Without the discomfort felt during lows, there’d be no ammo to propel the high. I guess I have to trust that: the contrast.
I had an interaction yesterday with my brother that left me feeling sad, hurt, frustrated, and my innate need was to internalize it and restrict and stay SMALL.
I am a professional fucked up Human Being.
–and I’m evolving mannnn, I’m sharing my story and I’m healing. I sat in the pain, I looked at it. I’m processing it.
Basically, his words left me feeling like I’m such a fuck up, that I’ve ruined his life, and that I should never have been born. That I don’t deserve to be alive, healthy, thriving. Innately, it made me crave my escapist self-punitive coping mechanisms; restriction and self-deprecation. I felt guilty, ashamed. Honestly, whether or not his implications were that, IT IS HOW I FELT, and that is TOTALLY ok!
Instead of doing any of the above self-punishment, I sat, I called my dad and used his loving space as a place to express my feelings. I journalled. I ATE. I made this video today to process the emotion and share my current insight from the feels.
Here it is:
“Ever feel like an imposition?
I’ve realized I don’t need to validate my needs to feel. I was born dis way, already allowed to BE. No need to justify BEING!”
1. ummm…because “those self-love-people”…#refertohomeboyJPSears
2. There are so many out there already. Like Danielle Laporte.
3. It’s not that Danielle Laporte’s not cool…but my shit’s just more John Blaze then that…
4. They use terms like: love-warrior…”divine”, “goddess”, “radical”(in the non-hippie-dude-way), “blissful”(oops), “sanctuary”…iunnoyouknow?
In other important news, a guest blog post is coming today from a Bulimia and Anorexia survivor I had the pleasure of meeting. This feels so cool to share and feel the awareness spread that once again, I (nor you) am never damn alone, as often as I feel it, shit, that’s false as hell!
After watching this Ted Talk: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EKy19WzkPxE&index=2&list=LLvRiuhqEVpxrKT1cTkxKwsA
I share about how feeling is starting to happen…I have this “gut feeling” about it.
An “afterward”….shiiiiit YES I creeped myself in this thumbnail for the vid and the last one I did on my youtube channel and bitchlooksbetter! I look like I have gained a bit of weight, my face looks more full, hey? TY!
I am a little bit of “holy shit”, and I say that amicably. Yesterday, I approached a gentleman smoking at a cafe and bluntly invited him to punch me in the neck via nosily asking him why he smokes.
You see, I’m fascinated about the nature of addiction, (even The Man, Gabor Mate expresses in that vid that he has a hard time stopping a meal…and experiences “fear of end of meal”-syndrome, #nahmean?) and I offered amicable banter via an inquiry about his attraction to smoking, when he knows it’s not good for him. ( I was clear about my intentions being directly reflecting my own addictions with food.)
We chatted, my neck was spared, (thanks, man) and he was a rad warrior of a human being. His story was great, having battled addiction in life. He said he was aware of the dangers of smoking, just as I am aware of the dangers of restriction. He is enlisted to quit, and he damn sure will. He said that his battles of addiction stem from an avoidance of pain. (long story short bc aintnobodygottimeforlongblogposts…similar to when looking for a recipe online…and the “prologue” to the ingredients is a novel….bloggers who have the “skip to recipe” button are angels).
My blog post about wanting to feel my pain was big emotionally, and now after speaking with him, I’ve realized what Bulimia served, and what Anorexia is serving for me now: as much as my being is craving to feel my pain, there is a part of me that is equally as resistant to feeling it. Man, Anorexia is serving to keep me out of presence for the exact reason of avoiding pain.
Honestly, I can’t believe that this is hitting me now as awareness. I’ve read about this so many times, but it totally just clicked yesterday, not too dissimilar from how you “just click” when you learn how to find your stroke in swimming. You just click that “downward dog” is the pose that dogs really do….maybe that was just me….took me a while…or that dogs are in a permanent push-up position…Life’s so strange that way, that we can read things so many times, but when they “click” it’s like a veil is lifted, it’s like a good poop.
And so, I called a good friend last night as I finished dinner still hungry.
I realized that when I restrict, it’s because I’m pretty damn good at controlling so that I’m just undernourished enough to be able to plan my next meal, to routinize and “time-fill” because if I am sated and present, fuck, I don’t know what I’ll do with myself. There’s almost this non-reality of living in a haze when I’m still hungry, and it’s total numbing. It’s non-rational thinking because my cells are in survival mode. It’s a way of living under intoxication.
I don’t feel like I know myself, and I’m learning to love myself. I am so scared to sit with a full belly, probably bloated (because eating disorders fuck with your gut- and no amount of kraut will heal that shit…it’s gotta come from inside, the seat of self-love, where I’ll no longer self-sabotage), knowing that I’ll be gaining weight, and in spite of it not being about the physical appearance, it’s the act of being in a state of treating myself well while respecting my needs.
