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~ When life doesn't turn out as you had hope it would – It may not be 100% factual truth-but, it is 100% me.

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Tag Archives: Motherhood

Taking Time for Me

07 Wednesday Jun 2017

Posted by Heather Irwin in All Posts, Seeking Life Now

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life, Motherhood, Peace, Reflection, Rest, Taking Time, Writing

I’m thrilled to be sitting at the dining room table, listening to the oven gently whirring as it cooks my chicken breasts mixed with the sound of birds softly chirping and an occasional car passing-by on the highway.It is peaceful.

I have been longing to write. Craving some solid, uninterrupted and quiet time to be able to sit down and reflect on some things.

Despite living in the (somewhat) country again, it has been a flurry of activity ever since our things arrived. We have finally (mostly) settled-in and my husband has started a full-time job. This also means that, for the first time since my son was 11.2 months old, I am a stay-at-home Mom.

I love my son dearly, and he is wonderful to play with and really well behaved, but I feel like my brain is shrivelling – I miss adult conversation and interaction every day, and having adult tasks/duties and responsibilities in my adult workplace.

I have never imagined that I was really the right ‘make’ to be a stay-at-home Mom and have always, truly, envied woman who seemed so full and fulfilled in the role. The ability to keep themselves challenged and stimulated as individuals while devoting so much of their energy and attention to little ones is truly impressive to me. I am, perhaps, too lazy for this. Or, maybe, too picky or difficult to please.

But, whatever it is that makes it a challenge for me to assume this role, here I am anyways.

I recall before I had given birth to my child that I had this dream of what my days of leave would look like: my baby would be sleeping sweetly, having been fed, changed, cuddled and cared for with perfection by yours truly and I would be serenely sipping a cup of tea while writing my novel.

I don’t think I even wrote one single word (other than facebook posts) for most of that time. And even then, the posts were largely pleading for help, or just posting a cute picture (or 100 cute pictures) of my perfect child.

I have felt challenged, on a personal level, recently to really carve-out time for what it is that is special and important to me and the one thing to which I consistently return is writing.

I know that woman are always talking about this and there seem to be endless articles about the importance of taking time for yourself. But, that is definitely more easily said than done when there is a constant list of things that need to be done.

However, I have really been working on the art of prioritizing and being “ok” with things that are not urgent, being left undone a little bit longer while I enjoy a moment. Yesterday I sat outside while my son had his nap, with a cup of tea and a little slice of carrot cake and I read and caught-up on my “5 Year Journal” entries.

It wasn’t that bad, actually. It didn’t really put me that much further behind in the tasks I was hoping to accomplish. Here I am, Day 2 of trying to be intentional about taking a small chunk of time out of my day to do something that is just for me and so far, so good.

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250.4 My Life in Lbs

10 Wednesday Aug 2016

Posted by Heather Irwin in All Posts, Seeking Health Now

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Accomplishments, Attitude, Challenge, change, Confidence, Control, Courage, Determined, Diet, Dieting, Disappointment, Exercise, Fit, Goals, Health, Healthy, Healthy Eating, Healthy Habits, life, losing weight, Motherhood, nutrition, perseverance, Progress, weight, Weight Loss

I am getting excitingly close to leaving the 50’s and entering the 40’s.

I decided to take a look at my weight loss to date and figured-out that I am getting close to a 50 lb landmark.

It depends on which number I choose to look at, which is complicated a bit by the pregnancy/birth of my son.

Here’s my chart from Lose It:

Chart

 

My son was born October 17, 2013 and while still pregnant I had last weighed-in at 315 lbs.

After he was born, I got down to 283.5 on November 14th, 2013, but as you can see it went up from there for a while.

There’s a weird spike to 295 on March 25, 2014, but since there’s a previous mark that is 292.6 on January 2, 2014, I choose to pick an average there of 293 and just say that on January 1, 2014 I was 293 lbs.

With that little explanation, here’s a quick synopsis:

Jan. 1, 2014  (293 lbs) to Jan. 1, 2015 (280 lbs) = 13 lbs lost

Jan. 1, 2015 (280 lbs) to Jan. 1, 2016 (276 lbs) = 4 lbs lost

Jan. 1, 2016 (276 lbs) to Aug. 10, 2016 (250.4 lbs) = 25.6 lbs lost

Total lbs lost = 42.6

Getting so close to 50 lbs down.

