Treading lightly
A few times in the past I have activated the privacy setting on posts that I felt were too personal to share with the whole world. I’ve learned that there are many people who struggle with the same issues I do, who have the same fears and who need the same sense of community that this blogging platform provides, but how do I know that they are the only ones reading here?
My blogging friend Vickie took her blog private recently. That made me wonder if I shouldn’t also go that route, but I didn’t act at the time.
Last week Tertia, who had introduced me to blogging, found out that images of her children from her blog were being used on a website dedicated to raising money for a childhood cancer-victim. The whole thing was a scam – there was no sick little boy who needed lots of money for treatment, his mom didn’t just die in a car accident and Tertia’s kids weren’t his siblings. This was also not the first time her family pictures, or even her story, had been hijacked. I can only shake my head at this kind of depravity.
The final straw for me was that something I said in a previous post hurt some people I deeply care about. Yes I’d been thoughtless and clumsy. The post was about me, not them, but I had expressed myself badly and they have every right to be upset and hurt. Someone who reads my blog went to great pains to tell them what I’d written. I have apologized and explained the context and I have changed the wording, but I feel terrible and I know they do too.
I will certainly be more circumspect in future, but I have to face the fact that what I write here can be used against me by malicious, or even dishonest, people. Every time I use my credit card, I run the risk of it being skimmed and cloned and used fraudulently. Similarly, baring my soul online can come back to bite me in any number of ways.
And let’s be honest, do I really want my co-workers, second cousin and landlady to know what I weigh? I don’t think so!
I’m not prepared to stop blogging, but I’m seriously considering going private. Do you know of any WordPress Plugins that will do that? Will you still visit when you have to sign in to read my musings?
On the plus side, you can expect a whole new level of transparency when my blog is private. Things are just starting to get interesting around here…
What do you think?
I can do hard things
They say too little knowledge can be dangerous. I think sometimes too much knowledge is also less than ideal – it leaves us with so many options that we have a hard time choosing a way forward. That’s my experience anyway. Of course, it could just be a cleverly disguised excuse.
For months I’ve been dithering over which eating plan would be best for me or if I should even consider an eating plan. Why not just wing it? Do my own thing? Be intuitive? Or, alternatively, start off with one or two small changes and work my way towards a sustainable plan? Or, go on a juicing reboot to get me off to a good start and then follow a plan from there? Eat to Live? The Natural Way? 80-10-10? Engine 2?
Decisions, decisions, decisions.
I think the real problem was that I wanted weight loss and turning my health around to be easy. It’s okay, you can laugh at me. I don’t mind. Getting to know myself better uncovered this unrealistic expectation. Lottery thinking, Vickie calls it.
I’ve read hundreds of accounts of people who had lost a lot of weight, and you know what? Not a single one of them said that it had been easy. Ever. What made me think I was so different?
I get it – it’s going to be hard. Maybe the hardest thing I will ever do. Which is kind of a relief, because I know I can do hard things.
I didn’t get where I am today in my career because it was easy. I did it because I worked my butt off – I did the work of two people for years, working 12 hours days week in and week out and going into the office on the weekend. I was driven. Nobody handed me a promotion – I campaigned very hard for it, even though I knew that I would have to learn just about everything from scratch. I did learn from scratch and today I’m good at what I do. Of course, along the way there have been amazing people who believed in me and mentored me.
If I can do that, I can lose my excess weight and get fit, no matter how hard it is and how much effort is required. I can get off my butt and prepare healthy food, instead of buying convenience food. While I’m off my butt, I can go to gym and work out in the pool or walk on the Promenade which is right across the street from me. I have designed my current living situation with precisely that in mind – I just need to do it. And keep on doing it. And along the way there will be amazing people – you – who will believe in me and cheer me on.
Until payday I have to eat what I have in the house and what I can get for free in the canteen at work (our little reunion trip left me kind of broke this month), but from then I will be following Dr. Joel Fuhrman’s Eat to Live program. I think that’s the one that I’ll enjoy the most, given that I want to follow a plant-based, whole foods plan with lots of, but not exclusively, raw food. In the intervening 10 days there are lots of things I can do to make my official start easier – drink more water, sleep more and move more.
I’m ready. Bring it on.
Wants and Needs
It only dawned on me recently how utterly inept I am at asking for, or even articulating, what I want. Somehow even the word “want” feels presumptuous. This is of course a legacy from my childhood, where asking was considered presumptuous and got dealt with swiftly and not too gently.
