Part 5- We Are Spirits In A Material World

I promised the next part today and here it is! I hope you are enjoying reading this as much as I am enjoying writing it. Please let me know what you think. :)

We are Divine by our very nature. By the very act of being born into this world, do we cease to be what we are? We are God expressing Itself in the physical; spiritual beings having a physical experience. I remember telling this to my husband many times as we would talk and have philosophical conversations in college. He would say, You know most Christians don’t believe that. It’s not a very traditional idea.... maybe it is, maybe it isn't. It is what I have come to realize at this point in my life, whatever that makes me.  I’m ok with that.

I never gave much thought to that original sin concept. I just accepted it.  But I began to see it as a flaw in my own thinking about who I was at my core. If I was bad inherently, then when I reverted to my old behavior, I was just being what I truly am- bad.  I see this mode of thought as a major contributing factor to the problems with humanity as a whole.  It is the whole pygmalion syndrome. You can clean us up and dress us up, but if we believes deep down we are no-good, that is the behavior we will revert to when push comes to shove. We will become selfish, judgmental, impatient, and downright unkind when our fruit is squeezed.   If we believe goodness is ‘out there’ in someone else or something else, then we are never truly transformed by it. Transformation has to come from within. But, if we believes that we truly are good at our core and acceptable simply because we are, then we begins to see the beauty we truly do possess within each of us and we can see that is who we are, a vessel for  the Almighty and simply our job is be filled and let the Light shine through.

As I became a mother for the first time,  I looked into the eyes of my beautiful baby girl and I wondered how was she sinful by the very act of being born??  As I looked into her eyes, I could actually see the Light of God and feel the Love that God has for each of us as we stumble around in this world.  In many Eastern traditions, children are actually revered because they have just come from the spirit world where they were part of the Divine.  Babies are the closest to God when they are born and as the world and as they become immersed in our world, they become more and more worldly and less and less in touch with their divinity.

The world muddies the water and keeps you distracted instead of focused on the many blessings that are surely in your life. We all have many things we can be thankful for even  in the midst of hardship. We must decide where our focus will be.

I believe if we maintain a focus on the Divine and truly “pray without ceasing” by being in a constant state of gratitude for all we have, the good and the not so good. It is like a love song playing in your head to God instead of those negative thoughts about yourself, your unhappiness, how you wish things were different, how you’d be so happy only if... Our emotions rule us and we focus on our ‘humanity’ and we forget the ‘divinity’ that is at our core.  Our humanity should be embraced, but put in its rightful place; to be used by us, not allow it use us at our own expense. An attitude of gratitude is the key to keeping the focus.

Once I saw myself as the hands and feet of God that I truly was, that we ALL are, I began to expect so much more of myself. I saw that I was capable of doing what was necessary to have the life I wanted. I had all that power within me through my constant connection accessible whenever I needed it. We all do. It is the intention of God, of Spirit, of the Divine that we all live in that connection. When we do, we are inspired... “in Spirit...” and we can see the way in which we should go.

These ideas felt so right to me and resonated with me on a very deep level beyond explanation. I began to see differences in my behavior. I became less self absorbed, more patient, more giving. My fruit became sweeter. Something was different now in a way it never was before.   And it was more than just the power of positive thinking. It was realizing what the ‘fruit of the spirit’ really was and seeing it grow in my life. I began to judge most things and people by the fruit they yield.


And for the FIRST time in my life, in my mind’s eye, I saw myself as a thinner person. I was never able to do that before. I would try... I would cut off my head and glue it on a model’s body and tape it to the fridge to deter my snacking. Ha! It never worked.  I talked myself out of believing that could actually be me.  But now, I could see it for the first time.  I told my husband with tears in my eyes, “I can see myself... wow... I really see that it is possible. I can do it.”   I was thinking differently and I could see the results of that new thinking in my life.

To Be Cont.  I promise not to make you wait too long. I’ll get to work on part 6 asap.

Part 4 Of My Weightloss Story- Enter The Pain Body

I’m Baaaaccckkkkk!!!!! ;)  My family has passed the flu around for a few weeks and I began choreographing a musical! Go figure! All that and trying to start home schooling back up again has had me with no time to do the fun stuff- write!  But glorious Sunday mornings... the kids were playing, the hubby still sleeping and I had a few moments to myself to continue the saga.