I love this graph because it reflects a journey that hasn’t been easy, but I look it and see that I have never given-up. I look at it and I see hard work, perseverance, lessons learned, changes made, struggles, victories, tears of joy, tears of shame and, most beautifully, the creation and birth of my son.

To look at this chart is to see my life-the spikes represent times when life was difficult, dark times when I struggled to get out of bed in the morning and to eat anything other than toast, chips, chocolate and cookies. You can see times when the clouds seem to have parted and I go ‘great guns’ and drop a bit, only to rebound and hit another spike.

But, the general trend has been downwards and recently, the trend is pretty impressive. I have, clearly, learned a lot through my journey.

This morning I am feeling encouraged. I feel strengthened and validated in my pursuit of health.
I am not perfect. But, when I look at my life in lbs, I see a warrior who refuses to be defeated and is constantly honing her skills as she levels up and prepares to, once and for all, take down the big boss.

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Drowning

05 Friday Aug 2016

Posted by Heather Irwin in All Posts, Seeking Life Now

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Box Breathing, Childbirth, Grounding Techniques, Healing, Motherhood, Nightmares, PTSD, Recovery, Trauma

My clothes are heavy and dragging me down as they dance in the water. My hair is thrashing around, wildly, like it’s moving to an African drum beat. When my hair finally breaks apart, I am able to look up and see the sun above the water, hot and heavy, and becoming increasingly distant as it seems to be pushing me down into the depths of the sea. I take a deep, inner, breath and propel my arm upwards in an attempt to pull my head to the surface, but instead of doing so, I find myself gripping my newborn baby’s ankle and pulling him beneath the water with me. Suddenly, it’s as though a mountain has attached itself to my legs and as the sun continues to push me down, I am plummeted to the belly of the sea, dragging my child with me.

We are gone.

This was the nightmare that haunted me for months after my son’s birth. I would wake-up gasping for air, soaking wet and sobbing.

To this day, I can’t think about this without the surge of an upcoming panic attack. I stop as I write, close my eyes, practice my box breathing. I become aware of the sensations around me. I hear people talking in the hallway. I can feel my fingers resting on the keyboard in front of me. I smell a mixture of my morning mocha and my perfume. The aftertaste of my last mouthful of mocha is bitter on my tongue.

When I first mentioned the struggles I was having to my doctor, and told her about the nightmares, she said ‘It sounds like you might have some PTSD from birth trauma’ and that was that.

The first 4 months of my son’s life were a living hell for me. I felt like I was constantly in a war zone, battling for not only my survival, but his as well. This was made worse by the fact that I often felt like I was the biggest threat to my son’s safety, which meant that I was also fighting a war against myself all the time. I used to say: ‘It’s you and me, kid. You and me against the world.’ I felt like nobody got it. Nobody understood, or cared, about how dark it was for us. How much we had to fight to survive.

This added trauma on-top of trauma. I’ve started therapy to help me work through this. The other day my therapist asked ‘What things remind you of the event?’

What things remind me of the event?

Pretty much every aspect of my life is a reminder of the event, because ‘the event’ (my son’s birth), literally changed everything in my world. Everywhere I look there are reminders of him, every thought inside my head circles back to him, every emotion finds itself linked to him…I am surrounded by triggers.

But, I’m learning that there are certain environmental factors that bring me right back to the trauma and leave me swirling quickly out of control. Feeling trapped and feeling hot are major triggers for me.

I have identified a few, regular, times when this happens which means I am able to prepare and plan for them and when I am in the situation, can practice calming techniques to stave-off a full-blown panic attack.

But, there are still moments when I am caught by surprise.

This happened while camping last weekend. My son was exhausted, and so was I. We both like routine. He has always, naturally, been a ‘routine’ child and has always loved daytime naps. While camping, we were both thrown out of routine, and neither of us had slept well the previous night – I had, about, 2.5 hours sleep and while he slept longer, it was very disturbed. So, we needed a nap.

