Creative Impulse

Often, we seem to think that creativity is an uncontrollable impulse. It seems that all kinds of creative endeavors, from photography to painting or fabric arts to sculpture or writing to metalwork, are dependent upon the fickle and capricious appearance of this impulse. It comes and goes as it will and we are at this muse’s whim.

However, this may not be exactly as full an understanding of creativity as we might think. I’m not convinced that we are utterly at the mercy of creativity’s impulsive nature. Ray Bradbury’s book, Zen In the Art of Writing,  gives many good ideas on how to tame the muse or, put another way, find ways to stimulate creativity and not be continually at the mercy of its appearance (or absence).

A recent post on a chainmailing blog I follow has some fantastic ideas as well. Actually, they are ideas that come from some seasoned artists. The post summarizes the various suggestions and recommends some good books to read. It’s an excellent post and well worth the read! And these are good ideas and suggestions whether your vocation includes a creative component or if you need creative sparks in any area of your life.

For me, the very best things that have helped me remain creative personally and professional are simple: write every day even if it is a seemingly uninspiring journal entry, read both fiction and non fiction as much as I can, put intentional focus on the details, patterns, colors, people, animals and natural elements of the world around me, and when I realize I am stuck with a project(which usually occurs about 3 hours into stuck-ness) I get up and do something completely different for a while.

Of course, sometimes creativity simply won’t flow. There’s a reason why people sometimes equate a time when they cannot get moving creatively as dry and desert like. It seems that these times are a little like the times when people come to see me for pastoral care. In a crisis, even a mild one, our vision becomes narrowed. We see fewer options, see less support, help, and connections to our world around us. It is as if we are seeing, thinking and feeling with blinders on.  We remove those, or at least shift them out a bit, when we move out of ourselves and broaden our vision. The same is true for creativity.

Got ways you spark your creativity? I’d love to hear about it!

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by Rosemary on May 6, 2013  •  Permalink
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Posted by Rosemary on May 6, 2013

http://lifeinamountaintown.com/2013/05/06/creative-impulse/

Oh Savannah

Oh Sa Vannah! Oh don’t you cry for me!

Wait, I think that’s wrong.

Anyhow, photos of the loveliness that is Savanna, GA.  It was very good to go earlier in the spring because it was not so hot you melted into the ground and it wasn’t so humid either. Yet still full of all the pretty!

If you go to Savannah  you cannot avoid all the ghost stories and the fact that everyone insists that where they live or work is the most haunted place in America. So, of course a visit to one of the many historic cemeteries is in order. This bird was on a branch of a tree at the cemetery. The tree itself was nearly dead and covered in Spanish Moss that was a soft, powdery greywhite cloud around the tree. Like a ghost of what was once the green moss virtually dripping with life. What would have been a rather ordinary looking bird in some other context was just so beautiful sitting there. It is, perhaps, my favorite shot of the whole trip.

One of the things Savannah is well known for is all of the beautiful ironwork. You find it everywhere and I must have taken dozens and dozens of photos of ironwork doors, fences, railings and other details.

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Hidden gardens are pretty much everywhere all over the city. Peering over a wall, you can see all kinds of things, even a petrified lion!

And sometimes, gardens escape over the wall and into the alley!

No trip to the city is complete without a visit to the big fountain in Forsythe Park. I am amazed that I was able to get this shot without people in the background because this is a major congregating place for people, both locals and tourists.

I love trees and Savannah is full of them!

This was a particularly unusual tree. I have no idea what kind it is but it looked like one of those statues that has been carved with drapey fabric. It was very strange!

And the big bridge! With a storm right behind it. So it was time to go home. Farewell Savannah! Until we meet again.

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by Rosemary on May 3, 2013  •  Permalink
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Posted by Rosemary on May 3, 2013

http://lifeinamountaintown.com/2013/05/03/oh-savannah/

Body Image Inside Out

At first, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to include this post in the body image category and series because it doesn’t really deal with the image of the body as it can be reflected or recorded in some visual way. However, since it has to do with my own image of what a healthy body IS (rather than what it just looks like) it seemed to fit just fine.