I know some of you may be eager for some formula that I used to lose my weight.  It didn’t work that way for me. Because my out of control eating was of an emotional nature, I believe it wasn’t  until I got my emotional ‘house’ in order that I began to make real and lasting progress. We all know how to lose weight. So, please bear with me as I tell the story.   

When we left off, I had become frustrated with the track I was on. I was meditating every day, reading many books, praying for guidance, and I was making real progress in my inner work.  I was beginning to understand myself and how I was allowing my past to shadow my future. I knew I didn’t want that. I wanted to let that hurt little girl go...but she kept showing up over and over again. Why?

  Without jumping totally onto the spirituality track, I have come to realize our true selves are never apart from God. Because we are having a human experience, we have a brain and with that a mind. This mind creates your ego/identity and with that a false reality that makes you feel separate from God. You feel all ‘alone’ in the world and apart from everyone, instead of a part of everyone. This is ‘reality’. 

Enter, the “pain body” which is a term Eckhart Tolle uses to describe the accumulation of all our past pains. Without going into great detail (if you want that, please read "A New Earth" and "The Power of Now" by Tolle), every time we experience pain or disappointment our pain body, or all the emotional baggage from the past, will rear its ugly head and get us to identify with IT, not with the way things really are. 

The pain body doesn’t want you to recognize your constant connection to God, because then you would not identify with IT anymore and it would cease to be needed.   So, instead you say, “That is me. I am a victim. My pain is my story.  It is what I am about. Without it, who am I?”  So, your pain body continues to survive on your recycled pain. Any kind of discomfort, anger, emotional drama, etc. will  keep you focused on that pain.  Once again, you become the victim and relinquish control for how you feel to the pain body. You get into the mode of “I can’t help the way I feel!  Just look at all I have to deal with!”  

Your thinking begins to revolve around all the things that make you unhappy. You forget to be grateful for the good in your life, because the bad has now been coddled, magnified and dramatized.  It is also a comfortable feeling.  Kurt Cobain wrote, “I miss the comfort in being sad.”  You have lived most of your life in this state and it feels right.  You may even feel uneasy if things get too good in your life and create drama just so you can feel that comfortable feeling again.  It’s another sick cycle.

So, you get out the china cups and sit and have a nice little tea party with Mr. Pity. He is invited often, but will show up uninvited regularly to make sure you don’t forget that you are a victim and feel helplessly controlled by your feelings. Mr. Pity and your Pain Body are great friends! They have a common goal. As long as they are in control, they run the show. Kind of like the Wizard in the Wizard of Oz. Except we want to to pay attention to the ‘man behind the curtain,’ because once we do, we can begin our journey back home, where you once more recognize your constant connection to God. It never ceases to be. We only think it does because we are too busy getting caught up in ‘our story’ written by our pain.  This also causes our bodies to stay in a constant stressed out state. We are always either fuming about yesterday, worried about tomorrow, afraid of what might happen, nervous, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but we seldom find a place of peace and gratitude that causes that chatter of our minds to stop, long enough to actually feel that connection.  It’s not coincidence that the word disease = dis ease. The physical and the spiritual are ultimately interwoven.

As you begin to see the pain body for what it is,  you begin to see the false reality you have constructed.  The ‘watcher’ is a term long used by meditators to describe the phenomenon of standing outside yourself 'watching' yourself as if detached from the situation, like a bystander.  It is the way to dis-identify with your ego and your pain body and see that they are not your true self.  

As I meditated more, I learned how to watch myself and when I would have a meltdown, I began to see things in a different light. So many times I would act in a way contrary to what I said I believed.  As I watched myself, many times I didn't like the way I acted and wanted to change.  But why was it so hard to make any lasting or permanent change?  In addition to improving my relationship with myself and others, I also knew if I was going to get my emotional eating under control, I needed to get my emotions under control first! 

And here is where a huge “Aha! Moment” came for me. I began to see the difference between how I acted and who I truly was deep down inside.  As I watched myself when I had a meltdown, I could see it was me there having the meltdown, but then there is me here watching... who is whom? Who is really me??? The one having the fit or the one doing the watching because I couldn't have the fit and watch it at the same time.  I could 'see' my pain body in action, drawing on every painful experience I had in the moment, to feed itself and grow stronger. You know kind of like when you and your significant other get into a fight and you suddenly remember every instance of disappointment and have no problem recalling each one in great detail, like “back in 1998, I asked you if I looked fat in my jeans and you never even answered me! You think I’m fat!”

