Well, it is done. The last one is out of the nest and into "big" school. The first day was fraught with tears and sadness as I adjusted to the end of the "mother of preschoolers" season of life. It is still difficult to fathom that I have an entire day (at least until 2:30) to myself. But, I find it isn't taking long to settle quite nicely into this new life of solitude!
That first morning, however, as I finished fixing Lily's hair, she jumped up, turned around and proudly inquired, "Mommy, how do I look?" I had quickly control my blubbering and weakly attempted enthusiasm with my, "Great!" response. She ran into our bedroom saying with so much exuberance I thought she might just burst, "Daddy, look at me!" There she stood with her plaid, school-girl jumper and little light-yellow, peter pan collared shirt underneath, bobby socks and brown Mary Jane shoes. Her hair, with almost white high-lights from the summer sun was pulled up, away from her face with a ribbon that matched her jumper. Her glasses clean for a change, nearly sparkling from the twinkle in her eyes. Her smile as large as I have ever seen it. My baby...looked so very grown-up.
Seeing all three children dressed in their uniforms with those excited, but slightly nervous smiles on their faces brought such a mixed bag of emotions for me Tuesday morning. I was proud, excited, nervous, slightly stressed, and filled with some snippets of joy, probably the same as what they were experiencing. At this exact moment in time as I type this, I can say what a blessing raising my children has been.
We spent the week before school started at the beach with two other families. There were a total of 8 children ranging in age from 2 to 11. Chaotic at times, yet full of hilarity and relaxation. Observing all the children's behavior and the typical behavior that comes with their varying ages, I realized not only how much my children have grown and adjusted, but just how far I have come in this child rearing journey. I also caught some glimpses of what life can be like as my children grow and mature and this brought some positive anticipation.
Here are some highlights from the first week of school:
Lily:
She was extremely excited on her first day. After several weeks of asking, "How many more days until school?" she was finally able to get on her uniform, pick up her new pink, monogrammed messenger bag and Tinkerbell lunchbox and start kindergarten. Jay and I walked each of the kids to their classrooms, with Lily being last. She went right into the class and found her seat. As I bent down to give her a kiss she told me, "Ok, you can go now." Little Miss Independent! When I picked her up, I learned that she had had a good day, but was not quiet at lunch so did not get a piece of candy. However, they did get doughnuts for a snack that afternoon and for the most part, she did well. She seemed to thoroughly enjoy it.
The next day, Lily became a bit cantankerous when I insisted on walking her in again instead of dropping her off at the sidewalk. At the same time, however, she requested to stay with me instead of going to school. So, a mixed bag of emotions. She has become quite the planner, declaring her desire to alternate which shoes she wears each day, alternating how she wants her hair done and alternating what uniform combinations she wears. She has never verbalized such plans before school started.
On her third day, she received a green smiley face on her thumb, but did not get candy because she 1) hoarded all the blocks put at her table because she wanted to build something big and became a bit difficult when she had to share 2) Mixed play-do colors together (oh, the horror) and 3) Had a bit of a hard time settling down during their 15 minutes of rest. When I "confronted" her with her transgressions in the car, she broke down crying and asked me, "Are you disappointed with me? Mommy, I am so sorry." It was quite pitiful. But, I assured her that I was not disappointed, all was forgiven and that tomorrow would be a new day when she could try just a bit harder. She is definitely fluctuating between wanting to be at school, being completely exhausted, wanting to stay home with me, wanting my help and wanting to do it all herself. It is a bit tiring for me!
Sadie:
This year brings a new teacher for Sadie after having the same teacher for both kindergarten and first. The adjustment is a bit difficult for her. In the car ride to school this morning, she indicated that having a new teacher was hard and that she wishes she was still with Mrs. Newell. On the other hand, she was thrilled that her most of her closest friends are in her class. 2nd grade brings a lot of change at our school - much more responsibility and more work. She is struggling with controlling her talking. Wonder where she gets that from? Yesterday, she changed her light to yellow after being warned two times. I support the teacher in her efforts to clamp down this early in the year. Sadie, in her usual fashion, tried to blame the problem on others who were talking to her, and yet, again, I turned her right back to one responsible for choosing to open Sadie's mouth. At this point, I don't have a clear sense of how this year will be for Sadie.
