Come and Visit Us

4 Comments December 16, 2014 drworobec

I’m going to get a bit sentimental, a bit nostalgic, and a bit festive. Let’s talk Christmas cards.

I have strong memories of my mother sitting down every December to write out personalized Christmas cards to a huge circle of friends and family. She would sit at the kitchen counter with her address book, her pen, and her stamps, and very thoughtfully and deliberately write a note in each one. Sometimes a Christmas letter would be printed, summarizing our year for those we didn’t see often, and a family picture was always thrown in the mix. As a young child, I remember my dad fiddling behind the tripod to get the right shot, and as a surly teenager, my patience would wear thin with try after try.

But, as with most things, you don’t realize that memories are being made until they are already a part of you. So as December rolls around, my own Christmas card clock starts to tick. My list has grown over the years, and I now send more than one hundred cards, either through the mail or hand-delivered. I’ve got my spreadsheet, my address book, and my envelope-sealing husband; we’ve become a finely-tuned assembly line of Christmas cheer. I send them as a way to keep in touch; a real, personal, from-the-heart touch in this world of email/Social Media immediacy. Christmas cards are my annual way of sending a hug across the miles and a you’re-important-to-me message through the mail.

With a childhood in Alberta, school friends all across Canada, and backpacking friends overseas, my postage order is colourful and diverse. This is my way to reflect on my life, cultivate my community, build my village. My cup runneth over.

This year, the message on our card reads “Come and visit us.” And I mean it.

To my friends overseas, I hope to see you soon.

To my friends across North America, the guest room’s open.

To my friends in Burlington, pop-bys are welcome and the coffee is on.

To my family and friends in Alberta, I miss you.

Come and visit us.

Happy holidays from my family to yours!

Christmas Presence: A Poem

4 Comments December 9, 2014 drworobec

I don’t have a blog for you, this week’s a cheesy poem.
I’m writing this one by the dim light of my phone.
It’s late in my house now, and I’ve been busy you see,
Hiding Elf on the Shelf and making Christmas cookies.

I’m finding it tricky to balance it all,
With the stress of December and the trips to the mall.
My son, almost six, wants Thor and a sword,
And I’m not big on weapons, please help me, oh Lord.

My daughter, she’s two, and she wants just one thing:
A pink kitty necklace and its bright sparkly bling.
Don’t forget about parents, and yes there’s my hubby,
Nieces and nephews and stockings to make chubby.

And there’s holiday cards I get made with our pics,
I send more than one hundred, lots of envelope licks.
And then there’s the tree and of course Christmas lights,
My decor is less homey, more cheery and bright.

I have written blogs lately, on weight belts and my run,
On concussion and movement and of course on my hun.
On school kids and snatches and on being 35,
It’s true, after that one, my email’s on overdrive.

But if I’m being honest, I’ve been quite distracted,
I’m in the business of magic and my time’s been impacted.
You see this year I’m Santa, and the magic is planned.
My kids believe fully and they truly understand.

I’m in the midst of those years that are few and are priceless,
Where if we don’t leave out cookies there could be a crisis.
They see Christmas miracles in the simplest of stuff
And of holiday carols they can’t get enough.

So I’m drinking them in and I’m soaking them up,
Their gifts are very few but our outings fill their cup.
Because it’s presence, you see, that is a gift all year through
Not presents in December that will have to make due.

So take a walk down the street and link arm in arm,
Tell your honeys you love them and they’ll keep you warm.
I wish for you family and happiness and friends,
This holiday season and right to the end.

I saw this image floating around Facebook; that’s what inspired my post.

For those Still Searching for Skinny…

Leave a comment December 2, 2014 drworobec

Sigh.

It’s not often that I re-blog something. But this week I feel like I need to. I had a patient in my practice earlier this week criticizing her non-existent “fat”, a friend who spoke about “losing 10 pounds”, and an acquaintance whose teenage daughter is battling the early stages of an eating disorder. Three strikes of the post-it-again bell wins the prize.

I’m sorry that I needed to write this post to begin with. I’m very sorry that I needed to re-post it.

We need to change the mindset.

*****

This post makes me sad. It makes me sad for all of the hours spent, the energy wasted, and the food-related guilt and shame in my quest for “skinny.” Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m unique in this quest, and that’s what makes me even more upset.

I’m sad for the 8-year-olds who use the word “diet”. I’m sad for the teenage girls who think they’re fat. I’m sad for the 20-somethings who eat only grapes and rice crackers. I’m sad for the moms who hate their bodies. I’m sad, because I’ve been there. That used to be me.

In fact, I came across an old competitive running journal of mine, which I wrote in my early 20s, and that’s what prompted this post. Aside from writing down my daily mileage (which, at the time, was upwards of an obsessive I-must-run 100kms/week) I also recorded how “fat” I felt. I was 135lbs, wore a size 6, and most of my journal entries centered around varying degrees of “feeling fat”. Because skinny runners run faster, right? Skinny girls are pretty, right? Skinny is perfect, right?

I’ve always struggled with body image, but seeing this journal years later made me see how far I’ve come. Don’t get me wrong, I still have bad moments, bad days, bad thoughts, and sometimes the body image beast still rages; but the tide has shifted. My relationship with food has changed (“Food for Thought”), which is my biggest personal victory. I no longer look at numbers on the scale and on clothing tags. Ironically, as my obsession with weight and calorie-counts have decreased, those numbers haven’t changed much almost 15 years and two kids later. I now look at numbers in my training journal: I can deadlift 225lbs. I can climb a rope. I can do 10 pullups in a row and I can do “real” pushups from my toes. But more importantly, I look at my daughter. I can see her looking at me, and she’s learning how to define beauty and self-acceptance.

I hope that these very personal, very honest revelations don’t ring true with you, my female readers. But I suspect that they will for many. That’s why I wrote this. That’s why I pushed past my should-I-shouldn’t-I doubts and feelings of uncomfortable vulnerability into complete openness and soul-baring confessions. I hope that you can find a way to look at your body as strong instead of fat, as capable instead of weak, as beautiful instead of ugly. Don’t seek skinny, seek acceptance. And most of all, certainly most of all, I hope you can teach your daughters to do the same.

accept yourself