Will I ever be thin enough?

Trapped by a society who thinks thin is the only 'in', I have lived on a roller coaster of weight.  I grew up in a household with a mother who was on a perpetual diet.  Both she and my father maintained slender, if not underweight, bodies.  Even as they aged the notion that they must be thin remained.  When my father passed away almost four years ago I would bet he didn't weigh much more than 90lbs.  He had probably been sick for years, contributing to his frail body, but only admitting and succombing to his illness right at the end of his life.  A few days before my father passed away he said to me 'I should have taken better care of myself'.  Besides the alcohol abuse and the 50+ years of smoking, my father never over indulged in food, he probably never ate an adequate amount of food either.

The fear of becoming overweight prevented both my parents from a healthy lifestyle.  Alcohol and cigarettes became the main staple of their lives.  Many times it was their food.  My mother continues on with that premise giving her an aged beyond her years look and an unhealthy body.  She is oblivious to reality.

I've always tried to keep myself thin.   My average dress size was somewhere between a 4 and 6.  If I crossed over to that hated size 8 I would exercise and starve myself back to where I felt I should be.  That routine has been difficult to maintain as I have aged my life responsibilities have changed.  I'm no longer that skinny size 4 and I don't believe I will ever be again.  I've tried to come to terms with my size 10 pants, but it's difficult in a world of skinny pressures.  I can't say that I will ever be happy at this size, but my will to be that thin has faded.

My mother's continuous commentary on the size of everyone makes me wonder how I ever escaped a life of anexoria.  Her comments on myself and my daughter, while thought to be either meaningless or complimentary, awkwardly turn out to be hurtful.  I can easily stand up for my own child, but I can't seem to find the words to tell her how it hurts me.  I wonder at times how long will I be able to tolerate listening to her on-going tale of being a size 0 before I burst at the seams.

My son's girlfriend confided in me about her families issues with anexoria and the impact it has had on her and her life.  I can't imagine how she must really feel inside.  Conquering your issues with weight is diffiuclt enough, but to add in family who choose to live with anexoria as a lifestyle and continually push it on others must be unbareable.  I hope that she is able to overcome her issues with food and live a happy, healthy life.  It takes a strong mind and heart to stop listening to how others think you should live and live your own life.

I had to make that choice in my life to be who I am no matter what anyone else thinks.  I was a late bloomer in life.  I really didn't grow up until my late 20s.  My shy personality kept me from so many wonderful things in life.  My first hurdle was to become independent and confident.  With both of those traits I learned to love myself for who I am.  I learned to not question myself and be brave.  I don't have to be the thinnest girl in the room anymore.  I can be whoever I want to be and if people don't like me for who I am, no matter what my size, then they are not worth knowing. 

Will I ever be thin enough?  Probably not, but I will be happy with what I am anyway.

Why do high heels have to hurt so much?

Like most women I love shoes.  I have a closet full of high heels for every type of occassion imaginable.  I've been wearing high heels for about eight years now with an average of five days a week.  That's a lot of pressure on my feet.

Before I became a slave to my desk I was an aerobics instructor.  My footwear consisted of sneakers or sandals.  I put a lot of wear on my feet during those years.  I taught many high impact classes and as a result I had a stress fracture in my foot.  But even that didn't stop me from teaching.  I learned to hop around on one foot or land just right so I didn't feel pain.  I'm quite certain the doctor would not have agreed with the abuse I gave that foot, but it's hard to stop someone dedicated to fitness.

As that part of my life phased out and I transitioned into office work I found a penchant for high heels.  Following true to my mother, I have developed bad feet.  Bunions and blisters have been my primary enemy.  And while the pain is quite bad at times I still can't break the habit of wearing heels. 

High heels make me feel thin.  There I said it.  Since I no longer spend hours upon hours exercising I have developed what I call chair butt.  I'm certain the combination of a slower metobolism that comes with age, a more sedentary lifestyle and the unfortunate need for drugs to control my heart I don't have that rail thin body anymore.  I am very aware that wearing a pair of heels doesn't change the size of my back side anymore than it would change the number on the scale.  They just make me feel better about myself.

My mom's feet are awful.  Her bunions are huge and her toes are permanently bent and overlapping.  I don't want those feet when I get older.  I realize exactly that is potentially on the horizon for me if I don't make a change. 

I would estimate my feet hurt about 75% of the time now.  It doesn't matter if I am barefoot, wearing sandals  or heels the pain is non stop.  I consider having surgery to take care of the bunion issue which is likely the cause of most of the pain, but mentally I'm not prepared to give up my heels. 

Life is a balancing act

It's been a little over a week since the teenager moved in and it's been more of a challenge than I imaged.  He isn't our first house guest as such.  A few summers ago one of my daughters friends stayed with us for nearly a month.  It wasn't because she wasn't able to go home, but her home was a small two bedroom duplex that housed two adults and four children.  She was just looking for a place to stretch out for a bit and our home fit her need at the moment.  She didn't expect anything from us and was never a problem to have around.  She was happy to have a family around such as mine.