Ethan:
Thrilled. Just over the moon. He is in love with his teacher this year. It is a male teacher and he knows just how to reach those boys. He knows exactly what to say to them to touch their hearts. I truly believe this will be Ethan's year to blossom. The teacher actually got on the playground and played kickball with them, talked to Ethan about his favorite band, Skillet, and told the kids that if they are misbehaving, he will talk to them individually, but will not embarrass them in front of the class. Three major points for Mr. B in Ethan's eyes! Every day, Ethan has come home with something exciting that has happened, something that has gotten him jazzed up. I just LOVE it!
Outside school the kids will be involved in a few activities. However, I hope the schedule will actually provide forced study time and one-on-one time with each of the kids and their school work while we wait for the others in their respective commitments. Interestingly, Sadie was not interested in doing scouts as in last year or piano. As she stated this summer, "All I want to do is swim." Here is how our schedule plans out this fall:
Monday - Ethan has guitar lessons and then Sadie and Ethan go to swim practice
Tuesday - Ethan has scouts
Wednesday - Ethan has Bel Canto (the school choir), Lily has piano lessons (at the school as well) and then Sadie and Ethan have swim practice.
I tried to squeeze everything in so that we only have two days of running around, enabling us to be home by 5:20 on Monday and Wednesdays. Wednesdays are no-homework days for us (the beauty of going to a Baptist school) so that will be helpful. I think it is a doable schedule. I just wish I could arrange for swimming for Lily on Mondays while the others are at their swim practice.
Now, as for me...Along with my usual household duties, cleaning out and organizing the house as well as working on several (read a mile long list) home projects are my first order of business. I will schedule some focused writing time, sign-up for a Thursday morning bible study and will probably spend at least a couple of mornings in the office helping Jay with some minor details. That sounds like enough for now.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Friday, August 07, 2009
Blessed Assurance
What must it be like to lose the person you have lived with, loved with for 67 years? They are here, you are with them, holding their hand and then, they are gone. Sixty-seven years together, sharing it all and now...alone.
This is where I find my grandmother. Alone, in her house for the first time in my lifetime. Due to my grandfather's deteriorating condition over the last 11 years, but specifically the last 3 years, she has barely lived in that house. It must also be a bit strange to her to wake there and not hurry to him.
Over the last 8 months, she never left his side whether in the assisted-living center, the hospital and at his final stop, the Hospice Home. She toiled over him, catering to his every need, cleaning and trimming his beard, feeding him his every meal until he could no longer eat. Now, she is at home, in quiet and solitude, trying to figure out how to start living again.
My heart hurts for her. She is a strong woman, but her heart is shattered. I know how much I miss him and I know it can't compare. The day after his death she asked me through her tears, "Why did he have to leave me here? Why couldn't I have gone with him?"
I took the girls to her house this evening to eat dinner. She is over run with the generosity of friends who have brought her food and it has given me an excuse to hang out in a house with so many of my own warm memories. Not that I need an excuse to come to her house, but I wouldn't want her to feel the need to prepare anything for me.
It was standing in her kitchen that she spoke the words to me that I know now had been brewing in her mind for several days. In almost a whisper, she said to me with the rims of her eyes filling with tears, "I don't know for sure if he is in heaven." I waited to hear more. She continued, "While he was dying, I told him, you are going on a journey to see Jesus, but I never talked to him about it. We never spoke about it, Kelsey. I just don't know." My own sadness for her nearly tore me down.
