How do I feel when I, as a bookkeeper, work for my EX husband.
My stomach gets tight
the muscles in my throat get tight
and I feel much like a small and insignificant person that he always made me feel when we were married.

My heart beats really quick
my breathing is rather shallow
I feel a heavy weight on my chest

I believe that I might be having some kind of panic or anxiety attack.

I was asked once, why do you still do this.
Why do you still work for Neil.
I respond, cause then I can make sure that he pays the child support - spousal support.  It is all centered around his obligations to me and what I feel he owes me.  But,  Have I broken free of the painful marriage?

I am thinkin -- not so much

Think that I should break free - think that I need to have a conversation with my partner.  Think I need to create more art and not pay mind to can he or can he not pay the support.  

There comes a time when you just gotta let go.  when you need to pass the resentments that you have for people in your past, back out there.
Your resentments no longer need to live within your mind.  They no longer need to have a place that they call home.

There comes a time that you have to erase the tape that plays
Program it with something lovely, something more deserving.

there comes a time when ....

How is it that all theses people even live within the confines of your mind any way?  Isn't it getting rather crowded up there?  Is there even room for you.


Resentments are much like roommates that you live with, but you can't stand.  How does your stomach feel when you come across these roommates.  How does your heart react.  It is time, Robin, to let these roommates go.  Tie them up in a big balloon and let them go, cast them out.


Dang its cold in here all of a sudden.  You hands and arms are cold.
You can't you cry out.  I can't let go -- they wronged me, they made me feel small and insignificant.  And that is something that I will always have to live with - because I gave them permission ... 
They ignored me.  And I feel unworthy to be alive.  I felt that I deserved all that was given.  All the abuse.  


but ...


Point given my dear child - they are still abusing you in many respect, if you chose to hold on to the memories.  If you choose to replay the scene  that played.  If you choose to relive the moment, and hear the talk. You will always have resentment, and you will always feel less than a worthy human.

I just read this article - found it on a friend's Facebook Page -- Speaks volumes

http://www.essentialmums.co.nz/mums-life/health/8757837/Passing-on-body-hatred


Dear Mum,

I was seven when I discovered that you were fat, ugly and horrible. Up until that point I had believed that you were beautiful - in every sense of the word. I remember flicking through old photo albums and staring at pictures of you standing on the deck of a boat. Your white strapless bathing suit looked so glamorous, just like a movie star. Whenever I had the chance I'd pull out that wondrous white bathing suit hidden in your bottom drawer and imagine a time when I'd be big enough to wear it; when I'd be like you.

But all of that changed when, one night, we were dressed up for a party and you said to me, ''Look at you, so thin, beautiful and lovely. And look at me, fat, ugly and horrible.''

At first I didn't understand what you meant.

''You're not fat,'' I said earnestly and innocently, and you replied, ''Yes I am, darling. I've always been fat; even as a child.''

In the days that followed I had some painful revelations that have shaped my whole life. I learned that:
1. You must be fat because mothers don't lie.
2. Fat is ugly and horrible.
3. When I grow up I'll look like you and therefore I will be fat, ugly and horrible too.

Years later, I looked back on this conversation and the hundreds that followed and cursed you for feeling so unattractive, insecure and unworthy. Because, as my first and most influential role model, you taught me to believe the same thing about myself.

With every grimace at your reflection in the mirror, every new wonder diet that was going to change your life, and every guilty spoon of ''Oh-I-really-shouldn't'', I learned that women must be thin to be valid and worthy. Girls must go without because their greatest contribution to the world is their physical beauty.
Just like you, I have spent my whole life feeling fat. When did fat become a feeling anyway? And because I believed I was fat, I knew I was no good.

But now that I am older, and a mother myself, I know that blaming you for my body hatred is unhelpful and unfair. I now understand that you too are a product of a long and rich lineage of women who were taught to loathe themselves.

Look at the example Nanna set for you. Despite being what could only be described as famine-victim chic, she dieted every day of her life until the day she died at 79 years of age. She used to put on make-up to walk to the letterbox for fear that somebody might see her unpainted face.

