Once upon a time there lived a very happily married couple. Nary a harsh word was ever said between the two unless there was a slight "language misunderstanding" as he was a Brit and spoke English and she was a Yankee and spoke American. He would say "ToMAHto" and she would say, "ToMAYto." It was really only small things like that which would get underneath each other's skins until one day the unthinkable happened. The husband told the wife to "SHUT UP!" and the wife turned red with fiery indignation and stomped her feet then folded her arms and stormed off!
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I'm pretty sure you all know that we aren't talking about Prince Charming and his Faerie Tale Princess. Nope, we're talking about Gareth and me. I did indeed turn a very alarminlgy bright shade of red with fiery indignation and folded my arms and then stormed off. In all honesty, we communicate far better than I like to joke that we do and eventually, when I'd calmed down, Gareth helped me understand what led him to commit something that's considered a "CARDINAL SIN" in our home.
Our four-year-old, Gaby, even knows that we never tell one another to shut up. Ever. Well, except in cases of dire frustration with your wife because she tends to be rather thick headed and this is the only way you can get her attention. I think it's fair to say that by uttering those two words, he got my attention.
Had I been in my husband's shoes, I would have lost patience with me long before that night. Ever since The Very Bad Thing happened, I have felt worthless and my trust in what other people tell me, especially when it relates to complimenting, flattering, or praising me; I tend to brush it off or not believe it. I also tend to think that people, even those closest to me, are judging everything I do and looking down on it. For instance, a few months after TVBT happened, I took a Sprite out of the fridge and opened it and Gareth said, "Really, you're drinking a Sprite?" I immediately took offense because I thought he was comdeming me for drinking a pop, because HELLO!! I'm fat and should not be drinking a pop. However, he was simply remarking on the fact that it was Sprite and not Coke, because he knows I love Coke! Prior to TVBT I would have just laughed it off. Afterward I had become hyper-sensitive to almost everything anyone said to or about me. The deeper I fell into the miserable dark abyss of my depression, the more touchy I became.
If someone complimented me I assumed it was because they felt like they had to so that I wouldn't go off the deep end and wind up crying for days on end. If my husband told me he loved me I felt it was only because he knew how unlovable I felt and that he was worried that if he didn't say those words that I'd go and do something stupid. If my therapist and other medical providers tried to get me to focus on the things in my life that made me worthwhile I would chalk that up to them wanting to get paid for their time spent with someone as completely worthless as me. No one around me could win. They were damned if they did say something and damned if they didn't.
TVBT robbed me of the very basic funtion of trusting other people and taking them at their word when it came to things they would say about me. It's taken me more than two years to start to see the truth of the words that are spoken to me when I look into people's eyes. I'll be honest and tell you that it's still very hard for me to believe anyone other than those who are closest to me and even then I still tend to question every single thing...even when my husband assures me that what he says is what he genuinely feels, I have to analyze it. I still struggle with this daily.
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Gareth and I are sitting on the couch and we're talking about a little reality show that I've been in the midst of casting for, for a long long time. I'm still in the loop for a future season but that's all I can say about it. But the casting process is brutal and I'm tired of jumping through hoops. Gareth told me a long time ago when I first started this journey that he knew I would make it, that he just had this feeling in his gut that if I didn't end up on the original season I applied for, that I'd end up on the next. Another hoop was presented for me to jump through and I jumped and impressed the folks who were holding the hoop. I did it again and then another time. Then I hit a snag but was told by the hoop holders that I'm still in the running. It doesn't feel like I'm still in the running though because I know other people who are "in the running" and they've received more hoops from the "hoop holders" whereas I haven't, so naturally because I tend to be a pessimist I assume I'm done, I've been cut, the end.
So I'm sitting there on the couch next to Gareth and I say, "Well so much for your gut feeling, that you just know I'm going to make it! Have you ever had this feeling before and whatever it was came to fruition? How can you have this feeling when it's looking like I'm not going to make it and do you still feel a certainty that I'm going to make it?"
Gareth looked at me and took a deep breath and said, "I can't explain this feeling. No one has told you that you are officially out, you just assume you are. It's just a feeling I have, you're going to make it!"
I crossed my arms over my chest and huffed and puffed and asked him to explain the feeling to me, could he picture me, in his head, there, where I was hoping to be? That's when he exploded and very calmly yet with no room to question what he meant, told me, "Would you just shut up already and trust what I tell you? Quit over-analyzing everything I say and just trust that I know how I feel and when I say that I feel like you're still going to make it, you will!"
I started to argue, "But, but but, this is Hollywood and anything can..." And that's when he'd had it.
"Just SHUT UP! If you're going to question how I feel, don't. Save yourself the time and effort. Just stop it!"
I held my tongue and wiped away the tears that were forming in the corners of my eyes. In that split second I realized that it all boils down to trust and that I've still got such a long way to go when it comes to trusting what people tell me. I questioned the editors at Woman's Day when they contacted me about appearing in the magazine. Me? Why? Even though the piece that I wrote is there - it's been published, I'm still wondering if it's because I was considered a skilled and talented enough writer in order to convey to their readers what living in this obese body is like, or if I am just any fat person with no special talents who was actually willing to spill the things I did?
Later on during the evening that Gareth told me to shut up, I licked my wounds and we sat together on the couch once more. He leaned over and squeezed my shoulder and kissed my forehead and told me he loved me. He apologized for using words that we've all agreed to never use in the house and that he was only hoping to get my attention and be quiet long enough to try and listen to him and let his words sink in. He went on to say that he only wanted me to believe them - to trust what he told me he was feeling and open myself up to believing I was actually worthy of good things happening, like making it through this process of casting for a reality show - or anything for that matter, whether it's being published, being worthy of the compliments that are paid to me, or just accepting the fact that I have a place on this earth and that there is meaning to my life.
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At the end of the day it all boils down to trusting my own inner voice, the one that tells me I am worthy, and talented and capable and to listen to the people around me who I know would never lie to me and have as much faith and belief in them as they do in me. This is hard. It's still a struggle that I battle with day in and day out. What if I don't make it through the rest of the casting process? I'm afraid that everyone is going to think I'm still this big, fat, loser who has little to offer anyone else.
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I do have a back-up plan if I don't survive the casting process. It's called "Idaho" and it is one I can talk about, blog about, cheer about and not keep so damned top secret. But it's going to take me believing I'm worth it and being able to sell myself to people with deep pockets who would be in a position to sponsor me and help me make the dream of working with people who can help me regain my health and my life and at the same time, help me realize other dreams...it's going to take the kind of strength and courage that it would take if I do make it onto that reality show, if not more. It would mean being away from home for 3-5 months and being pushed beyond my limits and documenting the entire thing. If I'm not good enough to sell myself to Hollywood for a reality show based on being fat, how on earth am I going to sell myself to anyone else?
Then the little voice says...."Trust it will happen. Just trust."