I imagine it was partly their generation and partly the uniqueness of their relationship that prevented the discussion of this "deep issue." Despite what was clearly the love of a lifetime, full of laughter, fun, devotion and affection, my grandmother could not recall hearing my grandfather speak of his love for our Savior. My grandfather was a member of their church, he was a leader, an usher, and yet, she never talked about Jesus with him. Not growing up in the church, there were zero conversations with my father about religion, let alone Jesus, until after I became a believer. I know many relationships in my own circles that are the same. It is easier to talk to a stranger whom you might never see again than your own family members and closest friends. I think that even though you have this person with whom you share everything, sometimes it still seems too personal.
Back in the kitchen, I pulled my grandmother to me, putting my hands on her shoulders. I remembered why I was so sure that he was in heaven. My precious, dear sister, years before she became ill and before my grandfather's mind no longer functioned in our world, had had a conversation with him. When Ansley became a believer, she was immediately on fire for Him. She spoke to every one she held dear about Him and praise the Lord for that. She had talked to my grandfather about his faith and he told her that yes, he believed in our Savior and what He had done for him.
As I retold this conversation to her, her crying became heavier and a bit louder, and yet, it became the sound of joyous relief. The burden of the past several days was lifted and there was that blessed assurance.
It is strange to be in a place of ministering to someone so much older and wiser that yourself. She has been the teacher and I have been her student our entire lives and now because of life circumstances our roles seem to be reversed. Is this just another reason I had to lose Ansley? So, I could guide my own grandmother through her own grieving process?
Sometimes I wonder if I say too much. Is it better to not know what is around the bend when "around the bend" is not all rosy and pretty? I think she thought that with the assurance of knowing where my grandfather is now that the hole left her in heart would heal. I had to tell her that that hole would always be there - maybe not as painful or large, its edges no longer sharp and jagged, but it would always be there. She would always miss him. The words slipped quickly from my mouth and I worried that it might cause her more sadness. But, they were out and I couldn't shove them back in.
I try to keep my grandmother focused on the future and all the things we can do together. She desires to know her great-grandchildren. She talks about building her strength so she can get rid of her cane. She speaks of trip to the beach, or "to the coast" as she calls it. We talk of cleaning out the house, taking the girls for tea, redecorating her living room. "All in time," We say to each other.
The irony of feeling like you have all the time in the world does not escape me when I have just lost someone dear to me. The reality is that we don't have all the time in the world. We will all die. It is that fact, along with this conversation with my grandmother that has stirred me to throw open the doors to conversations about Him. It is time to have those difficult, deep and possibly "too personal" conversations with some of my closest and share the blessed assurance that is mine.
This is where I find my grandmother. Alone, in her house for the first time in my lifetime. Due to my grandfather's deteriorating condition over the last 11 years, but specifically the last 3 years, she has barely lived in that house. It must also be a bit strange to her to wake there and not hurry to him.
Over the last 8 months, she never left his side whether in the assisted-living center, the hospital and at his final stop, the Hospice Home. She toiled over him, catering to his every need, cleaning and trimming his beard, feeding him his every meal until he could no longer eat. Now, she is at home, in quiet and solitude, trying to figure out how to start living again.
My heart hurts for her. She is a strong woman, but her heart is shattered. I know how much I miss him and I know it can't compare. The day after his death she asked me through her tears, "Why did he have to leave me here? Why couldn't I have gone with him?"
I took the girls to her house this evening to eat dinner. She is over run with the generosity of friends who have brought her food and it has given me an excuse to hang out in a house with so many of my own warm memories. Not that I need an excuse to come to her house, but I wouldn't want her to feel the need to prepare anything for me.
It was standing in her kitchen that she spoke the words to me that I know now had been brewing in her mind for several days. In almost a whisper, she said to me with the rims of her eyes filling with tears, "I don't know for sure if he is in heaven." I waited to hear more. She continued, "While he was dying, I told him, you are going on a journey to see Jesus, but I never talked to him about it. We never spoke about it, Kelsey. I just don't know." My own sadness for her nearly tore me down.
