245.8lbs

This is my first post of the week and it should be my second.

What a week.  If it wasn't one thing, it was another.  But despite all the headaches, I did pretty well with staying on track despite another blip on Wednesday night which, again, caused a gain on the scale Thursday morning.  My goal was to get to 240lbs by Monday morning weigh in and, while I don't think that is possible anymore, I am still going to try my hardest to get there.  

I have also been walking everyday for 30 minutes.  Dr. Gundry recommends no exercise during Phase 1 of the Gundry Diet, but seeing the scale go down has given me so much motivation.  Working out, if even walking at a brisk pace for 30 minutes a day, has made me so happy this week and it is something I am thankful for.  I've decided to follow a full on workout plan starting Monday (end of week 2 of Phase 1) that will incorporate cardio and strength training.  I'm going to google "beginner workout plans". I am not new to working out.  In my mid-twenties, after getting settled into an office job, I gained 25 pounds so I joined a gym and worked out almost everyday.  However, I have not consistently worked out since having my son.  So I need to start out SLOW!

I've been feeling extra anxious this week.  I have my son's 6th birthday party coming up on March 10 and its given me a reason to stay up at night.  My son's birthday party will be filled with family and friends that I love, but throwing a party for 30+ people is kinda nerve-wracking for me.  Especially because my Mom will be there.  Oy...

My mom was almost 31 years old when I was born.  She already had 10 year old and 7 year old girls and was actually on birth control when she found out she was pregnant with me.  Still though, she was happy to be pregnant and called me her "miracle baby" all throughout my childhood.  And she treated me like it, too.  I was my mom's life, her everything, her every waking breath.  I could not speak more highly of how wonderful a mother she was to me while growing up (my dad was great too, but worked a lot) and how loved and lucky I felt to be her daughter.  

When I hit high school, my mother ever constant presence in my life was starting to become suffocating.  I was not a bad kid.  Far from it.  I was a very respectful, quiet teen.  I got good grades in school, I played varsity softball all four years, and I had great friends.  However, any grasp for independence I tried was thwarted by my Mom.  She wanted to be involved in every part of my life, wanted to know everything about my friends, all my thoughts, everything.  My older sisters were grown and gone and my father worked two jobs.  My mom was a stay-at-home mom who had nothing better to do than to involve herself fully in her teen daughters life.  And it was fucking exhausting.  So I did the only thing I knew to do to get some freedom in my life.  I applied and was accepted to a college that was an 8 hour drive away.  

My first year of college was hard.  I was a 17 year old that was used to her mom taking care of damn near everything for her.  My mom was the classic helicopter parent.  If we went out and somebody asked me a question, she would answer for me.  Even in high school.  I was always her "miracle baby".  Even when I had boobs.  I was beyond, beyond sheltered.  I had a mom that literally threw herself between me and the world for as long as she could.  When I finally got out from behind her, I had no idea what to do.  And that is when my self-doubt was born.  I questioned my decisions on everything, because she did.  If I didn't call to ask her opinion on what type of elective I should register for, she would get angry and tell me that the choice I made was wrong and I should have called her.  She knew the answer to everything, I knew nothing.  She could take care of anything for me, I was just an innocent spoiled baby.  Her words, not mine.  That year went by slowly and I made very few friends.  I went to school in a beautiful city that I hardly explored because I spent most of my free time on the phone answering all the questions she asked about every waking moment of my life.  Even from 400 miles away, she had a hold on me I was trying hard to get out of.  