So…. a diet. Definitely not the first time I’ve set out to make a change in the way I eat. After all, a change in diet occurs every time I move because there are, among other things, different restaurants around and different people to eat with. Our diets all shift with the seasons. Or at least they probably ought to. A change in diet is something entirely different from A Diet.

But here’s a thing I’ve learned while thinking about a shift in diet: what I care about most is not the number on the scale or the label or, if I really think about it, any number at all. What I care about is how well I can live. One the one hand, that sounds terribly selfish. Perhaps even spoiled! And I feel a tad guilty about saying it. I care about how well I can live my life. Yet, the reality is a concern fro how well I can live or, put another way, how much pleasure and joy I can get out of my life, is what ultimately drives me to consume unhealthy foods, skip physical activity and probably leads most of us all into lifestyle habits that ultimately decrease our life enjoyment.

I say this phrase and immediately my Good Girl Editor steps in. ‘Ahem,’ she says, ‘excuse me little miss selfish but don’t you think you should care more about other people? Isn’t that where we should all place our priorities? The welfare of others before our own needs!’ Of course, I think in response to this internal chastisement. Yes, I should only are about how well others live and shame on me for that! And so begins a vicious circle of shaming, sacrificing, feeling sorry for myself, comforting and shaming again. I push aside the thousand and 2 things related to myself and my own needs (not to mention wants) for the sake of what needs and ought to be done for the rest of the world and then think, ‘when do I get a day off? or a morning to sleep in? or a chance to finish a book? or time to watch the entire season of NCIS I have DVRed? or take a solid deep breath?’ The twix bar, blizzard, beef & cheddar, tatter tots, chocolate covered whatever will make it all better. I don’t want to drink a bottle of water or to cook my own food, damn it! I just want something fast, comforting and distracting and a Combo #3 seems a small request in exchange for all I’ve done and continue to do for everyone else. I deserve at least that much!

Next verse same as the first.

I am certain, deeply and truly certain, that I am not alone in this spin cycle.

However, if we begin with caring about how well we can live, everything seems quite different. Rather than functioning from a place of ‘when is my share coming?’ we can live from a place of abundance instead, perhaps giving even more generously of ourselves when we are healthy enough to do so. Caring about the welfare and needs of others and their proper priority in our lives is a part of the way to live well. I want to do this. I do not want to stop caring about other people, sharing with and doing for and giving to others, so it has to be part of living well. But so is getting really good sleep, reading a book, petting the cats and not having to down 5 Hour Energy to make it through yet another day.

And now to the diet portion of this look at life because that’s a pretty key part of the cycle. When I started really looking at how little real food is actually in most of the things I put in my mouth I actually got very angry! I’ll not go on about this so much here but check out Salt Sugar Fat as one place to start learning about what is actually in our processed food and what isn’t in there at all and should be. But if that was, in some bizarre manner, making up for all the ways I felt left out, unfairly short changed, over worked and under appreciated over the course of most of my life, it is no wonder I often had a nagging feeling I had gotten the short end of the stick when it came to good things in life.  I had. Because basically, I’d been choosing pure crap covered in powdered, sugared, melted fake chemical flavorings instead of anything at all decent just so I could feel like I’d gotten my share. My share was pretty crappy, no matter what the fake toping, and it wasn’t because of anything other than my own choice.

In many ways, this same cycle applies to physical appearance. Shame of not looking “right” followed by shame of caring too much about ones own physical appearance rather than caring about “more important things” and not being “confident” enough to not care or “self-controlling” enough to fix it. I suppose you could substitute lots of things for physical appearance, too, such as intelligence, academic or professional success for example. Follow it all up with some way to comfort that turns out to be unhealthy and life-taking rather than life-giving. Circle back with cheese sauce on top.

The truth is, I’m not so sure I really care about whether or not I’m fat. I know I’m supposed to care. But, I just don’t think I do. For years I’ve said, “I’ve been slim and I’ve been heavy and happy is better than either.” I think that’s probably right, even though I was using it as a sort of shield when I originally came up with it. Also, I’m not persuaded that body fat itself is what causes many of the health problems that are blamed on it.* I think that extra weight on a human body is a result of food abuse and body neglect and those two things are the cause of a great deal of poor health. And food abuse combined with body neglect are most certainly the cause of my not living my life well because good use of food and good care of the body are pretty important things in making it possible for me to live and live well.

