed, worse than all the heartaches I’ve faced in relationships in and outside my family, worse than being an alcoholic myself and worse than having to admit it, simply the worst thing in my entire life is Depression – admitting it, accepting it, living with it.  Did I mention admitting it because that is a story in and of itself, for another day.

It comes and goes but it has come again and well, it feels like it is here to stay a while. I’m doing all the things that I know help fight it and fight is the only thing you can do.  Unless you’re just going to lie down and give in to it, say your goodbyes perhaps and be done with this life.  Yes, another day has passed, I fought, and hope against all hope I will sleep hard and well, and start again tomorrow.  For all we can do it Hope in a new day.

I think that’s all I have for tonight.

My Poetry: Solitude


solitude

Originally uploaded by M e l o d y

Solitude

Sometimes I sit in my car,

and just can’t move.

I glance at my neighbors’ home,

neighbors whom I love

and I just can’t move.

I can’t imagine ever moving again.

My car is warm.

And the world outside scares me.

I am frozen in my solitude.

My Poetry: Disquietude

disquietude

Sweeping across the pixels in my brain,
the dark fog of the terminally anxious.
Blood vessels, muscles, nerves each hold the weighty sand
of history and destiny.

I can’t breathe.

Confounded by its return.
I shake;
My heart somehow knowing
nothing.

By and by.
Peace, I call out for it!
Come euphoria!
A dreamland, I have yet to find.

1/7/09 Melody H. Hanson

Wishing you a Funky New Year


Wishing you a Funky New Year

Originally uploaded by M e l o d y

Goals for ’09

  1. I want to be more present in my life. Be present with and love my family & friends.
  2. I want to see others in ways I have not before; see who needs me.  See my kids, husband, mom, sisters, nieces and nephews, close friends.
  3. I want to pursue photography: exhibit some art, apply for freelance jobs, and tell a particular story.
  4. I want to date my husband.
  5. I want to paint my bedroom. (I have had the paint for months!) and to remove ugly wallpaper from the bathroom!
  6. I want to play the piano more often!
  7. I want to organize my garage, so that we can park our cars in it.
  8. I want to bury my dad; to research and write about him.
  9. I want to finish the book of poetry.  Save.  Print.
  10. I want to stay sober. ( July 24th, 2008)
  11. I want to have some fun! But on the cheap, because …
  12. We want to live on our budget this year.
  13. I want to get off sleep/anxiety medication.  Which means start exercising, going back to therapy, eating right, and heading toward, not away from my demons.
  14. I want to not be so hard on myself.  To embrace my strengths and weaknesses. Not use them as a crutch but to push myself to get healthy.
  15. I want to not think about what ifs and if onlys. Do or do not, but stop living in that ugly place.
  16. I want to study: one topic is forgiveness, the forgivers & the forgiven.  Biblical and historical stories and characters.

As of 1/3/09

“Uncle” Pete

My friend, (recent) neighbor and former colleague at InterVarsity, Pete Hammond went to be with the Lord on Friday.  I never took my own picture of him myself, which I deeply regret. It’s weird, you always think you will have more time.

Goodbye Pete.

My heart is heavy today as I sit here at my laptop reflecting on the man I knew.   He was 72 (I think), only “retiring” at 70 which is a reflection of him as person.  He was never “done” with the work that was on his heart and he continued to make his influence known on people all over the country.  He was often in and out of Madison on various trips, it was hard to know when he was here.  But we were able to spend a few hours here and there having coffee at my house.  In coming days I will reflect on those hours.

Pete was a man of many words.

He loved to write, often waking at 4 or 5 in the morning and writing all morning.  Pete loved to pass along books and leaflets, and what not.  One thing that he passed on to me, to help me with my grief over losing my father, was titled called the “Mourner’s Bill of Rights.”

1.  You have the right to experience your own unique grief.
2.  You have the right to talk about your grief.
3.  You have the right to feel a multitude of emotions.
4.  You have the right to be tolerant of your physical and emotional limits.
5.  You have the right to experience “grief bursts.”
6.  You have the right to make use of ritual.
7.  You have the right to embrace your spirituality.
8.  You have the right to search for meaning.
9.  You have the right to treasure your memories.
10. You have the right to move toward your grief and heal.

In many ways a list like this is simplistic, but Grief is such a mystery and takes it’s own time.   Time actually I have found is meaningless when it comes to grief.

I Wish: Thoughts on Life

I wish, I wish.  I wish I knew what it meant to really accept yourself; to like the person you are and who you are becoming.

I wish I could remember what real joy felt like.  I can’t remember the last time I felt it, if ever, which can’t possibly be true but … I just can’t recall it.

I wish my father wasn’t dead; that I could have really said good-bye while he was cognizant of me and remembered my name.  And more importantly, that I could still have him – here – to learn from, know, grow with.  Too many lost opportunities.

I wish I knew how to love my Mother, to accept her for who she is, just as I want to be accepted for who I am.

I wish I was a better friend; I want friendship but I’m just no good at it.

I wish that the cloud of depression, the sink hole, wouldn’t pull me down so often.

I wish we didn’t have so much stuff, which just creates a cycle of want, acquire, move, clean, dispose of, replace.

I wish I had confidence that my kids are going to be okay, that my mistakes and who I am won’t hurt them.

I wish I could remember positive experiences from growing up, because I know that growing up wasn’t ALL BAD, but I can’t remember.

I wish, I wish.  All I can do today is wish, for although I am up and out of bed, my head is screaming in pain and my heart is heavy; all I can do today is wish.

12/18/2008