Not knowing how to ask for what I wanted or needed resulted in one of two scenarios – I either kept quiet and grew resentful because my needs weren’t being met (and taking the resentment out on myself and the person who “failed” me by gaining weight), or I overcompensated and became demanding – high maintenance – which caused others to resent me.
This is the first time that I’ve really understood this connection between not having my needs met on one level, the resulting resentment and my weight. Quite the aha moment for me!
Learning to love myself has taught me that it’s not wrong or shameful to have needs and wants. I don’t have to suppress them anymore and stuff myself with food to keep from boiling over with anger about it. I don’t have to punish myself for daring to dream of a better life (when I should be satisfied with what I have) by being fat.
I’m allowed. I may.
It is through knowing and loving ourselves that we learn to identify our yearnings and our desires. Only when I know who I am, can I articulate what I want. Only when I know exactly what I want, can I pursue it.
For years I thought I wanted to be a mother. I was desperate to have a baby. My whole life revolved around my fertility, or lack thereof. I existed in 28-day cycles and sobbed every 29th day for years. I had lists of baby names – one for a boy and one for a girl. I read pregnancy and baby magazines and books. I could talk of little else.
In retrospect I think my obsession with having children had a lot to do with wanting to be a better mother than the one who raised me. I was going to be more loving, more involved (without being intrusive, of course), more open-minded, more fun, more nurturing, more relaxed and more earthy than my own mother had ever been.
One Sunday, about 2 years ago, in a stunning moment of crystal clear insight, I realized that I didn’t so much want to be a mother, as I wanted to be the child of that mother. I wanted to a do-over. I wanted a different childhood with a different outcome. I wanted to raise myself. Facing that fact and letting go of my baby-dreams set me free on one level, but also catapulted me into a state of depression from which I’m only now emerging – in a two-steps-forward, one-step-back fashion.
This past week I took a large step back. I was miserable. I had constant headaches and a stabbing spasm in my upper back (between the spine and the shoulder). My neck was stiff. My knees hurt. My eyes felt as if they were resting on my cheeks. I had trouble sleeping. I suffered bouts of dizziness. I was either too hot or too cold. And I was ravenous throughout.
At first I thought that I was simply not coping with the stress at work – we’re still busy crunching our year end figures and there is a lot to get through before my Group Financial Manager arrives next week to issue final instructions and check that everything is all right so that I can prepare the final financial statements. In the midst of all this the auditors advised us that they will be arriving on Monday – two weeks earlier than I was expecting them. I hate not being prepared for them. So, I thought I was just having a bad reaction to all of this – a bit of an ego-indulging, woe-is-me hissy-fit.
But that’s not it. I usually perform well under pressure. Very well, in fact. I finally had to ask myself the question, “What is really going on here? What are you allowing to manifest in your body so that you won’t have to deal with it elsewhere?” (Okay, another aha moment! For many years I have made my body the scapegoat for my emotional pain, discomfort, distress and dis-ease.)
The answer has to do with my marriage. The reunion weekend brought us closer again. I do love this man. He loves me too, but there are things missing in our relationship. They weren’t there in the beginning, but I naively thought they would emerge with time. Of course they didn’t. My needs weren’t met. I got resentful. I gained weight. I blamed the situation on myself and on my weight and told myself that if I could only fix myself and my weight, I would fix this problem. But this is not my problem to fix. It isn’t even about me. It’s not my fault. I simply can’t keep on slamming myself into this wall anymore. It’s harming me.
A part of me wants to preserve the status quo. We’ve fallen into an easy routine; our relationship is uncomplicated, but close. We live separately, but pick up one another’s rhythms effortlessly when we’re together. We can do this for years.
But this is just a holding pattern. It doesn’t lead anywhere. The journey must continue. I have goals to set and reach.
Of course, the thought of addressing this scares me witless. No wonder my body hurts! I’m going to have to spend some time this weekend reassuring and calming my frightened, guilt-ridden* self. I’ll make an appointment with my life coach for the end of the month – after the auditors have left.
The road to wellness and wholeness is not easy. We can only hope that it will be worth it.
* I know guilt is a completely useless emotion – a stick with which we beat ourselves senseless. I haven’t quite overcome it yet, but I’m working on it.
After the reconnection
What can we gain by sailing to the moon if we are not able to cross the abyss that separates us from ourselves? ~ Thomas Merton
Finding and getting to know my true authentic self can literally be described as crossing an abyss. I couldn’t see or predict what I was going to find on the other side, nor could I see the bottom of the abyss.
