The “holidays”…are they really worth it?

A few words come to my mind when you start talking about the holidays.

stress, loneliness, dysfunction, depression, travel, anxiety, hustle and bustle

The holidays for me are hard because I no longer have either parent around to celebrate with.  Both have died and been gone quite a while but it still hurts.  I have a sister but she doesn’t try to even meet me to celebrate the holidays.  I’ve asked her and her husband to come to our house for Christmas or Thanksgiving and she always has other plans.  I offered to meet her halfway on a different day just to get together and enjoy each other and she just can’t find time for me.

We always spend the holidays with my hubby’s parents.  He’s an only child and his parents are getting up in years.  I love them but there is a whole heap of dysfunction in that little family.  We’ll spend the whole time on eggshells trying not to upset his mother who is very opinionated and we’ll be yelling at his father all the time because he refuses to get a hearing aid.

On the other hand, there are some other words that come to mind when I think of the “holidays”:

holiday movies, holiday music, beautiful decorations, gifts, great food, great drink, friends, parties, party clothes, laughter, shopping, time off work, snow (sometimes), cold weather, tree lightings, festivities all around town, hubby loves the holidays, holiday plays and shows

Hmmmm….maybe it is worth it.

~sas

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Never Felt Thinner….

… never been fatter. 

This is ironic to those who are wrapped up in a thin-obsessed, dieting mindset, but I have little doubt that this is a reality many of us have realized who have ventured along the road less travelled – body acceptance and self-love. 

It was no difficulty to accept that my latest anti-dep (that I started last November) isn’t helping me take the weight I gained on Prozac.  I suspect it is keeping me at a size larger than I would be without antidepressants.  Thankfully, happiness and health is more important to me than image, so the fat bit isn’t bothering me… and I went clothes shopping.  I was able to shop at Lane Bryant, meaning that I have out-grown my in-betweenie status that made it hard to find clothes in conventional or plus sizes.  I was just happy that there was clothes out there that fit me.   

I am going to abstain from giving my jean size, because I know there are those out there who are still so triggered by such things and comparisons just aren’t helpful anyway.  What I will say is that I, personally, have never been fatter.  Nor, have I ever been happier, felt so healthy or even felt this “thin” before.  Now, in eating disorder treatment, I learned that fat is not a feeling… hence, neither is thin a feeling.  But, living in this culture that not only things fat/thin are feelings, but also states of morality (or immorality), I cannot help but fall into these descriptions at times.  In this case, I find it is actually useful for the sake of analysis. 

What does thin even feel like?  Well… when I ask myself where the automatic thought of “I’ve never felt thinner” came from, immediately a feeling of health and strength comes to mind.  I have energy I have never had before.  I think more clearly than ever.  My body seems to strong and reliable.  I have fewer health complaints than I can remember since I was a pre-teen and all my depression/stress/PTSD-related illnesses started popping up. 

And yet… fatter than ever.    In fact, obese.  Take that, fat-fearers!

I have been thin before and it never felt this good.  I don’t know if my body can even do thin without some serious eating-disordered behaviors in place (which was the case before).  In my experience, thin does not equate to health *for me.*  Oh yes, there are naturally thin women out there who are healthy as the thin women they are – I am simply not one of them.  I am a part of glorious human diversity, whether Self or Cosmo magazines agree with me or not.  I am after more than just image here… I am after real health and happiness whatever that means, even if it means being fat. 

While I haven’t been posting much (I”ve been focusing a lot on the realization that my mother has a lot of Narcissistic traits, if not full-blown NPD, and figuring out where to go from here with my new knowledge…), I have been reading here and there on the acceptance blogs.  I have read how certain polls seem to show that many people don’t believe it is even possible to be fat and happy, thus equating happiness with thinness.  How very sad.  Thinness is just thinness – nothing more.  It isn’t success or happiness incarnate.  It is a state of the body… just as fat is.

Today, I celebrate feeling happier and healthier than ever and marvel at another every day miracle that seems to happen all the time for me now… being able to realize that, yes, I’m still obese, so I might as well go buy bigger clothes to accommodate my body as it is and that isn’t a problem.  In fact, it is an act of healthy self-love and self-care.  Yay me! 