This young man staying with us comes from a difficult home and a lot of baggage.  He needs help getting himself on the right track to adulthood, but I'm unsure if we are the right people to help him get there.  Some of the issue is basic distrust.  We haven't known him long enough to feel really comfortable with him in our home.  Maybe something we should have considered before we agreed to the situation.  Hindsight is always 20/20.  I have tried to encourage him to look for a part time work and scolded him when he skipped school.  Rules are present wherever you go, something he fails to grasp.  I've treated him like one of my own this past week hoping he will feel at home. 

Life is a difficult balancing act.  There doesn't seem to be any directions to take you from point A to point B.  Some days I wish I knew exactly what to expect and where life was headed, because then I would be prepared for each step ahead. I would brace myself for the impact of uncertain events with prepared reactions and emotions or be ready to celebrate in the event of unexpected triumph.

I envy people who say their lives are in balance. People who live an existence without the rolling turmoil of an unbalanced life.  But does that truly exist anyway?  So many life with a false facade surrounding their beings.

In our daily balancing act, what we can predict is how we will react to the situations that arise in our lives.  In this journey I call life I hope to share who I am and what I have, but I can only stretch so far.  Life is not predictable, it's not going to be easy no matter which path you take.  And sometimes doing what you feel is the right thing isn't always the best thing. 

Teaching your children altruism

I grew up in a household that was giving.  We lived in a medium sized college town.  The local school is small and private, but was directly across the street from my childhood home.  Over the years college aged kids would come through our house as frequent dinner guests.  My parents acted as their surrogate parents while they finished growing up in the 80s.  And even though we were quite poor my parents always made it a point to share what we had.

As an adult I have tried to instill that lesson within my own children.  I am happy to say that they are the most generous, caring and giving children I have ever met. This brings me back to my last blog, Who will love your children?  My son's friend moved into our home last night.  He brought with him very little simply because he has very little.  After learning that my son had been buying him dinner almost every night after school and even took it upon himself to buy the kid shoes when he needed it I was beaming with pride.  He didn't do these things for the recognition, he didn't even tell me until yesterday; he did it because he saw someone struggling, someone in need. 

In the past he has come home from school and asked if he could give another kid a pair of his black dress pants.  After all, he as a couple pairs and the kid had none to wear for an upcoming band concert.  A teacher once told us that he is such a nice kid that she believed he would literally give another child the shirt off his back.  My son just cares about others.

My only concern with my son's generosity is being taken advantage of.  If I think back to my parents, my father in particular, he did what was necessary to make others happy.  He worked in a family business and when it was time to sell the business and move on, he gave all of his proceeds/earnings to his parents for their retirement.  While this left us in bad situation, he felt that was his duty, his obligation. 

I have opened my home to my mother since my father's passing in 2008.  She doesn't pay rent, utilities, phone, cable.  She isn't asked to do anything.  I somehow feel this is my duty, my obligation following closely in my fathers footsteps.  Here in lies my personal battle.  Am I being taken advantage of?  I have spoke about my trials and tribulations with my situation and I often times wonder if my generosity and how I have taught my children to follow is going to lead them down the same path.

My son asked me yesterday if I think it would be ok for him to buy his friend a laptop.  He has been working full time for a couple of months now and earns a decent salary for a teen.   I told him that I think everything he has done is great and I am proud of how he is stepping up to help someone in need, but also that he has to draw the line somewhere.  He can't be this kids mother, he can't do it all for him.  This kid has to grow up a little too, he has to become responsible for himself.  Those perks aren't something that he should be buying for him.  And while my son understands this I know that he will continue to give to this kid and I worry he will over do it. 

My children see me giving everyday by trying to keep the peace at home.  I attempt to always sit with mom for dinner even if it means skipping a night out with friends or hurrying through work obligations. I try to make it a point to take her places on the weekends and I feel I've gone the extra mile to make her feel at home.  But in reality, my  mother, while in her late 60s, is perfectly capable of caring for herself, supporting herself.  She is fully able to work a part time job for a few extra bucks to pay for her own cell phone or just to have something to do.  Instead, just as my father, she has left all financial burdens and social interactions on me and my family and expecting for the same care she received from my father. 

Have I made a mistake by showing my children what altruism means?  Have I rendered them to a position where they sometimes will forget about themselves too often?  I want my children to give, I want them to recognize that they are fortunate for what they have, but I don't want them to suffer in the end and give up too much. 

Who will love your children?

I constantly amazed by the number of children who are homeless.  My children have several friends each who do not live in their own homes, with their own family.  Some were kicked out of their homes for getting pregnant and others just can't seem to get along with their parents so they either left or were forced to leave.  Tonight my son asked us if his friend could live with us.  His friend currently lives with his father and stepmother.  Tomorrow he turns 18 which means he is apparently no longer welcome in his home.