After a suffocating summer at home with her, I went back to college my sophomore year determined to distance myself from my mom and have my own life.  I was 19.  I was a college student living in a different city.  I wanted out. I got a job at a cafe on campus and made tons of friends.  I volunteered for on-campus activities.  I went out and explored the city.  I called my mom less.  And she was PISSED.  She accused me of having a "second life" without her and told me I was ungrateful and even went so far as to call me a bitch.  All this because I was having fun and meeting people in college.  This went on for the next 3 years.  The more independent I became, the more ungrateful a daughter I was.  It was crazy.  But I didnt let it stop me from having a great time in college and making memories with friends.  In 2002, I moved back home with my parents after my dad lost his job.  It devastated me that I didnt graduate. Both my sisters had degrees.  My not being able to stay in college, even though it wasnt really my fault, left me feeling so damn bad about myself.  I was also very unhappy that I would have to go back home and move back in with my parents at almost 22 years old.  My self-esteem collapsed on itself. I was incredibly sad about this and felt lost and was unsure of what I should do next.  I couldnt afford to go back to college.  And if not college, then what?

While I figured it out, I got a job at a restaurant and bought my first car.  I made new friends and tried to make and save as much money as I could while waitressing.  But I was 22 years old and wanted to go out with my friends.  This didnt bode well with my mom.  We fought alot about my "partying".  She made me feel so bad about myself.  I never wanted to be home, so after work I would hang out with friends and do what most 22 year olds do: drink.  I drank alot because I was unhappy with who I thought I was, which was what my mom and the verbally abusive boyfriends I kept running to told me I was: nothing.  Not worth a goddamn thing.

I had grown up and was edging out a path for myself and my mother hated that. She resented that I didnt need or ask for her opinion on every little thing.  She became so so angry at me.  In the almost two years I lived at home after college, my mom said things to me that I still can't unhear.  She called me every terrible name in the book, told me I would never amount to anything, called me a loser, said she was ashamed of me.  Even after I got a great job as an administrative assistant at a great company downtown and was doing awesome, making good money, paying all my bills, making sure to give her money every month...she still told me I was a loser.  I remember a good friend I had named Erin had decided to move to Portland to try to make a life there.  "It's a great city, Iris!" Erin told me. "It's cheaper!  We can get a two bedroom apartment for the price of a studio here!  You can get an office job, I can teach!  Let's go!"  It sounded fantastic to me.  Portland!  What an adventure!  I'll never forget what my mom told me when I mentioned the idea to her.  "You'll never do anything," she told me, in a disgusted tone.  "You'll never do anything with your life."  It broke my heart.  I believed her.  I didnt go with Erin to Portland which is a thing I regret till this day.

When I finally made enough money to afford my own apartment, I moved out. Most parents would encourage and be happy about their 20-something year old kid moving into their first apartment.  Not my mom.  The day that I moved out my mother stayed in her bedroom and refused to come out.  When I called her that night, she told me that I was an ungrateful bitch and that I was trying to start "a second life" away from her and my family.

As I've gotten older and become a responsible and independent adult, my relationship with my mom has only gotten worse.  She continuously takes every opportunity she can to criticize my decisions.  And the resentment she has towards me is palpable.  And I'm sure she feels the same way about me.  When I became engaged to my husband, I hugged her and cried.  She was very happy for me, she was.  But she could not let the moment pass without taking a dig. "I never thought you would get married," she said, hugging me.  "And to such a good man!  Do you think you deserve him?"

Several months later, I asked my mom and sisters to go wedding dress shopping with me.  After hours and hours, I found the dress of my dreams.  As I tried it on, nobody could find my mom. When she finally popped up, I told her she had missed me in the dress and asked her where she had been.  "Oh, I was over there watching that pretty girl try on HER wedding dress.  She's so petite and pretty."

On my wedding day, she almost completely ignored me.  She never gave me any compliments about on how I looked.  She didnt help me with my makeup or hair.  Any special moments a bride has with her mother on her wedding day didnt happen for me.  