We spend our whole lives trying to hide and suppress our “ugliness” and shortcomings – the things society tells us we should be ashamed of. We create a persona that we present to the world, because we believe that our true selves are unlovable and undeserving. The sad truth is that this disconnect creates a whole host of problems for us. We feel adrift and we try and compensate for that feeling through a host of behaviors that don’t serve us, or anybody else – abusing food, alcohol, substances, people, nature and ourselves. Some of us gain weight because we feel insignificant. Some of us literally starve ourselves to death because we believe that we don’t deserve to take up space in this world. We try to find meaning through the acquisition of stuff and the pursuit of pleasure.
I got to the point where I realized that as hard as I tried, I couldn’t run away from my problems. Everywhere I ran, the problems would be hot on my heels. You see, the problem was me. Not my parents, not my upbringing, not the men who broke my heart, not the bosses who exploited me, not the food manufacturers or the diet industry. Me, me, me!
For years I’d been examining all those factors in minute detail. It stood to reason that I would have to do the same with myself. Bloggers like Karen and Christie and authors like Dr. Wayne Dyer had introduced me to the concepts of self-acceptance and self-love. It all sounded great, but deep down I was terrified of the process (the abyss) and facing myself (the other side of the abyss).
Can you guess what happened next?
Resistance happened next. The handbrake came up. I dug my heels in. I resurrected my old friends – denial, avoidance and distraction. My willingness evaporated.
But you know what? All the work that I’d done in the last few years had strengthened, prepared and motivated me to bridge that divide. Once my interest was piqued, I simply couldn’t resist the pull.
I started by being present and aware – really listening to the voices in my head and the words I used, closely observing my actions and reactions and bravely examining my feelings.
What I discovered was nothing short of astonishing. Every feeling or action on my part was preceded by a split-second decision to feel or act that way. I didn’t lose my temper; I chose to throw a tantrum. He didn’t hurt me; I chose to feel hurt. Most of what other people did or said wasn’t about me at all, but I chose to make it about me and play the injured party. The logical conclusion is then that if I chose to react or think in a certain way, I could just as easily choose to react or think in a completely different way. Maybe not “just as easily” in the beginning, but once I’d learned to slow down the process and actually identify the moments in which choices are made, my life started changing dramatically.
Of course I still slip up from time to time – this week I deliberately threw a tantrum. I chose it and it was awful. We do these things because we want to exert control over people, but all we accomplish is that we feel diminished and ashamed. The result was that I was presented with two more choices – defend my actions (claim to be right and blame them – a.k.a. bullshitting my way out) or sincerely apologize (be kind). Fortunately sanity prevailed and I chose the second. Next time I will hopefully choose better at the first fork in the road.
This brings me to an important point. Many people get very uncomfortable with all this talk about self-love. We have after all been conditioned to be self-effacing, modest and humble. Whatever you do, don’t pat yourself on the back or blow your own horn. Self-love is often equated with narcissism, egotism, vanity and pride. Nothing could be further from the truth.
Self-love is not blind or ignorant. It is patient and forgiving and by extending that grace to ourselves, we become more patient and forgiving towards others. I’ve learned that when we compare ourselves to others (either favorably or unfavorably) it is because we are not yet convinced of our own fundamental worth.
When we see ego at work, we see a false self – a persona that was created to hide the fact that the person in question has not accepted his true self. He still feels small, vulnerable and insignificant. The temptation is there to judge the person, or pity him, which are both ego-driven reactions. It’s harder to summon grace and forgiveness, but it will make you feel better and defuse the situation. It gets easier with practice. I hope!
Learning to love oneself and practice that love every day takes time and effort, especially in the beginning when we have to overcome our resistance. But I promise you, once you start that painstaking hand-over-hand journey across the abyss your life will never be the same again.
And neither will you.
You must first be who you really are, then do what you need to do, in order to have what you want. ~ Margaret Young
Reconnection
I don’t take every cough to the doctor. Or to the homeopath, medicine man, witch doctor, herbalist, pharmacist, aroma therapist, acupuncturist, crystal gazer or colonic irrigator. Why? Because I don’t believe in treating symptoms. I prefer to work with my body to eliminate the cause, which is usually achieved through better nutrition (lots of fruit and raw vegetables), water, sleep, fresh air and a positive mental attitude. The symptoms aren’t the sickness – they alert us that there’s a problem and they’re often the body’s way of eliminating the problem (think mucus, diarrhea, fever, discharge, vomit). Treating the symptoms is like disconnecting the little light on your dashboard that warns you that you’re low on oil. The problem remains and sometime in the future your engine is going to blow.