It's heart breaking the disfunction these kids live with.  Our children make mistakes.  Some are worse than others, but kicking them out doesn't teach any life lessons.  It's not breaking the cycle of misfortune, it's adding to it.  And who is left to pick up the pieces for these children?  It's parents like us that must take on the task of raising someone else's child. 

I have taken leftovers to the homes of my children's friends so that they could have a hot meal for dinner.  I have given clothing, purchased extra at the grocery store and offered my couch on more than one occasion to kids in need.  I have soft spot for kids, even kids in crisis because I believe every child deserves a chance.
When we decided to have children it was a life-long commitment.  Our children will be part of our lives forever.  I would never consider telling them they are no longer welcome in this house.  It's their house too.  I'm heart broken thinking about how these children must feel. 

Starting tomorrow I will open my home up indefinetly to another child.  While he may be a legal adult in the eyes of the law, he is still a child that needs guidance, needs shelter and needs love.  My story of a multi-generational family is growing to include more than my own family.

What's for dinner?

Every day is a new challenge living in a household of five.  The biggest issue we face on a daily basis is dinner.  My family lives in a fast paced, busy household.  It seems everyone is going in six different directions at any given time.  I'm quite certain this is normal for most households today, but in my mom's lifetime things have never been so chaotic.  Life moves at a slow, even pace and everything is done the same almost daily.  She has a lot of time to think about what she has to do next and included in that is dinner. 

I asked Mom a couple of years ago if she would like to help out by cooking dinner.  At that time I was planning the menu, doing the shopping and she was preparing the meal.  Since then she started buying some of the food and still cooking.  The problem is that I have a very picky family and our schedules are so that it makes it difficult for all of us to be home for dinner daily.  Both hubby and I work more than 40  hours per week making it difficult to always be home and ready to eat by 6:00 PM.  Additionally, my daughter recently started a job a few evenings a week and my son goes to night school.  Needless to say, these implications don't play out well in the scheme of a nightly family dinner.

I feel guilty when I can't make it home on time or have to cancel dinner because of conflicting schedules.  I understand that she is home alone all day and this is her time to be with the family and that is the main reason for my guilt.  The other side of this is that the rest of the family would rather not eat what she cooks so many times when they are available for dinner they find other reasons to stay away.

I carry a lot of guilt when it pertains to my mother.  A better description might contain the word conflicted.  I am conflicted between trying to keep her happy, keep the peace between my family, filling my work obligations and still maintaining a life outside of all of that.  I don't believe there is a true balance for any of that.  It's simply too much.  And while those I have confinded in for advice or just as a relief to get it off my chest will say you need to stand up for yourself and put things into perspective for her, I just can't.  Just as my brother says 'it's just easier this way'.  But in reality, easier for who?

I'm certain I can't possibly be alone in this type of situation/lifestyle.  I know there are others out there caring for aging parents or even living with alcoholics, but where are you?

Sometimes sad

I was a little sad this morning.  I got into  mom's car to drive to work (we sometimes must play musical cars to get everyone to where they need to be) and as usual the belt is squeeling.  While this isn't the end of the world it made me think about something.  In the past this is something my dad would have taken care of, but since dad isn't here anymore this task has fallen on my husband.  He has tried to fix the issue several times and can't seem to figure it out.  Further he has told mom on at least four occassions that she needs to take the car to the shop to get it fixed.  Again, this would have been dad's job and this makes me a little frustrated.  Subsequently the problem has fallen on me.  Why did my dad do everything and why did he leave my family to take over his responsibilities?  I have a husband, two teenage children and a full time job.  Now I have another responsibility because she was so spoiled all those years with dad she expects everyone else to take care of her problems; everyone but herself.

I texted my brother expressing my feelings which equated to losing my mind.  He responded back with something to the effect of "it's too early for this foolishness".  It was enough to make me smile and I felt a little better.  He was right, it was too early in the morning, too much to do today to be out of sorts.  I had to get on with my day.

I spoke mom about taking care of the problem on the way to dinner tonight.  She was less than receptive, a bit curt even, noting that dad usually took care of the car and she knows she has to now.  Then she started to cry and I felt bad. 

Everyone was out tonight so when I decided to take mom to dinner I was thinking about a little shoe shopping after, but as usual alcohol affected the evening.  I didn't even mention the shoe shopping because she clearly had too much to drink by the end of dinner.  That really makes me sad. 

I feel like its been years since I had a mom.  There was a short time she stopped drinking and I really felt like I had my mom back.  That was around 4-5 years ago and it was very short lived.  I'm the mother in this relationship.  That makes me sad too.  It's not supposed to be how life is when you are only 40 years old.