I am scared to not punish myself. I am scared to accept that I deserve to be healthy. Omg, I’ve grown up my whole life feeling like a loser and I’m terrified to defy that belief. I’m scared to sit with satiety and fight the inner voice that says I’m: gross, ugly, unworthy, useless…never good enough.
So today, I had a private swim training client, and it felt fucking good to be in my element like when I coached out in Vancouver. I really “get” the swim technique, and I love helping other people. She was so lovely, and it felt really good to be authentically in a healthy state of helping. I’ve realized that I’ve been walking on eggshells in Anorexia and Bulimia, not living. I’ve been waiting for life. I’ve been passing time in a numb state to Life, and that’s why my efforts to find my passion or a fucking job are useless because the initiatives aren’t authentic – they’re literally just a distraction until my next meal. I haven’t been in a healthy state in so damn long, and the universebelike:
Glennon Doyle Melton: huge. If you want to learn more, these two videos were epic in my moments of realization yesterday. If you have interest in these, watch them. Please, for yourself.
Thank you Claire, and Deanne for passing them along and for the fucking amazing universe for this.
Sitting with fullness is going to fucking suck. But you know what sucks more? The idea of living this half-ass-one-cheeked-bony-bummed life for the rest of my existence.
And so to that life, I say, “Bitch please!”
Also: Sonya, my god, you made my day. And a continued thank you for all the love, it’s mind-blowing. Thank you for helping me fight, from my whole heart!
“I sheppard people into the empty space that’s infinitely all around them…that they’re already in, but can’t access without me.”
JP Sears is real good.
But in all seriousness, meditation is something I’ve practiced and fallen out of, mannnny times. I’ve forced it via a phone alarm for a while, and I’ve stopped. I intuitively started doing it again, sitting and letting myself “hold space”, and I find my body asking for it. I run around here and there all day, and to stop and be there, whatever the hell that means, just to be still feels so damn good.
I’ve been marinating on the pain because I want to feel it now.
I know I’ve read and heard of the “isness” Eckhart Tolle describes, and I have to eye-roll at the esoteric nature of the term. But like…I’m starting to feel that “isness”…and it feels not good…but just “feels”. So strange. But mamilike.
Anyone have this kind of experience? Anyone meditate?
Yesterday, I met with a wise woman from the pool where I swim. She’s one of the aquafitters, and is really lovely. I met her a few weeks ago after the blissful time where I am a fly on the wall of the commentary of the older women in the changeroom. They honestly have the most amazing and hilarious banter, and I feel like I’m in the presence of such warriors – the insight and knowledge gained there is absolute GOLD.
We met, we chatted, and I realized that I am not acknowledging the pain I’ve been through. The pain is serving me a purpose, and until I stare at it straight in all its glory, I won’t move on. I want to feel the pain in a weird way – because for some reason it needs validation. All feeling are so OK, but man, this pain, it wants to be seen, heard, acknowledged.
I realized this especially when I had a lovely visit from a family member wishing me a Happy Birthday today. She is such a good loving support, but she commented on my weight, and my ego flared. Honestly, I realized that it really fucking bothers me when people who have no idea what I’ve been through, and I mean really know the pain and suffering not only of Disordered Eating, but of what LED me to disordered eating in the first place. So when someone comments on my weight, I get straight up pissed off. What right does anyone have to make a comment on the results of my pain, the physical manifestation of my coping. Especially in their naivety… I think that as I acknowledge my pain, my ego flaring for this will pitter patter out. I don’t want to react so much when this happens, and it’s bound to happen! It comes out of concern, this I know. But that makes it no less annoying when the deeper issues are so much more hidden and relevant than weight. The weight is a symptom to an inner cause, an inner unrest.
So this new insight leads me to more self-therapy:
That is to observe my pain, to meditate on my suffering.
I did this last night and it was ok. I have been through some messed up shit. I’ve been bullied, I’ve had guys emotionally and physically abuse me, I’ve had parents who didn’t know how to love me, even with all their might and effort, I’ve been spanked growing up, I’ve been timid as fuck and grown up feeling like everything I do is wrong – that “I am wrong, I am bad.”, shaking this shit is hard. I internalize it and self-punish. I watch it. This is hard, this is really hard. I don’t want to face this stuff. But the pain wants to be seen. Just like I want to be seen, heard, acknowledged for my struggle.