And, no, fat/thin isn’t a feeling.  Neither is thin.  I challenge the automatic thoughts, even as I analyze them to deconstruct common ways of thinking about our bodies in Western culture. 

Soon, I’ll be going for a medical check-up that is long-overdue.  I think I am ready to take on a fat-hating doctor, if that is what I end up with.  I find myself laughing out-loud (and good-naturedly) at people speaking the language of the diet obsessed in the cafe where I work.  My customers seem to enjoy my comments about food being fuel with no moral value and how labelling things as “bad” and “forbidden” can often fuel obsession and binging.  I have never felt healthier, but I have also never felt more secure within my own body acceptance and acceptance of intuitive eating.  Bring it on, docs… maybe I can teach you a thing or two… if you’ll let me.

–AngryGrayRainbows

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So much going on that my head spins

There has been so much going on with me and I’ve just been so emotionally “touchy” lately.  It’s as if I’m wearing all my emotions on the outside of my body and I feel so vulnerable. 

One of the things that has been going on with me lately has been that I caught part of public television special with Wayne Dyer and it really hit a nerve with me. The show was actually to sell his new book, “Excuses Be Gone” and I only caught the last few minutes of it. It was enough to make an impact on me. I finished watching the show and promptly ordered that particular book and read it as soon as I got it in the mail.

Now, I’ve got to backtrack and tell you some about my upbringing so you’ll understand how monumental just ordering that book was for me. You see, I was raised very strictly by two very “Christian” parents who thought Buddhism, self-awareness, ANYTHING they didn’t understand was BAD and was not to be read, believed and especially not lived! Those who know me know that I’ve struggled for YEARS, literally DECADES with my religious upbringing. I have lived every minute for God, but then I have rebelled against God and I have doubted his existence. All of this is total sacrilege to my family. Anything that has YOU, in general, as the center, is selfish and un-Godly in their eyes. This was how I was raised. My mother-in-law even told me one time that she believed chanting and meditation were evil because you were supposed to “empty your mind” and if you do that, you’re just inviting the devil to come in.

So….ordering a book by Wayne Dyer who speaks of Buddhist teachings and different teachers he’s had along the way, but who also references God a lot, was a huge step for me.

I devoured that book!!! Now I have to admit that some of the references to Buddhism and Tao and stuff like that went over my head but I’m willing to learn and research. I’m not willing to just discard that particular theory because I don’t know about it.

So that’s one of the things that’s been going on with me. I feel somewhat enlightened for having purchased the book at all and then to read it without prejudging it. It felt good to go into it with an open mind.

Another thing that’s been going on with me has been as a result of one of the chapters in that book. I can’t quote it word for word because I don’t have it with me but the chapter is regarding living in the present and letting go of the past. I don’t know why this resonated so much for me when he spoke about it but it did. I’ve tried for so long to let go of the past and I just have held on to it forever. I refused to let go of the memories of abuse, abandonment and neglect that I suffered as a child. I relived those memories daily just to validate my feelings of unworthiness and to keep me from moving forward.

I now TRY wake up every morning and feel grateful that I have another day to live and I tell myself I only have NOW. I can’t change the past and I can’t worry about tomorrow – or even an hour from now. I can’t take away the harsh words spoken, the locking in the bathroom, the neglect or hurts from the past but I can move on. I don’t have to dwell on the past any longer.

The other thing that has been weighing very heavy on my mind and emotions lately will seem like a contradiction to the above paragraphs.

My husband’s aunt has suffered a stroke and a heart attack in three weeks time. She is in the hospital now and they are doing a heart cath today. If they find blockage, which I’m sure they will, they will immediately implant a stint to help with blood flow. My mother died 6 years ago yesterday. I saw “Aunt I” on Saturday and she looked frail and pitiful like my mother did in her last days. She kept saying, “I’m tired. I’m ready to go.”