In the end, here is what I really want to do and be in living my life well. I want to place the needs of others in good and life-enhancing priorities for me and them. I want to say “yes” when someone asks if I want to go for a walk and do it not just to make them happy but because I physically feel like walking. I want to not feel exhausted after taking that walk and, instead, feel good enough to do something else that same day. I want to be able to do lots of physical activities and enjoy the beautiful part of the world in which I live by going out in it, photographing it and experiencing it first hand. I want to be able to walk into a clothing store and know that odds are good I’ll be able to find something close to my size so that trying to find something I can get into isn’t such a high anxiety part of my life. I want to eat real food that actually tastes and is made up of what it says it is and not some chemical cocktail of meat-miracle-grow and puffed on plastic cheese dust. I do not want to eat the ultra sugared chocolate equivalent of heroine designed to incite unnatural food cravings but I do want a good brownie and I don’t think that’s too much to ask. I do not want to choose para-food and guilty exhaustion as consolation prizes.

Perhaps the body image I want to have isn’t something reconciled to or even at odds with what our culture currently says is good, right and beautiful. At the moment, the positive body image I have is one that is not sat on a scale, measured, poked, prodded and assessed for value but is, instead, dynamically alive in a life that body loves. I want to choose to live my life well. And that’s my new diet. Period.

*Beyond a Shadow of a Diet by Judith Matz is a book written for therapists about weight and it contains significant information on the misinformation we have held on to for years about body weight. It is not a diet book, nor is Salt Sugar Fat and I think it’s a good idea to never, ever read a diet book.

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by Rosemary on May 2, 2013  •  Permalink
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Posted by Rosemary on May 2, 2013

http://lifeinamountaintown.com/2013/05/02/body-image-inside-out/

A Diet, Mini Vacation and Strident Feminism

You know how life can be humming along splendidly… busily… ok, to be honest here, Frantically, and you suddenly realize you haven’t posted a blog entry in quite a while? Yup, me too.

When I first got into blogging many years ago I had been, for some time, a regular reader of many blogs. Something I found to be true for most every blog was the presence of intermittent periods of silence. You don’t notice it so much, especially if you’re reading ‘back issues’, until you get to that ubiquitous apology post. You know the one I mean. It’s usually titled something like “Long Time Since Posting” or “Re-Entering the Blogosphere.” I hate those things! Certainly, I’m guilty of these kinds of posts as well and when you read the Dummies’ or Idiots’ (or some other word from the self-deprecator’s list of common ways to minimize your own brain) Guide to Blogging you discover the worst, most cardinal of sins you can do when blogging is to not post on a regular basis. I’m wondering if this might be the source of all the bowing and scraping and “mea maxima culpa”s we blogauthors do. Perhaps it is also sprinkled with the tiniest bit of hope that somewhere… out there in the vast and endless chasm that is the INTERNET teeming with up to the minute news on Lindsay Lohan and the Kardashians, wikis on everything you could dream of, porn, questionable news stories that sound like they are from The Onion but aren’t, youtube, literally countless things on which to spend your money via paypal, Amazon (mordor!), tons of things you wish you could unsee and unknow, and lost emails dancing around with all those socks missing in the wash over the years… somewhere out there in all of that soupy mess may be someone who missed our tiny digital life while we didn’t post for a few days. Or decades.

Well, I’m just not going to do it. Not this time. I’m not going to apologize to you, dear reader (if you are indeed out there) because I think most likely it doesn’t matter so much and it is a little bit like callers to the Diane Rhem Show on NPR where every single caller feels compelled to tell Diane how much they love her and religiously listen to her show and how many times they miss the stoplight turning green because they were so wrapped up in her discussion. I imagine she is thinking, as she graciously thanks the two millionth caller for their kind words, “Great, now can we get on with it.”

Yes, Diane, let’s get on with it.

Recently I spent four lovely days in Savanna, GA at a fantastic bed and breakfast. I love Savanah and walked all over its not-yet-too-hot streets. Photos to follow at some point. Also a fantastic spa day as well. No photos to follow of that.

