"I don't compete with women, it doesn't interest me" I heard myself say last night at an inner city restaurant in Bris Vegas.  Mr. Delicious (my husband) and I were dining with some friends and a few new business associates.  I surprised myself when I admitted this out aloud. 

"I am only interested in competing with myself, and upping the bar as time passes."  I went onto explain to the others seated at our table. 

If you have been following my blog for a while now you will know my history.  For those reading my words for the first time, in a nutshell I am a recovering drug addict and alcoholic who now clean and sober for 14 years remains a high stimulus personality who is also a contented introvert. 

As a true and unapologetic introvert I have a tendency toward being wholly or predominantly concerned with and interested in my own internal world over and above external stimulus.  I find my greatest pleasure in solitary activities and find less reward in time spent with large groups of people, though I genuinely enjoy interactions with close friends.  I am easily overwhelmed by too much stimulation from social gatherings and engagement.   Introversion I believe, is important to understand, as not being the same as shyness, a lack of confidence or being a social misfit.  As an introvert I choose solitary over social activities by preference, whereas shy people are fearful of others.

I am not fearful of people, but do suffer from anxiety before I have to socialize with new people who are drinkers.   I do still find that new social situations and combinations of people are challenging.  I often take a while to find my emotional footing and work out how to keep myself at a safe emotional distance from wanting to join in, without becoming emotionally disconnected.   It is not an easy task, but doable for limited periods of time.  Actually any more than 4-5 hours is my limit.

You might ask if I am not fearful of people why do I get anxious before social gatherings?  Well my anxiety is an alarm that I am feeling fear, but my fear does not stem from what others might do or think of me, it comes from what I might do or think about myself.   I can protect myself from other people's opinion, if I am in disagreeance,  quite well these days, however how I conduct myself is what I am always monitoring.

Over Easter we had a wonderful feast on the deck of our old Queenslander home.  I had fourteen adults for lunch and nine children.  Of the adults, the majority were family and close friends.  We had a wonderful day, but what I did notice was as we had a few new guests, and quite a few children I ensured I kept on the move all day.  I found that sitting with the adult women for longer than about five minutes, with them all drinking, and me the only one not drinking, was just too uncomfortable.  I normally don't socialize with more than two to three women at a time, and my closest friends The Glamazon, Lily, and my heart mother Beautiful Barb I feel safe around as I am very familiar with them and know my how to maintain my emotional footing. 

But like a true introvert I do become overwhelmed by too much stimulation from social gatherings.  In my younger days I used to drink to cope with feeling uncomfortable and wanting to leave hectic parties.  I drank so I could be more sociable than I really wanted to be and stay longer.

So before we got out of the car last night to go to dinner, I had to have a chat to Mother Nature and Father Time as I was anxious.  I put my hand on my husband's arm as he reached for the door, and asked him to wait for me whilst I said a few words to calm myself.  When I admit I am anxious , it dissolves the anxiety.  So I admitted to my God of Love ...G stands for Great, O for Out and D for Doors (Mother Nature and Father Time) that I was grateful for a safe and sober day, and needed help in remembering that I am enough as a sober woman, that all is well and to help me be unafraid of who I am and who I am not.

I actually found myself inhaling chocolate at 5.30pm before our 7.00pm dinner booking to quell my anxiety.  My ego is struggling admitting this to you now in this blog.   Not letting my fear driven ego get the better of me,  is a healthy motivation for me to write this out.   I confess  to myself in the written word so I can de shame, and see myself in the light of day on the white pages in front of me.  This enables me to be compassionate and understanding toward myself, as I would for you, if you confessed to me some of your fragile and private truths.