Memories of my mother dying have flooded back into my memory. I barely slept at all last night just remembering all the pain and suffering my mom endured. I want to move past this but nothing will ever help me move past watching my mother struggle to breathe and then to gasp her last breath in front of me. Nothing will ever take away the feeling I had at the time of wishing I could trade places with her…that I could die for her. I feel great sadness right now.

The last thing I’ll touch on is the fact that this is my husband’s mom’s sister that is in the hospital an hour away from us. They have come two different times for her to see her sister and have stayed 4 – 5 days both times. I know this is not the time to be bitter about them staying with us but it’s how I feel. I know this is temporary (or I think it is anyway) but there are so many dynamics associated with them staying with us. It’s just not been a pleasant time…but I guess when a family member is sick, it’s not a pleasant time is it?

I’m sorry I’ve rambled but it felt good to get it all out there. Don’t be shocked to see more posting from me in the coming days. They may not be all positive, smiley, happy posts but I’m not really all that positive, smiley or happy right now. That’s life.

Thanks for listening/reading.

~sas

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Fears

I have many fears. I’m afraid of spiders, snakes, the unknown, death, dark alleys, etc…but I also have fears based on my weight and my recovery. Now hear me out…I’m not saying these fears are rational, I’m just thinking I really need to work on these and possibly work through them.

I actually have a fear of losing weight. Now this one I really want to work on! I have used my fat as an armor and shield, like something to fend off unwanted sexual advances, unwanted communication with anyone or even to just physically keep a distance. I know that sounds strange to some but I know for a fact that some of you out there can totally relate to what I’m talking about.

I’m going to try and work on this and reframe this. This has been a major issue with my recovery process and now that I’m on the road to self-acceptance and no longer have the goal to lose weight, I have to approach this fear in another way.

When I first started what I thought was recovery, I thought that I needed to approach this from the standpoint that “if I start seeing that my fat is not an effective way to repel people, then I’ll be able to release it and lose the weight.” But at this point in my recovery (what I consider to be my REAL recovery) I realize that weight loss may never come and I’m ok with that…so what does that do for me when it comes to dealing with this issue? It takes the “weight” out of the issue completely.

I gotta tell ya, it’s freeing to take weight out of an issue or to make weight a non-issue.

So what does that leave me with? If I take weight out of the equation, that leaves me working on the issue of why I feel I need an armor to protect me or why I feel like I want everyone to keep their distance from me.

I think this comes from my religious upbringing (as do most of my “issues”). I was taught that I was to be “set apart” from everyone else and I was not to be like everyone else so I put up that barrier. I was also taught that sex, sexuality, nudity, wearing shorts, swimming with the opposite sex, physical attraction, etc…were taboo and not to be acted upon or addressed. I was not to draw attention to myself in any way, whether it be sexual or not. Being taught that is why I believe I formed an armor around myself. I didn’t want anyone to notice me or judge me as being promiscuous or “bad”.

What have I learned thus far? Well, I’ve figured out that I may never lose weight so I need to deal with stuff, not bringing my fat into the process. Dealing with the taboos of my upbringing are what I need to really address, not the fat.

To lose weight to fix this issue would never work. Instead, I need to address the ideals, mores and “rules” I was raised with and challenge myself to have the gumption to think as an individual and not be blindly guided (or misguided) by someone else’s ideals.

For many years, especially as a teenager and young adult, I was quite introverted and nervous around other people. I was scared to be a part of any group or club because I was to be stay to myself. When I did venture into a group of any kind like my band in high school, my voice quivered when I had to speak aloud, I would get nervous to the point of tears and the butterflies in my stomach kept me in the restroom.

Now that I’m older and in recovery and learning that my religious upbringing was detrimental to my emotional health, I’m seeing that I can change my ideals and values and not constantly fear eternal damnation. That’s what I’ve got to do in this situation. I need to reframe all of this in my mind. I’m just not quite sure how to go about doing that.

Any questions, comments or suggestions would be greatly appreciated!!!

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In-laws…company or “family”?

I’m sorry I’ve been away so long but I need a release tonight and this blog is it.  I’m going to make it quick because I’m sick but I had to let it out somewhere.