I remember her ''compassionate'' response when you announced that Dad had left you for another woman. Her first comment was, ''I don't understand why he'd leave you. You look after yourself, you wear lipstick. You're overweight - but not that much.''

Before Dad left, he provided no balm for your body-image torment either.

''Jesus, Jan,'' I overheard him say to you. ''It's not that hard. Energy in versus energy out. If you want to lose weight you just have to eat less.''

That night at dinner I watched you implement Dad's ''Energy In, Energy Out: Jesus, Jan, Just Eat Less'' weight-loss cure. You served up chow mein for dinner. (Remember how in 1980s Australian suburbia, a combination of mince, cabbage, and soy sauce was considered the height of exotic gourmet?) Everyone else's food was on a dinner plate except yours. You served your chow mein on a tiny bread-and-butter plate.

As you sat in front of that pathetic scoop of mince, silent tears streamed down your face. I said nothing. Not even when your shoulders started heaving from your distress. We all ate our dinner in silence. Nobody comforted you. Nobody told you to stop being ridiculous and get a proper plate. Nobody told you that you were already loved and already good enough. Your achievements and your worth - as a teacher of children with special needs and a devoted mother of three of your own - paled into insignificance when compared with the centimetres you couldn't lose from your waist.

It broke my heart to witness your despair and I'm sorry that I didn't rush to your defence. I'd already learned that it was your fault that you were fat. I'd even heard Dad describe losing weight as a ''simple'' process - yet one that you still couldn't come to grips with. The lesson: you didn't deserve any food and you certainly didn't deserve any sympathy.

But I was wrong, Mum. Now I understand what it's like to grow up in a society that tells women that their beauty matters most, and at the same time defines a standard of beauty that is perpetually out of our reach. I also know the pain of internalising these messages. We have become our own jailors and we inflict our own punishments for failing to measure up. No one is crueller to us than we are to ourselves.

But this madness has to stop, Mum. It stops with you, it stops with me and it stops now. We deserve better - better than to have our days brought to ruin by bad body thoughts, wishing we were otherwise.
And it's not just about you and me any more. It's also about Violet. Your granddaughter is only 3 and I do not want body hatred to take root inside her and strangle her happiness, her confidence and her potential. I don't want Violet to believe that her beauty is her most important asset; that it will define her worth in the world. When Violet looks to us to learn how to be a woman, we need to be the best role models we can. We need to show her with our words and our actions that women are good enough just the way they are. And for her to believe us, we need to believe it ourselves.

The older we get, the more loved ones we lose to accidents and illness. Their passing is always tragic and far too soon. I sometimes think about what these friends - and the people who love them - wouldn't give for more time in a body that was healthy. A body that would allow them to live just a little longer. The size of that body's thighs or the lines on its face wouldn't matter. It would be alive and therefore it would be perfect.

Your body is perfect too. It allows you to disarm a room with your smile and infect everyone with your laugh. It gives you arms to wrap around Violet and squeeze her until she giggles. Every moment we spend worrying about our physical ''flaws'' is a moment wasted, a precious slice of life that we will never get back.
Let us honour and respect our bodies for what they do instead of despising them for how they appear. Focus on living healthy and active lives, let our weight fall where it may, and consign our body hatred in the past where it belongs. When I looked at that photo of you in the white bathing suit all those years ago, my innocent young eyes saw the truth. I saw unconditional love, beauty and wisdom. I saw my Mum.


Love, Kasey xx


This is an excerpt from Dear Mum: a collection of letters from Australian sporting stars, musicians, models, cooks and authors revealing what they would like to say to their mothers before it's too late, or would have said if only they'd had the chance. All royalties go to the National Breast Cancer Foundation. (Published by Random House and available now.)

- Daily Life




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Ahh it's Saturday. The sky is a lovely shade of blue.  I sit in my yard, in the area that will soon be a magical courtyard. 

Early morning.  I have been awake since 5.  Rick is at work. Only a few more days now. 

Kelsey sleeps, as all teenagers love to do on a weekend.