I imagine it was partly their generation and partly the uniqueness of their relationship that prevented the discussion of this "deep issue." Despite what was clearly the love of a lifetime, full of laughter, fun, devotion and affection, my grandmother could not recall hearing my grandfather speak of his love for our Savior. My grandfather was a member of their church, he was a leader, an usher, and yet, she never talked about Jesus with him. Not growing up in the church, there were zero conversations with my father about religion, let alone Jesus, until after I became a believer. I know many relationships in my own circles that are the same. It is easier to talk to a stranger whom you might never see again than your own family members and closest friends. I think that even though you have this person with whom you share everything, sometimes it still seems too personal.
Back in the kitchen, I pulled my grandmother to me, putting my hands on her shoulders. I remembered why I was so sure that he was in heaven. My precious, dear sister, years before she became ill and before my grandfather's mind no longer functioned in our world, had had a conversation with him. When Ansley became a believer, she was immediately on fire for Him. She spoke to every one she held dear about Him and praise the Lord for that. She had talked to my grandfather about his faith and he told her that yes, he believed in our Savior and what He had done for him.
As I retold this conversation to her, her crying became heavier and a bit louder, and yet, it became the sound of joyous relief. The burden of the past several days was lifted and there was that blessed assurance.
It is strange to be in a place of ministering to someone so much older and wiser that yourself. She has been the teacher and I have been her student our entire lives and now because of life circumstances our roles seem to be reversed. Is this just another reason I had to lose Ansley? So, I could guide my own grandmother through her own grieving process?
Sometimes I wonder if I say too much. Is it better to not know what is around the bend when "around the bend" is not all rosy and pretty? I think she thought that with the assurance of knowing where my grandfather is now that the hole left her in heart would heal. I had to tell her that that hole would always be there - maybe not as painful or large, its edges no longer sharp and jagged, but it would always be there. She would always miss him. The words slipped quickly from my mouth and I worried that it might cause her more sadness. But, they were out and I couldn't shove them back in.
I try to keep my grandmother focused on the future and all the things we can do together. She desires to know her great-grandchildren. She talks about building her strength so she can get rid of her cane. She speaks of trip to the beach, or "to the coast" as she calls it. We talk of cleaning out the house, taking the girls for tea, redecorating her living room. "All in time," We say to each other.
The irony of feeling like you have all the time in the world does not escape me when I have just lost someone dear to me. The reality is that we don't have all the time in the world. We will all die. It is that fact, along with this conversation with my grandmother that has stirred me to throw open the doors to conversations about Him. It is time to have those difficult, deep and possibly "too personal" conversations with some of my closest and share the blessed assurance that is mine.
Tuesday, August 04, 2009
Paw
My grandfather...
Harold "Chip" Ashford Aulbert of Jamestown, passed away on August 2, 2009 at Hospice Place of High Point after an 11-year journey with Alzheimer's.
Chip was born on November 30, 1921 in High Point, NC to Frank and Sudie Aulbert.
Chip attended High Point High School. When Chip was in the 10th grade, he began to work at Thomas Built Bus. Though never formally educated, he worked his way through various departments of the company, retiring as the Plant Engineer after 48 years of service. His tenure at Thomas Built Bus included a stint as the plant manager at their Woodstock, Ontario, Canada location.
When he was 21 years old. Chip and his friends met up with some girls from way over in Thomasville. He took one look at one of those girls, Reba Jean Thomas, and announced she would be coming with him. On Easter Sunday of 1942, the two held hands while they drove to Chesterfield, SC to marry. Sixty-seven years later, they were still holding hands, Reba tending to his every need until his passing.
Chip and Reba were blessed with a son, Van Aulbert in 1943 and a daughter, Sue Aulbert Snipes, 11 years later. They have been members of Oak Hill Friends Meeting for over 55 years. During those years, Chip served as a youth fellowship leader and usher.
There was never a time when laughter was not a part of Chip's life. He was the consummate prankster and joke teller in the family. He would go to great lengths to bring humor to those around him, including taping himself performing and singing for the family when no one else was at home. No one will ever forget his beloved hit song, "Pine Tree."