We were lying in our tent and it was HOT. I lay there, sweating bullets, trying to calm him and soothe him to sleep, despite the fact that he was also drenched in sweat. He kept looking-up at me with these pleading eyes to help him feel better. I felt helpless. Powerless.

I could feel the surge of a panic attack approaching.

Box breathing. Box breathing.

What can you feel? What can you hear? What can you see?

What can you see?

I looked above me to the top of the tent and saw that the sun was directly over us and I suddenly felt like an ant under a magnifying glass.

The panic was rising.

I looked up again and I saw the sun above the water, pushing me downwards.

I couldn’t breathe.

I’m trapped. We’re trapped. We’re going to die. I can’t breathe. I’m going to lose it. We’re being tortured to death. I have to get out of here. We’re under attack.

I grabbed my car keys, my son, and said to those around me “We’re going for a drive…” I’m sure I said some other things, not even sure what, or what was happening, or who heard me, or where anyone else even was.

All I could see was that my son and I were being tortured and I was getting us the hell out of there before we drowned to death.

It was everything that I had felt for the first 4 months of his life compressed into a few minutes. I have had experiences and moments like this every day since my son was born. Sometimes they are super intense, like it was that day camping. At other times, it is a small surge that I am able to overcome with grounding techniques.

But, every time it happens, it brings the trauma back to the surface and seems to add another layer on to it.

I am reminded of the line from the West Wing where the trauma specialist explains to Josh that the goal is to allow him to remember the event without reliving it.

I cannot wait for the moment when I can think about the day my son was born and smile at how incredible it was to hold him for the very first time, without feeling like I’m under attack and that I’m going to drown and bring him down with me.

To remember the beauty without reliving the trauma.

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Yo Momma’s so Fat…

25 Monday Jul 2016

Posted by Heather Irwin in All Posts, Seeking Health Now

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Confidence, Focus, Goals, losing weight, Motherhood, The Big Why, The Future, Weight Loss

These words haunt me like the ghost of Christmas yet-to-come.

 Yo mama is so fat that when she wears a yellow raincoat, people yell “taxi!”

Yo mama is so fat she threw on a sheet for Halloween and went as Antarctica.

Yo mama is so fat she can’t even jump to conclusions.

 

When you’re trying to lose weight, one of the things that you are supposed to do is come-up with “the big Why”. Why do you want to lose weight? Why are you willing to make sacrifices? Why are you going to get up and exercise when you really don’t want to? Why are you going to choose a side salad instead of fries?

The big Why.

I have really struggled with a clear answer to this. But, one thing that can bring some motivation to me to move beyond myself, put down that french fry and pick-up the salad fork, is my son.

I hate the thought that I will be a weapon that other children will use to hurt him. Especially since the taunts will have so much truth to them if I stay as I am now.

I don’t want to think that he will, at any time, be embarrassed of me because of how I look. I know he will be embarrassed about how “uncool” I am at some point (that is inevitable with teenagers), and I will take great delight in purposefully finding ways to make him groan “Moooom” at some point, like singing in public or trying to get a kiss from him in front of his mates.

But, I don’t want him to be embarrassed because I’m fat. In the very least, if the kids are taunting him because of how I look, I want him to know that his momma has worked really hard to be fit and healthy and that it is nothing of which to be ashamed or embarrassed.

 “Yo momma’s so fat…she wasn’t able to play with you much as you grew up and you both missed-out on a lifetime of fun, happy, memories and you weren’t able to do a lot of things you should have been able to do because no one was fit enough to take you…”

Ok, it doesn’t roll-off the tongue like the other things, but it is a tape that plays over-and-over in my head every day. I don’t want this to be our future together.

I want to lose weight for my son so that I can do things with him as he grows up:  Amusement park rides, spelunking, rock climbing, cycling, swimming, go-karts, running, playing sports, kayaking, scuba diving…whatever it is that he wants to do, I want to be able to do it with him.

He’ll need someone to go on rides with him at amusement parks, but there’s no way they will let me go because they won’t be able to secure the bar for him because of how big I am.

“I’m sorry, buddy, we can’t go on that ride because Mommy’s too fat.”

“I’m sorry, dude, I don’t fit in go-karts. I’m too fat.”

“We can’t do that cave, sweetie. I’m too fat to fit through the tunnel.”

