Pre-Camino Body
Since my marriage I kept raising the bar on weight. Having tried every diet imaginable, I went up and down like a yoyo but after each diet I would gain it back to a somewhat higher norm than when I started. When I first heard about the Camino and was determined to go, I had hit over two hundred pounds. Of course, as always I had great plans to get into shape and lose the weight. I figured I needed to lose at least forty pounds, about the weight of two full knapsacks. As usual, I started off well, walking, watching carefully what I ate (having given up on diets by then). It was harder to walk now as I had put on about twenty pounds since the last time I was hiking a lot. I found myself huffing up the hills and I was worried about my heart.
The year before I left, was the busiest year of my life. From January to September, I was struggling with over five major work projects, including directing two plays a film with grade eight students, and writing a play. I was also helping my children prepare for their first year away from home, getting the seven bedroom house we had lived in for fifteen years renovated for sale and then sell the damn thing. I then had to pack up this cluttered home and pare it down through garage sales, giving things away and two full sized dumpsters, to two small lockers, one for me and one for my husband.
I was a mess, exhausted, stressed and by this time instead of losing forty pounds I had gained twenty.
I have never felt so out of control in my life. I couldn’t bear to look in the mirror. Nothing fit me and I shunned cameras. I could feel people’s shock if I hadn’t seen them in a while. I felt the raised eyebrows and looks of concern even though people were very polite and no one said a word. I had trouble getting out of chairs, which is hideously embarrassing and tying my own shoes was difficult because my stomach had become so fat.
The silent verbal abuse to my body was a constant stream of insults. I never spoke of it to anyone because I was so ashamed. I was in the public eye a lot during this time and pictures of myself seemed unrecognizable. My own mother didn’t recognize me at first when I went to visit her before I left. My body language was turned in on myself and I found myself not looking anyone in the eye.
Who was this woman? I had gained weight so fast and felt helpless. I honestly don’t think I ate any more than usual but I wondered whether I was in full swing menopause over the last few years and that could account for it.
I have a theory about menopause. I have read about the mood swings and the weight gain but I always wondered at the difference in the way people went through it. I actually welcomed menopause as it seemed relatively painless and the hot flashes although annoying were not worth getting rid of through drugs. I wasn’t yelling for no reason at my children or doing madcap things like painting the whole house red. What I was doing was feeling a lot of heartache. I was in a relationship that seemed so painful, yet I was terrified to leave it. After twenty-five years of a pretty emotional free marriage, suddenly I was crying endlessly, storming out of rooms because the pain of the conversation was too hard, feeling unreasonable jealousy. Once a month I would break up the relationship and within a day I’d be back. How this poor man put up with me for the year and a half, I’ll never know. Finally, thank god, he did have enough and put an end to the torment.
I, however, continued the torment, the broken lover. Intuition took me on the most amazing journey of my life that led me out of my state of pity. Instead of falling into a depression or a self-hate session, I was determined to solve my problems. Even I could eventually see that my poor friend was submitted to my erratic behaviour and became the victim of my past. Which brings me to my theory of menopause, based on nothing but conjecture. I believe when we go through menopause, we are brought up short, by having to deal with the things in the past that have gone unsolved.
The woman who paints her house red suddenly might be finally acting out being the predictable, reliable woman who has suppressed every creative impulse. The woman who suddenly rages against her husband or children may have always been the good girl. For me, I finally had to deal with my huge fear of abandonment and as I dug deeper my subconscious fear of being replaceable. What it all boils down to, I needed to finally learn to love myself, whatever the hell that meant. That summer I learned all about what that means for me.
What the Camino taught me was a way to love my body. In the same way I was given the gift of falling in love with a man who brought out my worst fears, I was also given the challenge of being the heaviest I had ever been when I was about to embark on an adventure that I needed my body more than ever.
Since my marriage I kept raising the bar on weight. Having tried every diet imaginable, I went up and down like a yoyo but after each diet I would gain it back to a somewhat higher norm than when I started. When I first heard about the Camino and was determined to go, I had hit over two hundred pounds. Of course, as always I had great plans to get into shape and lose the weight. I figured I needed to lose at least forty pounds, about the weight of two full knapsacks. As usual, I started off well, walking, watching carefully what I ate (having given up on diets by then). It was harder to walk now as I had put on about twenty pounds since the last time I was hiking a lot. I found myself huffing up the hills and I was worried about my heart.
The year before I left, was the busiest year of my life. From January to September, I was struggling with over five major work projects, including directing two plays a film with grade eight students, and writing a play. I was also helping my children prepare for their first year away from home, getting the seven bedroom house we had lived in for fifteen years renovated for sale and then sell the damn thing. I then had to pack up this cluttered home and pare it down through garage sales, giving things away and two full sized dumpsters, to two small lockers, one for me and one for my husband.
I was a mess, exhausted, stressed and by this time instead of losing forty pounds I had gained twenty.
I have never felt so out of control in my life. I couldn’t bear to look in the mirror. Nothing fit me and I shunned cameras. I could feel people’s shock if I hadn’t seen them in a while. I felt the raised eyebrows and looks of concern even though people were very polite and no one said a word. I had trouble getting out of chairs, which is hideously embarrassing and tying my own shoes was difficult because my stomach had become so fat.
The silent verbal abuse to my body was a constant stream of insults. I never spoke of it to anyone because I was so ashamed. I was in the public eye a lot during this time and pictures of myself seemed unrecognizable. My own mother didn’t recognize me at first when I went to visit her before I left. My body language was turned in on myself and I found myself not looking anyone in the eye.
Who was this woman? I had gained weight so fast and felt helpless. I honestly don’t think I ate any more than usual but I wondered whether I was in full swing menopause over the last few years and that could account for it.
I have a theory about menopause. I have read about the mood swings and the weight gain but I always wondered at the difference in the way people went through it. I actually welcomed menopause as it seemed relatively painless and the hot flashes although annoying were not worth getting rid of through drugs. I wasn’t yelling for no reason at my children or doing madcap things like painting the whole house red. What I was doing was feeling a lot of heartache. I was in a relationship that seemed so painful, yet I was terrified to leave it. After twenty-five years of a pretty emotional free marriage, suddenly I was crying endlessly, storming out of rooms because the pain of the conversation was too hard, feeling unreasonable jealousy. Once a month I would break up the relationship and within a day I’d be back. How this poor man put up with me for the year and a half, I’ll never know. Finally, thank god, he did have enough and put an end to the torment.
I, however, continued the torment, the broken lover. Intuition took me on the most amazing journey of my life that led me out of my state of pity. Instead of falling into a depression or a self-hate session, I was determined to solve my problems. Even I could eventually see that my poor friend was submitted to my erratic behaviour and became the victim of my past. Which brings me to my theory of menopause, based on nothing but conjecture. I believe when we go through menopause, we are brought up short, by having to deal with the things in the past that have gone unsolved.
The woman who paints her house red suddenly might be finally acting out being the predictable, reliable woman who has suppressed every creative impulse. The woman who suddenly rages against her husband or children may have always been the good girl. For me, I finally had to deal with my huge fear of abandonment and as I dug deeper my subconscious fear of being replaceable. What it all boils down to, I needed to finally learn to love myself, whatever the hell that meant. That summer I learned all about what that means for me.
What the Camino taught me was a way to love my body. In the same way I was given the gift of falling in love with a man who brought out my worst fears, I was also given the challenge of being the heaviest I had ever been when I was about to embark on an adventure that I needed my body more than ever.