On talking too much

I am a talker.  I would never presume to categorize myself otherwise.  It makes it hard, however, to tell someone else to "shut the eff up".

I belong to a lovely book club of wonderful women.  We meet once a month for a dinner based on the book we've read.  We've had fabulous meals and memorable discussion, some sparked because of the book and some just organically stemming from someone's news or life event.

There is one woman there, however, who cannot censor herself.  Incessant and inane are too words that come to mind.  How do you tell someone that you don't care to know every thought in her head?  Even her emails overshare.  The worst part is that she wouldn't hurt a fly and would be mortified if she knew that people are relieved if she can't make it.  Even her good friends in the group are becoming annoyed.

Last night, I did not even realize that I shut her down once or twice and turned the conversation back to one where others could participate and not be mere spectators in the monologue of the mundane.  I also did not notice that a few others had cut her off and shut her down and that people were becoming irritated.  In the end, though, everyone is too nice to tell her that she is a spotlight hog... a conversation boor.

I might say something if I were not a gabby person myself.  In fact, I often worry that I say too much and find myself consciously 'zipping it' to let others have a turn.  Perhaps THAT is the difference:  I am aware of talking too much and motor mouth is not.

Is there a book we could add to the list that would create more self awareness?  Or would that be too subtle for her?  Likely.  At any rate, group dynamics are fascinating and watching the quiet ones gradually step up and claim air time, and shut down the verbal diarrhea will be interesting.  For now, I am grateful that she hasn't managed to get the group to change the night of our meetings to suit her (and only her) or to get the group to invite her husband to join (it's a women's group) despite the fact that many of us prefer him to her.

I'll let the universe sort this one out!

The Weight is Over, and other tall tales

I am a large person.  Scratch that - I am a BIG person.  I stand 6 feet tall and have at some points in my life weighed a helluva lot.  My relationships with food and exercise are complex and I may never unravel it all and make sense of it.  But I plan on trying.

Last year, I read "Women, Food and God" by Geneen Roth. I had been browsing O magazine while waiting for an appointment and just happened to open to the interview of Ms. Roth.  In the small bit I read, something resonated and I ordered the book as soon as I got home.  I devoured the book, if you will pardon the overeating reference!

My "aha moment" (to borrow from Oprah) was realizing how little care and compassion I had for my "self".  I am strongly supportive and caring of others, but I denied myself the same!  I also took my body completely for granted.  I have good genes as they say - great blood pressure, high "good" cholesterol, low "bad" cholesterol, etc. etc. I also had some bad genes, i.e., obesity on both sides of my family.  What right did I have to squander the good?

I also decided that I needed to stop lambasting and whipping myself for every little thing I put in my mouth.  I decided that I needed to honour my self, my body, my spirit.  I needed to commit to myself.

Sounds easy, right?  Uh uh. Not exactly. Been there and done that.  Five years previous I had embarked on a program at a local bariatric clinic and lost over 130 pounds.  Gradually the weight had gone back on - not all - but a goodly amount.  My first big decision, one that I must occasionally remind myself of, was not to dwell on the fact that I had re-gained, but to focus on the now, focus on my commitment to myself.  It became - still is - a personal journey to health and wellness.  I have no group exercise classes to go to, no Doc to weigh me.  Just me, myself, the elliptical and weights in the basement, the food scale, and http://www.myfitnesspal.com  .

I promised myself honesty.  I promised myself commitment.  And that is what I have continued to do.  I log calories and exercise. I banish the "voice" in my head that tries to undermine my confidence.  I take each day and do my best.

Here's what I've learned:  I am strong.  I prefer exercising alone rather than in a group or at a gym. I can talk myself into exercising just as easily as I used to talk myself out of exercising. The scale is a number that provides me with information but has no power; the power is my commitment to myself. The power is gentleness and honesty with myself.

I am now down to what I weighed when I finished at the bariatric centre.  But I feel different.  I feel in control, and I feel on track.  I have met my major and minor goals, and have made the effort to reward myself for my hard work in meaningful ways.  I am not done with losing, I am not done with exercising, I am not done with counting calories.  But, I feel good.

I will always be a big person.  I will never be short.  I will always have big feet, a big heart, a big sense of humour, a big intellect, a big thirst for knowledge, and a big joy for living.

I have now added to this list: I have a big commitment to myself and my health.

Bullys

I wish we lived in harmony.  I wish we could feel good about ourselves without taking someone else down.  I wish bullying others was universally reviled by society to the extent that it was as unacceptable as belching or farting in public.

Check this out to see the perspective of  a twenty-something:

Kate Has a Blog: YouTube of the Week

Dealing with Uncomfortable Situations

I am no stranger to having to face my fears, to deliver unpleasant news, to inform employees of things they don't want to hear, to listen to heartbreak, to watching someone die... And yet, it never gets easier.