I’ve been coughing off and on for a week or so and Monday it started getting worse and I could tell something was not so right.  I went to bed after taking some over the counter meds and coughed really deeply all that night.   The next morning I went to work because payroll was due the next morning and I’m the one who does payroll.  I called my doctor and I got an appointment for 3:00.  I got in around 3:15 and by then I was wheezing and I felt like I was suffocating.

My doc gave me loads of prescriptions and sent me home to bed.  I continually got worse.  I got up the next morning after coughing the whole night, with my wheezing getting steadily worse, I took a shower, got dressed and got to work to finish payroll.  While I was working on finishing up payroll I called my doc and told his nurse how bad I was and she said she would give the message to the doc.  I went home around 10:00 and got a call from my doc around 12:30.  He could hear the seriousness of my condition and told me to be there within 15 minutes for a breathing treatment.  My husband was off and he drove me up there.

Ok, so you get the picture…when I got to the doctor he wanted to put me in the hospital.  I begged him not to and told him I would stay in bed if he gave me some more medicine.  He said I had a severe case of bronchitis with a double whammy of congestion at the top of my lungs and then one in the very bottom of them.  I am sick!

I love my in-laws.  I really do.  And I have an even deeper appreciation for them now since both of my parents have passed away but some times I want to tell them to stay home. 

We always have Christmas at our house.  Hubby’s parents come in from three hours away and stay four or five days.  I’ve gotten used to this happening now that we’ve done it for years but this year I would’ve given anything to tell them to stay home or at least get a hotel room.  Does that sound harsh?

At one point I ventured out of bed to say hi to everyone and my mil was on the phone to someone and I heard her tell the person on the other end that I was sick and what was wrong with me and they must of said something like “I’ll bet she doesn’t feel like having company then” because I heard her respond, “I don’t consider us company.”  I guess I should feel blessed that my in-laws love me and that they’re comfortable in my home but the person on the phone was right.  I really don’t feel like having company.  This is the first time I’ve felt good enough to stay out of bed for any length of time for two days.

I keep telling myself it’s just a few days and it is Christmas, they want to be with their son and hubby wants to be with his parents.  I just feel like a knot on a log because I can’t help cook or much of anything.  I just sleep and cough.

Oh the perils of being a good daughter in law.

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO EVERYONE!!!!

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November

 

It’s now November and November means several things to me. 

November brings back memories of my mother calling me to let me know my father had died during the night.  November is the month of my husband’s birthday.  November is the month that we had to put down our beloved black lab because he was suffering so badly from congestive heart failure.  (My dad died on MrSas’s birthday and we put our dog down the day before his birthday…different years…but MrSas dreads his b’day every year now.)  November is also the month that we celebrate Thanksgiving and we acknowledge the blessings we have.

I see as I get older how sentimental I’ve become.  Before I lost both parents I really didn’t think about family or enjoying the company of close friends, savoring flavors you may not get to taste again, filling computers and books of wonderful pictures – you know, none of that boring nostalgic stuff.  I just took all of that for granted…like things would always stay the same.

Now, it’s as if I hang on to every word my husband says, I long for a relationship with my sister and her family, I look through old pictures often and have even started looking into my genealogy some.  

MrSas has noticed the change in me and has used his observation of me to change some of his own ways.  He has started driving the three hours it takes to see his parents more often.   He has taken more of an interest in things that make me happy.  He and I have been having more “get togethers” at our house with friends.

November could easily be a sad month for me but I choose to stay in keeping with the November holiday’s name and this year I will give thanks. 

This is where my post takes a different turn and heads in a different direction.  I mean, I am thankful for the usual…my husband, my in-laws, my friends, my house, my job, my car, etc…but this post is going to consist of a list of things about my body that I’m thankful for.  I started thinking about this the other day and thought it might be a good thing to put out there for you and maybe you can add to the list as well.