I have wanted to write about food, fear, frustration and men since I started blogging in December, 2009, but have been putting it off.  A bit like I used to put off in the early days of therapy, the real issues I need to talk to my therapist about until the last 2 minutes of our session, so we didn't have any time to delve into it, but I could at least dump it in his office like an emotional fart as I left.   I dont do this anymore in therapy, but sometimes I still do delay writing what my heart wants to write about because my ego or my fears are blocking me.  But when I woke up this morning after Mr. Delicious left for work, I turned off the morning Today Show that I like to watch before I get dressed to start my day, and sat in silence.  I could put off writing about this no longer.

As my therapist has told me repeatedly over the years, the only way out of ego based fear is to face it head on and move through it.   Sometimes it is just a matter of tolerating the feeling.  Being quiet, sitting still and paying attention to how and what you feel.  So I did.

I reflected on what I had said last night at dinner about not being interested in competing with women.  And that is my truth..... but only half of my story.  I am interested however, in competing with men, but neglected to admit that to myself or the other guests at the table. 

As I type these words I feel adrenalin pumping through my heart, it's fear.  I have never written about this before.

And ...... the way I deal with my frustrations and my silent competition with men often is to over eat, or not eat at all.

Before we went to dinner last night I over ate as I anticipated the evening that lay before me.  The men at the table were men that I admired.  One in particular has been a male mentor of mine for over twenty years.  He is twenty years older than me, and a highly successful man in all areas of his life.  He has authored countless books, and his latest has just had a five page spread in national newspapers.  He writes columns, is a sought after speaker, a dad, a husband and a compassionate humanitarian who has abundant wealth in health, love, family, respect in the community, and is financially great success story.   He is about to head of once again to Paris and other wonderful locations overseas with his dear wife.  I love this man and how he has lived his life but truth be told, I find it unsettling on a deep and subconscious level. 

He was not the only male at dinner last night who I respect and admire; there were also a few others present.  I had never socialized with them all before.  Not to mention my husband would also be present, who I find so emotionally robust and brave that quite frankly at times it gives me the shits.  I get very envious of him and the beauty, strength and emotional simplicity available to him within his masculinity.

I remember acknowledging my envy of male strength and  their seemingly uncomplicated emotional state silently to myself, early in my recovery.  I had been clean and sober only for a few years and was in my second marriage.  My then husband Brad was a very fit man, as was my first husband Joe.  I only choose strong fit men as lovers and husbands.  I choose them ensuring they are stronger and taller than I, and unapologetically proud of being a man. 

With my first husband Joe, he was a blonde Adonis and I choose him to breed with in all my wisdom at 19 years of age when I met him.   Joe and I spent 14 years together and I gave birth to two divine sons who are very tall, strong and beautiful young men.  My years spent with Joe (throughout my twenties) as a young mother were fuelled with erratic eating, drinking and drugging.  Towards the end of our marriage,  I managed to get my weight down to 59 kilos.  I am five feet eleven inches, and for me that is a very thin weight.  To control and maintain it I smoked three packets of cigarettes a day, drank every day, took speed, pills and other drugs secretly, abused laxatives and rarely ate.  When I did Ieat, I overate and did the sugar and salt dance, craving one, then the other in excess.

In my married life with Brad (my second husband throughout my thirties), as he was an athlete who had played water polo for Australia he was an amazing swimmer with an impressive body.  I met him at a local swimming pool and used to sit in awe watching him power up and down the pool.  I would drive my boys to school, as they were little aged 7 and 9, and then to try and fill in my day not knowing what to do with myself and how one spent a day clean and sober.  I would go to the pool sit in the sun and count the hours until I had to pick the boys up again.  I met Brad when I was four months clean and sober and as mad as a cut snake.  I married him sixteen months later, and we lasted six years.  During my time with Brad this is when I really started to notice my competitive nature with men when it came to my physical body, and my anger toward them as I was deeply envious of them.  And to cope with these feelings I either over ate or did not eat much at all.  I saw it for the first time, but didnt have the strength, willingness or insight to address it and make some changes.