I could go from zero to an insecure mess with one comment... Heck, one look.

This was the 'me' I thought I was.  But it is not the real me. I began to see that I was acting in a way that was contrary to my actual nature. My nature was good. My nature was Godly. So why was it so easy for me to act so ungodly??   We come from God right?  If you believe the creation story, even metaphorically, we come from God and the Earth.   How can we be anything other than that of which we are made.  

I think I will end this here for now. It’s getting a little lengthy. 

More tomorrow. Promise. :)

I Learned It All From My Mom!

During a recent visit, I was found myself as I often do, watching my mother interact with my two daughters (8 and 12) and noticing how loving she is with them. I am often taken back to the days when I was her child and she said the same words to me: "Hold my hand while we cross the street!" "Be careful!" "Come on, you can do it!"  Some things never change. Until they do. 

There are times, although rare, that my mother is completely different with my children as a grandparent than she was with me as a mother and I am left wondering just who in hell is this woman and what has she done with my mom?

I remember in Bill Cosby’s Himself where he talks about his dad and how he always has money for his grandchildren; but when Bill was a kid: “ I asked my father for a dollar for the school picnic, he told me how he killed a grizzly bear with his loose-leaf notebook.”

I am experiencing something similar with my own mother. Not with money, but with medicine. Now, let me preface this by saying I love my mother like nobody’s business and she took fabulously wonderful care of all of us growing up. I learned many of my loving, nursing ways from my mom. And many of them are reminiscent of Ms. Nightingale herself.  When my family needs convalescing,  my husband sometimes looks at me in awe with a "how did you know how to do that?" look. I have good instincts.  And, the truth is I had a great teacher too.  All in all,  I thought I did a pretty good job taking care of my family.

So, when my mother called recently to check up on my little one who had been ill, I wasn’t prepared for the third degree I got.

“Have you taken her to the doctor yet?” 

“No, mom. She has the stomach flu. We’ve all had it and now it’s her turn. I’m making sure to keep her hydrated and that’s the most important thing.”

Then her tone took a turn, “Okayyyyy...If you’re suuuure.... I don’t know WHY you just don’t take her in.”   

I felt like I was channeling Seth Meyers on SNL...Really??? Really? Really, Mom? This is the same woman who told me that every pain I was having my whole life was GAS! "Mom, my tummy hurts" GAS!  "Mommy, my head hurts..." GAS! I must have been raised on beans around the campfire in that scene from Blazing Saddles!   Really, Mom??

My most vivid non-doctor memory? When I was about 8 or 9, I thought it would be cool to ride my brother 10-speed bike with my mom’s high heeled shoes on. Ok, so this is also my most vivid 'idiot move' of my life! Come on, it sounded like a great idea at the time! And it all would have been fine had I remembered to put the kickstand up when I got on. I ended up falling off the bike and having the kickstand puncture the back of my thigh!  A puncture wound ... surely that is worthy of a trip to the ER? Maybe the doctor? Nope! My mom knew what to do! She patched that hole up with a couple of butterfly Band-Aids!  Band-Aids always fixed everything! And believe me, I was covered with them at times! I was not the most graceful kid and my bike and I had a love hate relationship. You could see the struggle in the band aids that covered my legs all summer long.  I still have the scars to prove it!  

 To be fair to my mom, I was in good shape once we got it cleaned up and bandaged. Sure the scar would have been less with stitches, but fine nonetheless.  She made a decision based on the information she had and made the best call she could.  She loved me more than anything and I know my best interest was always foremost on her mind.  But, she still chose not to take me to the doctor for whatever reason she had.  She followed her instincts.  Those instincts led us to the doctor very few times growing up.  My mom handled things at home until she felt needed help from someone else. Like when the gas pains didn't go away and turned out to be a  grapefruit sized cyst on my ovary needing major surgery.  I know she was secretly disappointed that Band Aides would not do the trick! 