I’m grateful for:

• my legs which keep me mobile and get me from place to place, helped me climb a waterfall in Jamaica and let me dance
• my arms that allow me to hug my husband, blow dry my hair, put on my make up and get dressed in the morning
• my eyes that are hazel and sparkly and see (with the aid of glasses )
• my hands that stay nimble and allow me to type and punch a ten-key, that can interlock with my hubby’s hand, that can also draw a pretty good picture
• my mind which has a pretty awesome sense of humor, can grasp the seriousness of most situations and has the ability to learn
• my heart and soul which allow me to feel and show compassion
• my big fluffy body that gives my dog someone to snuggle with every morning
• my voice that allows me to sing, tell jokes and argue my point
• my spine which supports my body everyday
• my heart that is apparently strong and pumps blood to all the parts of my body
• my eyes that allow me to cry or that wrinkle up when I laugh
• my mouth that eats, smiles, talks and laughs

I think sometimes, for those of us who are fat, we spend so much time degrading and bashing our bodies, that we need to sometimes step back, evaluate where we are and to be grateful for what our bodies have done for us.

I’d love to hear more because I know I have not exhausted my list.  Anyone have any stories of gratefulness towards their bodies?  Please join me in the celebration of our bodies during this Thanksgiving season!!

~sas

 

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A weight has been lifted

About a week ago I released myself from the bondage of my cultish upbringing.  It took me years to do this for myself…literally YEARS!  I’m 46 years old and this is the first time in my life that I’ve felt free of guilt and shame on a minute to minute basis.  I can’t express the relief that I feel.

I went to several therapists, beginning around the age of 20.  I always believed my core issue to address was my father but I figured out just recently that my core issue was actually the religion I was brought up in.  Once that realization was made I had nowhere to go but up.

I knew that I had basically forgiven my father for his abuse about a year ago but I still had this feeling of heaviness about something that wouldn’t let go of me and I figured out it was my beliefs from my past religious upbringing.

I am a victim…I’ve played the victim/martyr all my life.  I learned from a very good role model – my mother.  I was a pouter if I didn’t get my way.  I was always worse off than anyone else around me.  My problems were always exaggerated to make my life seem so pitiful.  I was always so pitiful.  Poor pitiful sassyblonde.  I’m so mistreated.  Now, mind you, I truly was a victim in some circumstances but it turned into a way of life for me.

Again, poor sas isn’t worth anything so why try to make things better.  I’ll just wallow in my dispair until someone feels sorry for me.  Oh wait!  No one has to feel sorry for me, I feel sorry enough for myself.

Well, guess what!  I chose to be the victim.  I don’t have to be the victim anymore.  I choose to release myself from that old religion and break free!  I don’t have to be in bondage to guilt and shame anymore!  I deserve better and am worthy of better!

It’s like I have more spring in my step and that a weight has literally been lifted from my shoulders.  My heart even feels lighter.  This change has allowed me to think differently.  The guilt and shame had me encased in a balloon and objectivity and creativity were thwarted because of it.  It honestly led me to believe that I wasn’t even worthy of taking care of myself.  That “religion” had me convinced I wasn’t worthy of anything and that I was defeated before I even attempted anything…that I could never be good enough so why try.

The feeling of freedom that I feel is so outrageously uplifting and inspiring that I feel like a completely new person.  For the first time in my life I think I’m a pretty lovable person and I have some really cool attributes.  Why?  Because I’m not listening to the old tapes in my head telling me I’m not worthy.  I’m erasing those tapes and replacing them with some pretty awesome accepting and loving voices.  I wish I could bottle this stuff and send it to every one of you!  I’M NO LONGER A VICTIM…I’M A SURVIVOR!!

I’m sorry if I’m gushing but I’m just so excited about having found this feeling that has been buried for so long.  I hope you have a wonderfully fun weekend and WRT2, I’m sending you a special shout out!  I hope you feel the support of all your loved ones at this time!

~sas

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Forgiveness and Judgment

The recent realizations I have made have led me to a rebirth of sorts.  I’m feeling new feelings and actually experiencing some self acceptance rather than just talking about it.  I’ve gotta say, it’s a great feeling!

I wanted to share with you an AHA moment I had the other morning.  (Keep in mind that my cultish religion would constantly remind me, 24/7, that I was condemned to hell and could never be good enough.)