He was a kid at heart, evidenced by the fact that the neighborhood kids would knock on his door when he was 65 to come sledding with them. He was known to clear the neighborhood lot for the children to play basketball and spend hours in the ocean with his grandchildren.
He had two hole-in-ones on Jamestown Golf Course where he was a long-time member of the Men's Golf Association. That was also the location where he released a multitude of squirrels that he fanatically caught due to their nesting and chewing on his house.
He loved the beach, the outdoors and had the world's largest sweet tooth. He was a traveler, a fisherman, a car aficionado, an inventor and builder, a self-made man who worked hard, but enjoyed life. He was the first one you called when you needed help because there was never a doubt he would be there. He left a place in everyone's heart who knew him. He often thanked his family for his wonderful life not realizing how much a part he played in that for them.
Chip is survived by the love of his life and wife of 67 years, Reba Jean Thomas Aulbert, son Van Aulbert and wife Terry, daughter Sue Aulbert Snipes and husband Danny, granddaughter Kelsey Aulbert Dumoulin and husband Jay, step-granddaughter Sarah Pruitt Byrd and husband Jon, grandson-in-law Todd Wolffis, great-grandchildren Colby and Graylyn Wolffis and Ethan, Sadie and Lily Dumoulin. He was preceded in death by his parents, Frank & Sudie Aulbert, brothers F.A. and Clarence, sister, Iris Riley and granddaughter, Ansley Aulbert Wolffis.
Harold "Chip" Ashford Aulbert of Jamestown, passed away on August 2, 2009 at Hospice Place of High Point after an 11-year journey with Alzheimer's.
Chip was born on November 30, 1921 in High Point, NC to Frank and Sudie Aulbert.
Chip attended High Point High School. When Chip was in the 10th grade, he began to work at Thomas Built Bus. Though never formally educated, he worked his way through various departments of the company, retiring as the Plant Engineer after 48 years of service. His tenure at Thomas Built Bus included a stint as the plant manager at their Woodstock, Ontario, Canada location.
When he was 21 years old. Chip and his friends met up with some girls from way over in Thomasville. He took one look at one of those girls, Reba Jean Thomas, and announced she would be coming with him. On Easter Sunday of 1942, the two held hands while they drove to Chesterfield, SC to marry. Sixty-seven years later, they were still holding hands, Reba tending to his every need until his passing.
Chip and Reba were blessed with a son, Van Aulbert in 1943 and a daughter, Sue Aulbert Snipes, 11 years later. They have been members of Oak Hill Friends Meeting for over 55 years. During those years, Chip served as a youth fellowship leader and usher.
There was never a time when laughter was not a part of Chip's life. He was the consummate prankster and joke teller in the family. He would go to great lengths to bring humor to those around him, including taping himself performing and singing for the family when no one else was at home. No one will ever forget his beloved hit song, "Pine Tree."
He was a kid at heart, evidenced by the fact that the neighborhood kids would knock on his door when he was 65 to come sledding with them. He was known to clear the neighborhood lot for the children to play basketball and spend hours in the ocean with his grandchildren.
He had two hole-in-ones on Jamestown Golf Course where he was a long-time member of the Men's Golf Association. That was also the location where he released a multitude of squirrels that he fanatically caught due to their nesting and chewing on his house.
He loved the beach, the outdoors and had the world's largest sweet tooth. He was a traveler, a fisherman, a car aficionado, an inventor and builder, a self-made man who worked hard, but enjoyed life. He was the first one you called when you needed help because there was never a doubt he would be there. He left a place in everyone's heart who knew him. He often thanked his family for his wonderful life not realizing how much a part he played in that for them.
Chip is survived by the love of his life and wife of 67 years, Reba Jean Thomas Aulbert, son Van Aulbert and wife Terry, daughter Sue Aulbert Snipes and husband Danny, granddaughter Kelsey Aulbert Dumoulin and husband Jay, step-granddaughter Sarah Pruitt Byrd and husband Jon, grandson-in-law Todd Wolffis, great-grandchildren Colby and Graylyn Wolffis and Ethan, Sadie and Lily Dumoulin. He was preceded in death by his parents, Frank & Sudie Aulbert, brothers F.A. and Clarence, sister, Iris Riley and granddaughter, Ansley Aulbert Wolffis.
