Body Image

"Look at that little lady!"

"Midget!"

"Look at that little, fat man!"

"Look at that little Grandma!" (that's the most recent, and the one that freaked me out the most!)

These are just a sample of some of the things I hear on a regular basis.

I have to admit that my own body image is something I have struggled with for quite a long time. Not so much now I am older. There's just something so incredibly liberating about being 40-something, but God I wish I had've had this when I was younger! At first I was going to write, "...when I was younger and it mattered more." but then I realised that it doesn't matter how old you get or what life-stage you're at, your self image is important.

I've found it hard maintaining a healthy self/body image, especially when being constantly bombarded with what society thinks is perfection and even more so when you really, really don't fit into that image at all. Add to that people noticing you because of that difference and thinking it's their duty to point it out to you and make sure every day that you know you're different and you'll find that getting and maintaining a healthy level of self-love and self-acceptance can be quite an uphill battle.

Funny thing is, I can't remember having this struggle as a child. I wasn't even aware that I was different. I knew I was shorter than average, but the significance of that didn't hit me at all. I just was. I didn't wish to be anything else. I guess it was during those tumultuous teenage years where hormones were going crazy that the realisation suddenly dawned on me that this. was. it. I was always going to be "this" short. I was never going to be that tall, leggy girl with amazing hair and great teeth. I was going to be noticed but not in the way that tall, leggy girl with amazing hair and great teeth was going to be noticed. I was going to be noticed in a way I didn't want to be.

And so the body image struggle began.

Not a lot of people really know this but I struggled with my body image so much that I developed an eating disorder that stayed with me for the better part of ten years. At my lowest point I weighed a tiny 31kg (68.2lb or 4.9 stone) at age 23. Even at 117cm (or 3 ft 10in), this is a very tiny weight for a 23 year old woman. I exercised like one posessed and fed myself very little. People would remark how good I was looking - even our specialists were pleased with my tiny frame! However I knew the mental battle that was going on. I knew what it was costing me to be that. I didn't want to live like that, so I got help. It wasn't the greatest help, but it was help all the same. I think the biggest catalyst for me getting on the road to recovery was that I wanted to get better, rather than becoming well because of anything a counselor or therapist could tell me.

Getting better, I've found, isn't a destination. It's a journey without an end. Am I better than I was? Yes. Am I totally and completely well? No. The struggle still remains but it's something I'm always working on and will continue to work on.

How do I do it?

Over the years I have spent many hours talking to counselors; chewing the fat, thrashing things out, exploring the heights and the depths of what makes me tick. Some of them helpful, one who was a waste of my time and theirs. It takes a while until you find someone you're comfortable with. Search until you find someone who really listens, who lets you discover the path you want to take and then helps you explore that path.

I've also learned to listen to my body and mind. What does it need? What do I need? Do I need to just sit on the couch at home watching movies for the day and not deal with the world today? Am I ok enough to get out there and do my thing and fight the good fight today? Do I really need that lovely, greasy McChicken? (oh believe me, some days I DO!) Do I need that time out, away from family, away from friends, away from the responsibilities? When I listen to my body and mind and give it what it needs I find I am a lot stronger both physically and mentally.

I've learned that it's ok to say that some days, I hate this. It's not good to always go around with a smiley face, telling everyone I'm fine, that I'm happy, that I'm coping, that I'm brave. Some days I do hate this. Some days I hate being up for public discussion and ridicule. Some days it's hard that life didn't turn out like I hoped. It's OK to SAY that! It's ok to open up to your closest relatives and friends and say that life sucks. A burden shared is a burden halved. I always feel a little lighter when I've let someone help me carry some of the load sometimes. It doesn't change anything, but it assures me that I'm not alone and there are people there on the sidelines who are cheering me on, have my back covered and are on my side.

I've discovered the benefits of a healthy, active lifestyle. At the moment I regularly walk, jog and swim. Since doing these things, my body is stronger, my head is clearer and my attitude is more positive. I'm a firm believer in the idea, "Move it or lose it!" You're more likely to see me using the stairs at the station, rather than the escalators. Every little bit helps. When I first started jogging, I could only jog for about 100 metres before I needed to walk, now I regularly jog about 3km a few times a week. Throughout the whole run I argue with myself:

"I can't do this!"

"Yes you can!"

"But I'm tired! I'll just go to that corner!"

"You can go further than that!"

"Ok, but I'll just go to the NEXT corner!"

"Imagine how good you'll feel when this is finished."

By the end of it my legs are protesting, but the natural high I get at the end of a run is more than worth it. My cardio fitness has improved so much. I'm more toned and I feel strong. My weight consistently stays at 38kg, no matter what. It wants to be this weight. I don't gain, I don't lose. I stay here. I like it here, and for the first time ever I realise that I am comfortable in my own skin. Most days I am ok with being 40-something and 117cm. I won't say I love it. I won't say I wouldn't want to be different, but I accept it and nurture this body as much as it deserves to be nurtured.

At the moment, everything is working just as it should be and I hope this is the case for the rest of my life. I also know that all this could change. My spine could betray me one day and I could end up needing surgery. If this is the case, I will accept that too. I will welcome that weelchair or scooter as a means of keeping me active and independent. I've seen the independence and freedom that wheelchairs have given to my daughters so I know how awesome they can be.

I wish my 20 year old self could have known what this 40-something year old me knows, but the journey in getting here, although hard, was worth it. I'm glad for all the lessons I've learned on the road.

Doing Time

You learn the art of waiting when you're living with a difference or a disability because you have to wait a lot, especially when you're in the public system and at the mercy of Medicare. Sometimes I wonder what life would have been if we had taken out health insurance right from the start, but there's no way we could afford it. So, we've learned how to perfect the art of waiting and patience and doing our time with a positive attitude - or at least an attempt at it.