Having been overpowered and sexually and physically abused for many years as a small child, I was pretty angry at males.  Drugs and alcohol helped me quell my anger for a while, they started out being a solution in my early teens and then became a problem by my early thirties when they no longer diluted my anger but inflamed it.  So when I got clean and sober it uncovered how I truly felt about male physicality, and I didn't want to fully admit it to myself, and probably never have fully until today, now within this blog.

All three men that I chose to marry I wanted to secretly learn from.  I wanted to know how to relax, use and enjoy my physicality like they did.  These men all were and are very comfortable in their bodies.  Their bodies were their friends who they respected, were playful with, loyal to and unapologetically proud of, no matter what they weigh.  I on the other hand used my body as a weapon against myself to manage my fears.  The common denominator I  have found with all of my husband's is even if they'd put on weight after a holiday, that they didn't seem to lose their confidence and still wandered around naked with ease without any desire to cover up or apologise for being less than perfect.

I find this a trait I would like to master as a woman as I know very few middle aged women who have.  Actually, I don't know any. 

Admiring males makes me feel simultaneously feelings of frustration and inquisitiveness.  I think this is why the Mother Nature and Father Time gifted me with sons.  They have taught me a great deal about the beauty of the masculine condition and the treasures within a tender and loving male heart.   I have watched them since they took their first breath evolve into amazing and lovable human beings.  They restored and healed my faith in masculinity.  And are living examples of the beauty of the masculine.

During my marriage with Brad I decided to compete with him phsycially and worked out with a extremely fit male personal trainer five days a week, and followed his grueling sessions with long hours at the gym.  Brad swam, I trained.  My arms were as defined as Madonna's, my butt was tight, and my stomach was flat and hard, and I didn't feel satisfied, I felt driven and sad like I was living a lie and punishing msyelf, for I was.  My personal trainer became like a drug dealer for me.  I would push him to push me, and instead of feeling empowered, I felt saddened as my soft curves became more masculine.  Sacrificing my soft femininity felt like a betrayal to my personal preference of what I loved about being a woman.

I would get so frustrated that my sons who at that time were in their teenage years, could still do more push ups than I could, and they didn't train at all.  I remember watching Venus and Sarina play tennis with such power and then would have heated discussions with Brad as to why these women if they played the top male tennis players could not win.  It made me angry, the injustice of it all.

It made me remember, that no matter what I did as a little girl, men would always be stronger and have more physical strength and power than me.  I was outraged at age 4 by this reality that was hammered home to my fragile childs physical body in cruel ways repetitively over too many years. 

I recall breaking down and sobbing the first time my personal trainer asked me to kick a bag he was holding.  I stood there frozen for a few minutes and could not get my legs to move.  He kept shouting at me ...

"Come on Cynthia, kick me, it's okay, let it out, go for it, kick me, give it everything you've got, you can't hurt me"  My heart was pumping and I felt my eyelids get heavy with the realization that I might just want to hurt him, and not be able to stop.

My first kick was half hearted.  And he taunted me with a challenge to not be afraid, to really give it to him.....so I did.

I kicked with everything I had.  As I did, I flashed back to the times in my life when my little legs were held still at the ankles, when my legs wanted to kick, but I was overpowered by male strength.

I kicked the bag hard and fought the tears for as long as I could until they just flooded me, and I kept kicking, and kicking, and sobbing and remembering.  I did not want to stop.

My training got manic after that.  I just wanted to get as strong as I could, I ignored the women in the gym as I had no interest in what they were doing, I knew I could do more, and I always did, they honestly felt no match for my obsessive drive. It was the men I wanted to compete with.

I remember finishing a training session after about eight months of this relentless obsession to get as strong and as fit as I could.  My legs were tired, I was hot and sweaty and so physically fatigued.   It was only 6.30am and I had to drive home and get the boys ready for school.  I had been at the gym for an hour and a half.   I phoned Beautiful Barb as I walked to the car and started to cry.  I told her how tired I was, and how miserable I was with this physical bender I was on.