Despite knowing this, for many years I tried to treat the symptoms of a very pervasive and debilitating condition. The symptoms were so intricately interwoven and interconnected that any one of them could (and did) appear to be the root cause at one time or another. I was enthralled by the stories each of these strands told and attempted to follow them to their beginning, but when I could find it, nothing was solved.
This cat’s cradle of symptoms I refer to include: binge eating, over-eating, emotional eating, weight gain, denial, promiscuity, depression, self-sabotage, lack of love, rejection, dissatisfaction, anger, criticism, emptiness, spiritual hunger, isolation, avoidance, hatred, despair, disillusionment, regret, blame, excuses, violence, pain and sadness, fear, lack of control and boundaries, shame, being a victim, a life in crisis, helplessness and feeling small and overlooked.
Yes, those are all symptoms. Shame is not a cause of my weight problem. Neither are eating too much and moving too little. But I spent years chasing down the roots of my fears and failings, only to find that they did not – and could not – lead to healing. It’s all very well to know that I’m critical of myself because my parents were critical of me and that I have poor impulse control because I was over-controlled as a child. But it’s not helping me eat less or better. It’s not empowering me. It doesn’t change anything.
When we’re assailed by physical symptoms, our job is not to figure out the root cause, but to nourish, strengthen and support ourselves so that we not only get better without doing further harm, but also so that we can avert the same problem in future – disease-proofing ourselves, so to speak.
So, I stopped looking for the root cause – “The Reason” why my life isn’t working. I started looking for ways to nourish, strengthen and support myself.
I found so much more! I found myself – the real Hanlie, not the one cobbled together to reflect the ideas, ideals and fantasies of others.
And you know what?
I like her.
Reunion Trip 2012 – Part 2
The best thing about living in a small town is that everybody knows you. It’s also the worst thing about living in a small town. I’d forgotten all about “The Wave” in the 25 years since I left – people wave when they pass one another in their cars. It’s not as much a wave as a lifting of the hand or even just a finger or two, acknowledging the other person.
Craig demonstrating "The Wave".
By Day 2 we were pro’s at The Wave. We lost it about 20 km outside Cape Town on our way back – you don’t want to alarm the city folk into thinking that you actually saw them.
Our first reunion event was a wine-tasting on the farm we were staying at. While the wine didn’t impress me, the venue was lovely.
Terrace overlooking the vineyards
It was amazing seeing my classmates again. Some of them had kids at university, while others had toddlers. One couple was on honeymoon. We’d all grown older. Most of us a little heavier (or a lot). But in many ways it felt as if we’d seen one another last month. And the stories we told about way back when! I really hadn’t laughed this much in a long, long time. The spouses were lovely too, and were made to feel welcome immediately.
Many people have told me that they wouldn’t go to their reunions – that it would be an exercise in one-upmanship: who has the most money, the most glamorous life, the best job, the prettiest wife or hottest husband, the biggest 4×4, the fittest body, the least wrinkles or the cleverest kids. It wasn’t like that at all. Some were richer than others, but nobody flaunted anything. Some had better bodies, some had more wrinkles. We hardly talked about our jobs. We were as accepting as we’d been 25+ years ago. Even I, who was by far the largest, never felt judged or scorned. Small towns can be very accepting that way and I think being back re-awakened that attitude in all of us.
After the wine tasting we all drove out to Lake Grappa – a guest farm on a man-made lake, built for water-skiing. This had not been there 25 years ago and it took my breath away. We had pizzas and drinks on the terrace while the sun set. The next morning we reassembled there for breakfast and watched the participants of a 40km mountain bike race cross the lake on a floating bridge made of pallets.
Avenue of thorn trees at Lake Grappa.
After breakfast we all went our separate ways for a few hours. Craig and I visited Die Pienk Padstal – The Pink Farm Stall. It’s pink. And very kitsch.
The highlight of my visit to Die Pienk Padstal was finding these:
Yum!
I bought almost 9 pounds of the juiciest, sweetest dates in the world. And I found out that one of my class mates works for this farm, so I now have a contact for getting them at a reasonable price (they’re very expensive in the city).
Then we went on a drive through the town so that I could take some pictures. This is my school. Nothing has changed!
School and playground
My history class (taken through the window) - still the same desks!
