Every time I don’t want to post, because I’m scared of how I’ll sound, because I’m embarrassed at what (at first) seemed like failure, because I feel like a fake, I get so much love for being honest.
Your comments, emails, texts, everything, has gotten me through and back on a better path.
I’m feeling so much love and gratitude, it’s a wonderful thing.
The last few days have been emotional for me, lots of teary nights spent writing in my journal using the prompts from Christine Inge’s “No Bullshit Getting Started Guide to Making Peace with Food.”
My mind hasn’t been quiet in days, a constant chatter of thoughts, some positive, yet some negative, but if anything this last week has shown me that there is love and light in the darkest places.
I’m doing this – living – the best way I know how, following what feels true and authentic, and giving power to my voice.
What always comes to the forefront when I binge is that somewhere along the way I ignored my needs. I stopped listening to what my mind and body were saying, fear took hold, and the rest is history.
The last few days of eating have been nothing special, lots of my usual fare (read: oatmeal and salads, mmmm), but I’ve been paying attention to my cravings, to when I’m hungry, reconnecting with an intuitive way of eating that I’ve worked hard to learn over the past couple of years.
I don’t care if this sounds small or trivial to some people, but recognizing hunger cues is huge for me and not something I take for granted.
For most of my life, I never felt hunger. I always made sure there was food, it was a constant. It was everything.
It’s a gift for me to feel the signs of hunger every day around 12:30 p.m. and know that it’s time for lunch. A gift that I get to take time to cook food I find nourishing and delicious. A gift that I spend time listening to my body, honoring its needs for movement and fun.
It’s not that long ago that I didn’t take care of myself, that I consistently numbed what I was feeling with bags of chocolate.
Even if I don’t always feel it in the moment, there is not one day that goes by that I’m not grateful for the pain that I sometimes feel because I decided to take on my life. Sometimes it sounds so stupid when I say it, but learning how to feel hunger and actually feed myself has been a transformation of my soul.
Genen Roth, in “Women, Food and God” may explain this a bit better:
“…compulsive eating is basically a refusal to be fully alive. No matter what we weigh, those of us who are compulsive eaters have anorexia of the soul. We refuse to take in what sustains us. We live lives of deprivation. And when we can’t stand it any longer, we binge. The way we are able to accomplish all of this is by the simple act of bolting — of leaving ourselves — hundreds of times a day.”
“Weight (too much or too little) is a by-product. Weight is what happens when you use food to flatten your life. Even with aching joints, it’s not about food. Even with arthritis, diabetes, high blood pressure. It’s about your desire to flatten your life. It’s about the fact that you’ve given up without saying so. It’s about your belief that it’s not possible to live any other way — and you’re using food to act that out without ever having to admit it.”
“Our work is not to change what you do, but to witness what you do with enough awareness, enough curiosity, enough tenderness that the lies and old decisions upon which the compulsion is based become apparent and fall away. When you no longer believe that eating will save your life when you feel exhausted or overwhelmed or lonely, you will stop. When you believe in yourself more than you believe in food, you will stop using food as if it were your only chance at not falling apart. When the shape of your body no longer matches the shape of your beliefs, the weight disappears.”