Writing is supposed to be cathartic, so this is my “Ode to Finding Inner Zen.”

May 8, 2017

Anxiety is a living, breathing thing. It’s like a little devil on your shoulder who sits quietly for a long time, and then it starts whispering in your ear when you need it the least. It’s that feeling that the shoe is going to drop. It’s going to drop!!! IT’S DROPPING! WATCH OUT!!!! Wait, it didn’t drop…it will in a minute. Here it goes. It’s going!!!…

I have long been unhappy professionally. My brain wasn’t busy enough. I was at a long-time job that lacked mental challenges, but it was safe, and full of people that I loved. And full of people that loved me. One who came to be my best friend and rock. But I was driving myself mad, because without mental stimulation at work, I turned my thoughts inward and started to break myself down. I started to criticize and critique all that was wrong with me, and all the reasons it was my fault that all the things were wrong. So, I got out. I got a new job and I am happier professionally than I have been in years. However, Anxiety is still there lurking. Because it knows I am at a new place where no one loves me. And no one will ever love me because I am not loveable. I traded emotionally security for professional stimulation, and now I have professional stimulation with severe emotional insecurity.

Emotional insecurity is the worst. I am an only-child-latch-key-kid from a broken home. I am an isolationist who doesn’t want to be isolated. I have the need to be alone, but the need to be with someone. You know, just in case I need a hug or someone to hold me when I cry. You can leave me alone the rest of the time, but when I start to emotionally buckle, someone best be there. If not, I am curled up in the most enclosed space I can find, crying and rocking myself to self soothe.   Please hug me and tell me everything will be OK.

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May 12, 2017

I’m getting the ugly out. My therapist says it is healthy to sit and get the yucky out when I feel it. I feel it right now. I feel self-doubt and insecurity and fear of never being comfortable again. I have the fear of trust: who is trustworthy, who will be loyal, who will be looking out for number one? I have the issue of being so caught up in my own feelings that I am not paying attention to others. I need to go back to my office because I feel safe there. I have to get back now. I have to go home because it is 5.  I have to get there because I feel safe there. Anyone I should be waiting on be damned. I have to go. I have to get in my safe space. It is hard. Things are hard. The only thing I have to go on now is the evidence of the past. I saw a former staff/professor yesterday who made me feel good about myself because he knew me when I was in my comfort zone and was productive, efficient, and fully competent. I miss the time of being fully competent. Learning is hard. Trying new things is hard.  Having Word tell me that “have to” should be replaced with “MUST” is hard. Can’t I even unload correctly right now? I need my things to slow down. All of the things. I need to feel in control over something. I feel in control of nothing. But I have to be careful not to internalize it and turn it into something obsessive like watching my weight or self-deprecation. The only thing I can control is my writing and my responses to these stressful new things. So I will purge all the thoughts onto the monitor in black and white for anyone with an open records request to read. Because it is what is the best decision for me at this time given the information and tools I have on hand. Looking into my brain is uncomfortable and sad, honestly, but holding it in and not acknowledging it is there just allows filth to fester and grow and overtake me. I will not let this beat me. Go away, Anxiety! Go away, self-doubt! Go away, this devil inside!

To read when your mind is being ugly as hell to your body

Today I choose to love my body because it has never deserted me. I choose to love my body because it has carried me miles and miles. I choose to love my body because it has nurtured and made two beautiful children. I choose to love my body because it doesn’t deserve to be hated. I choose to love my body because it houses me. I choose to love my body because it has shared my journey with me. I choose to love my body because it has carried me up the steps of the Eiffel Tower and the Great Wall of China. I choose to love my body because we are partners. I choose to love my body because it is a safe space for my children. I choose to love my body because it gives love to others, and it deserves the same in return.

The Class Clown

People come to me for laughs. There's no doubt in my mind that when I die, the eulogy and comments from my funeral will be, "That Heather sholl was funny." And yes, I am terribly funny on the outside, it's true.