Monday, August 03, 2009
My frustration
What is my frustration? A life that is not giving me time to write. I am losing ideas, concepts, a way to work through emotions, the ability to document my life. Hang in there. School begins in two weeks.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Random conversations with my children:
Ethan and I were snuggling in one of the office chairs and I noticed a picture of Jay sitting on one of the bookshelves. It was a photo taken about the same age as Ethan is now and I asked Ethan to get it for me. I thought it would be interesting to hold it up to Ethan to compare. As Ethan picked up the photo, he commented about it. "Wow, looks like a kid who farts a lot." Cracked me up.
Lily announced to me at our afternoon tea at a local hotel, "Mommy, I want to be a boy dog."
Me: Why?
Lily: So that I can marry Dixie and have babies.
Me: Ok. (at least she understands some very basic, albeit slightly off, concepts.
We were at the pool last week where Ethan ate a corn dog. He laid the tray and remaining stick on the ground and continued to talk to me. After a while he got up to get back into the pool. I said, "Ethan," and pointed the tray and stick still sitting on the ground, indicating he needed to dispose of it in the trash. His quick and witty response, "Oh, I know, you want to lick the stick, right?"
Sadie went with me to visit my grandfather at the Hospice home. She was very brave and strong in what was a difficult visit. After while, it was time for the nurses to clean him up and rotate him in the bed. We decided to step out and let them do their job. We ventured into the kid's area where there were some toys and coloring supplies. Sadie decided she would like to color and asked me to join her. She said, "I am a little tired of being a grown-up. I think I just want to color for a bit."
One day last week, Sadie found three turtles around our house. She came to announce her discovery and I decided to check them out. I noticed from a distance that their shells seemed awfully shiny. Upon closer inspection, I saw that they had clear scotch tape covering their shells. Of course, the natural question was, "Why, Sadie, why?" Her response, "I need to repair some of the cracks and protect them." I don't know what that will do to the turtles, but she did do a nice job of covering the shells and trimming the tape around the edges.
Ethan and I were snuggling in one of the office chairs and I noticed a picture of Jay sitting on one of the bookshelves. It was a photo taken about the same age as Ethan is now and I asked Ethan to get it for me. I thought it would be interesting to hold it up to Ethan to compare. As Ethan picked up the photo, he commented about it. "Wow, looks like a kid who farts a lot." Cracked me up.
Lily announced to me at our afternoon tea at a local hotel, "Mommy, I want to be a boy dog."
Me: Why?
Lily: So that I can marry Dixie and have babies.
Me: Ok. (at least she understands some very basic, albeit slightly off, concepts.
We were at the pool last week where Ethan ate a corn dog. He laid the tray and remaining stick on the ground and continued to talk to me. After a while he got up to get back into the pool. I said, "Ethan," and pointed the tray and stick still sitting on the ground, indicating he needed to dispose of it in the trash. His quick and witty response, "Oh, I know, you want to lick the stick, right?"
Sadie went with me to visit my grandfather at the Hospice home. She was very brave and strong in what was a difficult visit. After while, it was time for the nurses to clean him up and rotate him in the bed. We decided to step out and let them do their job. We ventured into the kid's area where there were some toys and coloring supplies. Sadie decided she would like to color and asked me to join her. She said, "I am a little tired of being a grown-up. I think I just want to color for a bit."
One day last week, Sadie found three turtles around our house. She came to announce her discovery and I decided to check them out. I noticed from a distance that their shells seemed awfully shiny. Upon closer inspection, I saw that they had clear scotch tape covering their shells. Of course, the natural question was, "Why, Sadie, why?" Her response, "I need to repair some of the cracks and protect them." I don't know what that will do to the turtles, but she did do a nice job of covering the shells and trimming the tape around the edges.