I have:
- known months in advance that my father was going to leave my mother, and kept silent 
- sat beside a friend whose baby has just died while 7 months pregnant myself, and looked at the pictures, and held my tears
- phoned colleagues one after the other to inform them that a beloved boss had been tragically killed, and then led them through the grief amidst pressing work deadlines
- confronted unethical behaviour at work
- retracted funding from organizations with failed audits (knowing that doing so would likely cause the organization to fold)
... and the list goes on.


I have had another uncomfortable situation at work this past 2 weeks, and tomorrow my own boss will be back and he will find himself in deep doo doo.  I expect he will try and "explain things" to me - as if that matters.  Friends are reminding me that I should not be the one feeling uncomfortable, because I am only the one who was left with a mess to clean up.  And yet, I know it will be awkward and unpleasant.


Do the ones who put us in these situations feel anything?  Are they sorry?  Do they know I laid in bed at 4 am worrying about how to phrase things, or what their reaction would be, or if I was making a mistake.  It's unlikely. 


I am reminded of some wisdom (from whom I remember not) that says that it is not the stuff that happens in our life that defines us, but rather our reaction to it.  This is very true, but sometimes it takes courage.  Scratch that.  Always, it takes courage.  It takes courage to stand by others who are in pain, and in your silence and in your embrace, hold their pain for them for even just a moment.  It takes courage to have integrity and bear witness to what is right and not turn a blind eye to wrong.  


"Courage is grace under pressure" said Ernest Hemmingway.  Maya Angelou takes it further.  She says: “Courage: the most important of all the virtues because without courage, you can't practice any other virtue consistently.” 


I think we must allow ourselves to be uncomfortable, so that we don't take the easy path, so that we can live with integrity, so that we develop our skills in compassion that allow us to comfort those in distress.  


So tomorrow I will try and make peace with my uncomfortableness.  And it's not like there's another option anyway!

Dalai Lama's 18 Rules for Living

You may have read these before... he apparently wrote them at the turn of the Century.  But, if you haven't - and even if you have - read them... slowly... and think...

1. Take into account that great love and great achievements involve great risk.
2. When you lose, don’t lose the lesson.
3. Follow the three Rs:
   1. Respect for self
   2. Respect for others
   3. Responsibility for all your actions.
4. Remember that not getting what you want is sometimes a wonderful stroke of luck.
5. Learn the rules so you know how to break them properly.
6. Don’t let a little dispute injure a great friendship.
7. When you realize you’ve made a mistake, take immediate steps to correct it.
8. Spend some time alone every day.
9. Open your arms to change, but don’t let go of your values.
10. Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer.
11. Live a good, honourable life. Then when you get older and think back, you’ll be able to enjoy it a second time.
12. A loving atmosphere in your home is the foundation for your life.
13. In disagreements with loved ones, deal only with the current situation. Don’t bring up the past.
14. Share your knowledge. It’s a way to achieve immortality.
15. Be gentle with the earth.
16. Once a year, go someplace you’ve never been before.
17. Remember that the best relationship is one in which your love for each other exceeds your need for each other.
18. Judge your success by what you had to give up in order to get it.

"Fierce Longing" by Oriah Mountain Dreamer

There are moments
when making love
when a door
to something else
opens.
I am never prepared.
There is no preparation
for the way it takes me
and leaves me.

Sometimes it is brought
by a movement of tenderness:
soft lips that brush my forehead
and murmur my name
as the fire burns through
me making
my hips rise
and my blood moan.

Sometimes it is brought
by a moment of great courage:
eyes that dare to meet
and hold mine as the flood
of silky amber honey
takes us both over the edge.

And sometimes
it is brought
by the sting of what is not
and the memory of
tenderness and courage
that has been.

And when that moment
catches me
and tosses me
I am helpless.
The words spill
unbidden
into the night:
“I want … I want … I want…”

Unfinished
they leave me
dangling
suspended over the chasm
of my own bottomless
desire.
Reaching
aching
grasping
for that fleeting something
I glimpsed
or imagined
just beyond.

Gone before
I could name it.

The breath catches
a strangled sob
tears me
opens me
and I fall back
eyes wide and
dazed
on damp pillows
my face
wet with tears.

And his eyes
stare
bewildered
frightened by the fierceness
of my longing.

"To be of Use" by Marge Piercy

The people I love the best

Jump into work head first

Without dallying in the shallows

And swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.

They seem to become natives of that element,

The black sleek heads of seals

Bouncing like half-submerged balls.

I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,

Who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,

Who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,

Who do what has to be done, again and again.

I want to be with people who submerge

In the task, who go into the fields to harvest

And work in a row and pass the bags along,

Who stand in the line and haul in their places,

Who are not parlour generals and field deserters

But move in a common rhythm

When the food must come in or the fire be put out.

The work of the world is common as mud.

Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.

But the thing worth doing well done

Has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.

Greek amphoras for wine or oil,

Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums,

But you know they were made to be used.

The pitcher cries for water to carry

And a person for work that is real.