So i'm going to do this blogging thing. I would love if it would help others, But that's just exactly theproblem. I've been focusing on helping others, and neglecting myself. oh, and i'm not always going to edit this for grammar and punctuation. It's stream of consciousness for my own benefit, like journaling. If you happen to come across this, welcome to this space. Welcome to me.
I've done lots of self help things over the years. It all started after a bad breakup with a literally violent end. That was the beginning of my awakening to the fact that i had been veryyyy asleep for a while. Thankfully, i was only 22 then, and now, 13 years later, i've made great strides in creating a life that feels genuine, filled with love and success. However, the one place i haven't really made a shift with lasting effects is in weight loss. And as i'm allowing myself to delve into this most difficult of addictions, bc there is no away to avoid the substance of abuse (we have to eat!) i am realizing more and more that this grip it has on me runs deep. I've been acknowledging my own unwillingness up until now. I've had help in the past and some success at getting to a healthier weight, though never at an ideal weight, nor at an ideal mindset. One with long term staying power to be a new way of life. It often appears, i make some changes, start an exercising routine and enjoy it, fit better into some clothes, and then some shit hits some fan somewhere and it falls apart and this body becomes heavy again. And that word heavy. It's so significant in this struggle. Heavy literally. Heavy hearted. Heavily armored against the world, that is like an ever flowing river of empathy out of me, so i have the constant need to fill it back up. Heavy handed, when serving myself food, especially food that tastes good and is comforting. Heavy hitting, because moderation is only beginning to take hold in my life. In my personal life, in my work, in my personal work on myself, it's always "go big or go home". And i go big for a while, then i end up going home, big again. And a heavy burden to bear. The burden of realizing the greed that is obesity and all that that means, and the heavy burden of carrying around this constant nagging part of my brain that just wants food at every turn. every god damn turn! a Celebration...let's eat! Boredom...look in the fridge. watching tv...eat. Reading...have a snack. Doing something creative with my daughter,...let;s cook or bake! Feeling stressed or sad...definitely eat! Writing this blog after a long and difficulty reality check of a cry with myself (and my all too knowing two year old who has such a way with words at times, i swear she's psychic. "Mommy, sad please". Asking me to play sad. Well, today the flood gates opened on this well of sadness that is lying within me, under the frustration, under the fat, under the years of not meeting alllllll the expectations in me and around me about weight loss and what it means to be healthy.)
So here i am. Writing this blog that has been haunting me for years. For a few weeks since realizing that finally tackling this weight thing is going to be a long and lonely though hopefully fruitful road. Haunting me since i was 8 and starting being heavier than the others girls, and definitely since i overheard the other dads from my soccer team goofing about my weight to my dad, and he just awkwardly laughed. Then proceeded to spend the rest of my childhood trying to make me other than i was. Who knows if being fat is really what's in store for me. Some things about it i love. I love my softness and suppleness. i love my warmth and my inviting volumptuousness, now that i understand it better than i did when i was 18. And i love food. everything about it. cooking and experimenting with it, creating with it, thinking about it and looking forward to it, talking about it, and then most obviously, eating it.
I dont know what's next. Maybe just writing about it as i go. one day, one minute, one damn bite at a time. Looking at the thoughts, the obsession,, the reliance. Being honest with myself, making the choices that will result in more healthfulness, rather than the choice that is most satisfying in the moment.
And not asking for help. From anyone but myself. Which is the fucking bitch of it all. It has nothing to do with others. For years it did. What they said, what they thought, if i was attractive, if i was good enough. Well now, no one says much anymore. This is all on me. I'm 35 and i'm stuck in this body that is too big for its own good. Taking up too much space. Allowing too much chatter in my own mind. Acting as if i am not capable of the willpower. iv'e always hated being told no. so when it comes to food, i dont. i dont tell myself no, i dont miss any opportunity to indulge. To savor the savory delight in front of me. So i've started observing myself, from above, from the side, like a spectator. What is she doing? Why is she making this choice again? She knows soooo much about nutrition (part of the obsession/addiction/illness/overcompensation...etc) and yet she still chooses to do this? What kind of health coach is she if she can't get her own health under control? Who is she kidding? And last... why is she so hard on herself about some things, most things.... and so lax about this? The one area that brings her the most sadness. Or rather, the one area that covers all of her sadness.... Now the sadness will have to be let out. Now she will have to address the anger, the neglect, the hurt, the shame, the little girl inside who aches to be loved as she is. For who she is. Unapologetically flawed and all the perfection that comes with imperfection. As is.
flowoflifewellness.com
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