“I Couldn’t help it”

Have you ever said this to yourself, after maybe eating too much, picking at your skin, biting your nails, sleeping with your ex, sleeping in, compulsively waking up at 5am again to jump on your bike (I know this isn’t just me), drinking that extra glass of wine, smoking that doobie?

Maybe it’s not your fault. Maybe it’s not my fucking fault.

I think that through running away and distracting our(my)selves, we lose our connection with our own needs.  We run around, work late, “forget to eat”, get neck spasms from being glued to the screen.  We lose ourselves.

Then, when our body comes back to yell at us, we’re fucking famished, we’re thawing from numbness and itchy.  Itchy and unconscious.

Itchy and unconscious.

Itchy and unconscious. I’ll say it again.  When we feel depleted, unknowing as to why or what we need, we cope.  We need to fill again that void, a seemingly sourceless void that is hungry.  Hungry for nourishment.

  • Love
  • Connection
  • Some mother fucking nutrients
  • Support
  • Creative expression
  • Outlet for release
  • TO FEEL

(Wo)man, doesn’t it feel somewhat comforting and safe to be numb?

Parts of me feel like it’s a warm blanket.
♬ I wrap my fear around me like a blanket
I sailed my ship of safety ’til I sank it ♬

Hey Amelia Boone if you ever read this #jahbless firstly, secondly: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HUgwM1Ky228

These lyrics are so damn good and bang:

We go to the doctor, we go to the mountains
We look to the children, we drink from the fountain
Yeah, we go to the Bible, we go through the work out
We read up on revival, we stand up for the lookout
There’s more than one answer to these questions
Pointing me in a crooked line
And the less I seek my source for some definitive
The closer I am to fine

So, back to when it hits us, the body no longer will be silenced.  So, we eat too much, we cope with whatever drug we choose: a cig, a J, a beer or 5, a run or 5, etcetcetc.  And for me, when I get to this state, the yuck scary space of overwhelm with feelings, they rush in unsilenceable, like when you cut yourself shaving and the bleeding just doesn’t stop.  Fuck, you are on a ride of pain and it doesn’t end till it does.  You gotta ride it out, one giant wave of overwhelm.

The jump from numb to being overflowing is huge, and it’s terrifying.

This is when the excess asks for dissipation through whatever accessible means we can grab.  ANYTHING.

Ok, so now what?  Left bloated, drunk, high, bloody, now what?

Enter guilt and shame.  The worst.  These two are also scary emotions.  So, the innate thing to do for us to feel safe again is to disconnect further, to numb because these are scary and unpleasant feels.

I don’t know about you, but when I skin pick, or eat brussels sprouts (and aioli) till I’m 16 weeks preggers, I am definitely not interested to sit with myself, gently, compassionately.  Ho wanna run, (wo)man!

img_8244And this has been my cycle for a hell of a long time.  And it’s exhausting.  And the thing is, behind the pain and noise, is my soul’s voice, quietly and ever-presently there telling me to come back to myself.

Image result for after all this time always gif

The cycle breaks eventually.
That’s it that’s all.
“To sit with the shit”, as say the yogis and #Bae Pema Chodron, that’s eventually what we learn, when numbing no longer works.  When our bodies say “No”.

And, sweetheart, also: it’s not your fault.

Namaste.

The Universal Root of Addiction

Holy shit.

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.

whoa

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:

bitch please

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!