I’m sorry, love. Mommy’s too fat to climb that wall with you.”

The ghost of things to come is not a pleasant one.

So, like Scrooge McDuck (what? you know…from The Muppet Christmas Carol…that well-loved movie that uses a well-crafted story line, delightful characters and upbeat music to teach a valuable lesson?), I’m wanting to learn from what I see in my future and make the necessary changes to avoid such a miserable state from actually coming to pass.

It’s not my only big “why” (and so some would argue, that it’s not a “real” big why because some people feel like the big “why” has to be just ONE, sole, reason—I totally disagree, by the way), but it’s a pretty good one.

I have already made some headway in this big “why”: Although I’m not totally comfortable, I have more confidence to put on a swimsuit and take him to the pool–something I have been too nervous or self-conscious to do for most of his 2 1/2 years. When I take him to soccer, I’m happy to be out on the field kicking-around a ball with him instead of hiding behind his stroller where no one can see me. When we go to the park, I climb the structures and even go down the slides with him. I’m not the most comfortable doing it, but I’ve already gained some confidence and abilities back that had been lost for awhile and I’m just looking-forward to increasing this list so that there is nothing that is holding me back.

“Yo Momma’s so fat…ugh…um…hmph. I don’t know. What can’t your momma do?”

Now, that’s more like it.

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I Hate to See You Go

03 Friday Jun 2016

Posted by Heather Irwin in All Posts, Seeking Life Now

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Healing, Heart Break, Heartache, Mom, Mommy, Motherhood, Parenthood, Toddler, Wholeness

I had the joy of being able to drop my child at day care today. At least, it started out as a joy. It soon became one of the toughest, saddest, most horrible moments I’ve ever had as a mother.

We were early leaving today which meant I was so excited at the opportunity to be able to go with my husband to bring my son to day care. “T” was so excited that Mommy was coming with him for a change. The 3 of us strolled along, chatting, in a perfect reverie. As we arrived at daycare, I smiled as I watched my child run down the path towards the front door, skipping and hopping with excitement.

When the door was opened for us, he did a little skip-hop and he was off like a bullet towards the elevator. Arriving on the floor where the toddler room was, he burst out of the elevator.

This is where our joyous morning started to turn sour.

There was a man fixing something in the toddler bathroom with an electric drill. T is nervous when it comes to loud and unfamiliar sounds. He started whimpering, rushed back to where I was and clung to my leg.

“Look, buddy, he’s fixing something in the bathroom with an electric drill.” As he began to whimper more loudly and tightened his grip on my leg, I added, “It’s just like Daddy’s.” Hoping that bringing some familiarity to the situation would ease his anxiety. It didn’t work. When the man pulled out a hammer, his tension eased, as T has 2 hammers he uses at home all the time. So, this was more familiar to him.

He eventually went up the stairs and into the room. Once there, he met one of his teachers who was adding water into a little pool filled with plastic fish. There were 2 fishing rods sitting on the side of the pool and T and I began to try to catch us some of the magnetic fish. We laughed and shared a little bit of fun before he was off and grabbing one of the shopping carts.

Now it is time for Mommy and Daddy to go. Daddy gives a hug and says goodbye and then T comes to Mommy and starts crying : “Mommy, don’t go!” I give him a big hug and kiss, say “I love you” and put him down. He immediately starts crying. “NO! Don’t go. Don’t leave!” and he’s gripping at my legs and trying to pull himself back up into my arms.

Now, he is wailing. And our child doesn’t often cry. My heart is breaking and I just want to swoop him up and tell him I’m never going to leave. Instead, I try to calmly say “What’s going on, Buddy?” He just continues to wail “Don’t go! Don’t leave me!” and now, I am broken.

I try to distract him with all the fun things he has to look-forward to during the day: “You can go fishing. You can play with the cars. You can tell everyone about soccer. ..” Nothing is working.

The teacher says “Ok, one more hug and then time to go”. Now, I’m feeling heartbroken, judged and anxious. I give him a few big squeezes, a bunch of kisses and tell him I love him.

I put him down, but he clings to my legs as though he were falling off a cliff.

And then I do something I wish to never have to do again. I push him away from me. “I love you, Buddy! But, I have to go.”

