A big deal is being made about how much weight Renee Zellweger has lost.

She was known as a slightly chunky actress in her role in the Bridget Jone’s Diary.

Which do you think is a better look for her, the thin or the chunky?

I went through a great deal of my childhood with a victim mentality.  It sort of happens by accident.  No one sets out thinking to themselves, “I am going to allow myself to take a victim mentality.”  It just sort of creeps in.  The circumstances of life seem out of control and a person feels they have no choice but to sit back and be victimized by life.

I was no exception.  I thought I had no control and no ability to change my situation.  One day in my childhood that began to change.  I remember the moment.  I don’t remember how old I was or where I was at.  I just remember thinking in my head, “I am not a victim.”  It was a turning point for me.  I can’t even tell you what prompted me to understand I was allowing myself to be a victim.  It was just a moment of self-discovery.  At that moment, I was taking responsibility for my life.  At the moment, I wasn’t aware of the significance of that moment.

Every time that I thought my circumstances were too great, I repeated that phrase.  I didn’t want to live the life of a victim.  I didn’t want life to happen to me.

I must admit I have had to start repeating that phrase in the last two years.  It is easy to let those old patterns of victimization to creep back into your life. 

My phone rang one day with a familiar voice on the other line.  An older friend of mine told me her sister’s husband had dropped at work and it didn’t look good.  I went over to the hospital beating most of the family to the waiting room.  We were told to go to a special waiting room that was secluded from everyone else.  I met the wife and we talked briefly.  She was worried about her husband.

The doctor walked in and told us her husband had passed away.  The family just gasped at the news.  We were all in collective shock.  He was in his early 70s but was actively working and showed no sign of any real physical problems except the normal surgeries and procedures a man of his age would encounter.

They asked her if she wanted to go in and see the body.  She told the doctor that she would like to go and one of her children came with her.  She asked me if I would come too.  I was uncomfortable with the idea but tried not to express the discomfort of seeing a real live dead person who had just died moments earlier.

We walked in together.  There was a strange smell in the room that I have come to associate with hospitals and dead people.  I am not sure to this day what causes the smell.  We walked up together.  The wife just cried and held his body.  He still had a sign of blood to the back of his head where he had fallen.  He laid there with a sheet draped over him.  His son tried to comfort his mother.  I wasn’t much comfort only trying to appear as if it felt natural to be there in the room.

I did not want to touch the man but in a situation like that you stand out if you don’t touch him.  So I took a hold of his hand and shared in their grief.  The hand didn’t feel any different than a regular hand.  I was thankful to leave the room when she was ready to leave.

That first experience gave me what I needed to be more comfortable around death.  I can now see it as a natural process.  I can now be more at ease in comforting the family as they are going through that moment.

When I was around five to six years old, my parents moved us into a house.  We lived in that house for about 1 1/2 years.  I had my own bedroom and it was in the basement.  The room did not have a light in it.  I was afraid of the pitch dark.  I would always have a hard time falling asleep.  There were also the noises in the basement.  Whenever water would run, I could hear the noise from my room.  It took me a while to find out it was the running water making the noise.

I was so happy when we moved out of that house.  I would wait for my parents to fall asleep and I would go upstairs and sleep on the couch.  I would typically wake up before them in the morning and eat breakfast.  I am surprised they never caught on to the fact that I was so scared of that room.  I don’t know why I never told them I was so afraid.

Describe your greatest childhood fear.