The cats, well, they are stalking bugs, or dust flecks.  Climbing on the tables, countertops. Scheming on how to escape once the door is open.  Well, at least the younger one is.

I have been reading this book "Health at Every Size" by Dr. Linda Bacon 
So far it is a pretty good read, and I understand that I am not a failure cause I weigh more than what society thinks I should.  I believe that once I accept me, for what size I am, and love myself because I am a wonderful human being, I will be much happier in life.

I am learning, not just by reading this book, but by life itself, that we are what others have instilled upon us.  Their ideals, their perceptions of how others should look, feel, etc.  I have learned over the years, through life experiences that I am who I am, and I need to embrace that.

If I have a different relationship with food, and if I listen, I mean REALLY LISTEN to my body as I eat, I will eat less, enjoy more of what I eat, be full and satisfied.  Example .. This morning for breakfast, I chose to cut an apple and have it with cheese.  I ate slowly, and I did not finish it.  I am full with half my bowl gone.  I can save the rest for later if I want. 

I was raised in a family where you eat everything on your plate, and Rick is pretty much the same way.  Even if you find no enjoyment eating what you are eating, you finish it.  Hence, you eat till you can eat no more, and force yourself into eating the last few bites cause they are there.  My mother would say, there are starving children in ...  Waste not want not ...  Rick says, I paid for it, I'm going to eat it, or... It has been in the fridge for a week, I better eat it before it goes bad, and if I add a little hot sauce on it, it will taste better. 

I believe you should enjoy what you eat, if you don't like the taste, then don't eat it.  I'm that way with my coffee, I only (as a rule) drink the coffee I prepare at home.  I don't enjoy the brews that coffee houses prepare... Just that simple.  Coffee is my drug of choice, might as well enjoy it the way I like it.

So yes, I believe that I can have a better relationship with me.  And I am looking forward to it also.

Kelsey and I have started a yoga class, and attempt to go once a week. I am feeling a bit more flexible, and not so stiff.  Yay me!

 Next is to utilize the gym membership, once I get over the feelings of intimidation from other gym members.  Yes I know, who cares?  Well you are reading from a female who could be intimidated off the tennis practice wall if there was a person in the park 500 feet away.  So afraid that judgement would be passed by a complete stranger. 

I think that it has much to do with confidence, and doing your best to not hear the tapes that your parents, classmates, friends, coworkers, and doctors would say as you evolve.  You want to do something, and you are much afraid to ... Cause you might look silly, stupid, make a fool of yourself, embarrassment.

I have a wonderful friend, Juanita, who encouraged me to go on a kayaking adventure with Rick, even tho I was afraid.  She asked me, what are you afraid of?  I said, cause I'm 50 something, I've never done it before, afraid of looking stupid, and disappointing my friend Rick (cause I believed that he would no longer be my friend if I didn't measure up).  She said, "DO IT". You don't know how it will be if you never try.  Does Rick make you feel safe? 
Yes I said.. 
Then ... "DO IT"

I did, and had the best time ever.  And I think that it really made me look at Rick in another light, as well as made our relationship a whole lot more solid.

How when there is one piece of cake left on the pedestal, no one eats it?
How there is always something left over, cause no one wants to claim it?

have you often wondered why some of us wait for others to turn our lives around, and why we never really step up to the plate - for fear of hurting feelings and stepping on toes.

why are the opinions of others more important than our own opinion or ourselves.

why our happiness hangs in the balance of perhaps one person.

How often have you asked your partner - do I make you happy?  Are we that insecure within our own to constantly ask that question - is it not a true that your partner would tell you if they were not content?  Or ... is it that you would not tell your partner that you were not content.

I am guilty

Knowing that I would not share my inner true feelings with another, especially if that other was a very significant individual.  So I ask the question that I dread to be asked.

Could it be that is why no one eats the last cookie, or the last piece of cake.  Because they are afraid that someone else actually wants it more than they do?

Really? ...  really? ...

Watching as she walked down the street, bowl in hand, busy eating her cereal. The woman behind her was adjusting her backpack. Not seeming to ever get it right.