“Nooooo!” he wails, face beat red, tears streaming down his face.

The instant I release my hand, ‘thawump’, he’s suctioned against my legs again. I take a deep breath and push him away a second time. I can still feel his beating chest against my fingers as they attempt to release myself from his grasp.

“Buddy, I love you. But, I have to go.”

This goes on for, what feels like, an eternity. I push him away, he returns. I push him away, he returns.

I push him away.

It’s all I can remember. It’s all I feel. It’s all I can think about.

I pushed him away.

This goes against every fibre of my being. This goes against the deep, raging, maternal instincts within me. And, although I’m sure he had moved on before I even hit the end of the street and then, probably, never thought of it again, I have.

It left a deep wound on my Mothers heart.

And so, tonight I made the absolute most of my time with him. I listened to him closely, held him tightly, sang songs, played games, told stories and then we had some special cuddle time in Mommy and Daddy’s bed before heading to his.

And, as he cupped my face in his little hands, saying “I yuv you, Mommy” before planting a kiss on my forehead, he pulled me close.

He pulled me close.

He pulled me close, he pulled me close.

He brought me home – back to where I belong.

We were together again.

He pulled me close.

 

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The Lost Girl

04 Wednesday May 2016

Posted by Heather Irwin in All Posts, Seeking Life Now

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Art, Create, Creativity, Depression, Fulfillment, Healing, hope, Hypothyroidism, Journey, Joy, life, Love, Meaning, Motherhood, Pain

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The other day I was in the bathroom washing my hands and when I looked-up at myself in the mirror I got a surprise. I looked like myself again.

For years now I have looked in a mirror, searching for me and failing to find the person that once looked back at me. I would see someone with a puffy, tired, drawn face looking back at me like I was a stranger and I would say to her ‘who are you?’

I would stare at this person, intently, gazing into her eyes, trying to find the person I used to know.

Then, all of a sudden, she just showed-up.

The person looking back at me had the mischievous twinkle in her eye that was so familiar. She looked happy, refreshed and full of life.

I didn’t realize how much I had been missing her until she showed up again.

She took my breath away.

There was great relief to find that she still existed. I had been feeling as though she would be lost forever.

This girl and I were close once. We used to explore, create, love, laugh and live a wondrous life full of energy. She was brave and enjoyed exploring and trying new things.

I guess I first started losing touch with her when I was pregnant-the first time. After the miscarriage, she began to distance herself a little bit more. After moving country and finding herself more alone than ever, she would disappear for weeks at a time. She was never really the same after that.

After she gave birth to her little boy she disappeared, almost, entirely. There were brief moments of pure joy when she would show her face, but for the most part, she was lost.

I couldn’t find her. I would call out to her ‘where are you?’ and hear nothing in response. I missed the excitement she brought to the world, I missed the energy, the love for life, the hunger for experience.

I missed the love of art, the desire to create music and write thoughts, the joy that she would have when she watched a breeze rustling the leaves of a tree.

And, all of a sudden, here she was. A cheeky grin on her face, her eyes glowing like an andalusite gem, ready to take on the world.

Like Bastian in “The Neverending Story”, I have traversed through sadness, fear, loss, overcome great obstacles and battled “the Nothing” only to discover that I was the one all along.

The rediscovery of this girl has been a huge part of this journey that I call “seeking life now”. It hasn’t happened by accident. I have had to work at it. My lost self didn’t just appear of her own volition, I have been working on creating a safe space for her so that she felt confident in returning.

And, although she’s not 100%, fully back, the glimpse I have seen of her has given me new hope and renewed energy to keep working on the things I have been doing so that she has space to thrive once again.

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Art is what happens to you…

29 Friday Apr 2016

Posted by Heather Irwin in All Posts, Seeking Life Now

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

AGO, Art, Awareness, Embrace, Experience, life, Live, Memory, Micah Lexier, Motherhood, Reflections, Toronto

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Art- it’s exciting when a piece of art surprises you by impacting you in a way you never thought it would.

My husband and I took a half vacation day to explore the AGO (Art Gallery of Ontario). We had wanted to do this on Leap Day (Feb. 29, 2016) but it fell on a Monday and the Gallery is not open on Mondays.

So, we decided to do it yesterday.