This was our house. We built the house and planted the trees. They’ve grown a lot – you can hardly see the house from the street anymore. I’ve lived in many houses, but this one remains my favorite.
These days there are more tar roads than just the main street, but this isn't one of them!
I remember hoeing stones out of the ground so that we could plant that lawn.
Then we had a bite to eat at a local coffee shop, where the staff literally cleared our table before we were done – nobody messes with their 1 pm closing time on a Saturday! The gardens were lovely though.
Afterward we went back to our camping site, where we spent some time on the river bank.
This is just a channel, not the whole river.
The final reunion event for us was a barbeque at the same venue we had the wine tasting. The others went to church on Sunday, but we had to leave at first light as I had to be back at work on Monday for my financial year end (for most the long weekend lasted until Tuesday 1 May – Worker’s Day).
We returned to Cape Town with loads of dirty laundry and great memories. Yes, it was an expensive trip, but so worth it. We’ve decided to have reunions every five years from now on – we’re not getting younger, you know! I’ll definitely be there.
And last but not least, Craig and I spent 4 whole days and nights together and had a great time! He really is good company.
Reunion Trip 2012 – Part 1
I just got back from my 25 year high school reunion. It was a riot! I haven’t laughed this much in years. As promised, I took lots of pictures so I’ll have to break up the recap into 2 or 3 posts.
I matriculated in a little river town in the Northern Cape called Kakamas (pop. 8000). The surrounding area forms part of the Southern Kalahari desert, but thanks to irrigation from the Orange River farmers from the Kakamas area are now prime exporters of table grapes to Europe and England. The region also exports raisins, oranges and dates.
My parents moved away in the middle of 1987 and I stayed behind in the hostel (filled with kids from the outlying areas, but also as far away as Namibia – the school had a very good reputation) to complete my final year of high school. I maintained contact with one of my best friends, but never visited Kakamas again until this weekend. It was all new to Craig, who had never been to the area before.
There were 31 of us in the Class of ’87 and 12 of us attended the reunion. Miraculously, all 31 of us are still alive, but many could not make the trip due to work and family commitments or financial reasons (I may have to eat rice the rest of this month – the fuel expense was horrendous!).
Kakamas is situated about 80 km (50 mi) southwest of Upington (pop. 101000), the nearest "big" town.
Friday was a holiday, so I took Thursday off from work and we left Cape Town just after 6 am. We explored some of the little towns on the way and had lunch in Springbok. There is a shorter route, further inland, but they’re doing extensive road works there, resulting in long delays, so we took this 850 km (530 mi) route. The closer we got, the more excited I became – there were so many familiar names and sights, like this:
Group home for birds - unique to this region (probably because there aren't many trees)
We had booked a little hut at a camping site (where we used to spend many, many happy hours way back when) on the river. This was convenient for us, as two of the weekend’s events took place on this farm. The owner used to be one of our teachers and it was great seeing him again as well. Here are some views from the porch:
That evening we went to dinner at the home of the friend with whom I’d kept contact. He left behind a very promising international opera career to return to the family farm when his dad’s health deteriorated 18 years ago and is now a very successful farmer. He’s still very entertaining though – no mouth filter whatsoever. Craig had never met him before, but enjoyed him just as much. I love that he went to the trouble to cook us a vegan meal – his first ever. The Thai veg curry was delicious, as was the wine.
Friday morning I met up with another of my good friends from school – they had the chalet right next to ours. We would run into them numerous times throughout the day (it’s a small town!). Craig and I went for breakfast in the local hotel and then drove 40 km (25 mi) to the region’s most popular tourist attraction – the Augrabies Falls. I have seen the Falls like this:
Unfortunately, it’s been rather dry this year and we had to be satisfied with this:
A mere trickle!
Furthermore, a lot of the vantage points were closed for repairs following severe flood damage last year.
We couldn't access any of those areas.
I knew that the Augrabies visit was going to be challenging for me, given the fact that I’m not as nimble as I used to be. I made sure to wear proper walking shoes and took it slow. The terrain wasn’t too rough and I am actually quite proud of myself for not sitting this one out on the restaurant terrace.
Part of the trail.
The reception and restaurant area.
This place has always made me appreciate the brute force and infinite patience of nature. Just look at the water erosion on these rocks.
Sun-baked and water-eroded rocks.
I recall that there used to be lots of blue lizards here. I didn’t see any this time around, but we ran into plenty of rock hyrax. They are apparently not very adept at controlling their body temperature, so they lie on the warm rocks and bake in the sun. They make a barking sound.