I am on a diet, have lost 7 pounds and feel really good. No fast food in 26 days and I’m confident that alone has reduced my cholesterol by at least 2,000 points. I plan to write more on this and the connection between diet and body image.

Just finished reading (and listening on audio book while running up and down the highway non stop for work stuff) to How To Be A Woman by Caitlin Moran. I love her. Truly. And here’s why:caitlin_moran_5048

1. She makes lists. A lot of them. And I LOVE lists!

2. She’s British and sounds really cool. Not the posh accent that we Americans think automatically makes them smarter than us, like Hugh Grant or the Queen. No, it’s the cooler kind of sound like some rock & roll star and we think, “If I were British, I’d sound like that and I’d be COOL!”

3. She is a feminist. A strident feminist in fact and does a pretty good reflection on feminism.

4. She’s the kind of feminist I feel I could really talk to and possibly disagree with. Frankly, I’d be afraid to disagree with Germaine Greer or bell hooks or those like them because they are smarter than me in some sort of wholly undefinable way that makes me think I have to just take it all and say Thank You. But Caitlin….she’s still clearly smart but, perhaps because she’s from my own generation, I think I’m just fine disagreeing or agreeing with her. I don’t feel that I’d be disrespecting the great matriarchs of feminism if I said, “yeah Caitlin, I just don’t know about all that.” She’d probably take a drag off her cigarette and say, “Well then, crack on with it!”

5. She has messy hair. I have messy hair, too. Not quite in the same way of course, but maybe it’s not the end of the world to have messy hair.

6. There’s more but I’m tired of listing so I’m going to stop now. Because I can. And I have more to say on it all as well but I’m going to stop now for the same reason.

So, that’s the end of what I’ve been doing lately. Not entirely but it’s a fair summation of the highlights.

Oh and by the way, I really am kinda sorry I haven’t posted lately. I’ll work on it ;)

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by Rosemary on April 26, 2013  •  Permalink
Posted in books, Life, Stuff About Books
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Posted by Rosemary on April 26, 2013

http://lifeinamountaintown.com/2013/04/26/a-diet-mini-vacation-and-strident-feminism/

New Blog and New Mini Obsession

Oh Instagram (and associated apps) where have you been all my life???

Well, I think it and they have been on all the i technology which I have avoided like the slimy plague. Recently, however, I got an Android phone and have been inducted into the world of Instagram and Pixlr-o-mat and I LOVE it!

I would have seriously turned up my snobbish photographer’s nose a few years ago at the idea of using a camera in a cell phone much less using digital manipulation software to distort images making them appear, in some cases, of lesser quality than they actually are and, occasionally, in some state of decay. Yet, here I am! And I’ve even added another blog to my blogset: The Mental Instagram Scrapbook.

For some time, I’ve had The Mental Scrapbook, a location for my photography. Even with my new found love of the gram/mat style, it didn’t seem to be quite right to add these new images to that blog. A bit like eating salt and vinegar potato chips alongside a piece of chocolate cheesecake. Both yummy in their own way, but somehow inappropriate on the same plate.

So, visit if you wish and here’s a little set of some snaps:

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by Rosemary on March 26, 2013  •  Permalink
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Posted by Rosemary on March 26, 2013

http://lifeinamountaintown.com/2013/03/26/new-blog-and-new-mini-obsession/

Bakers Are Cool

Anyone who has read much of this blog is aware of how much I love one of the best local restaurants/cafes/places to acquire yumminess: City Lights Cafe.  Well, one of the very lovely people who work there has started her own blog and you… that’s you…. should check it out!

Seriously, it is worth putting on your regular blog-read list. Rachael Griffin: Confessions of a Wannabe Baker (and, if you’re on facebook, find it and like it here).

Now, this ain’t your grandma’s baking blog. That is, of course, unless your grandma made vegan chocolate cake that looks so good you want to eat it off the screen and unless she occasionally admits she’s drinking whiskey while she cooks (important word there is admits!)

There is also some lovely food photos as well as you can see from the shot of this a-mazing chocolate cake! Plus, she’s a super sweet girl and everybody knows that bakers are cool, so check her out and you’ll find her permanently in the link list on this blog.