So, now when I make the same decisions, why am I getting the “Okaayyyyy.... If you're suuuuuure” like I don’t know what I am doing? It makes me second guess my own instincts that have been so keen and served me well... for a moment maybe. And then I remember stories like this one and move along with a smile.  Or I say these words to my mom, "It's only GAS!" and that usually brings on laughter, but makes the point. Heh... I also learned how to 'guilt trip' from my mom.  She should know not to mess with the messer!

How quickly we forget.  I guess that’s just life, isn’t it?  Our roles change and with that our perspectives change.  The best part is that my mom and I are close enough that I can tell her what she is doing and how it makes me feel.  What is even better is that she is open enough that she can see it and we can laugh about it. I hope she is laughing as she reads this too.

As my own kids look at my mother with their “Nane-is-perfect” wide eyes and wonder, I can’t help but think again of Bill Cosby's stand up routine as he tried to inform his children about his own mother and how much she has changed over the years. "This is not the same person I grew up with. You are looking at an old woman who is trying to get into Heaven!"   

I wonder if they have Band-Aids in Heaven?

No worries, my mom will have some in her purse!

Housework. My Personal Mandala Sand Painting.

Sometimes I feel like I need to start my own 12 step program.

"Hi. My name is Dina and I hate housework."

"Hi Dina!"

 The meetings would be packed!

But, is it wise to hate something one does on a daily basis? What do I really 'hate' about cleaning anyway? I also know hating anything is not a good idea. Resistance is never the answer. What you resist persists. So, why do so many of us indulge these negative feelings about cleaning as often as we do?

Are you like me? I love coming home to a clean house and the peaceful feeling I get when I walk from room to room and things are immaculate.  I can easily get wrapped up in self aggrandizing glory, as I stroll through my orderly, no-crumbs-on-the-kitchen-floor home. My eyes squint as I catch a glimpse of my glittering smile that reflects off the chrome of my bathroom faucet NOT covered in toothpaste to bathe my face in a soft incandescent glow.
I got this thang!

It is even more satisfying if the girls are actually doing something productive at that very moment, because then I can throw on my "Super-Duper Mom" sash as I walk the hallways of my home where there is a place for everything and everything is in its place.  I wave my best Cinderella wave to my adoring children.  Ahhhh! Life is good. My house is clean. All is right with the world.

And then a flopping arm hits my face and I wake up! And my house looks like it does most mornings, like it might have been ransacked by burglars in the night. Actually, robbers might turn around thinking someone had already hit the place or more likely give up unable to navigate past the My Little Pony figurine land mines covering every inch of available floor space.

Now, I jest for effect, but the fact remains that the pristine state of affairs of my clean house are fleeting and never, ever last.  Did I emphasize n.e.v.e.r enough?? 

I am about to begin my 5th year of homeschooling my two daughters, 10 and almost 7.  I was a public school teacher for 10 years and loved that.  Now, my husband of 20 years and I make it work on one income. I am forever grateful for this and take my job as a mother and their educator very seriously. We have 2 feisty cats and an allergy sensitive pooch. We belong to a wonderful homeschooling co-op where I also teach. And I am happily active in service in several areas at our church. All of these require added time and dedication. And I know you are going over your own list, and yours is probably a lot longer than mine.  

So,  like all of us, I’m plenty busy before I even think about things like laundry or toilets. There never seems to be enough time to get everything done. Cleaning is seldom at the top of my list. Unless someone is coming over. Then, it moves to number one. But, in the aftermath of a successful play date,  things are right back where they were.

Ironically, if you asked my girls, they'd tell you that I am always cleaning something. And it feels like I am! If so, why isn't my house always clean? The answer is simple. Because we live there. Living creates disarray. It's only natural.

So, why did I feel like there was a finish line somewhere?  Is there ever going to be a certificate of completion? Easy answer... No.  As long as you are living, a mess will be made. I needed to get used to that.

Nature abhors a vacuum, so why was I working so hard against it every time I clean my kitchen counters and expected them to stay clear?  Why did I fight it?  Yet, as I cleaned, I got this false sense of hope. Maybe you get it too? You are cleaning your little heart out feeling good about working so hard, because in some fantasy you have it might actually stay that way for more than just a few moments.

Right? Insanity!

Welcome to my world.

Einstein said that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.

Hello!? How often do we do that?

