Will you swim, Mum?

So I took the kids swimming today.  Big deal?  It shouldn't be, should it?  I mean, I can swim, and I own a swimming costume. So what's all the fuss?

Well, for me, it was a big deal. Because usually, Joe takes the girls swimming while I do something else; like work, or rest!!  Of course, the real reason I don't go, is that I don't want to be seen in my swimming costume.  But, after yesterday's 'light bulb' moment and blog post, and all the lovely responses, today, I thought 'sod it'.

I thought about how much the girls wanted me to go swimming with them, and how they couldn't care less what I look like.  They tell me all the time that they think I am beautiful and pretty. Evie doesn't like me to wear makeup because she says I look better  without it. And then I thought, who in that pool today do I actually care about?  Answer: my girls. Nobody else.

If Joe were with us, I'd care about what he thought too, but he knows what I look like naked. He's seen me at my absolute worst. Giving birth (that can't be pretty, or flattering!!) being sick, drunk, hung over, bigger than I am now (I was massive when I was pregnant!) and thinner than I am now. He's loved me the whole time. Is the sight of me in my swimming costume going to change that now?

As for the kids ... well, I thought back to when I was a kid, and how much I thought about what my mum looked like.  Um, not at all. In fact, in the last almost-40 years, have I ever cared what my mum looked like?  I mean, she used to have a dodgy jumper with a cat on it that I'd rather she'd not worn (sorry Mum) but other than that, she's my mum, and whether she'd gained or lost a few stone, did it make a difference to how I felt about her? Whether I wanted to be in her company? Whether I was proud she was my mum?  Of course not!!

What my girls want, and what any kids want, is a mum that will have fun with them, without worrying what they look like.  It's what my husband wants too (in a wife, not a mum, obviously). Talking of my husband, one of the things I love the most about him is that he really doesn't care what other people think of him. Or, on the occasion he does, he doesn't let it affect what he's doing.

I have photos of Joe carrying and/or wearing any number of girly accessories that either one of the girls or I got fed up of carrying. He is never afraid to look silly, if it makes me, or the kids, or anyone else for that matter, laugh.    When I turn around and see him standing on his own, carrying my handbag and wearing one of the girls' hats, looking a right wally, is when I love him the most.   Sure, my husband looks better when he's a couple of stone lighter than he is right now. So do I. But do I love him any less because of a bit of extra weight?  Of course not!  It shows we've had a few too many cream teas, fish and chips by the sea, or glasses of wine in front of the telly, and that he'd rather be putting the girls to bed every night, than going to the gym.

So, if I've established that the people I care most about are Joe and the girls, and I've established that they don't care what I look like, and love me as I am, why should I be so bothered??

So when Lola asked me if we could swim, instead of sit in the coffee shop while Evie had her swimming lesson today, I said yes. Even though I hadn't shaved, waxed, fake tanned, tried on numerous swimming costumes to find the least-worst, or done any of the other things that usually  induce major panic and cause me to make up some last-minute excuse for not swimming.

As I said yesterday, I started this year wanting to loose weight and get fit, so that I could turn 40 being happy with who I am.  But now, with 2 weeks to go, I am changing my mind. (Convenient eh? If I'd lost weight, I'd probably be sticking to that first plan, wouldn't I? :-)

I'm going to try my very hardest to turn 40 liking who I am, and how I look. Or at least not hating it.  My failing auto-immune body prevents me from doing lots of things.  That's bad enough. But why stop myself from doing even more things, because of something as silly as worrying about how I look?

This summer, I am going to do the things I want to do - fitness and illness allowing - not worrying what I look like.  If the sight of my overweight, pasty, possibly hairy, body doing that bothers you?  Well, that's your problem. Not mine.

Why don't we all cut ourselves some slack?

Wow!  I can't believe it's been 2 years since I posted in this blog!!  I've written a couple of posts in that time - some actually typed up - some just in my head, but for some reason have never published them.

I think the longer it got, since I had written anything, the harder it became.  I think I thought a 'come back' post needed to be a big thing - my best post yet!

Anyway, now that I'm not sure anyone even reads this any more, I've had a lightbulb moment.  I've been having a few of those lately.  Maybe it's got something to do with turning 40 next month?  Maybe it's a temporary lift of Fibro-Fog? Maybe I'm just finally becoming old and wise?  Who knows?