I got out of bed like I do every morning and I went to the dog bowl and fed the dog.  I went from the dog bowl to the shower to start running the water.  I woke up still knowing that I had to release myself from these erroneous beliefs I had so entrenched in my heart.  I had not slept well because I was making all these new realizations about the pseudo-Christianity I had been raised by but I was also too excited to sleep because I had found someone online (actually several people) who had experienced exactly what I did and had been freed from the constant feeling of condemnation.  A whole new world was opening up for me.

So I’m standing in the shower and I start telling myself, “You’re forgiven.  You’re forgiven.  You’re forgiven.”  I say that over and over like other affirmations I’ve used the past few years.  And that’s when it hit me!  “Why are you even trying to convince yourself you’re forgiven when you haven’t even gotten out the door yet!  You haven’t done anything wrong!”  That’s when that giant lightbulb went off!!  That’s when I realized I was starting a new day…a new life…I had a new outlook!  I had not done one damn thing to make myself feel guilty yet I was still asking for forgiveness in that I was trying to convince myself I was forgiven. 

That’s how programmed and brainwashed I have been.  I woke up feeling guilty.  I wouldn’t step foot on the ground without feeling guilty.  What kind of life is that?  It’s a life of fear and dread.

Now some of you may ask, “why is she posting about this ‘religious’ stuff on a blog about fat acceptance and intuitive eating/living.”

I am a compulsive overeater.  I know there are fat folks out there who do not have “issues” but I am one who does.  I have issues out the wazoo and the way I’ve coped all these years has been to numb out and to avoid feelings by diverting my energy and thoughts to eating and food.  I’ve pussyfooted around this religion issue for so many years because I don’t think I’ve had the strength to really tackle it until now.  I believe that this issue with my former religion is the crux of my emotional distress and until I confront it head on I won’t be able to move forward in my recovery.

I have to take a minute here to make clear to everyone that my goal is not to lose weight…my goal is to be physically, emotionally and spiritually healthy.  I do, however, think that once I get to the core of the religion issue and free myself of the condemnation, I’ll be able to move forward in every aspect of my life.  I believe that I eat to cover the intense emotion of failure and unworthiness.  If I can get through that barrier I’ve built around myself I think I’ll be better able to truly care for myself.

My thought processes to this point have been similar to:  You’re going to hell anyway so why care what you eat or how much?  OR  Everyone thinks your worthless anyway so dig in.  OR  Your father thinks you’re a slut so build this BIG wall around your body so no one will want to touch you.  OR  If you make yourself miserable with food it can serve as your punishment for not being perfect.

So do you see now how this could be a huge breakthrough for me?  Self care and listening to my own body has been alien to me.  Someone else was always leading my thought processes.  Of course, now I’m seeing where the choice is mine on how to live my life.  I think another reason I’ve put off working on this issue is the fear of failure once again.  I’ve been led to believe that I “can’t” make the best decision for myself, that I need someone to always direct me and tell me if my decision is right.  I’ve never been led to believe that I can trust my own intuition.

So that’s why I’m talking about religion on this blog.  The number one reason is because AGR and I agreed when we first started this blog that we would use it to better ourselves and to further our recovery.  Another reason is because I see a huge correlation in the rules and judgments of my past religion to the “religion of dieting” – so many do’s and don’ts, rights and wrongs, leaving no room for human imperfection or intutiveness on the part of the individual.

I can tell you that since I’ve blogged about this particular issue, it feels as if a burden has been lifted from my heart.  I see mornings in a whole new light and see each day as a new beginning instead of a continuation of guilt from the days, months and years in my past.  My outlook on life is the best now that I believe it’s ever been.

If you’ve made it through yet another long and rambling post of mine, my thanks go out to you.  Thank you for being there with me and supporting me.

~sas

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Self acceptance and deprogramming

After this past week of digging, I’ve come across some really interesting information.  I have to say that when I first found it, I started crying.  But don’t feel sorry for me…they were as much tears of relief for finding an answer as they were tears of sadness.

(This is definitely one of my longest posts so if you get through it, thank you.)