"Stop love, you need to rest, why are you doing this to yourself?" she asked me.

I couldn't speak, so I just cried down the phone, and I did stop the physical punishment after that.  My hard muscles reverted back to the soft curves I actually prefer.  I look at women like Sophia Loren, Marilyn Monroe and other Rubinesque beauties with ripe round bellies, curvaceous hips and full bosoms and I feel they align with the woman that lives within me.  I watch Nigella Lawson cook and eat with such unashamed passion and sensuality and I am inspired.

I know from past experience dealing with emotional wounding that happened long ago, that there is no quick fix, it all starts with awareness.  And as the years pass and I remain clean and sober I get new levels of clarity about old wounds, and become braver at confessing them to myself.  I can't change what I can't see, and the way I see my emotional wounds that I have yet to be able to speak about, is to write them out first.  As I have this morning.

I noted that my anxiety and inhalation of an excessive amount of chocolate before dinner last night, with the group of males I admire, followed by a weight gain this morning for me and a weight loss for my husband ignited my frustration and envy at a level I could not ignore.  Mr. Delicious is about 30 kilos heavier than me, he is fit, strong, he can drink in moderation and eats what he wants when he wants.  And he can also exercise in moderation and even enjoys it.  Even when he does put on weight he still carries himself with pride and it does not erode his self confidence.  I have much to learn about myself and aspire to be as forgiving and consistent with myself and as unconditionally loving toward my body as my husband is.

I am definitely progressing in this area though and am pleased to report.  Six weeks ago I surrendered and admitted to myself, my darling husband and Beautiful Barb that I needed help with learning how to eat properly.  All my life I have controlled my weight with my ego and fear, but never by love or nurturing that included eating three healthy meals a day.  Drugs, cigarettes, laxatives and alcohol were how I managed my weight at 59 kilos for the first three decades of my life.

Over the past fourteen years of my recovery I have used and abused caffeine and sugar in varying degrees.  I have over eaten, and my body weight has risen to 79 kilos and then I have under eaten using caffeine to quell hunger and bought my weight back down to 67 kilos.  My therapist has always told me that a healthy weight range for my body's height of five foot eleven inches and frame is between 69-79 kilos.  I wasn't happy with this though.  My ego told me that I should be at least in the mid sixties, no probably 65 kilos, that was what my ego would settle at.  What would he know, just because he was a specialist in addiction and eating disorders! And whenever I got down to 67 kilos I was miserable, starving and my libido would cease up.  I could not relax and enjoy my body on any level.

After admitting that at the ripe age of 47 as menopause is now upon me that caffeine and sugar are making me crazy and miserable using them to control my weight, I would need to actually be mature enough to admit I need help.  I was also writing the concluding chapters to my next book and I know for a fact that my writing improves when I am not hungry.  I wanted to write the best book I am able to for my readers so I actually made a call and rang an organization that delivers to your home nutritionally balanced, healthy portioned food six weeks ago.  I ordered the lowest calorie option but even that included three meals a day, morning and afternoon tea.

I have not eaten evening meals regularly for the past five years, not to mention lunch and dinner.  So this has been a real challenge for me.  But I have found it such a wonderful help to ensure I step away from my laptop every few hours to go and eat a nutritious meal that has been prepared especially for me.  It feels like Mother Nature herself had shopped, cooked and prepared for me. I love it, and feel very nurtured and no longer like an outsider from the human race.

Whenever I heard people talk about eating three meals a day and exercising moderately three to four times a week, I just dismissed it as not applying to me.  I honestly believed that if I actually ate three meals a day I would be as one of my female elders in my formative years always told me "You will be the size of a house" if I relaxed about eating food.