We took the elevator to the top floor and found a volunteer leading a tour who invited us to join. Usually, I would want to just explore these things on my own, but today I was feeling like I could use a little extra input into what it was we were going to be seeing, so we joined in.

I’m so glad we did.

The very first installation we saw was one created by Micah Lexier. It was “a work of art in the form of a quantity of coins equal to the number of months of the statistical life expectancy of a child born January 6, 1995.”

Normally, I would look at something like this and think: “Huh…ok. Kind of interesting, I guess.” And not give it very much thought beyond that.

But, as we looked at it our volunteer tour guide said:

“Notice how the coins in the first box are neatly ordered and purposefully placed. This is the expectation of what life will bring-the hopes. This is how we all start out. Now look at the coins in the second box. It always reminds me of a line of a famous John Lennon song: ‘life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans’.”

And then the tears came.

First of all, the installation reflected things I’ve been having about my own life for some time. For years now I have been trying to teach myself how to be present in the moment and realize that this is life.

There was a period of time when I felt I was constantly waiting for my life to begin. And then, all of a sudden, I looked and I saw a box, much like this chaotic box of coins, and I realized that this was my life. Life was here in all this mess, disorganisation and the many unplanned events and bends in the road.

I had been expecting to look at my life and see it as the first box: Ordered, dreams fulfilled, everything in its place, looking exactly as I had imagined it would. But, I have recently come to realize and accept my life as being beautiful, despite the fact that it looks so different to what I had originally envisioned.

Just as the neatly organized coins have their beauty, so do the scattered. And, as I looked at the 2 boxes the one thing remained the same, despite how the coins were placed, they were all in “my box”. And, that’s really what is important. Whether the coins are neat, or scattered, they are mine. They are my memories, experiences, struggles, victories, joys, sorrow – my life. And that’s beautiful.

Secondly, I sing that song to my son all the time. And, as I looked at these coins, I saw my neatly organized hopes and dreams for what his life will be in the first box and the reality of what it will actually be in the 2nd. I realized that his life, just like mine, is going to be what it’s going to be. I can’t control it and I won’t be able to keep it neatly organized for him. He’s going to experience pain, sorrow, frustration, disappointment, confusion and chaos. But, there will also be joy, love, freedom, hope, comfort and adventure.

There will come a time when the 2 coins that are currently in his box will be at the bottom of this heap of messy coins, almost forgotten. Except, the image of how they are now in their near perfection, will always remain in my heart. At some point, there will have to be a letting-go.

As I stood there contemplating all of this I made a promise to myself to help teach my son how to not miss life because he’s trying to keep his coins in order. I want to teach him to embrace the chaos that is life and to see the beauty in it while it is happening.

Out on the ocean sailing away
I can hardly wait
To see you come of age
But I guess we’ll bot just have to be patient
‘Cause it’s a long way to go
A hard row to hoe
Yes, it’s a long way to go
But in the meantime

-John Lennon-

 

IMG_20160429_100311

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269.7 Give me Sugar and No one gets hurt

20 Wednesday Apr 2016

Posted by Heather Irwin in All Posts, Seeking Health Now

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Tags

Attitude, Balance, Cravings, Diet, Diet Foods, Dieting, Dopamine, Food, Health, Healthy Eating, Joy, Motherhood, nutrition, Rewards, Snacks, Treat Mentality, Treats, Weight Loss

I was thinking this morning about weekends. Weekends are tough. For years I have been conditioned to think that weekends are the time to have the things I won’t “allow” myself to have during the week. Weekends are for treats and enjoyment. They always feel like the time to ‘let my hair down’ and “enjoy life”.

There exists in this a false idea that I’m not “enjoying life” the other 5 days/week.

And, as I thought about how to “fix” my weekends so that they didn’t become a huge splurge-fest, I realized that the best place to start is to address this mentality. Because, I love what I eat during the week as well.

I’m not “starving myself” during the week, or forcing myself to eat foods I don’t enjoy to lose weight. First of all, I don’t have enough discipline and secondly, I like pleasure too much. Quality of life is important to me. I don’t want to suffer endlessly just to be thin. That is no way to live life.

But, I enjoy my homemade green smoothies, my salads and veggies, my eggs and toast, and water and coffee. I’m not missing out on anything. I’m eating things I enjoy.

