A “Human” Professional

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Hi, my name is Melanie, and I’m a recovered Bulimic, and recovering Anorexia Nervosa monkey-minded human being.
I’ve sat with crippling depression, anxiety, and taken laxatives while scared shitless of the idea of imperfection.
I’ve run trails in a healthy state, and I’ve also gone to morning swim practice in Uni while probs still drunk from the bar having come home a couple hours before.
I’ve aced papers, and I’ve also retaken courses.
I’ve googled ways to purge, tried many, and I’ve searched the shit out of the internet about how to heal.
I’ve gone to India to become a certified Yoga instructor, and I’ve pranayama’d the shit out of datstuff.
I’ve traveled across the world to New Zealand and am now a certified Holistic Nutritionist.
I’ve been a vegetarian, I’ve done Paleo, I’ve hashtagged #lchf like it’s going out of style, and I’ve been a devout “I Quit Sugar” spokesperson.
I’ve gone from eating full tubs of sugar-free/fat-free yogurts with 8 packets of TwinSugar in one sitting, to beef jerky.
I’ve found that food isn’t as important as the emotions behind it, and that sugar is OK.
My beliefs have changed more times than pugs fart (and they fart a lot….#teamantipugs).
I’ve learned that you can’t hate yourself into a version of yourself you can love, and that you can’t find yourself in New Zealand, or anywhere other than inside yourself, for that matter.
I’ve learned that happiness has no correlation to your pants size, bra size, or bathing suit size.
I’ve learned that being present is the most important part of life, and that awareness brings solace in darkest of times.
I’ve observed myself self-numbing, escaping, and also sitting right with pain; a bloated belly post-binge, an emotional smack in the face after a sexual abuse, a stress fracture from literally running away from myself.
I’ve honoured and dishonoured myself, and I’ve fluxed the shit out of life.
And through it all, I am exactly where I am today, flawed as ever, and loving myself anyways and always.

No one is perfect, and no one will ever be a “certified perfect professional”, in my humble opinion.

I’m certainly not, and this by no means takes away from the ability for someone to have a gift to help, myself, or anyone else.  In fact, the warriors with battle wounds, healed and healing are the ones I connect with and trust the most.

I’ve been afraid of sharing my story lately, uncensored, because of the stigma of mental health shame, and the thought of being unhirable in flaw.

Fuck.
That.
Shit.

This is me, there’s you, let’s do this shift.

Honest Vulnerability: Men have body image insecurities too!

Yesterday I met two lovely people at a cafe, and we chatted for a while.  I brought up the issue of body image around breathing.  Specifically how I learned to breathe in my chest instead of my tummy because I was self-conscious about feeling like my tummy was expanding.

I ask myself now (after watching Brene Brown’s vid on vulnerability) “What’s underneath this?”

Shit, I don’t know!? Feeling unworthy if I have a tummy?!

It sounds so yuck to write that, like, self-harming, it doesn’t feel good to me. (this is GOOD! Good job Melskis!)

Again: “What’s underneath this?”

If I have a tummy, that means I’m “flawed”, or imperfect.

Two things my rational soul says:

  1. A tummy doesn’t mean I’m flawed.
  2. There is no such thing as perfect.

So:

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(I’m quoting myself…lookatbitchGO!)

Another tidbit which was great was from this:

Eckharte Tolle gives a good tip about when you can’t shake an unserving thought:  to focus on the present; to bring awareness into your body and shift the focus.  This is huge because we often think we can “just think of something else”.  But #bitchplease does that ever work? And if it does, it’s fleeting because the mind is such a monkey.  It plays games over and over with us.  The soul is in the body, when we shift focus to say, feeling the existence of our hands, without moving them or touching anything, then we are shifting our focus and redirecting into feelings that we often hide from.  I’m learning to do this.

I rode High Park loops this morning:

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And I often have cases of “the burps” as I learn how to listen to my body and fuel right. Also, I went to bed real early and woke up real early, and pool opens at 7:30AM only, so I rode instead, which is two days in a row–so leggies are tired…so also wanting to focus on going easier and quiet the thoughts of insufficiency in doing this.

So, in avoiding the monkey thoughts about discomfort and “shoulding on myself”, I focused on my hands, feeling their presence, shifting my focus.  You know what? This shit’s pretty magic.  Try it!

And now the bread and butter of the post: this sweet dude’s vulnerability in expressing himself and that men also face body image issues, although the stigma against emotional expression is so suppressing of discussion.  That blows.  Big ups to his bravery!  Check it out:

Namasthe.