So, I was forced to ask myself a question. Why on Earth do I even EXPECT the house to ever stay in that pristine state of clean? It never has.  I clean it over and over and it never stays that way. My expectation is what is causing my suffering over this.  Cleaning while knowing it's all going to go to hell in a hand basket as soon as I turn around causes me to attach negative feelings to the act of cleaning. So naturally, I would loathe it and avoid it. And in the end, my thinking makes it so.

When I use the word suffer, I mean this creates stress in our minds and bodies. We worry. We strive. We struggle. We complain. We want things to be other than the way they are and stress over it.  Can you imagine the damage it could do to a body to be in a stressed out state for the majority of one's day, day after day after day? Think ulcers, heart problems, pain.

Dis-ease becomes disease, therefore it is imperative that we learn to manage the stress we encounter. And we WILL encounter stress. We have already agreed on that. 

If I am ever going to gain some peace of mind in this area and stop banging my head up against my ‘washable’ (HA!!) crayon marked walls... if this something that is never going to change... if it is an absolute in my life that my kitchen sink just isn't ever going to stay empty for longer than a nanosecond and that the minute I get the toothpaste clumps scrubbed off the bathroom sink, that someone is gonna miss the mark and re-clump things.

If imperfect and yes, at times down right messy is the way it's going to be, Dr. Michael Beckwith would encourage us to ponder, what then is the characteristic or quality I need to cultivate within myself to not just endure that, but to embrace it and be happy in the thick of it?

The change needs to come from within me. Nothing outside is going to change. It is what it is. So, I can either accept it. Or I can fight it the whole way.

What needs to change in me to not let the mess stress me out? What quality do I need exercise in order to transform my experience of dreading cleaning yet again and turn it into joy?

I need to see perfection in the imperfection. Yes.

More importantly, I need to embrace the process. That is what I spend my time on... the process... the act of cleaning, maintaining our home, cooking, etc.

The process is where life is happening not in the outcome of the clean house. The outcome is momentary. As I see the imperfection and embrace the process, I can move to a place where I am at peace with the impermanence of it all.

Life is all about impermanence, change is inevitable. So the suffering comes from wanting it to be other than the way it is. Things end. Life is messy. Houses get full of glitter that reappears months after you think you've vacuumed the last of it up.  Every pony your children own will find their castle built in the middle of the busiest traffic area of your house. You clear off the kitchen table only to have your kids decide they want to do an art project there. Dogs come in with wet, muddy footprints the second you mopped the kitchen floor.  The wind blows and life goes on.

                    

It reminds me of the beautiful sand mandalas made by Buddhist monks. They create those meticulous, awe-inspiring sand paintings painstakingly over hours and hours only to blow them away when they finish. They enjoy it for a moment and then send it to the wind. They find the joy in the process. Yes, they enjoy the outcome, but realize that those joys are fleeting. They aren't attached to it.  They let it go. And begin again.  It is their practice. I find so much to be learned from them.

I can see that the process... the time I spend cleaning and taking care of my home and my family... is just as valuable as the cleanliness it produces.  Through this process, I am showing them that I care for them enough to take my time to create a loving and comfortable place for us all to live and grow.  The carpet of ponies on the floor can remind me that my children are happily playing. The pile dishes that once again fill the sink represent my desire to cook healthy, real food for my family. Every time I see a glint of glitter, it can serve as a reminder that I chose to cultivate my children's creativity instead of worry about the mess it will make.

It really is through this daily process that I am expressing my love for my family. As I do, I place grains of sand into our own mandala that we call day to day living and I lovingly help to create the intricate pattern of beauty that becomes our lives.

Wayne Dyer said, "When you change the way you look at things, the things you are looking at change." So, each of us has the power to change our perspective at any moment.  It's like doing a mental handstand or standing on a piece of furniture. It's funny how just a little change can make everything look different. The same is true with our thoughts. We don't need a 12 step program. Just one. It all begins with the way we think about it.

Since cleaning our homes IS part of most of our daily routines, we need to put into daily practice the realization that it is wiser to embrace the process itself and find our joy in the cleaning and not to attach our feelings of happiness to the clean house itself because that feeling is too fleeting and our joy would be momentary at best.

Instead be like the monks who see the benefit of the practice and the process itself.  Each grain of sand... each toy picked up, each color changed, each dish washed, each pattern mapped out, each crumb swept off the floor means something as it creates the picture, as it creates our lives.

