Sometimes, I forget that one of the cures for any kind of troublesome thinking is simply opening up to someone else about what is happening or what is on my mind. No matter how trivial or ridiculous it seems, if I share my feelings or thoughts with someone, through ANY means—email, phone, in person, letter-writing, singing a song, crying when there are no words—the load lightens. I have to get the jumble of ideas or emotions out. And when I’m able to share details, it feels even better. Somehow, sharing really matters.
So obvious, and yet I forget that! Lies enter my head, like (and this is in no particular order):
1. It’s not that big a deal.
2. This is too huge/incomprehensible to deal with.
3. I’ve dealt with this a thousand times. Let’s just ride this one out.
4. I can handle this myself—or I SHOULD be able to handle this myself.
5. That person won’t be able to respond in a helpful or satisfying way.
6. I don’t want to bother someone else with this.
7. There’s no way to express this in an adequate or understandable way.
The key is replacing those lies with the following truths:
1. If I feel it, it matters. If this is an issue for me, it deserves attention.
2. Once I express something to someone either by speaking or writing, it becomes less of a monster. I can think through the thing and see it for what it is. If I am dealing with a long list of worries, stresses, or to-dos, looking at them written down makes the thoughts less repetitive and more contained. The mountain in my head is usually smaller than I think.
3. If I am dealing with an issue again, there is more to investigate. It still deserves attention. I will learn something new this time or more deeply cement truths I have not fully grasped.
4. I probably can handle this myself, but it will be much easier, lighter, and faster to ask for help. Simply getting a new perspective can mean the world when life gets confusing or overwhelming.
5. I have been surprised time and time again by people’s reactions. Often, the act of getting something out is all I need, regardless of the response, but by sharing, I at least present myself with the opportunity to receive a new gift. Also, if I don’t think one person can give me what I need, I probably know someone else out there who can. Reach out to that person.
6. I am never bothered when a true friend reaches out for help. I like hearing other people’s stories and want to be there for them. It deepens relationships. The person I try to contact does not have to pick up the phone or reply to my note if s/he does not feel like interacting. My friends value me and will be there however they can be. The main benefit for me is simply trying to communicate what I’m holding inside.
7. I can express this thought or emotion in any way I can. There are no rules. No method or means of expression is inferior. If I have to draw someone a picture or just dial a number and start sobbing, that is good enough. If the extent of my willingness or abilities enables me to send only a tiny email or IM that says, “I’m hurting,” that’s fine. When I can’t offer a big explanation, leave the house, or speak on the phone, there are smaller means of reaching out. If all I can do is send a letter that won’t get to the recipient for days, I can still write it. Trash the overtures and immediate reciprocity. I don’t have to have something to give in return for their time. An opportunity will rise to return the favor later. For now, let the monster loose!
I rarely have to suffer alone. Even if I can only seem to reach out to the same individual for a period of time, at least I reach out. The person might ask for some space after a while, but the process of choosing who to open up to usually follows a natural course. My perception is generally the only thing making me believe I’m “too much.”
Don’t bottle things up, my friends. Even little issues need airing, or they will fester and grow into infectious beasts. It’s amazing what a little word to a friend will do. Even if I have to start out doing nothing more than asking about the other person’s day, that form of outreach is good enough.
The main thing: Human beings are connected. We are made to share joys and sorrows. Everyone needs a chance to do what they are built to do. Reach out, regardless of how it looks!
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Reach Out
Sunday, March 29, 2009
What Has Value?
I have been out blowing and going, brewing and doing, rambling and racing. Now, it’s time for rest. Once again, I ask, “What nourishes me?” Today, that is sitting at the piano, relaxing into the music. No need for tangible results.
I tend to be so tied to doing things that can be measured or that result in a physical product. I am inclined to clean my bathroom or finish a home improvement project before I sit down to write, play, read, or think. In the midst of my errand running, with the satisfaction of a checked-off to-do list, I can miss the extreme value writing, playing, reading, and thinking hold. Even if I do not complete a song or an article, the time spent thinking and pondering IS worthwhile. People just can’t see it, and I tend to like things that I think will win me favor with people.
Over the years, however, I have learned that I can FEEL the value of abstract activity. My family never really valued intangibles; therefore, I became highly achievement-oriented, filling my life with goals like cross country race times, grades, levels of extracurricular involvement, and eventually numbers on a scale or calories eaten in a day. I am beginning to see that striving toward such targets may offer far fewer benefits than enjoying less concrete activities.
