06
Jul

The Body Image Project – “on the nose”

Topic / The Body Image Project

July 6.

So THESE are my siblings.  (That’s me in the purple hair.)  The other two lovelies are my brother and sister, both younger in age.

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We are half Japanese, and between the three of us we actually fill almost every Japanese stereotype.

Wicked smart. (Sean.)
Artistically creative.  (All three of us.)
Exotic looking.  (Kari.)
Wide feet.  (ALL OF US OMG.)
Cutthroat business acumen.  (Kari and me.)
Alabaster skin.  (Me.  No, I am not wearing white pantyhose.)
Thighs like a speed skater.  (Kari, Sean.)
Good with all things electronic.  (Sean.  Wrote computer code before age 10.)
Forehead like Mt. Fuji.  (All three of us, and that actually is a compliment.)

AND

Tiny, dainty, button noses.

THOSE TWO.  NOT ME.Read More

05
Jul

The Body Image Project – “thick skin”

Topic / The Body Image Project

July 5.

Deep down inside, I am a pimply fat girl.

20150705_124430

Although this revelation makes many (The Mr. included) roll their eyes with a deep sigh and “…um, whatever,” the pimply part is not without warrant.  From the ages of 15 through 17, and then again from 18 to 20, my skin was terrible.

Terrible, awful, no good, very bad, horrible.

I think that someone else looking at my face back then could have said “disgusting.”  I wouldn’t blame them.  It was kind of disgusting, especially if they weren’t a fan of pus or scabs.

[Ew and oh no, as I write that I cringe and shake my head.  Truth is hard sometimes.]

As life would have it, other people looking at my face back then DID say “disgusting.”Read More

05
Jul

The Body Image Project – “best foot forward”

Topic / The Body Image Project

July 4.

If I had to pick one body part that caused the very most mental grief over the longest period of time, it would have to be my feet.

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I’m sure that sounds silly to some.  “They’re just FEET.”  Everyone has them.  We usually don’t notice them.  They carry us where we want to go.  They smell sometimes.  They get dirty.  They’re all up in the mess of life, literally the “boots on the ground” of our life, stepping in the shit and pushing through anyways.

Still.

For a very, very long time, I held a huge amount of shame and disgust for my feet.

Looking at them now, as an adult, I appreciate things about them.  They match.  They match each other, and they match my hands.  They are large and wide.  (You’d think that would help me fall down less, but not so much.)  They are SENSIBLE and EFFICIENT, which are two qualities I hold in high regard.

When I was a kid, though, and a very young adult, I was so ashamed of my feet.Read More

05
Feb

How to Love Your Body – See it Inside Out

Topic / mental health, The Body Image Project

Imagine that your life is a road.

Whether long and winding or short and straight, your life is a road, complete with switchbacks, pit stops, mountains, bridges, crossroads, trial, trouble, and adventure.

On this road, to get from here to the end, you are given one car.  Just one, and you must drive.  You cannot walk, and you don’t get to pick the car you get.  Make, model, color, size, quality, seating capacity, cupholders.  You get what is decided for you.

You set out on your journey, face forward, peering intently through the windshield.  You are excited!  The road of life is good.  Your soul is full of hope and promise, “because ROAD TRIP,” and your heart leaps at every single magnificent view as you pass it by.  You see amazing things, you feel amazing things, you overcome obstacles in the road in an amazing way.

At the beginning of your journey and well into the middle, your car is like-new and reliable.  It turns when you tell it to turn, when your feet reflect the speed of your heart and push the pedal down, the car speeds up and slows down as you’d expect.  You sometimes have a few hiccups because of required maintenance, but the car gives back to you what you put into it.  When you take care of the car, it takes care of you.

And so you drive.
Read More

03
Dec

Three Lies Women Believe That Ruin Their Lives – Identifying Half-Truths

Topic / mental health

You’re being lied to.

[“No, no, no, no one is lying to me.  The people in my life tell me the truth.”]

You spoke up quick!  I’m so glad.  How have you been?    ….but yeah no.  You’re being lied to, and a lot.  People tell you lies all the time, and some of them are big ones.

[“…well, I guess people tell me white lies sometimes, but just to make me feel better, or to keep me safe, or because they love me.  I do it too sometimes.  Those don’t really count.”]

Yes, they do count.  And YES, you do it too, and way more than “sometimes.”

Whether disguised as half-truths or white lies, lies are still lies.  They still count.

Sometimes we tell ourselves lies because we need to feel better.  We  intentionally convince ourselves of something that isn’t true, because dealing with the lie is way more palatable.  “These pants are tight, I must be bloated from p-week.”  (Couldn’t have anything to do with the family size bag of –itos I ate for lunch yesterday, but whatever.)  Sometimes we don’t THINK we’re lying, but we purposefully avoid facing something we don’t want to acknowledge.  Avoiding truth is still lying.  “She’s my MOM, I know she loves me.”  (Nevermind that you feel sick dread before you see her, she drags you through the ringer when she’s with you, and you feel like crap for days after you’ve visited.)

When it comes to truth and lies, there is no middle ground.  Things are TRUE, or they’re not.
Read More

28
Aug

The Danger of Comparison – Building Your Worth On The Backs Of Others

Topic / mental health

I wonder if Eve thought she was fat.