I decided to dig into the “religion” in which I was raised.  (I won’t mention the religion by name but will refer to it as “dadism” since my father was the one who drilled it into my head so much.)  I got on the computer and started digging around and found out that many believe dadism to be a cult.  Not so much in that they follow one person but in just about every other respect.  

The members of dadism are taught, and will die believing, that only they will be allowed into heaven.   (Arrogance and conceit)

They believe you must be baptized to be saved.   (Can you ever be good enough?)

They believe that perfection is the goal (to be like Christ) and that ANY misdeed is a sin that must be repented of RIGHT THEN (it must be repented to an elder of the church – that means elders have a very strange amount of control over you, considering they know all your “secrets”).  They believe if you have repented of a sin, commit a sin and don’t confess the recent sin right then but you have a car wreck and die, you will go to hell.   (You’ll never be good enough.)

The followers of dadism believe you “hang out” and socialize only with those who are like-minded to the followers of dadism…and God forbid you marry someone outside of dadism (as I did).  (I’ll never be good enough.)

Dadism teaches that discipleship is first and foremost and you recruit as many as you can in your lifetime.  Your entry into heaven is based on your discipleship and how many you’ve recruited.  Because I doubted dadism in my late teen years, my father told me he was going to hell because he didn’t teach me well enough in the religion of dadism (and of course he told me I was going to hell for sure).  (I was never good enough.)

As my parents grew older they became disillusioned with church (duh) and stopped going all together but still professed to be Christians (and associated with the church of dadism).  Family showed up to both of their funerals shaking their heads and expressing sadness because they knew both of my parents were bound for hell (my whole extended family is in the church of dadism.)   (All my family says I’m not good enough.)

I look back on my life and I see why I would be so f*cked up.  I mean, my god, as a child I couldn’t socailize with anyone who didn’t believe as I believed.  I was sent off to a summer church camp when I was 7 and was terrified to be there but I was with like-minded kids so it was supposed to be all right.

I went to church one night in my teens and witnessed an “excommunication” from our church.  It was devastating.  Instead of church members going to this man to offer help and resources, they kicked him out and said he wasn’t good enough to be associated with us.  I couldn’t believe what I saw.  (he wasn’t good enough)

For most of my young life I was taught you went to church “whenever the doors were opened.”  We went every Sunday morning, Sunday night and Wednesday night.  We went to all the “gospel meetings” and went every night of the week for those.  When my parents were shipped overseas to Germany (dad is Air Force), they found like-minded people and met on Sunday morning and night and Wednesday night in someone’s home.  You didn’t miss church because you would go to hell.  (no excuses, you just aren’t good enough)

We could not have musical instruments or any taped music in the church and weddings were not performed in the “church of dadism” or funerals.  Only worship was to be held in the church.

I also remember in my teen years having to attend a class for young women.  The young men had one too.  In our young women’s  class we learned how to be submissive to your husband and how his salvation is based on how you act around him.  If you act submissive and “good”, it means he has taught you well.  They taught us that we answer to the husband and the husband answers to the church.  The church answers to God.  (the way I live my life determines if my loved ones go to heaven or hell, NO PRESSURE!)

(If you are a member of the church I just described you will not want to read further.)

Looking back at what I typed, I’m in awe that I was involved in such a thing.  But I’m also seeing how I was brainwashed and manipulated for so many years.

This brings me to the point of deprogramming.  A member of cult, in order to get back to their “normal” life, almost always has to go through some sort of deprogramming.  From what I’ve read, the most commonly used technique in deprogramming is to overwhelm the subject with REALITY and to gently point out the untruths of the cult.  But mostly, the subject needs to be immersed with positive feedback and repetively told what is real.

Well, I’ve seen a lot of the untruths over the years but  I’ve never truly tried to deprogram myself.  I’ve been to counselor after counselor after counselor in my 46 years only to come out feeling the same as I went in.  What have I learned from all this last week is that I need to actively re-route my thinking and not just expect it to change on it’s own.

An example of this for me has been the fact that I’m more accepting of myself now than I’ve ever been and that’s been mostly in part from books I’ve read and the fatosphere.  I find that if I go some time without re-reading one of my intuitive eating or HAES books or I don’t come to the fatosphere that I drift back into self-loathing.