I used to be a quiet little girl. The fat girl in the corner who was told once on the Kindergarten playground, "I am not playing with you at school because I don't want other kids to know I am friends with you because you are so fat."  This was said by one of my only playmates outside of school. I can tell you her first and last name, but I won't because she was 5 and surely didn't know the power of her words.

Looking back now, I can feel so sad for myself. How did I get through that? Would I be able to get through that now as an adult? I just don't know how I built up a survival wall during those early years, but somehow, I did. By seventh grade, I learned to make the joke first before I could become the butt of one- and trust me, it was one big butt (see what I did there?). Self depreciation became a means of survival for me, and I was so good at it. So very, very good at it.

Now as a 40 year old adult, I excel at the sport of degrading myself for the sake of humor. It's almost like I brainwashed myself: I cannot take a compliment, because I truly don't believe them. What once started as just weight issues has now turned into full self-esteem issues. I have zero confidence, I think I am inferior to just about everyone, but by God, I can still make people laugh. How did I get here?

I honestly cannot say that I would change things, because my humor has made many people smile through some really tough times in their lives. It's like that scene in Steel Magnolias where Clairee says, "Here! Punch Ousier!" and everyone winds up laughing at the cemetery. The world needs people like me: people that make themselves forget their own sorrows and struggles. However, inside of me, the struggle doesn't go away. To feel loved. To feel accepted. To feel worthy of anything.

Sometimes in life, we see people we fill we are kindred with. The minute I heard that comedian Robin Williams suffered from depression, I knew he was my people. It is such a dichotomy to show the world one persona, but know the other one inside your own brain and heart.

So today, I ask that you give some love to the funny people of the world. We need it.

When your weight controls you...

Women, do you feel good about your bodies? 

Someone pointed out to me yesterday that even when I was exercising 5-7x a week, eating as clean as a rabbit, and weighing about 6 pounds less, I still thought I was fat. I still had a pear shape with thighs that barely shrink.  I still saw saggy skin, stretch marks, and imperfection. 

Because of injury, I quit working out like I was on a mission. Instead, I started practicing self-care and yoga.  It makes me feel peaceful, but the 6 pounds I have gained make me feel anything but. However, I look pretty much the same in the mirror, and my clothes still fit. They just fit in a more shapely way in the hips.  :O I look at women like Adele and Oprah, and think they are beautiful. I look at other women in my life- who I think are gorgeous, but overweight- and wonder why I can see beauty in them, but not in myself. 

So here is my reason for this post: I want to know the secret. How does one feel beautiful?  If you feel beautiful- truly beautiful- tell me how you got to that place in your life. Since I lost weight in high school, I have spent the past 24 years trying to maintain "normal" and not turn back into that fat kid my childhood friends remember. I can pretend I do it for my health, but I don't. I do it because I don't want to live in shameful hiding again like I did when I was younger.  I want to believe that if I were to wind up 205 again, I would love myself, but I know I wouldn't. If I didn't love myself at my lowest (115 and suffering from malnutrition), I am not going to love myself at 205. A healthy weight for me is between 150-160, and I ate myself then too!

My therapists' assignment for me this week was to do things that make me feel good and confident about my appearance. Here are the things I have done:

1. Cut my hair.

2. Colored my hair.

3. Bought Kat Von D Prayer lipstick- dark and dangerous :)

4. Wore my Vintage Floral Doc Marten's as much as possible this week.

5. Dressed like the grunge kid I used to be.

6. Painted my nails.

7. Went out in public in yoga pants and a hoodie, rocking my lipstick, daring someone to say something.

I have to be honest. I know I am not ugly. I know I am not obese. I know people find me attractive. But in the end, none of that matters because I don't look in the mirror all day long and see the positive things- like my kick ass lipstick. I live in my brain that tells me I am still a 205 pound fat girl with braces, sweet 16 and never even held hands with a boy.  My brain tells me I am not pretty: I am mushy, soft, I have big gums, I have ugly thoughts about people, I am a poser.  I appear to be normal, but inside I'm screaming.

What makes you feel good? What makes you feel confident? How do you get what you see in the mirror to match what your mind is telling you? How do I reprogram my mind at 40 years old?