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by Rosemary on March 25, 2013  •  Permalink
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Posted by Rosemary on March 25, 2013

http://lifeinamountaintown.com/2013/03/25/bakers-are-cool/

The Hills Remember

writing assignment: choose a title or cover from a book on a shelf and use that as a starting point.

The Hills Remember

The hills re4member my father. He used to talk to them, imagine them, dream with them, pine for them when he was away for too long. He walked them plowed them, loved them.

“I lift mine eyes unto the hills,” he would say every time he returned home, “whence commeth my strength.” It was not a question as the psalmist would have it. It was his declaration. He knew from whence his help, his strength, his all came frometh; those mountains.

During the time of the great second war he wrote home from France and Germany in words that never pretended not to be homesick. He saw horrible things but also beautiful ones as well. “It is all really pretty,” he wrote from the countryside somewhere between France and Germany, “the Land, I mean. But it ain’t none of it as pretty as our mountains!” All he wanted to do was return to these mountains; these rolling hills that never forget.

I stand on the earth, toes gripping, sinking roots down deep. The ancient hills roll out all around me as far as the eye can see. Soon, as the sun sets, the mountains will leap up and catch the fire ball, pulling him down below their horizons.

If my father were alive he would be 90 years old today. But he does not walk these hills any more, at least not with feet of flesh and bone. But the hills do remember him and so do I.

I lift my eyes to the hills from whence commeth my strength.

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by Rosemary on March 17, 2013  •  Permalink
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Posted by Rosemary on March 17, 2013

http://lifeinamountaintown.com/2013/03/17/the-hills-remember/

Teach Them How To Treat You

This weekend I attended a marvelous performance of the Vagina Monologues. While I will admit that portions of this make me uncomfortable, I believe that it is an empowering and affirming event and I have attended, both last year and this, in my capacity as a campus pastor. The performance was passionate, heartfelt and meaningful and I am very glad I had the opportunity to attend.

Something happened at the event this year that made me think about a phrase I learned a long time ago. It’s something that I am sure many a wise person knows far better than I do: You teach people how to treat you.

One of the monologues is from an interview of a woman who wanted to “reclaim” a word used as a derogatory name for women. This name is actually a term for women’s genitalia and I do not care to include it in the actual text of this post but you can find it here. Regardless of the ability to actually “re” claim this word*, the intent is to rob those who would use it to wound of their power and that is a desire I can certainly understand. The end of this monolog encourages the assembled people to chant the word over and over together. This often dissolves into cheers and applause as the monolog ends.

This year something interesting happened. There were far more males in attendance this year which is, for the most part, a good thing**. I did hear a rumor that a professor (or two?) gave extra credit to anyone who took an unwilling male which, for a whole host of reasons related to the cast, the others in attendance and the men themselves, is not something I would consider to be a good idea at all. It is unfair to presume an “unwilling male” would benefit from experiencing the monologues. I have no notion that this contributed to what happened with this monolog but it certainly could add a complicating layer.

The monolog culminated as it is supposed to with all chanting this word together loudly. After a few repetitions everyone stopped….. except one. The proud and defiant fists that had punched the air had all dropped to their sides again. In the fraction of a moment of stillness a single male voice shouted out the word one last time. The majority of the women in the room erupted into cheers and applause at this one man’s shout.

I was horrified.

The moment of empowerment that had existed as all present chanted a word that degrades and dehumanizes women by attempting to label them solely as a sex organ was shattered by a single male voice shouting the word at a room full of women. One moment electric with self-defining courage (at least, I believe that is what is intended) the next a chilling reminder of so many who will always seek to continue to hurt. And we will cheer them for it.

Now, I do not wish to roast this guy over the proverbial flames. I have since been told by a female student that the young man believed that they were going to continue the chant and, while there were plenty of visual cues to indicate that they were not, and somehow the rest of the room all stopped at the same moment, I do not wish to assume any kind of malice on his part. It could quite likely be an entirely unintentional act and I am choosing to believe this. Rationally, he could have opened himself up to significant consequences had he done this on purpose, so I doubt that he did.

However, this young man as well as every other male in the room heard a man shout this word in a room full of women and heard all of these strong, talented, powerful women cheer him for using this word. If I were a man, I would find this very confusing.