We can enjoy it all. We will be happier if we do. Find joy in the process seeing the impermanence of it all and not attaching our happiness to the outcome. Embracing the imperfection because that's the way it is. Enjoying the process, because that's where the living happens. Wow. Way more moments of joy doing it that way, aren't there?

Come try that with me. See how much better it feels. Joy can be found in the process of the day to day. We might as well enjoy it! Right?

Because, in the end it is all dust in the wind... or sand in the mandala.

Let the wind blow!

            

Part 3 Of My Weight Loss Journey or 'Party Time Italian Style'

This is part three in a series about my weight loss journey. If you have not read parts one and two, I encourage you to do so. 

I began meditating in 2006 and enjoyed all that I was learning about myself.  I remember when I began thinking that self introspection was important I would ask my mom about things from my childhood. We would talk about things she or my dad had said to me and how that affected me even now some 30 years later.  My poor parents. They didn't like that so much.  Nor would any parent I suppose, but as I explained to my mother, I am not trying to make you feel bad. I just want to know WHY I am the way I am and I can only do that by examining the past.

 
Don't get me wrong here. My parents were and are still to this day wonderful and a hugely positive influence in my life. They are both genuine, giving and couldn't love their kids any more if they wanted to! They did make mistakes, however, not intentional mistakes; nor were they even aware that what they were saying or doing would have ill effects. I truly believe they did the best they could and honestly thought that they were helping, as did the grandfather I talked about in part 2.  

My mother, who was naturally thin, was the doting Italian mother who used to prepare special meals for me as I tried every diet under the sun. She would encourage me to exercise. She would remind me to step away from the table after I had eaten and was reaching for seconds and thirds. She would help me pick out clothes that made me look thinner too. All meant to help me. My mom didn't like seeing me miss out on things or being sad because I was different.

 My mom used to tell me, "Dina, you need to learn to eat to live, not live to eat." Yeah... ok, Mom. Although this phrase would eventually become a mantra for me,  it made NO sense to my adolescent mind.  I mean, it went totally against my upbringing. 

In my family food was the center of everything!  Someone is coming over? What are we going to serve them? Someone is getting married or having a baby? What are they going to serve us?  Every get together, every occasion was centered around FOOD! 

We are Italians, after all. Our people are known for their love of food. And it didn't help that everyone in my family is a phenomenal cook or baker.  Our entire family took food quite seriously.  I remember when my husband came to his first Christmas at my Auntie Pat's and Uncle Bob's house or was it Thanksgiving at Auntie Deb's? No matter, it's all the same. It looked like most everyone's home.  Beautiful table set, people everywhere mingling and chatting about what's new. 

And then the meal began and you were very busy for a while.  We started with salad and pasta, ravioli usually, but maybe lasagna with melt-in-your-mouth meatballs, fall-off-the-bone ribs, crusty, get-every-last-drop-of-the-gravy bread. And by the way, it's called gravy not sauce! 

Now, I know you are thinking that sounds like a meal all to itself. And it was!  But we were JUST beginning. Next came the turkey and maybe a ham too. And of course everyone brought a side dish, so the table was packed with every good thing under the sun.  And we haven't even gotten to desert which was loaded with so many goodies, we had to clear the dinner table to make room for the 'sweet table!' It was a freakin' several course- open the button on your pants or if you were smart you went with the elastic waistband- kind of meal.

I'll stop before I drive you all to your nearest Olive Garden or all-you-can-eat Italian buffet, but you can see what I mean.  And now you can understand, the food was the reason most people showed up in the first place! I had a love/hate relationship with holidays growing up.  For me, there was always a tremendous amount of stress involved with family gatherings. Oh sure, the food was delicious, but what usually ensued next was something I would undoubtedly have to endure.

Something would be said about how much I was eating and because the food was so good, I WAS eating and loving every minute of it. That was until my weight, how much I might have lost or gained since the last time we all saw each other or what a shame it was I was heavy because I had such a pretty face, became the topic of conversation.  Many times I would end up in the bathroom in tears.  But, I knew it caused others in my family pain too and that almost hurt more. I still can see the look of pain on my grandpa's face  as he looked at me sometimes.   It ached him that I wasn't thinner and thus prettier.  He wanted that so much for me. This is not the grandfather I wrote about in part two, who told me nobody likes a fat girl.  This grampa would never voice that to me directly and always accepted me the way I was, but I could see the disappointment in his ever expressive face. Again, no one was purposely hurting me. I know that now. But, time and time again we'd end up talking about my weight and I was relieved if someone else was the topic of conversation.