So I started my new eating regime weighing in at 78 kilos six weeks ago, and was terrified that by the end of the first week I would get back on the scales and be over 80 kilos.  But I faced my fear and ate everything I was supposed to.  I lost 3.2 kilos in the first week.  I have now seemed to settle at around 72 kilos 5 weeks later, which my ego is really not happy about but my body and heart feel comfortable. 

I have come to realize that I have an ego weight and a heart weight, which is my true weight.  I did cheat once I hit 72 kilos a few weeks ago,  as I stayed there for longer than I was happy with (2 weeks).  So I decided in all my wisdom to take things into my own hands and delete morning and afternoon tea.  And I lost 1.6 kilos the following week.  And then I started the secret shame cycle up again, as I was lying to myself and buying into the fear of eating again.  So I admitted it out aloud to Mr. Delicious what I was doing, and he gently reminded me that he loves me and finds me extremely attractive and just wants me to be happy with myself.

So I got back on track and went back to eating all the designated meals and have gone back to 72 kilos.  Except last night before going to dinner like a drug addict I secretly inhaled sooo much chocolate before Mr. Delicious got home. And as an addict lives with self inflicted shame and secretes, I pretended as he walked in the door and my earless Lindt bunny was sitting as evidence  mutilated next to me, that the bunny was all I had nibbled on. 

This is an old habit of mine.  To make myself physically uncomfortable so that I distract myself from what I am emotionally feeling.  We all know if we are sad about something and then we kick our toe, or get a toothache, that becomes the new focus.  Physical discomfort dominates emotional discomfort.  Eating so much that I make myself uncomfortable has been one of my tried and true "weapons of mass distraction" from what I am emotionally experiencing.  When I spot myself pretending, my ego, denial and fear is in control.  And I no longer choose to be a slave to my fear, not now after all the work I have done on building my self respect.  So once I can see my next round of emotional homework clearly, I do my best to confess to it as soon as possible, so I can free myself and make space for more love in my life.  I have had fear dominate my world for way too long.

So my new emotional homework is to learn how to relax with eating three meals a day, and respect and honour my tired body.  It is recommended that it takes around 12 weeks to implement a new eating lifestyle so I am currently at the half way mark.  I intend to give it another six weeks and will let you know where my loyal body decides to settle when I love it, nurture it and commit to giving it enough time to find its way, rather than use it as a tool to combat my fears with.

One step at a time has been the best approach for me with learning new life skills and with learning how to become a healthy and balanced human being.  I would like to eventually master being able to do moderate exercise as well as eating without fear, without turning into a maniac.   But first things first.  I do love to walk, but the trouble in my past has been that I have had so much fear on board when I start to walk that my pleasant walking gets high jacked with fear and I start jogging, then running, coupled with under or over eating and I just end up feeling trapped again and stop.

So now that I have confessed all of my fears and flushed them out, I have made space to install some new loving behaviours and who knows in time, I may just become that woman who can have as much fun, loyalty, strength and pride in her body as a healthy male does, without sacrificing my curves and femininity that I treasure.

The Word Vitamins I would like to leave you with today are written by a wonderful author Anna Quindlen who reminds me of how wonderfully enlightening ageing for a woman can be as I arrive at mid life. 

I am now unafraid to write, speak and share about who I am and who I am not.  The person I have been looking for all my life to complete me, is me.  I now hope with all my heart that if I am blessed with another 10, 20 or 40 years that I keep refining the skill of self acceptance, self respect and self love and am able to continue to unashamedly be me. 

Shame and secrets have kept me jailed within myself and my dear and loyal body for the first half of my life.  I once heard it said that ‘most people spend the second half of our lives getting over the first. I believe this to be true for many of us.  Thank you my dear reader for sharing this space with me as I detox my fears and do my best to share the relief and joy awaiting us all patiently underneath the heavy rocks in our heart that are our secrets.

“I read and walked for miles at night along the beach, writing bad blank verse and searching endlessly for someone wonderful who would step out of the darkness and change my life. It never crossed my mind that that person could be me.”