Many years ago I worked with an African American woman with whom I’d become fairly close friends and I felt comfortable discussing pretty much anything with her. I asked her about something that I’d never understood. ‘Why,’ I said, ‘can black people call one another the “n” word all day long but if a white person says it, it’s a terrible thing?’  Her reply has stuck with me ever since then. ‘Because you will never, ever know what is like to be called that word.’ She could have talked all day about culture and history and dominance and slavery but in the end, that was all she needed to say. That word is, just like the one chanted at the monologs, a word heavy with history, pain and abuse. It is a word that has been “re” claimed (or claimed) by many as a shield; in a sense turning the oppressor/bully’s weapon into an impenetrable defense weapon.

In the end, for the sake of the women who had worked very hard for months on the performance and the cultural benefit the monologs brings to a community, I am very glad that this young man’s ‘accidental’ outburst was not taken offensively by those present (except for myself and, perhaps, a handful of others who may have made note of the horrifying juxtaposition of voices). It could have ended the performance altogether or ruined it. It did not and I am truly glad for that! Yet I wonder what he and the other men in the room took away from that both consciously and sub consciously. You teach people how to treat you. Did a room full of women aiming to educate and empower inadvertently give permission and positive reinforcement to the wrong thing or at least confuse some of the very men they were seeking to educate and have as allies?

Many times, with situations like this, some women will say, ‘well, I wasn’t offended. It wasn’t a big deal so I don’t see what the problem is.’ This is closely related to jokes that degrade women or glorify and humor-ize violence and rape. Some will say, ‘It was just a joke! Can’t you take a joke?’ Just because it is funny doesn’t mean that it is ok. Similarly, just because it wasn’t on purpose or some were not offended doesn’t mean that there won’t be unfortunate consequences.

Like many things I address on this blog, I do not have an answer to this kind of situation so I’m not advocating a particular action. Rather, I suppose I am advocating thought. This isn’t about being too sensitive. It is about teaching people how to treat you, or rather how to treat not JUST you but US. Both ourselves and others, both now and into the future.

*I have some doubts about the ability to “reclaim” a word that was never possessed positively by the particular demographic attempting to claim it a second time. This word, along with many derogatory words used to describe a perceived “sub-class” of person, has never really been one used by anyone in a positive manner. No one, to my knowledge, has previously claimed this as a positive or complementary descriptor and, therefore, I do not know that it can be “re” claimed in an empowering manner.

**It only seems reasonable that I include a tip of the hat to V Men in this post. Please take a moment to read about them.

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by Rosemary on March 4, 2013  •  Permalink
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Posted by Rosemary on March 4, 2013

http://lifeinamountaintown.com/2013/03/04/teach-them-how-to-treat-you/

But We’re Working On It

It is with great joy that I share this guest post in the on going series on body image. Tara is a student in the campus ministry program I work with, an intern of mine from a summer past, and a friend. She is twenty one and a Junior at WCU, studying philosophy and working part time with students with intellectual disabilities. In her “free” time, she reads, knits and practices her Tae Kwon Do.  Please enjoy her words!

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When I was first asked to write this post, I thought that it would be an easy thing to do. However, when I sat down to actually write it, I ran into trouble. My body and I have never been the best of friends, but we’re working on that.

My image issues started in elementary school. I was always the quiet child, preferring to read during recess rather than run around playing tag. Looking for something to help with my self image, I turned to tae kwon do. This did wonders to teach me respect: for my superiors, for those of lower rank than myself, and for me. However, it did not help with my body image.

Because TKD has such focus on footwork and kicking, my thighs and calves became bigger. People never seemed to consider the fact that they were bigger  because of muscle growth. It was automatically assumed that I was fat.  It also didn’t help that I was the only girl in my seventh grade PE class who was not able to fill out a bra.

By eighth grade, I could be found wearing hoodies and jeans almost every day. PE was my own personal hell because the uniform was shorts and a tee shirt, which highlighted my big thighs and flat chest. I retreated further into my shell, throwing myself into scholastic achievement and my martial arts.

