October 4, 1998
Been trying to help a friend to deal with some children she has been
babysitting. Their previous babysitter was a twisted and spiteful person,
who taught them more about hate than affection. I gave some advice about
dealing with them, which she suggested I put up here:
"But what should I do about the oldest? She keeps telling me that she
hates me."
I chuckled and told her a few things to say about that:
"Well, I *love* you."
(only partially effective in actual use - works better if the child
also hears this at other times)
"That's nice."
(more effective - doesn't give the child any easy openings and can
also be used for things like "You're the worse/meanest....")
"If it makes you happy."
-or-
"If it makes you feel better."
(Extremely effective - shows that you care about them, but are not
hurt by their behavior - I get the most annoyed looks when I do this
*g*)
As for the threats like "I'm never going to talk to you again!", "I'm
going to hate you for the rest of my life!", and so forth:
"Really? Is that a promise?"
"Thank you, it will make things easier for me."
"Of course!"
"That's very thoughtful of you.", etc.
My daughter pulls the "I hate you" bit every few months. She usually
stomps into her room out of frustration, stays there a few hours, and
then comes out as sweet as can be to me. "But I thought you weren't
going to talk to me again, ever." She tells me that she changed her
mind, then she hugs me and life goes back to normal. You just can't
take this stuff personally, because many times it isn't really you
they hate but what is going on and children don't have the ability to
understand what is actually upsetting them at the time.
You can only cure hate with love and patience.
Which brings me back to my self-therapy efforts. I've put off doing
the rest "Healing the Shame that Binds You" for a few months now.
*sigh!* The next section deals with learning to love yourself and I've
been having problems motivating myself. Guess I just need to sit down
and do it.
October 11, 1998
Well, I haven't just sat down and did the exercises. I had an ovarian cyst
burst early last week and have been dealing with the after effects. I'm
feeling a little better, but I still feel a little nauseous when I do too
much.
Still, I've been reminding myself on a constant basis that I need to learn to
love myself, even before my last journal entry. It must be having some
effect, because I was in a craft store and all the sudden I caught a very
unflattering view of myself in a mirror on the floor, leaning against a wall.
I mean, I couldn't think of a more unflattering view of anyone. But instead
of cringing like I usually do, I thought, "Gee, I don't look all that bad."
You must understand that I am quite overweight, but at that moment it didn't
seem to matter.
A few days later, I had a dream where I saw myself without clothing. I wasn't
as large as I am now, but I was still quite plump. I actually thought I was
very beautiful. It seems that my subconscious is accepting the me that I am
a lot better than my conscious mind is.
I am going to have a very busy week, this week. I doubt I will be able to set
aside time to do those exercises, but I will continue to remind myself that
I need to love myself. I will also remind myself that I need to do those
exercises.
October 19, 1998
I had a wonderful day today.
It didn't start that way. A cold front came through in the middle of the
night, aggravating my fibromyalgia and keeping me from sleeping. Then the
plumber decides to show up this morning before I could get any more cleaning
done. I mean the house was an absolute mess! Stunned, I decided that I had
two ways to take this. I could either spend the whole day miserable in
embarassment, berating myself for being such an awful human being, or I could
be grateful that God saved me from doing myself in, in an effort to appear
"acceptable".
You see many times in the past I have worked slowly to reclaim my house from
its perpetual messiness. Halfway there, I decide "Gee, if I worked hard for
a day or two and get this placed completely cleaned, then all I would have to
do is put this same amount of energy daily, like I do now, and I would have
a spotless house." And every time before, I would go all out and push myself
to exhaustion to get my "clean" house--only to become so weak and sick that
I can barely move for days--during which time the house becomes completely
messy again and I'm back to where I started (if I'm lucky).
I actually reached that "light at the end of the tunnel" place about two weeks
back, but before I could implement my own downfall, that ovarian cyst burst.
I talked about it with two of my closest friends and we joked that it was
God's way of saving me from myself. Well, I was about to do it again today.
I wanted the house clean for the plumber and I had finally got over the
weakness from that burst cyst. I was going to clean really hard today, but
I was too tired this morning and fell back asleep after the kids got on the
school bus. Finally, I got myself awake and was taking care of a few things
when the plumber showed up. You see, I was suppose to call him to find out
when he could come over to put in our new gasline. And since he didn't park
directly in front of the house, I hadn't seen any sign of him when I glanced
out my window.
I could have died. I had been suffering from depression all weekend and I
was sure this was going to be something else to destroy my self worth. I
showed him and his assistant in and explained what was where, apologizing for
the mess. I went back to doing laundry and dishes. After awhile, the
plumber left and it was just me and his assistant. While I helped him to
find a few things, we began to talk. It turned out that he was a total dear
and understood my situation exactly. We had even knew a few of the same
abusive people and had both removed ourselves from their company. We didn't
go into detail, just a few words about that situation and we both knew that
we were fellow survivors.