So, why do I still have this mentality tucked-away in the recesses of my brain that tells me that I deserve to splash-out on weekends because I’ve “done so well” or “sacrificed so much” during the week?

I guess it’s that old dieters mentality. When you’ve tried to lose weight for almost your entire life, you develop a certain way of thinking. Things become classified as “good” and “bad”, there are “diet foods” and “treats” or “reward foods”.

When foods are classified in our brains as “good” there is always a sub-heading. It actually reads like this: Good – But, really bad (as in disgusting, not enjoyable, lesser-than). And, the vice versa is also true: Bad – But, really good (as in tastes so incredible, the stuff you really would rather be eating).

These headings get cemented in our brains with memories as well. For example: At birthday parties we don’t bring-out a huge veggie or fruit platter and celebrate. We do it with cake and ice cream.

As a child, whenever I went to the Dentist or Doctor, of if I had a particularly bad, or good, day at school, I was given McDonald’s or a DQ Blizzard as a special treat.

Chips, chocolate, cookies, cakes, pop, candy…these were the things you were given on special occasions. They were given to celebrate, to console, to comfort and to reward. Using these treats as a reward trains our brains to classify them as ‘better’ and the foods ‘to be desired’ and all the regular food as ‘not as good’ or ‘less special’.

There are also chemical reactions certain foods have in our brains and the release of dopamine is comparable to that of drinking alcohol or consuming other. For a bit more information you can check out these sites:

https://www.psychologytoday.com/articles/200301/real-sugar-high

http://www.webmd.com/food-recipes/your-brain-on-sugar?page=1

https://www.nerdfitness.com/blog/2013/06/17/everything-you-need-to-know-about-sugar/

But, I have found, lately, as I have been trying to be more mindful when I am eating, that these “treats” are not really as enjoyable as they promise to be. There may be a a brief dopamine hit, but it fades and I realize that the actual food is not that enjoyable any more. However, because they are so wrapped-up in memories of rewards, a history of emotions, and the happy dopamine buzz, I want to keep eating them because I know, from memory, that they brought happiness and I’m expecting them to do it again.

I treated myself to a Boston Cream donut on the weekend and, it was ok. But really, my thoughts of it were ‘meh’-I didn’t really need that. BUT, when I had a few bites of my son’s grilled chicken wrap…YUM. That was something I truly enjoyed and I had wished I had skipped the donut and treated myself to one of those instead.

I have learned a lot watching my son, actually. We never fed him sweets or offered sugar cookies, drinks, etc. to him until recently. And, we found that he doesn’t like them. I suspect that this is because he has, since he was 4 months old, enjoyed natural foods and when we offer him the confectionery it just doesn’t taste as good. I’d like to raise him without the treat mentality. I want him to continue to be overjoyed when he sees we purchased a watermelon or cantaloupe and have zero feelings when he sees a packet of brownies. But, I have to get it right in myself first.

Therefore, on top of working on mindful eating, I am also going to be working on retraining my brain. I want to break this “treat mentality” and learn to have a healthier attitude to all foods.

 

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In Such a Little Hand

21 Monday Mar 2016

Posted by Heather Irwin in All Posts, Seeking Life Now

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Tags

Acceptance, Beauty, Emotion, Healing, Joy, life, Love, Motherhood, Poem, Poetry, Power, Son

*

I sat down to write a couple posts, was listening to some good music, cuppa tea by my side and I got inspired. I pulled-out my guitar and wrote a little number. Here are the lyrics.

In Such a Little Hand

In such a little hand
There was so much love to find
The universe exposed
All brokenness made whole
In such a little hand

In such a little face
So much to explore
The day you formed the world
Beauty did restore
In such a little face

There were days we were soaring
There were days when we began to drown
Falling tears all felt more heavy
And laughter weightless as a cloud

Sunlight touched the skin more warmly
And the clouds were darker grey
The whole world opened up
In such a little hand.

In such a little foot
All the places it will go
To follow all your dreams
A million paths to take
In such a little foot

In such a little heart
A world where life is made
Where purest love exists
And no one is afraid
In such a little heart

I’ve finally found my place
In such a little hand

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