The art of waiting has taken over 25 years to perfect. I'm sure that in the early days I was impatient and became irritated, especially when the kids were little and a trip to the hospital to attend outpatients clinics would mean that the entire day was taken up. We'd have wall-to-wall specialist appointments in the one day. Often we'd get to the waiting area and would indeed, have to wait. For hours. The appointment may have been booked for 9am but we often wouldn't get in to see the specialist until 11am. The same would happen for the afternoon appointment.

You just learned that that's the way it was. We learned that we needed to prepare. We learned to pack books, activities and snacks for the kids and ourselves. There was no point in complaining. The clinic was busy. The specialists were seeing many, many children all the time, each of them equally as important as yours. When you got in to see the specialist, often they would spend more than the allotted time with our children so we began to understand and appreciate why clinics ran so ridiculously behind time. They were giving the best care with the resources they had. The nicest thing we as patients we could do was to learn to wait patiently and appreciate the care we were given.

I watch new parents come into clinic now. As I sit there waiting I see them come in and register at the clinic. They sit and fidget and look up expectantly every time a clinician comes out and calls a name, their face falling when it's not theirs. It's usually at about the 20 minute mark they get up and enquire with the receptionist how long the wait will be. They have no idea that I got there half an hour before they did and I'm still waiting. I've even had an irate new parent be seen before me. It's ok. They'll learn. They'll eventually learn the art of waiting. They'll eventually work out that in clinic there is no such thing as running to schedule and that time has no meaning. You wait and you'll be seen, eventually.

As I write, my son and I are waiting. We're in a new clinic. Our appointment was for 2pm. It's now 3:15pm. The waiting room is filled with people. Some have been waiting longer than us. We all will be seen eventually. We wait. What more can we do? We're being patient. All we can trust in is the hope that when we see our specialist he or she will give us the best care possible. It will make the wait worth it.

Sent from my iPhone

Haunting old haunts

You know how you have those childhood memories where a place you visited seemed beautiful beyond measure? Well that's what Hiawatha was in my memory. I would have been very, very young when I have the memory of being there - possibly no older than four. But the memory of being in this beautiful, ice-cold stream, with water rushing over rocks and the sound of the water trickling and rushing always remained. In my memory it was lush and green and beautiful.

Today, after all these years, I found it. I found Hiawatha. I was so afraid that it wasn't going to live up to my memory; that it was just going to be this small, stagnant little creek and nothing special. But there it was; beautiful and green, with the water rushing over rocks, the waterfall flowing, surrounded by green bush and huge, rolling hills and the tallest of trees. I was so happy. The memory is intact. Now my children have seen it. I'm so happy to have shared it with them.

Dot point love

Sorry for the lack of posts folks. I've got something brewing but I'm finding it hard getting a cohesive something up....plus I don't have constant use of a laptop to get posts up so I'm at the mercy of my kids generosity. God love them!

So, a quick rundown:

* Georgia is recovering well at home from her recent surgery. Her medication is slowly being reduced and she is gradually learning how to do things like she used to. I have had to take extra time off work to ensure she receives appropriate support at home. I'm now waiting on Centrelink to grant me a Carers Payment so I can make this a more permanent arrangement.

* I have decided to reach out and join a Growth Group with our church. It's a smaller discussion and friendship group where you are able to give and receive more individualised Pastoral Care. I went to my first group get-together last night. It was really great and eye-opening - good to see people who had faith but didn't necessarily feel as though they had to put on the face that everything was hunky dory with their lives.

* Sarah is visiting from Ballarat this weekend. It is so wonderful to have her home.

* I have spent a terrible amount of money on my car this week....well, actually it was my MIL's car but has allowed us to have it. This week I've worked on  getting it ready to have the registration transferred to my name which has meant getting a Roadworthy Certificate. $650.75 and a new windscreen, tyre, engine mount and all sorts of miscelaneous bits and pieces later, it's ready to go. All I can say is thank heavens it's a free car!

* We have a new puppy coming - a little male Jack Russell. He'll be joining us in two weeks time.

So, that's it for now people. I'll try and get something more blog-worthy up soon. This was just to let you all know that I am still alive!

The Public Face

Do you have a Public Face?

Image credit

I feel the constant need to put on my Public Face. All. The. Time. This is the face that smiles and says, "Yes, I'm fine. Sure I've seen each one of my four children through extensive, life-changing surgeries. Sure I wrestle every day with access issues. Sure I try and ignore people being insenstive and downright rude and ignorant every day. But I'M OK.

I find I am very aware that I am on display simply by stepping out my front door every day. I attract attention. I attract attention because I look different. I know this. I understand this. I know that if I wasn't short statured and I had never encountered difference I would possibly be curious too. With the upbringing I had I would like to think I would be politely curious. I hope I would. I guess I'll never know because I am the one who looks different so when I encounter another person with a difference I've never seen before I treat them exactly the way I'd like to be treated - with respect. I note their difference and then move on, letting them be just another face in the crowd just as I wish to be.

So, being a person living with a difference I learned from a very young age to put on the Public Face. The face that appears not to notice that people are looking, and staring, and giggling, and digging their mates in the ribs to make sure they notice me too, and getting out their mobile phones to take a picture or make a video to upload on YouTube or their Facebook or just to share with their friends. But I do notice...and I pretend it doesn't matter but it does. I like my privacy. I can make a joke with myself that they're only taking photos and videos because I am so damn hot or so damn famous that they can't believe they've seen me. It doesn't work though