Tag Archives: therapy

What Would YOU Keep?

Freeform thoughts, Reflections on past times,

loveSo I was telling you yesterday about my epic fail in the hypnotherapy stakes, and it prompted me to have a look through some of the homework I had to do during the time I spent poking around in the dark corners of my head. I nearly fell off my chair when the word homework was mentioned, I mean I didn’t think I’d signed up for that…I didn’t even turn homework in on time at school.

As a grown up somehow I felt less of a need to rebel,  although given that I still regarded the therapy lady as a bit mystical I think perhaps I was just a tiny bit scared that she was hiding some eye of newt in her cupboard to use on wayward clients. And to be honest, if this was the woman who could unlock my head and break out the skinny girl, the least I could do was give it my best shot, right?

So she asked me what I would change about myself if I could start from scratch and design a new me. Well, let me tell you I was out of the traps like a greyhound. By the time I’d finished my list she was the one with glazed eyes. It was like giving a four year old the Argos catalogue at Christmas and asking them to make a list. I wanted to change quite a lot, as it turns out.  But then she started to play dirty, and asked me what I would keep. That was so much harder to answer.

I settled on my eyes. I’ve always had quite nice eyes I think. Sadly mother nature forgot to bless me with thick dark silky eyelashes – bitch, they’re probably in the back of her cupboard along with my long skinny legs and impressive chest which have never seen the light of day either – but they’re a nice green colour and with the aid of either mascara, or falsies, they can look quite striking.

Actually I should caveat that – they used to look quite striking. I thought I was doing really well in the face department as far as ageing was concerned until I started wearing contact lenses a couple of years ago, and after I’d tried to blame the first lot for being defective I realised with 20/20 vision I really wasn’t ageing quite as well as I’d thought. I sulked for a week.

And that was kind of the end of my list…a bit pathetic really. I did try and explain…my hair almost made the list. I like the colour, it’s very silvery blonde now (80% mother nature and 20% because I’m worth it 🙂 ) but it was disqualified due to its tendency to kink, curl and generally misbehave whenever there’s a sniff of moisture in the air. Do you remember Leo Sayer..? That’s all I’m sayin.

My knees, well they would have made the list if I’d been 140lbs lighter but sadly they were disqualified too on the basis that nobody could remember what they looked like in their former glory, and seriously, no matter how kind someone was being, they’re not ‘keep list’ material in their current state. One of them really hurts, all the time, and the number of dimples per square inch would only look appealing on toddler.

So yes, just the eyes. It’s funny, her question was what would I change, and what would I keep. I’m the one who made the leap to all the physical things, which shows you the level of my preoccupation with what I look like when I’m fat.

So, my homework was to reach out to five of my friends, and ask them what things about me they would keep if they had to re-design me. So I did. And all five answers made me cry. Nobody talked about my kinky hair, or my dimpled knees. Or my eyes actually…they talked about my warmth, and my humour, and the fact that they knew I was in their corner no matter what. They talked about how I’m always positive and how I challenge them in a good way and make them realise when they’re being a dick. They talked about lots of things that had chuff all to do with what I looked like. Isn’t that interesting.

Why don’t you try it? I felt ten feet tall and on days where everything’s a struggle, those words will help to light you up from the inside…promise.

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Magic Me Skinny Please.

Freeform thoughts, Reflections on past times, , , ,

IMG_3588

This is the first thing I see every morning when I open my eyes – yes, that’s right I really did write ‘I am awesome’ on my bedroom wall.  My mum, who was never particularly arty and who has, many times over the years looked at me like I had a screw loose just didn’t get it. She stood there last year, five feet nothing in her stockinged feet, admiring my newly decorated bedroom, enjoying the feel of new carpet under her toes, admiring the new throw and the window seat, and the new shutters, nodding her approval, then she saw the writing and just looked…confused. She genuinely thought I’d lost the plot.

I bet you get it don’t you?  I’d put money on the fact that a fair few folk in our posse would understand the need for validation before they’re ready to get up and at the day. It’s an idea I got from a great lady I spent a couple of years soul searching with…therapy makes me sound very pretentious and actually that’s not really how our paths crossed. Like too many times in the past, I’d decided to go on a diet – it was a Monday, of course (it always is) but prior to the actual day I’d not really decided what food plan I was going to follow, so of course I woke up full of enthusiasm but with no real plan or idea of how this diet was going to pan out. There’s a surprise said nobody!

So anyway, in the absence of a plan, and without wanting to fall off the wagon before I’d even left the house, which would have been a personal best even for me I decided that since one of the things I’d never tried was hypnotism, this might be the right time to have a crack at it. I mean on the face of it, come on it was a bloody marvellous idea. Somebody talking to me in a soft voice whilst I sat in a chair and relaxed, my brain all the time absorbing all the hooky spooky magic, and I’d wake up with a craving for carrot sticks and a hatred of cake. Get in, how come I’d never thought about this before..? So out came the laptop, I googled hypnotists in my local area and by lunchtime I was on my way to my first appointment.

I have to admit that first meeting didn’t go quite the way I’d expected. Well actually you know, I don’t really know what I expected. Mystic Meg maybe? She wasn’t wearing a kaftan or a turban and there was no sign of a watch on a chain. We sat and chatted for an hour about what I wanted (to be skinny) and how I might get there (penny’s starting to drop now that she wasn’t in fact going to magic me skinny) and I left after an hour feeling a bit deflated – that’s not how it happens on the TV. I was still fat, I still loved cake and I had no cravings for carrot sticks whatsoever.

But I went back. And then I went back again…before I knew it I’d been back lots of times. She did in fact agree to hypnotise me once – it wasn’t a great success, even I had to acknowledge that. After snoring my way through 45 minutes that I have no memory of at all I conceded defeat. I mean there’s relaxed and suggestible, and then there’s fast asleep with dribble leaking out of your mouth. Enough said.  But, over the course of a couple of years’ worth of going back I learned more about myself than most people could hope to know.

The more digging I did the more layers appeared and the more it felt at times that I was a hopeless case. I’d describe myself as still work in progress, although I’ve been on an extended hiatus from all the soul searching for the last year or so. It’s exhausting. And if I’m honest, what the blog has done for me over the last two months has probably given me more practical support than therapy ever did. But one thing that I realised as I turned over stone after stone is that I might be broken, wired wrong, fat and not getting skinny any time soon, but I’m still bloody awesome on the inside, where it counts. That doesn’t mean I’m comfortable in my own skin…you know I’m not. That’s why I’m here. But on the inside, I’ve got it all going on.

I am awesome. It says so on my wall.

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