When I had my son, I was still working full time.  She told me she would watch him while I worked, and I was beyond grateful.  My mom is a great grandmother.  However, giving her the responsibility of taking care of my son gave her a sense of power over me that she hadnt had in years.  And she took that inch, and tried to stretch it into a mile.  As his mom, there were certain ways that I wanted to raise my son.  My mom, obviously, overrode every one of them.  On a daily basis.  If I asked her not to do certain things regarding my son, she would turn it into a full-blown fight.  It was her way or the highway.  She would question my parenting in front of him.  If I tried to discipline him or parent him in any way in front of her, she would literally shut me down and tell him not to listen to me.  After about a year, my son obviously preferred my mom's very lax parenting style to mine.  When I would go pick him up after a long day of work, he would always want to stay a bit longer.  And she loved that.  "He doesn't even get excited when he sees you," she commented to me one day.  Her plan was working.  And then one time she asked me how I felt knowing that she was raising my son for me.  I knew my family would struggle with only one income, but I couldnt take her shit anymore.  I quit my job the next day.  Besides the rare times we ask her to watch him for a couple of hours while my husband and I go out on a date, my mom does not babysit my son.  Much less "raise" him.

My mom and I have grown distant, especially since I've moved about 40 minutes away from her.  We see her a few times a month, at most, and that is just fine with me.  She hardly ever wants to visit my house and asks that I come to her house to visit instead.  Again, totally fine with me.  Because my house is never clean enough, sunny enough, or big enough for my mom.  Once, a few months ago, we planned on her visiting my house.  I cleaned, literally, the whole day.  You could have eaten off the floor.  She came in and said, "You need to sweep the sidewalk."  Yeah, so again, i'm okay with her not coming to visit too often.  

Which brings me to my son's birthday next month and the anxiety surrounding it.  I am planning a party at the park just down the street.  My son is asking for nachos to be served, his favorite food.  So I am planning on having a nacho bar, with all the toppings you could ever want on nachos. Of course, my mom hates the idea and has told me several times.  She has also criticized every other decision I've made about the party.  I'm dreading her comments, her snide remarks about my cooking, the faces she'll make.  I'm dreading her. 

I love my mom immensely.  Let me say that again:  I love my mom immensely. But, as an adult, I find it very hard to like her.  I dont believe there is a person in my life that has hurt me more than my mother. My mom planted a seed in me at 18 years old that grew into a whole garden of low self-esteem and self-doubt. Instead of telling me to go out and conquer the world, she told me I would never be able to take care of myself.  And when I did, she told me that it wasnt good enough.  To this day, I am not good enough for her.  

For the first 18 years of my life, I was her bright shining star.  I was her baby.  I was perfect. As an independent adult, she has broken me down time and time again.  She almost revels in it.  As a mother and wife, I would love to seek advice and refuge in my mom.  Instead, any sign of weakness I show gives her ammo to destroy my already low self-esteem.  To my mom, I am her competition.  I will never understand why.

My toxic relationship with my mother and the emotions that come from that are a big focus of my therapy.  My mom's treatment of me at pivotal times in my life as a young adult has damaged my self-esteem.  I question every decision I make which has led to my issues with anxiety.  As an adult, I don't think I am good enough for anyone or anything, which has led to my issues with social anxiety.  I have a terrible self-image.  My husband can tell me I am the most beautiful woman in the world ten times a day and I will always have nagging thoughts that he is just telling me those things to make me happy and doesnt really think them.  Part of that stems from the memory of me, at 30 years old, standing in front of a mirror in a beautiful wedding dress, wanting and needing my moms approval.  And her telling me she missed that moment because she was watching the dress fitting of a "petite and pretty" girl instead.

At first, I thought my therapist would try to show me ways to work at repairing my broken relationship with my mother.  But, to my surprise, she didnt.  She told me exactly what I wanted to hear, and kinda knew all along.  She told me that my mom had made me her life, and when I eventually grew up and "left her", she took it as some sort of abandonment and hasnt been able to get over it.  Her treatment of me comes from the anger she feels for not being able to control me anymore.  And she told me it was all bullshit and was my mom's problem, not mine.  

But it's still hard and it still hurts and I still have self-doubt and I still feel so much damn resentment towards my mom.  I still feel broken.  But I am getting better, little by little.  My therapist and I are working towards making it so that I don't even hear my mom's criticisms anymore, whether in real life or the ones that have been trapped in my head.  My mom will never change and I have to deal with that.  I have to change.  I have to make myself stronger.  

I'm working on it.