I was brainwashed from birth that I would never be good enough for anyone or anything.  I believe my father was so entrenched in dadism that he didn’t know any way but to raise me that way (he was raised that way as well).  Looking back, I realize he and my mother never felt good enough either but it was all they knew so they raised me to believe it too.

I believe “dadism” is the root and core of my dysfunction.  I believe it goes so deeply that it may take me a really long time to release myself from it’s hold.  My goal for now is to do some more research and find more information that will help me to logically release myself from this “religion”.  As I do this I am going to keep books near my bed that I enjoy about self-acceptance and I’ll keep coming here to reassure myself that I am worthy of all life has to offer.

Insanity – doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results.

Dadism has been the source of my insanity and it’s as if I cannot release myself from it (it is so deeply ingrained into my soul) but I’m determined to do it.    I’ve tried to release myself from this for about 25 years and it’s been part of me so long.  Can you tell I’m scared?  Why does this thing have such a strong hold on me?  I feel like I’ve just rambled and this is incoherent.  I have so much work to do on this.

~sas

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I don’t sing anymore

 

Something’s been bothering me lately and I want to explore it here.

The other day I posted “On being a recovery goddess” and got some awesome responses but something really stood out to me.  A comment came in from our co-blogger  wellroundedtype2 that said, “I think an important part of godliness is grace. Giving self and others room to make mistakes and keep moving on.”

Giving self room to make mistakes and keep moving on.  I struggle with this on a daily basis.  I used to have a friend who was always saying to me, “give yourself some grace”.  At first I didn’t really know what she meant but I quickly realized it meant to forgive myself and to move on.

Forgiveness is a very hard thing for me to wrap my brain and heart around.  My background in forgiveness is not a good one.  I was raised in a very oppressive church by a very demonstrative father and very meek mother.   Judgment was what sustained my father.  At some point, God was actually taken out of the equation and was replaced by my father.  Pressure to be perfect and to avoid the gates of hell was ever present.   My father was my god.  My parents believed in hellfire and damnation.  My father was my judge, my ruler, my counselor, my abuser, my salvation and my damnation. 

I was never enough.  I was condemned and damned.  I was going to hell.

My father has been dead 9 years now and I still have my days where I cannot (no matter how hard I try) feel like I’m good enough.  When my father died I was crushed and thrilled at the same time.  I felt the relief of a huge burden being lifted off of me and yet I was so sad for the loss to my life.

I tried going to church for a few years (a different denomination than what I was raised in, and actually the church my husband was raised in) and I was active.  I went every Sunday and Wednesday and I sang in the choir.  I went on retreats and loved it all.  I started feeling like I was worthy of God’s love and my own too when I faltered yet again and had an affair.   I won’t go into all the sordid details of that affair but I will say that what little self-respect and self-love I had gained in those few years was smashed to bits because of that affair.  (this happened just after my father died in 1999, coincidence? I think not)

I tried to remain in church and tell myself that I had confessed this to my husband and to my God and that I was worthy to keep going.  I sang in the choir because I love to sing.   I would so look forward to church for the choir.  I loved performing in Christmas Cantatas and Easter programs and the socializing.  But then, I couldn’t bring myself to go anymore.  I couldn’t go to church and I certainly couldn’t be a public hypocrite and sing in the choir on stage, in front of everyone.  I don’t sing anymore.

Pictures of my father came flooding back to me, condemning me to hell for what I had done.  The voices in my head damning me to hell did not stop haunting me until about 2 years ago.

The singing I used to love and truly enjoy is something in my past.  I used to sing at the top of my lungs while driving in the car.  I loved singing pop music, oldies, hymns, whatever was the flavor of the day.  I don’t sing anymore.

It’s as if I’m punishing myself for my sins by not allowing myself to sing.  Where is my forgiveness and grace for ME?  I can’t believe that it’s buried so far inside of me that I can’t revive it and give myself another chance.  I won’t believe that!

Any insight or encouragement would be greatly appreciated.

~sas

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