Anyway, my lightbulb moment today.  How do I describe it?  Well, today I'm at home ill.  Not so ill as to be asleep, but ill enough to admit to myself that I need to sit and do nothing.  Ha!  So what am I doing now?  Nothing? Resting? Or writing a blog?  Yep, I will never learn!

I was sitting here, feeling a bit sorry for myself because I'm not feeling well, and thinking about how I started this year determined to feel better.  I was determined that by my 40th birthday - which is only 2 weeks away - I would be feeling healthier; I would have lost enough weight to feel at least ok with myself, and I would be ready to leave my illness-ridden 30's behind and start my 40's with loads of energy.  Hmm.  Doesn't look like that's happened quite as planned, does it?

Then, just as I was feeling pretty bad about myself, I remembered this blog, and why I started writing it in the first place.  Yes, it was to document a few crafty projects and recipes I was pleased with, but primarily, it was to talk about the stuff that I passionately believe we should all talk about more often.

I truly believe that if we all talked about things like depression, self esteem, mental illness, physical illness and how we feel, more often, we'd realise that everyone's struggling with something.  What you see on the outside of a person does not necessarily tell the full story of what's going on on the inside.  We all project an outward image, that we think protects us from the outside world - but does it? Or does it make things worse?

So here's how I feel right now.  I am fed up of always being ill.  Auto-Immune disease sucks.  I am not sure that I have got to the bottom of what's wrong with me yet, but I was diagnosed with Coeliac disease a couple of years ago, but told that I have probably had it, un-treated, since my late teens/early twenties.  As a result, my insides are in a pretty bad way.  Two gastroscopies, more than a year apart, have shown that there's not much in the way of villi in my intestines - they have been worn away by my own body attacking itself, as a result of gluten. Great!

In addition, I've been diagnosed with Fibromyalgia, had two carpal tunnel ops, one cubital tunnel op, and a TVT op to stop my pelvic organs making their own way out of my body!  Things still aren't right.  I have two more specialist appointments coming up - one to check out the funky 'floaters' that are constantly in my vision, and another to double-check the Fibro diagnosis - the current thinking being that Ehlers Danlos Syndrome might better explain my symptoms.  This has all been in the last 4 years.  Phew!  Just seeing that written down is a major reminder to cut myself some slack - which is the point of this post.

Do you know what?  If I had a friend going through all of that, whilst raising 4 and 6 year olds, I would think that she had her hands full, and wouldn't expect too much more from her.  So why do I expect so much more of myself??

But on top of all that, I am trying to build a business, Evie and Lola, in the 10 hours a week that I have to myself, while both girls are in school and nursery.  I am also president of our local Women's Institute - Wixams Vixens.  I can't help myself but become involved in all kinds of local events, and I set ridiculous standards for how tidy I like my house to be (which I fail on, by the way, pretty much 99% of the time!)

So that's all good.  I'm not complaining.  I love my life (except for the illness part, obviously).  I have a beautiful family, with dog and cat added for good measure.  We have a caravan that we love to go away in, pretty much once a month, and I really enjoy my business and being part of the WI.

What I really, really am not happy about right now is how I look.  I am at least 4 stone heavier than I am happy being.  I could do with losing 5, if I'm being brutally honest.  I hate how I look, how I feel, and how I dress, as a result of how I look and feel.

I never lost the weight I gained whilst pregnant with Evie.  Then I had Lola and gained more, and then I felt ill, and tired, and gained even more.  Now I have very little time or energy for exercise and my physio has told me not to run, or do anything else that puts strain on my unstable joints and prolapsing insides (see EDS suspicions!).

So that's all fine too.  I mean, I'd rather it wasn't the case, but it's not the end of the world, is it?  My husband loves me regardless, exactly as I am.  I have lots of lovely friends and I love my life.  I don't judge people on how they look.  I don't like or dislike a person in proportion with their size.  So why do I judge myself?  Why do I like myself so much less, just because I'm carrying a bit (lot) more weight than I'd like?

The problem is, my weight, and the way I perceive myself to look, is really tied up in my mental wellbeing.  I suffer, on and off, with depression and anxiety.  I have been told that I will be on medication for that indefinitely.  It's probably got a whole lot to do with the state of my insides. (do you know that 90% of the serotonin in our body is produced in the gut?  Just a quick google of gut health and mental wellbeing will throw up all kinds of evidence on this)  When I'm feeling particularly bad about myself, I have a tendency to not to want to go out.  I'll cancel plans.  Cry off on arrangements with friends, and make excuses to stay at home.