My first venture into the world of body positivity was during my sophomore year of high school. I joined my high school’s colorguard. This was a group of thirty or so girls of all shapes, sizes, and colors. My leg strength was  praised because I could march a ten minute show without becoming too fatigued. I was stretching and working out every day which helped my overall appearance. Throughout my three years on colorguard, I competed in three different uniforms. I had to overcome my issues with changing in front of others and wearing clothes that actually highlighted my curves.

My growth continued throughout my college career. I became more confident in myself as a person, which helped with my confidence in my body. The biggest impact, though, was surrounding myself with people who liked me for me. They didn’t look at my size, but my character. They decided to be my friend because of who I am.

My involvement in my school’s production of the Vagina Monologues has made the most difference in how I feel about my body. The Vagina Monologues are a series of monologues highlighting different women’s issues. Within this group, we support each other in all aspects. We are a body positive group that never shames.v

Another big support group has been my campus ministry group. We make the intentional decisions to focus Bible studies around self esteem issues, understanding that it is something that we all struggle with. I am surrounded by people who share the same faith as me, walking the same road I walk. It’s something I find comforting.

I have come a long way on my road to being okay with my body’s shape and size. I still have a ways to go, but I’m well on my way.

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This is the fourth post in a series on body image. If you have a story or wish to write an essay about your own experience with body image to post on this blog, please contact me. I would love to read it!

Additionally, if you wish to learn more about Vagina Monologues at WCU please go here or about the monologues in general, go here.

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by Rosemary on February 22, 2013  •  Permalink
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Posted by Rosemary on February 22, 2013

http://lifeinamountaintown.com/2013/02/22/but-were-working-on-it/

The Me I Love, The Body I Hate

It is with great joy that I share this guest post in the on going series on body image. Kristin is a very dear, long-time friend and colleague with whom I have shared many a body image frustration. It is definitely common ground for us! Please enjoy her words!

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I both love and hate my body.  Actually no it’s not really my body I love.  I love myself and I am completely confident that I am loved.  My mother made sure of the latter.  She hated her body.  As a polio survivor, when she saw her body she only ever saw the literal scars from the multiple surgeries she had between the ages of 4 and 13.  She saw the isolation of months spent laying in iron lungs and hospital beds.  She saw the loneliness of not being able to go outside and play with her siblings or do any of the normal things that children would do.  She saw the limitations of the things her body could not do.

There was one limitation that my mother never accepted – having a child.  Her parents and countless doctors told her it would be impossible.  She didn’t listen.   The pregnancy was hard and she knew there would only be one.  But my mother often told me I was the one thing she was proudest of in her life.  She may not have liked her body, but she wanted me to like mine.  She wanted me to have the confidence she rarely felt or in my opinion never gave herself credit for.  She told me I was beautiful and that I was loved.  She told me often.   I believed her.

As I grew up though my body did not look like the Barbie ideal. I have the wide hips and large bust common on my father’s side of the family but the shorter height of my mother’s side. My mother told me I was beautiful, my classmates teased me mercilessly. My mother dried my tears and in her eyes I saw her own pain but I also saw her love. I never doubted whether I mattered. I never doubted that I was loved. And I loved her. It’s hard not to love someone who loves you so unconditionally. And it is hard not to believe her. That is part of the reason why I have always loved my body because I love myself.

But I also hate my body.  I have always struggled with weight.  I have never liked the bra cup size that requires special ordering, the fact that I cannot buy regular pants without dealing with hemming them.  And bad habits, like comforting myself with food, die hard.  I still have a ways to go before I will ever be able to say I like my body.

When I see pictures of myself that show more than just my face, I don’t often like what I see.  That’s when I see the flaws.  That’s when I see what others see when they look at my body.  But when I look in the mirror I see me.  And I see my Mom.  And I see a cross on my forehead that says I am a child of God.  And that image I love.  I don’t know if I will ever like the me I see in pictures, but I pray I will always love the me I see in the mirror and be confident that I am loved.

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This is the third post in a series on body image. If you have a story or wish to write an essay about your own experience with body image to post on this blog, please contact me. I would love to read it!

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by Rosemary on January 22, 2013  •  Permalink
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Posted by Rosemary on January 22, 2013

http://lifeinamountaintown.com/2013/01/22/the-me-i-love-the-body-i-hate/

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