Busy lives, stop and walk slowly

Nervous energy... The man sitting down the way drums his fingers along the table
Conversations of great interest

Do you think?
What if...

Releasing the long crush
Wishing you had more of a memory of the person you longed to be close to
Knowing that it would never be
The crush
Admitting that it was just that
A crush
Feeling somewhat like a fool ...
But knowing that you have suddenly grown up
Even thou
You are more than a half a century old at the time

Yet you still wonder what happened to the crush
As you stumble across a picture, or a name
Closing your eyes you recall the scent, the touch, the sound of their voice.
I miss you
Breathing in fully, you let it go again as you exhale

I sit alone in a coffee shop
There are others around,
Several of which sit alone also

Interesting how many of the alone ones protect themselves with books, newspapers or tablets to hide behind. Avoiding eye contact at all costs. Shyly looking away if caught glancing at another.
A child speaks up
I wanna sit there... We always sit right here when we come here. Mama do they have waf waf waffle? Can I have some crayons? I need some juice mama.
Can you say please?
PLEASsssEeeeeee
Mama can I have hot chocolate?

Chocolate, reminds me of the time my son, who was maybe 4. How he reflected on his best friend at the time. Myles, he looks like chocolate, I love chocolate.


A waitress remarks to her co worker, I so need to take a vacation this year. I relate to the feeling. Remembering how it was when I was younger, and never having the finances or time to go anywhere.

As I sit in my solitude, among the many people who surround me. Quietly waiting out the time.

Now I have the finances, and the time is coming soon. Now I'm rather scared to travel, yet I will do it soon. I look forward, yet with hesitation.

The rain pattered quietly on the roof. Darn I was hoping for dry weather today. Shrugging it off, I went about my tasks of putting together a retirement shindig for Rick. Rick has been looking forward to this for the past couple of months, or at least since I posted an event on Facebook. What fun this will be.
I got Kelsey busy putting together some utensil packets which included a napkin, neatly in a small paper sack. The ...ahem... Paper plates and bowls stacked nice and neat on the buffet. Rick fussing over the brisket he prepared on his smoker. And finishing up his aniri wraps.
Weather Canopies are up and every chair in the house is in the front room, more or less.
I am expecting at least 50 at 5ish.

Everyone came, Rick enjoyed himself immensely. I kept having to encourage him to just relax. See, Rick loves to be behind the scenes, instead of the center of attention.

It's was good for him.

It's official, June 21st will be his last day on the floor. July 1st will be his last day on the books.

We are enjoying the planning of activities. The travels we want to take. Getting prepared. I feel a bit awkward heading out on his shirt tails ... As I had not prepared for retirement at all. Figuring that I would just make ends meet with social security, and live very modestly in an apartment in Portland. Not going anywhere but perhaps to the local park. I share this with Rick, and he just smiles, and nods. He understands, as he asks for my thoughts in helping him establish his will.

Rick loves me, I can tell, I know that we work well together. And I smile and kiss him, tell him that I love him also.

We are blessed.

Have you ever thought to wonder if the doctors have got it together?

your diabetic -- the doctor one year tells you to stay away from one thing, then three years later they say oh you should have that.

you want to loose weight - one year it is eat lots of meat and no carbs - the next year is eat no carbs and lots of protein.  Stay away from fruits cause they have sugar in them.  drink things with artificial sweeteners  as you allow the FDA to slowly poison your system.  Eat corn, no don't eat corn, will they ever make up their minds. :)

water weight gain - take a diuretic - don't drink water -  but then if you don't drink water you become dehydrated.

My thought -- Eat what you please, drink what you please.  If it makes it so you don't feel good - then try something else.  Go for mother nature and stay away from the processed stuff that contains chemicals.  Stay away from the middle of the grocery store, and only shop in the perimeter.  How simple is that.  Fast food will kill you (sorry my son who works for Burgerville) food that takes time to prepare will save your life.  