Hyrax
The Gorge below the Falls.
After visiting the Falls, we were keen to explore the rest of the Park. There is a scenic drive with interesting rock formations and all kinds of wild life. Unfortunately we ran into a bit of a problem (ironic, given that the Falls were rather disappointing). It had rained the previous day and there was a flooded crossing that I didn’t want to negotiate with my car. So we had to turn around.
Craig testing the waters and deeming it too deep for a sedan.
We did see one last thing of interest before leaving the park – baboons at the swimming pool. I even managed to catch them mating, but unfortunately the picture was out of focus (assuming you’d have wanted to see that, of course!).
After this we drove back to Kakamas and then 25 miles in the other direction (towards Upington), to the neighboring town of Keimoes, where we had a light lunch. I was going to take pictures of the water wheels and canals in Kakamas, but those in Keimoes were right at hand, so here they are.
Irrigation Canal - Keimoes
Water Wheel - Keimoes
In the late 19th century, the Dutch Reformed Church started a “colony” on the banks of the Orange River for white people who had lost everything as a result of the drought. Ignoring the criticism of qualified engineers about their building methods, the farmers constructed the water canals by hand. They are still used to supply the town and surrounding areas with water for irrigation. For their efforts they were each awarded the right to one of the irrigation plots.
The water wheels scoop the water in cups and pour them into pipes that lead into the vineyards. Of course, these days, most of the pumping is done by electrical pumps and there aren’t many water wheels left. This was a bonus for us kids – we used to have an annual “canal day” where we were driven up-river in trucks and let off to float back to town in the canals. It was one of the highlights of our school year. You just had to remember to duck when you got to a bridge! I wonder if they still do that… It wasn’t dangerous per se, but it was kind of rough.
Oh, and one last thing I saw in Keimoes and just had to share:
The mind boggles!
That’s it for today! I have to be at work in the morning, so best I go and wash the Orange River off me and get to bed.
Twenty Questions
I don’t have much to say today, so I decided to play Twenty Questions. I found most of these questions on a meme over at Unwritten. I won’t tag anyone, since I’m not exactly following the rules (there’s a surprise). If you want to play, let me know in the comments and I’ll go read your answers.
1. What is your favorite dessert? Bread and butter pudding, especially when made with croissants. Sigh.
2. What is the last thing that made you laugh (a belly laugh, not a giggle)? Jimmy Fallon (impersonating Neil Young) and Bruce Springsteen (impersonating himself) singing “Sexy and I Know It”. It’s on Youtube. You will split your sides. I did.
3. Are you left-handed or right-handed? Right-handed. But very liberal.
4. How long does it take you in the morning from getting up to getting out? About an hour. My hairdryer is very old and very slow. Some days I am too.
5. They say everyone has at least one book/novel in them. If you ever got around to writing yours, what would it be? I can tell you what I would like it to be – an Eat, Pray, Love type memoir.
6. What is your favorite quote of all time? “I exist in perpetual creative response to whatever is present.” ~ Martha Beck
7. What do you consider comfort food? Macaroni and cheese or thick, nourishing soup.
8. What are you wearing today? My “uniform” – black pants, black and pale pink blouse and black sandals.
9. Where is your happy place? With my best friend Lizana.
10. Who do you miss (dead or alive)? My friend Erick who lives in London now. We could talk for hours and hours. He played music (he’s very talented) and tried to teach me a little bit of guitar. Facebook is no substitute for spending time together.
11. What can’t you forgive? I’ve done a lot of forgiving in the last year or so and it has certainly set me free. The only people I still haven’t forgiven are my previous employer and his henchmen. Not intentionally or consciously. Most of the time I simply don’t care or think about them, but there are times when vengeful thoughts appear. They’re becoming less and less frequent, and I suspect that one of these days they’ll be gone completely.
12. If there was ONE thing you could go back in time and change, would you and what would it be? The only things I might be tempted to change would be my lottery numbers. The rest…? Not so much. We have to have the bad or “wrong” experiences, hairstyles, husbands, habits, etc, so that we can learn to move on, overcome, let go and never perm again. Even my weight is teaching me something very important about myself and about life and I know that the process of losing the weight will be just as full of valuable lessons.
13. Are you a girly girl or not so much? Not really. I wear make-up and jewelry and I like nice clothes, but in style and personality I’m more earthy than girly.