So, instead going around the house mentally beating myself, I happily went
about doing what I could do, secure in the fact that someone up there must
love me or I wouldn't have a day like this. Not only was the assistant
wonderful, but the plumber's son came by to help with the job too, and they
did more than just what we asked for, without charging us more for it. My
husband was even impressed with their work. There was one mistake that
happened in the middle, but it was understandable and will be corrected in
a later stage of our remodeling anyway.
*big smile*
I keep praying that someday I will find a middle gear between giving 150% and
giving 30%. I think God's helping me to carve out that notch.
October 26, 1998
Last Tuesday or Wednesday, we had an almost perfect afternoon. I found out I
had lost five pounds in the past week. The kids came home happy, I had been
doing well, and my husband didn't have to work overtime.
We talked sweetly to each other. It was wonderful.
Then later, the kids were playing nicely together in another room, I was
still doing housework at a pace that wouldn't make me sick and my husband was
remodelling our main bathroom so our wheelchair bound friend could use it.
I sat down for a short rest when he can out as proud as can be of his
workmanship. He had braced the walls for extra support for the handrails.
He tested it by putting his full weight on each support section. I agreed
with him that it should easily support our 6+ foot friend, and he exclaims,
"Not only that, but it could even support your weight!"
I muttered that our friend weighed more than I did and my husband gives me
this blank look and says, "He does?" I say, "Yes, he does."
What can you do when you realize that your husband has you visualized as the
epitome of largeness? I mean, my friends keep telling me I'm not really that
bad, but they're all females. The thing is, I've always suspected he felt
that way. Even in the past when I would start to slim down, he wouldn't
notice. People I hardly knew would ask me if I lost weight, and if he was
standing right there, he would get this look of shock on his face.
He told me when we were engaged that weight didn't matter to him, that no
matter what I weighed, he would still love me. He said this after I revealed
my worry about being able to stay relatively "unfat". I told him back then
I wasn't that great of a housekeeper. At the time, he just smiled.
Now, he doesn't care what else I'm good at. He just wants me to keep the
house clean--even when he leaves his stuff around and saws wood in the
livingroom. The man's a slob, but I'm the waste of human flesh because I
can't keep the place clean. The kids even wonder why Dad can't put away his
own stuff. Well, in fairness, he does put some stuff away, but the moment I
get an area clean up, either the kids pull their toys out into it, or my
husband starts a new project in the area. I would rather have the toys--at
I can move them without destroying something. He doesn't understand that it
is harder to clean when you have to work around a large pile of stuff. I'm
suppose to be careful about leaving out harmful things (which I'm pretty good
at doing), but he suppose to be able to leave saws, knives, solvents (which
make me sick--I make him move those), and such without the kids touching
them. I'm not even sure when he has finished a project sometimes because the
stuff is still out.
Still, he has made some effort to be a little better, but I'm still
considered the one with the problem. I've been trying to be a little more
open with my affection, but it's hard because he considers just about every
display of emotion to be manipulative. I use to hide a lot when I wanted to
cry, because I was too proud to let him see. Then I found out during our
marriage counseling that he thought I cried to make him feel bad, and that my
tears weren't sincere. I can't win for losing.
We dropped out of counseling, because he wouldn't admit he had any problems
and, damn my stupid psyche, I would subconciously take over the session
with my problems so he would be spared the pain of facing his own. We even
discussed this during our last session. What it all boils down to is that
counseling isn't going to help us a bit, until I can stop trying to protect
his feelings or he starts to face his own problems.
Meanwhile, I have a hole so deep in my soul that I doubt any mortal can fill
it. I've been neglected most of my life. Just last week, my two best friends
mentioned in two different offhanded, yet very compassionate, ways that I was
starved for attention. It was really weird, because it was during two totally
different conversations, and they practically used the very same phrase.
But it's true, after all those years I pretended I didn't need it, I am now
desperate for it. Maybe too desperate.
I guess I should go back to having visits with my younger self. I should
probably go back to studying my scriptures, too. It makes me feel better,
but for some reason I don't keep it up. Well, I do justisfy the scripture
bit with the fact that I do know them pretty well, but still I am a whole lot
more stable when I read them on a daily basis.
Face it . . . my need for attention is too great for anybody here to deal
with. I might as well give up that fantasy. God and I are the only ones who
have the time, patience, and motivation to take care of it. Everybody else
has their own problems--they don't need mine.
Just checked the scale. I lost four more pounds.
October 31, 1998
MY LIVINGROOM IS CLEAN!
Okay...so I've come down with a bad headcold and my back still hurts. So my
friend's steam cleaner died before we could get to the carpets and the books
on the shelves need straighten. For all practical intents and purposes, I
have a clean livingroom (and dining area too!) and I'm on my way to
reclaiming my kitchen. YES!!!
In other news, my friends have informed me that my previous journal entry was
not a self-pity one and have suggested I remove my warning at its beginning.
I'm not used to complaining about something without feeling guilty. To me,
many complaints I make about my own circumstances seem, well, like a weakness.
So I am going to give myself permission to complain more. I just hope that
someone will let me know when I cross over to the self-pity side of things.
I really don't have an idea where that line lies in regards to myself.