Today for breakfast -- Cottage cheese 2% - with strawberries and bananas.  coffee and 3 large containers of water.  See I seem to be a tad bit dehydrated - my legs, thighs, and stomach muscles cramp on a daily basis.  Sometimes it is rather debilitating.  Over the years it has gotten increasingly worse.  Over the years I have mentioned it to the doctor on my yearly visit - and each time it just goes over their head, and they never suggest a thing - and that is an absoult!    Assuming that it is because the doctor cannot prescribe a "fix" for it they avoid it.  [doctors attached to the pharmaceutical drug companies]  So I take into consideration what I can do as an ordinary person.  I listen to my massage therapist (I love her, she works magic) and my newly found Yoga instructor (she is the BOMB!) 

Life is grand - and it will be so much better once I get over this hurdle.

Oh to be a mother.
This was something that I always longed for.
Before my children came alone - I was afraid I would never be.  

July 26, 1994, when I was 39 I had my son.  What a joy!  Then June 16, 1997 I had my daughter - I was 42 almost 43.  

I know that I was inspiration to a friend of mine who recently had twins at 40 something.  Second marriage for her.  I was thrilled for her.  If I could, I would have another.  I loved being pregnant, feeling life within me.  I loved the baby scent, and they way they would cuddle with you.  Guess I will need another pet when my daughter leaves the nest for college.

It was a grand day - Mothers day.  My partner took me and my children to a brunch.  We laughed and enjoyed each others company.  

I am truly blessed to be a mom - and now that things are very different -- I am even more blessed that my children find joy in remembering Mothers Day and sharing it with me.

Today when I woke, I didn't hurt.  When I landed on the floor, yes my ankles still protested a bit but still -- I didn't hurt.  Two nights ago, my partner and I picked up the mattress from my daughters room at her dads.  We put it on my bed, which has been for the past few years a not so comfortable futon.  Rather hard and difficult to sleep upon.  

See it kinda went like this -- the timeline of sorts.  In July of 2009 I left my ex husband.  We shared the same house because I wanted the kids to have access to their absent father, if in the event that evening or day he chose to be present.  I know ... I am sure that I could have managed the separation / divorce better, but this was my first time (and my last) divorcing with children.  So anyway -- I moved out of the bedroom, into a small bedroom with a twin bed equipped with a twin futon.  For the past 4 years, it seems that I have submitted myself to sleeping on a really hard surface.  Not allowing my body to really rest, but always having to work.  I never slept well.  I guess I felt subconsciously that I wasnt worthy of feeling good.  I haven't slept on a good mattress -- or rather on a mattress -- for four years.  Question is -- what is that all about.  Because I felt guilty about a failed marriage?  Because I did not make the correct choice when I was looking for a suitable man to father children?  What's with that.  Deep inside I felt that I was not worthy so therefor I needed to punish myself?  I don't know.  And I guess that now it really doesn't matter much, since I seem to have fixed the problem without knowing consciously that I was fixing it?

what we do subconsciously is pretty interesting.  Like why would I never to to the gym to exercise.  Or try Yoga for instance.  Because -- the small framed humans that I would do the experience with intimidated me.  Why did they intimidate me -- because the majority of my existence here on earth I had been told by the ones that said they loved me and wanted to care for me that I was fat -- and even tho I was pretty -- because I was fat, I was ugly -- society says that fat humans are ugly, therefor not entitled to being accepted in activities that small framed humans do.  My co workers would say things like -- if you would only loose a few pounds you would be so pretty -- you would be so much more accepted -- my mother would say things like "you are so fat - you need to loose weight"  and even when I finally lost, and got to the size of an "8" my mother would still insist on buying me the size 16, because it just couldn't be true that you are that size. 

I guess that the point I am trying to make -- Is that we as lovely humans - put here on this gorgeous planet called Earth for our human experience -  should relish the experience, and not pack around the negative energy that others place upon us -- I am ME, not THEM. I deserve to just have the best that this experience has to offer.  Does it even matter how other view me, I think not.  It is how I view myself that is important -- and it is what I feel that I am worthy of that is the MOST important.  

So with that thought ........... I think I will go outside and have me a cup of coffee in the garden