14. What do you like most about yourself? I am willing to learn and change.
15. What do you like least about yourself? Facial hair. And hairy fingers and toes.
16. Tattoos and piercings. Have you? Would you? I had my ears pierced when I was about 5 years old. Nothing else. I might get a tattoo one day or I might not. I haven’t ruled it out, but it’s not a priority.
17. What is more scary – spiders or snakes? There is no question – my fear of snakes borders on a phobia.
18. What type of movies do you like? Quite a wide variety. It’s almost easier if I list what I don’t particularly like – horror movies, stoner movies, inane or slapstick comedy, werewolf-vampire-monster-alien movies, sappy religious stories and crappy action movies with too much violence and no discernible plot. I’ve developed a fondness for low-budget indie films, although I make sure not to miss the blockbusters. With no TV, movies are a must!
19. India or Switzerland for holiday? Why? I don’t think I’d be able to handle India – the masses of people, the abject poverty and the mutilated beggars. I get anxious just thinking about it. South Africa is chaotic enough for me and I yearn for Switzerland (it’s a standing joke between Craig and me), where people are law-abiding and considerate and where everything is clean and orderly. What can I say? I’m a Virgo. You say nanny-state, I say Nirvana (which I will play at a considerate volume). I don’t know about the cold winters though. But then again, I know I wouldn’t be able to handle the heat in India either.
20. What are you grateful for today? My salary, which is making its way to my bank account as we speak.
And that is not the end! There are still these sentences to complete.
I am connected to an unlimited source of abundance.
I know how to Bluetooth something from my Mac to my Blackberry. One of my colleagues showed me. It’s very clever.
I want less, now that I’m more grateful for what I have.
I wish TOM would arrive today. I’m going on a road trip later in the week and would like the worst to be over by then.
I fear never having romance and passion again. I’m working on banishing that fear.
I feel blessed.
I smell of Red Door.
I hear it’s going to rain tomorrow.
I wonder how it will feel to spend four days 24/7 with Craig. He’s going to my reunion with me later this week.
I believe in myself.
I sing with more passion than skill.
I cried last at Lizana’s dad’s funeral.
I can usually be found with my nose in a book.
I am happy. Yes I am.
That was fun! Do play along.
I’ll be offline for almost a week, but I will take lots of pictures of my journey into the heartland to share with you when I get back. See you then!
Moving towards something compelling
Girl on a Swing - Bronze by Jean Doyle
This really IS the post about fitness. My two previous posts served as the background from which these insights emerged. You can only know what you want, why you want it and then plan how to get it once you know yourself. And you can only know yourself when you erase the old, outdated “truths” about yourself that you’ve been nurturing and replace them with a no-limits mind-set.
In other words, I believe I can do anything I set my mind to.
That is in itself a significant step forward, but there is a next level that I think many people overlook – setting my mind to the right things for ME. The things that resonate with me. The things that compel me. The things that will bring me joy and a sense of achievement.
It’s about reaching for our own dreams and not the dreams we think we “should” reach for.
Let’s use running as an example. In the weight loss and fitness blogging community running is often seen as the brass ring. I was no different. In recent years I thought I wanted to be a runner. Never mind that the thought had never occurred to me when I was young, relatively thin and relatively fit. With so many bloggers turning to running I thought that if I wanted it badly enough, I could do it. The problem was that I didn’t really want it that badly. It didn’t resonate with me. It didn’t compel me. So, I remained glued to the couch. Of course, I had to have a handy list of excuses at my disposal to justify my lack of movement.
One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned in the past few months is that when we spend our time justifying, we overlook the alternatives. We literally become mired in our excuses and the position we’d taken, instead of being creative and resourceful.
So, I don’t really want to be a runner. Or let me be honest, I wanted it for the wrong reasons. I wanted to run to impress others – especially my family. I wanted to “show” them.
Ring Dancer - Bronze by Jean Doyle
But this is my life. And if I want my life to be authentic and congruent – which I do – I have to let go of the expectations and the lack of expectations of others. I have to find my own brass ring.
Because I was never a runner or any other kind of competitive athlete in my youth, I made the error in later years of assuming that I had never been active. I forgot how I played in the pool for hours on end as a teenager. I forgot how I walked everywhere I wanted to be well into my twenties. I forgot that I used to dance till daybreak. I forgot about the hiking trails my friends and I did almost every weekend.
Those are things I loved doing. I didn’t do them because they burned calories – in fact, I didn’t even know what a calorie was. I didn’t do them as a means to an end. They were the end. I did them for the joy of it.