You know, THE Eve.  Adam’s love, the woman that lived in the Garden of Eden.  THAT Eve.  The first woman around, the first woman created.  I wonder if she thought she was fat.

Regardless of your religious stance, whether you believe the story to be God breathed or purely fiction, take a minute to think about it.  I can see it perfectly in my head.

Eve wakes up for the first time, freshly formed from Adam’s rib, formed by the hand of God Himself, takes her first breath of God-filled air, looks down at her body, and says, “HOLY HIPS, GOD.  WTF.  Looook at how fat I am.  And this pudge.  (grabs skin around middle)  I am SO ANGRY.  THIS is what you dealt me?  I could have been ANY SHAPE, and THIS is the one you pick.  ARE YOU BLIND?  LOOK AT ME.  No one in the world is ever going to want me, I’m DISGUSTING.  You might as well name me the same as that thing over there.  (points to brand new cow)  (looks around, sees Adam)  Hey you, what’s your name?  Adam?  Hey, Adam, do you think these leaves make me look fat?”

[And yes, I know the leaves came later, but you get my point.]

In my mind I can see Eve, acting out the words and thoughts I’ve had with regard to myself and my body, and I can’t stop shaking my head.

I just don’t think she’d do that.
Read More

30
Jul

“Selfish” is NOT a Four Letter Word. GET YOURS.

Topic / mental health

A very, very long time ago I made a hugely big-girl decision and put myself on birth control.

I did it even though I was married and he didn’t like it.

I did it even though I was a “natural family planner.”

I did it even though (according to religious doctrine) it was a no no to prevent conception, even though it supposed to be a mutual decision, even though I was supposed to be submissive to my husband’s direction, even though I had more or less committed to having four kids and not just three.

I did it without anyone else’s permission, without anyone else’s input, and without anyone else’s blessing.

Even though I never thought I’d be on birth control again after I stopped to have my first baby, even though I knew for sure I wanted more kids, I did it anyways.

I remember the day I made the decision.  I was nervous, excited, kind of sad.  I remember the rush of adrenaline that came with putting my foot down, and how much stronger I felt to take responsibility for my sexual identity and reproductive system.

I remember feeling sad, a little, that my body had to be “taken back” from the role of wife-mother-child-bearer, like the name tag I had worn on my chest for so long needed to be changed from all those other things to “Just Erin,” but I ALSO remember how right it felt to have a grain of control over my life and my body.

For the first time ever, on that day I took OWNERSHIP of myself, my destiny, and the trajectory of my life.

For the first time ever, I did something just for me.

My body, my rules, my life.

Sounds selfish, right?
Read More

16
Jun

The Choice of Suicide – How to Cope with the Stupid Choices of Others

Topic / love and relationships, mental health

Sometimes life gets heavy.

Sometimes life gets REALLY, REALLY heavy, and all you can do to keep going is to get pissed.  GET MAD.  It helps.  The adrenaline and fury are like rocket fuel inside your head, and they will carry you through and over a lot of obstacles.

Just like any tank of fuel, though, it does run out eventually.

Yeah, the last week or so has kind of been like that.

I used to be married.  For ten years I was married.  On the outside our relationship looked great.  We attended church.  We had good friends.  We WERE good friends.  I was a good wife.  I kept the house clean, cooked, did laundry.  I did not complain about my position or station in our relationship; he was the head of the family and I was second-in-command.  All major decisions were made by him, financial, religious, spiritual, family, work.  I followed the Christian Creed, “wives submit to your husbands.”

I am a forgiving person.  I am a trusting person.  I let things go easily, as long as we’re willing to talk about it.

I let MOST things go easily.

Some things I just have a hard time with.  Some things I can’t easily let go of.
Read More

18
Sep

How to Feel Good About What You’ve Got – The Power of Perspective

Topic / mental health

In an earlier part of my life I served as a missionary.  The experience crushed me and left me shattered and hollowed out.

But in a really good way.

Nkule, the day we took him in.

Nkule, the day we took him in.

This is Nkule.  He was born in Winterton, KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa.

Well, technically he was born OUTSIDE of Winterton, since the ACTUAL place he was born was a tiny hut made of mud and straw well outside of civilization.  No electricity, no running water, no plumbing of any kind.  At least a one hour hike to the nearest hand-pump well.  The clothes you see him wearing are the only clothes he owned.

I had seen Nkule for the first time about a week prior to the time of this photograph.  When I saw him he was clean and sitting with his sister, his two cousins, and his grandmother.  His grandma sought a meeting with “the missionaries” to seek counsel, and we had agreed to meet with her.
Read More

23
Aug

The Power of Refuge – Finding A Place of Peace in the Storm

Topic / mental health

ref·uge  [ref-yooj]  (n) :

1.  shelter or protection from danger, trouble, etc.
2.  a place of shelter, protection, or safety.
3.  anything to which one has recourse for aid, relief, or escape.

========================================

Have you ever felt refuge?

Have you ever felt like you NEEDED it.

I firmly believe that the difference between someone that comes out of a pile of shit with hope and compassion, versus someone that comes out cynical and hard, is how much refuge they were able to find during their struggles.
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