I might fabricate or exaggerate reasons to stay home, but I'm not making it up - I get physically ill - either with an anxiety attack or migraine, and can't go out anyway, but it started because I was feeling bad about the way I look.  Isn't that ridiculous?!  I can't even tell you how many events I've missed because of this stupidity!  I have lost friends because I have cancelled out one too many times without giving a decent reason.  I haven't given a decent reason, because there isn't one.   This is the reason, it's stupid and it has to stop!!

So, my plan at the start of the year was to turn 40 feeling better about myself, because I had lost weight, got healthier and was ready to party, wearing clothes that I'd chosen because I actually like them, rather than because they fit, or I think they hide a few of the bits of me that I don't like.

But how about this:  How about I cut myself some slack?  How about I think about what's going on in my life at the moment and give myself some space.  Stop worrying about how I look.  Honestly, I've got enough other things to worry about - does it matter what I'm wearing?

I'm not happy with how I am.  It's not how I want to be.  But I can't let it stop me doing the things I want to do!  It's time I just accepted it, and made the best of it.  I will fix it, if and when I have the time, energy, or diagnosis.  But for now, while I don't have those things, I need to become happier with how I am.

I'm writing this now because I can already spot the signs.  I have a big day out planned for my 40th and there is already a voice in my head telling me to cancel, because of how I look.  I am already feeling anxious about what I'm going to wear, because I believe I look awful in everything.  Even just writing this, and thinking about going out with people, out of my comfort zone, I can feel a panic rising.

I'm not going to be happy with myself on my 40th because I lost a load of weight and got back to looking like 'the old me'.  It's too late for that.  But there's still time for me to change the way I think about myself, and be happy with how I am.  I'm working on it.

How about you?  Do you need to cut yourself some slack too?

I'm in a Funk!

Yep, I've admitted it to myself today, so I might as well admit it to my dear blog readers too.

It's been a bit quiet around here lately hasn't it? With the exception of a couple of evenings of sewing, I haven't been doing much. I've been in hiding. Today I realised I need to do something about it.

 

So what is it? What's going on? I'm not sure. I feel lethargic, sleepy, headachy, sore throat, generally run down. I feel like I've got an awful hangover, when I haven't been drinking. I'm used to feeling like this. It's why I got the blood tests that indicated Coeliac disease and if I ever get as far as an actual diagnosis on that, I'll know it's the cause.

 

But regardless, this is how I feel, and it's not like I haven't felt like it before. Much of the time, I carry on regardless. But sometimes, it builds up, and puts me in a bit of a funk.

 

Funk is my highly medical term for effectively going in to hibernation. I don't want to leave the house. Heck, I don't want to get out of bed, but the two ankle biters in the house don't accept lie-ins as an option around here. I've put on weight because I've been eating junk. I feel rubbish. On the inside and outside.

I imagine that if I wasn't on the antidepressants that I've been warned I should be on for quite a while, I'd probably be getting tearful and slipping in to depression, but the meds keep me just short of that.

 

I feel like life is running away with me a bit. Not much, but just enough that I can't quite catch up. The house is a mess, the post goes unopened, I miss birthdays and appointments, don't feel in control of the finances. To a control-freak like me, that's all pretty hard to deal with. It drives me crazy. I think my brain just shuts down and tries to ignore it all. But if I ignore it, it will get worse. It's a slippery slope. I need to get off!

 

Thank goodness the good weather is here. I need to start making the most of it and getting out of the house. I feel infinately better when the sun is shining, but I don't cope well with heat, due to my true Irish complexion. So I have to tread a fine line with regard to getting out in the sunshine.

 

I need to get myself prepared so that getting out of the house is easy. These munchkins are both going through particularly tricky stages at the moment. Lola's teething badly and not settling well at night at all, so we are tired. During the daytime, Evie's at a 'boundary testing' stage, which takes a lot of patience! So I need to make sure the mornings run smoothly and that I can get a packed lunch together quickly.

 

I did a bit of googling this morning and I've found some great picnic food ideas that can be taken out of the freezer at breakfast time, and will be ready to eat by lunchtime. I'm off to the supermarket for supplies and I'll have a cookathon tomorrow. I'll let you know how I get on. Hopefully I'll have this funk kicked by the other side of the weekend.

 

What do you do to get yourself out of a funk? Got any ideas or advice for me?

 

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