Honestly, I’ve always felt like my shit’s illegit. Like, “there’s dying kids in Africa, Mel, camman get your shit together.” is my self-talk. But fuck, enough, I am allowed to feel my pain and to acknowledge it and to self-sooth and be gentle with myself. I deserve to wallow in self-pity for a bit as I accept this shit as my journey, and stroke my own hair. I’m crying now as I type. I am allowed to be kind to my process in healing, and deserve my own hug. I give it to everyone else who is struggling with ANYTHING but never to myself.
I am putting myself through the ringer, because I think my mind is trying to give myself meaner and meaner and harder and harder pain to face to test myself with my limits, “how far will I go before I deserve to acknowledge my pain? How much do I need to hurt?”
How many more 2AM hungry wake ups do I need.
How many more stress fractures?
How many more lonely nights, 8pm bedtimes of isolation?
How many more bloating tummies and heartburn-burps?
How many more tears?
How many more atoms of calcium to seep from my bones?
How many more days without a period, (I want a little Mel in form of my own child to one day be on this earth!)
How many more days without letting myself be around people, to travel, to WORK, to date!
I know I joke a lot, but I’ve had enough joking about my struggle. It’s real, and I’m validating it right here, right now. I’ve had enough.
There it is. I want this shit seen.
And then, I want to move the fuck on. I want to acknowledge the pain, look at it in the face, because man, I’m strong enough, and then I want to put it behind me and move on. I want to help others to acknowledge and self-validate what they’re feeling so that the shit doesn’t get swept under any rug.
And please for god’s sake, don’t comment on my damn weight.
I’m sitting at a cafe and doing research now. I have eaten lunch, a good one, and am post-food-babied. I ate intuitively, and well. And I have the post-meal itis and “full” feeling. I’m learning to accept it. Not to “suck in”. It’s a natural phenomenon that happens after a meal! But my subconscious is all “shouldn’t you be ashamed?”
Honestly, I’ve realized that when I feel shame, when I feel like I’ve fucked up, when I feel unsafe (be it physically, emotionally, whatever), when I feel anxious, when I feel like my sense of safety/control are threatened, I self-sabotage by grasping on to whatever form of control I feel that I have, and my default is food.
I’ve been coping by restricting.
Example: family stresses – first thing I do innately is to eat less. Whoa. I watched myself do this on my birthday this past Sunday, and I was shocked! I actually was able to catch myself in the habit, re-assess my perception of the threat and my state of safety, re-ground, and eat. Eat for me. I no longer am going the be the brunt of my own self-punishment when fear hits. I am learning to cope better. Better yet – I’m learning to not interpret such outside things as stressful/threats! (this is taking practice, and it takes me widening my window of stress-tolerance.)
***(I keep opening this to edit as new insight comes)***
I’ve realized that my tendency to eat less is also when I’m doing things like working at a job where I feel like I can’t fully relax or be myself – I would tend to pack things like big salads with bulk and little nutrition (using unflavoured protein powder to sustain me)…woah.
shit…this self-help work is SUCHWORK #TheWork (nahmean)
I’ve done some research on shame.
Brene Brown’s TedTalk on it is awesome.
I’ve been listening to Sounds True Self-Acceptance Summit videos. Today I listened to the one on Shame, and some key take-away points hit me:
- Eating Disorder sufferers tend to be shy and timid, brought up in families that are strict and streamlined.
- ED sufferers tend to self-harm and internalize the emotion of shame when they are scolded, especially relating to the shy timid nature
- feeling like there’s no safe space to experience and to feel
- Shame is actually felt in the body in form of a somatic response where the sympathetic nervous system engages and you go into a form of stress response
- Shame has a tendency to initiate a reaction in the body to hide-away and escape
- punishment for actions, repercussions
- Shame tends to cause a “freezing” or a stagnant state of paralysis
- covert and overt shamers (ones who voice their feelings of shame, and others who express it via other emotions)
- Those are a few.
I feel shame often.
“Too much salt?”
“Too much speaking with ‘I’?”
“Too long to eat?”
“Too long in the bathroom?”
“Not pretty enough? Skin picking too much?”
“Not enough time in the sun to combat the skin picking?”
“Not working hard enough?”
All these thoughts are pretty automatic in regards to negative appraisal with my self-talk. I’m really learning to observe the rubbish, and to let it go. To accept it, and choose to believe otherwise. It’s a weird feeling, like looking down at my thoughts from an above vantage point, and saying, “That’s not me. I choose to believe differently.”
When I was in India learning yoga, I remember a teacher expressing it as if you were called by a wrong name, and you had the interpretation of utter non-reactive expression that “that’s not my name.”
No judgement, no reaction, no ego. Simply the “hey man, not my name.” kind of talk.
This was cool. I’m using that same tone, after first using the mean automatic tone…but in retrospect I’m catching myself, and reframing the way I would prefer to self-talk. That’s cool.
Anyone experience shame this way?
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