In light of everything that has happened in the last 5 months, of which I have not yet blogged, I am not doing very well. My ulcerative colitis has been flared up since I had a colonoscopy in April. The flare coupled with extreme amounts of stress has left me weakened and sick. I have been unemployed since the end of August and I am really not very much better now than I was then. It feels as though the negativity is peeling back one layer at a time; each layer more difficult than the one before.
I have been seeing my counsellor since the middle of September. One of the things that we touch on all the time is how I have unrealistic expectations for myself that I would not have for others. We have explored where this comes from. A lot of this stems from my abusive childhood where I endured not only sexual and physical abuse but a great deal of emotional abuse as well. Most of the emotional abuse centred on my weight, which I have come to learn, is an immutable part of my genetic makeup just like the colour of my eyes. I was consistently told that I would never be successful because I was fat. In my family the scale measured your worth and I was always found to be wanting.
My family was also extremely volatile and angry. I learned to walk on eggshells at a very young age with my young mind trying to think of things to do for everyone else to keep the calm. Of course, I was never successful but that didn’t stop me from trying. Almost every outburst or argument I would blame on myself thinking that if I had only done this or not done that then the fight might not have happened. I have carried this behavior into adulthood. As I age, I am beginning to learn that I have no control over what other people do or how they react but that doesn’t mean that I don’t still feel I could have done something. I have taken care of people my entire life and it has taken a toll.
My counsellor has pointed out to me that by anyone’s standards I am a success. She has pointed to my educational achievements and job success as examples. But the one job I have never taken on is looking after myself. I look after other people all the time and rarely show vulnerability to those around me.
When I look back over my life, I have never actually taken time to look after myself. I have never really put myself first. I have urged many other people to set boundaries and to look after themselves. While I have played at the edges of true self-care, I have never really taken the plunge. At my counsellor’s urging, I am taking the plunge. My job for right now is to look after myself. It means sleeping as much as my body needs to, removing unrealistic expectations and really allowing myself time to heal physically and emotionally. What a radical concept. Please wish me well as this will not be easy.