Monday, July 13, 2009
The Numbers Game, part 2
Roller coaster weight. That has been my life. Maybe the numbers don't fluctuate as much as my anxiety over them. I can map out my entire life by numbers on a scale. Every major event, every major day, I can tell you exactly what I weighed. I could probably list to you every comment ever made to me regarding my weight. Well, certainly I could do that with the negative ones.
I thought this was a normal pattern for all women until I spoke honestly with a friend. She said I might have a problem, because no, she really had no idea what she weighed at various points in her life. Therefore, my newly discovered number obsession has been swirling around in my brain lately. What is my fixation on these number? Why have I allowed them to linger and taint the most important memories I have? The battle of the scale.
Sure, I could lie and say it was really a matter of my health. I desired to be "healthy." Nope. I can blame it on society and its ridiculous images of emaciation and perfection. Sure, that played a part. But if I am going to be completely honest, I allowed it to dictate my perception of self. It is how I chose to filter what the world said, what my peers said and most importantly what that blasted scale said. I allowed that bathroom appliance to dictate to me whether I felt good about who was. I allowed a set of numbers to determine whether my memories are positive or negative at any point in time. I allowed the numbers to control me.
I believe that if you bring strongholds into the light, they just don't have the strength they had before. I want to let go of the need to "step up on the scale" every morning. And, so, for exposing myself to the world...here is my life's weight map, and all of its absurd, skewed, mentally warped perceptions:
Age.weight
9.75 Sales lady at the old Tobias clothing store told me that if I didn't watch what I ate, I would have to start shopping in the "pretty plus" department. I was in 5th grade. She should have been fired.
14.110 High school football game. A guy physically picked me up and stated oh, you must be 110 pounds. He was correct, but I was NOT going to admit to what I considered to be a heavy weight. I lied and said, no, and looked shocked.
17.118 High school graduation, beginning of college. Very insecure and described myself as "chunky." Never walked around in a bathing suit, covering myself the minute I stood up from a chair.
19.128 Sophomore year of college. A dorm mate told my friends she was "worried about my health." Went of ridiculous crash diets including the rice diet and the cabbage diet. None were successful. Roommate was bulimic with some serious image issues and I was constantly exposed to her fears and choices.
21.123 College graduation. Heading out to the Netherlands to work. Wishing I had dieted and lost some weight.
22.132 Returned from the Netherlands and although very in shape from all that biking, realized that I was heavier than when I left. A comment made to me after I returned revolved around the "fullness" of my face. It was devastating to me.
26.140 Wedding. Absolutely hated myself for not dieting, not losing weight and being my "best" for my wedding. At the same time decided that enough was enough. I would just have to enjoy this day.
27.146 Weight at first pregnancy appointment with my doctor who informed me that I was already borderline for my weight and I would need to be a little careful about what I ate. I gained 40 pounds during this pregnancy.
29. 198 At birth of second child. Serious weight gain. Painful days prior to delivery as a body that is 5'2" tall is not meant to carry nearly 200 pounds. Yes, 200 pounds.
31.120 Determined to get it off, LA Weightloss brought me back to my high school weight. I ran a 5k. Instead of anxiety and stress about being heavy, I was panicky about gaining the weight back. I discovered that I was pregnant with my third child. I was depressed as I saw all my hard work go down the drain. But, I didn't gain as much during this pregnancy and with Ansley's cancer diagnosis, it was easier to lose the baby weight.
35.113 Ansley's death. Very thin. Many people thought I had "lost too much weight." It was the only thing I could control in the months prior to her death. I just didn't eat often. It was the only thing I felt good about. Over the next three months, I packed on 10 pounds of solid chocolate binging weight.
37.120 Today. Where I am. Always in the back of my mind is the fear that I will begin to gain weight uncontrollably. When the rest of my life is spinning out of control, this is the one area I grasp to control. It seems I am always thinking...I am always happiest when I am just 3 pounds lighter.