Yes, I could be a runner if I set my mind to it, but it would smack of punishment. I’m not saying that there isn’t joy to be found in running – if that is what you really want to do, you will find the joy. I know that I won’t.
A good friend of mine lost 90 pounds a few years ago and took up windsurfing in her forties. It had always been her dream and she loves it.
I like walking. I like hiking. I like dancing. I like horse-riding. I like Pilates. I like cavorting in the pool. At the moment I can only really do the latter, but that is setting me up for walking and Pilates, which in turn will help me to get to hiking and dancing. At some point I will be able to get on a horse again. Maybe then I’ll be tempted to try rowing or mountain-biking or weight lifting. Or maybe a martial art. Who knows?
The point is that I’ll be working towards the kind of active life I want by doing what I love.
Free to be my own me
I love writing. I love how you start off with the intention of saying one thing, and the post just runs away in a totally different direction. My previous post (thank you for the wonderful comments and welcome to the new readers!) was supposed to be about fitness. It turned into something totally different. So this is the fitness post. Maybe. (“Stand back Eve, I don’t know how big this thing is going to get…”)
Throughout my weight loss process (which has left me at my highest ever weight), especially the last few years, I’ve held on to the belief that there is a subliminal, unknown-to-me, deeply buried, psychological – and inherently false, or based on false premise – reason why I’m fat. That elusive something is what compels me to sabotage my own efforts time and time again and programs my body to hold on to every ounce of fat on my frame. I reel from one a-ha moment (read this brilliant post about a-ha moments by Christie Inge – it’s okay, we’ll wait) and the embarrassingly brief subsequent re-commitment to the next.
Evidently, I had not yet found The Reason.
I made peace with myself and with food. I even made peace with my family and my past. I set boundaries. I stopped sweating the small stuff. I started practicing forgiveness and kindness. I abstained from judgement and criticism. I released the need for validation by others (but keep commenting – I love it!). I avoided drama and self-pity. I grew in confidence. I rejected the word “should”.
Still, The Reason eluded me.
I suspected it had something to do with lack and abundance. Probably disillusionment and petulance. Even rebellion. And don’t forget fear – that had to be a big factor. Also punishment – myself and my loved ones who had “let me down”. Yes, I went there – I went everywhere, because I was convinced that when I find the reason, I would be able to expose its inherent lie and I would be “cured”. My switch would be flipped and all the obstacles would wither before my fierce and unbreakable determination to lose weight, get fit and change my life. The angels would weep with joy. My friends and colleagues would be in awe at the new Hanlie that would emerge. The girls at the girls at the gym reception would point me out to potential members. My blog readers would… Well, you get the picture. If only flights of fancy burned calories (consider this the fitness portion of the post).
I needed that Reason.
Until 4 weeks ago. The day that I got my long-awaited and well-deserved increase. Which also happens to be the day I learned that my former employer is suing me. All the usual suspects showed up: fear, outrage, anger, vengeance, the victim-mentality (it’s not faaaaair!), marital discord, suicidal thoughts and helplessness. And somehow, suddenly, for the first time ever – probably because of all the work I’d been doing for a long long time, that may have appeared to some to be rather useless (because I was gaining weight, not losing) – I refused to entertain any of them. I had let them in briefly, but I didn’t allow them to get comfortable and I certainly didn’t give them dinner, bed and breakfast. And when I threw them out I forgot about them. I didn’t dwell or ruminate.
Someone asked me a few weeks later why I didn’t seem upset about the whole thing. I said, “It’s bad enough that I’m going to have to part with R10000. Do you want me to be upset too?”
And it wasn’t just words. I’m not upset. I’m grateful. I’m grateful that my previous employer no longer has the power to hurt me. It’s only money.
But more than that, up until that day I had believed that I desperately needed that increase. I’d been operating from a place of lack. The sad truth is that when you do that, you will never have enough. You will always be left wanting… more. Ironically, the notion that a multimillionaire would think that my R10K is going to make him richer or happier (or hurt me), pulled me right out of that lack paradigm and hurtled me into the ever-flowing stream of abundance.
I know for sure now that I will always be okay. That I will not go hungry or be destitute. I will always find a way out of whatever difficulty I might find myself in. I don’t need a Reason to refute. I don’t need a knight in shining armor. I don’t need luck. I don’t need someone to fix me. I don’t need a switch flipped.
I already have everything I need. I always had, but I didn’t know it before. Knowing has set me free.
Free to dream of a more meaningful life. Of love. Of joyful expression.
Free to identify and pursue my passion.
Free to be my own me.