Food was not only a way of celebrating every holiday and victory, it was also they way we comforted ourselves or each other.  My dad and I had quite a few years where our relationship was quite strained.  In hindsight, I think my father just didn't know how to deal with me.  I was headstrong and independent and not the compliant child my older brother was.  So, my dad and I butted heads A LOT! 

But, one of the things I remember is that whenever my dad and I had a big fight, he would reach into his 'stash' of Little Debbie or Dolly Madison snack cakes he had in a special hiding place and he would place one out on the counter for me to find after he had gone to bed. It was his way of telling me he was sorry.  He left me a treat as a peace offering; as a love offering. 

My dad struggles with many of the same eating issues I do, so I know he meant well. But, it isn't hard to sit back now and see the mixed messages I got about food my whole life. Food was joy. Food was love. 
I was also expected to have willpower in the face of daily challenges that would bring anyone to their knees. My brother, the golden child, never had a weight issue. He was good looking, had lots of girlfriends and never understood what I was going through.  He would eat in front of me without apology. He has since apologized for such treatment, but at the time it was down right hard to deal with.

So, with the hidden stash calling my name, a kitchen pantry full of temptations, and my mother's excellent cooking to contend with I was expected to stick to a diet while everyone else ate what they wanted. Hence, at times, I felt very much alone and misunderstood.

So, there I was trying to examine my past without hurting my parents or blaming them for the way I turned out. I just wanted things to change.  As I read more and more books on self improvement, I began to see how I was letting my past dictate my future. I wondered why I was allowing the things that happened to me so long ago to have such control over me still. 

I got a visual of the problem one day.  It was as though I went about my life carrying around every past hurt and pain on my back in heavy packs. With each interaction, whether with a stranger or a family member, I would lay my packs down between us and expect them to see through all the baggage and yet still see me.  No one had any idea of my ‘story’ or had any idea of all I'd been through, but I'd still allow all of that baggage to come between us unwittingly.  So, truly all of the relationships I tried to foster at that time in my life had a huge hurdle to get past before anything real and lasting could occur.

One of my favorite teachers, Wayne Dyer, describes it as 'letting the wake drive the boat' which is impossible. The wake can not drive a boat.  The wake is the trail of what's left behind... of where the boat had been...  not where it is going.  So, what or who does drive the boat? The driver and the engine, of course.  You are the driver and the engine is this moment... the energy of today... our right now. That is what is driving the boat.  I needed to get out of the wake and back in the boat! I needed to take back my power to control my own life in the here and now and stop letting the wake/my past drive my boat.  This was another visual I could wrap my brain around and I got it! This was huge for me. I saw how I did this time and time again and it started to become obvious to me when I was letting this happen, so I was able to get back on track before it got too far off course. Finally, I was getting somewhere.

From that moment on, I worked at letting my past go. I mean, that's what everyone says, right? Let go and let God. I had to let it go.  I knew it was better for my health all around. I even did forgiveness exercises where I ceremoniously forgave all the people who I felt had wronged me in my life in one way or another. It is called Ho’Opono and it  is an ancient Hawaiian practice of reconciliation and forgiveness. It was wonderful and freeing! I was letting it all go. Breaking free from the past and all that baggage.

Combined with meditation, I really felt like I was getting somewhere. I felt so spiritual, so connected to God.  Until, someone would piss me off or things did not go the way I wanted.  Then, all hell would break loose and I would be back to square one.  What the heck??? I was learning so much! I felt like I was coming so far! And then, in a few moments I was reduced to a hurting, weeping, out of control child who nobody likes because I'm the fat girl!!

What?????  Not her again!!!! Come on!  It was like there was this little girl taking up residence inside me and whenever I got my feelings hurt, she would come out and have a hissy fit and then retreat to wherever she hid till the next time.  But, I am not letting the wake drive the boat anymore, so why is this happening?? I am dealing with my past and letting it go, so why do I have so little control over my feelings??  For me, the answer would come a little deeper and in a very different package, something called The Pain Body.  Cue the scary music!

cont.