There is a lifetime of number addiction here. Mostly it is spurred on by that square, glass digital scale on my bathroom floor. And like an addict, I will need to purge my surroundings of its existence and its temptations. Goodbye daily number check. Goodbye.
I thought this was a normal pattern for all women until I spoke honestly with a friend. She said I might have a problem, because no, she really had no idea what she weighed at various points in her life. Therefore, my newly discovered number obsession has been swirling around in my brain lately. What is my fixation on these number? Why have I allowed them to linger and taint the most important memories I have? The battle of the scale.
Sure, I could lie and say it was really a matter of my health. I desired to be "healthy." Nope. I can blame it on society and its ridiculous images of emaciation and perfection. Sure, that played a part. But if I am going to be completely honest, I allowed it to dictate my perception of self. It is how I chose to filter what the world said, what my peers said and most importantly what that blasted scale said. I allowed that bathroom appliance to dictate to me whether I felt good about who was. I allowed a set of numbers to determine whether my memories are positive or negative at any point in time. I allowed the numbers to control me.
I believe that if you bring strongholds into the light, they just don't have the strength they had before. I want to let go of the need to "step up on the scale" every morning. And, so, for exposing myself to the world...here is my life's weight map, and all of its absurd, skewed, mentally warped perceptions:
Age.weight
9.75 Sales lady at the old Tobias clothing store told me that if I didn't watch what I ate, I would have to start shopping in the "pretty plus" department. I was in 5th grade. She should have been fired.
14.110 High school football game. A guy physically picked me up and stated oh, you must be 110 pounds. He was correct, but I was NOT going to admit to what I considered to be a heavy weight. I lied and said, no, and looked shocked.
17.118 High school graduation, beginning of college. Very insecure and described myself as "chunky." Never walked around in a bathing suit, covering myself the minute I stood up from a chair.
19.128 Sophomore year of college. A dorm mate told my friends she was "worried about my health." Went of ridiculous crash diets including the rice diet and the cabbage diet. None were successful. Roommate was bulimic with some serious image issues and I was constantly exposed to her fears and choices.
21.123 College graduation. Heading out to the Netherlands to work. Wishing I had dieted and lost some weight.
22.132 Returned from the Netherlands and although very in shape from all that biking, realized that I was heavier than when I left. A comment made to me after I returned revolved around the "fullness" of my face. It was devastating to me.
26.140 Wedding. Absolutely hated myself for not dieting, not losing weight and being my "best" for my wedding. At the same time decided that enough was enough. I would just have to enjoy this day.
27.146 Weight at first pregnancy appointment with my doctor who informed me that I was already borderline for my weight and I would need to be a little careful about what I ate. I gained 40 pounds during this pregnancy.
29. 198 At birth of second child. Serious weight gain. Painful days prior to delivery as a body that is 5'2" tall is not meant to carry nearly 200 pounds. Yes, 200 pounds.
31.120 Determined to get it off, LA Weightloss brought me back to my high school weight. I ran a 5k. Instead of anxiety and stress about being heavy, I was panicky about gaining the weight back. I discovered that I was pregnant with my third child. I was depressed as I saw all my hard work go down the drain. But, I didn't gain as much during this pregnancy and with Ansley's cancer diagnosis, it was easier to lose the baby weight.
35.113 Ansley's death. Very thin. Many people thought I had "lost too much weight." It was the only thing I could control in the months prior to her death. I just didn't eat often. It was the only thing I felt good about. Over the next three months, I packed on 10 pounds of solid chocolate binging weight.
37.120 Today. Where I am. Always in the back of my mind is the fear that I will begin to gain weight uncontrollably. When the rest of my life is spinning out of control, this is the one area I grasp to control. It seems I am always thinking...I am always happiest when I am just 3 pounds lighter.
There is a lifetime of number addiction here. Mostly it is spurred on by that square, glass digital scale on my bathroom floor. And like an addict, I will need to purge my surroundings of its existence and its temptations. Goodbye daily number check. Goodbye.
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