My brain needs imagination time to function properly and come up with new ideas when I eventually get to work or encounter a difficult project. Imagining during my free time prepares my mind for creative thinking in a product-driven environment. On my own, I can think and play without creating an end product.
When deciding not to work on another item on my task list, it can be very difficult to shirk old beliefs that shout, “Why are you sitting around doing this? Why are you walking around aimlessly at night or lying in the middle of the living room floor? Why are you not finishing up that song or cleaning the bookshelves or preparing lunch for tomorrow? What you’re doing now matters to NO ONE!”
“Well,” I reply, “this matters to me. And because I allow myself the freedom to spend time without goals, products, or measures, I feel less hemmed in by all the things in my life that require me to meet expectations and quotas. Participating in activities without goals enhances my positive emotions and creative ideas—a priceless result. I feel invigorated, rather than drained, by these pursuits. The fact that I am doing this now will matter to someone, someday. And even if that person is only me, that is enough.”
The value system for activity that I have in place is pretty hard-wired from childhood. But by experimenting with letting myself go and doing things that seemingly have no point, I can see if life gets better or worse when I shift my focus and priorities.
We can all afford to take a look at our fundamental beliefs. Are there things you believe and don’t know why? Examine those. Then, do something contrary to the belief. Does your belief still seem founded in truth?
As for me, I’m off to the piano. Maybe a song will come out of this. Maybe not. Maybe all that really matters is that I make music.
I tend to be so tied to doing things that can be measured or that result in a physical product. I am inclined to clean my bathroom or finish a home improvement project before I sit down to write, play, read, or think. In the midst of my errand running, with the satisfaction of a checked-off to-do list, I can miss the extreme value writing, playing, reading, and thinking hold. Even if I do not complete a song or an article, the time spent thinking and pondering IS worthwhile. People just can’t see it, and I tend to like things that I think will win me favor with people.
Over the years, however, I have learned that I can FEEL the value of abstract activity. My family never really valued intangibles; therefore, I became highly achievement-oriented, filling my life with goals like cross country race times, grades, levels of extracurricular involvement, and eventually numbers on a scale or calories eaten in a day. I am beginning to see that striving toward such targets may offer far fewer benefits than enjoying less concrete activities.
My brain needs imagination time to function properly and come up with new ideas when I eventually get to work or encounter a difficult project. Imagining during my free time prepares my mind for creative thinking in a product-driven environment. On my own, I can think and play without creating an end product.
When deciding not to work on another item on my task list, it can be very difficult to shirk old beliefs that shout, “Why are you sitting around doing this? Why are you walking around aimlessly at night or lying in the middle of the living room floor? Why are you not finishing up that song or cleaning the bookshelves or preparing lunch for tomorrow? What you’re doing now matters to NO ONE!”
“Well,” I reply, “this matters to me. And because I allow myself the freedom to spend time without goals, products, or measures, I feel less hemmed in by all the things in my life that require me to meet expectations and quotas. Participating in activities without goals enhances my positive emotions and creative ideas—a priceless result. I feel invigorated, rather than drained, by these pursuits. The fact that I am doing this now will matter to someone, someday. And even if that person is only me, that is enough.”
The value system for activity that I have in place is pretty hard-wired from childhood. But by experimenting with letting myself go and doing things that seemingly have no point, I can see if life gets better or worse when I shift my focus and priorities.
We can all afford to take a look at our fundamental beliefs. Are there things you believe and don’t know why? Examine those. Then, do something contrary to the belief. Does your belief still seem founded in truth?
As for me, I’m off to the piano. Maybe a song will come out of this. Maybe not. Maybe all that really matters is that I make music.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Uncovering the Color
I just want to add one more thing about painting today.
At one point during the painting process, I covered everything in black. This was a heartbreaker at first. I’d spent so much time on the color work and decided to cover it up. It seemed so morbid and wrong.
But as I painted on the black, I recognized a persistence of color. I took my fingers and scratched at the canvas. The colors reappeared in all their vibrance, peeking through the dark overlay. It looked fantastic. I couldn’t believe it. Even the black itself wasn’t really black. It was a glossy, purpley mix of everything underneath.
That final creation—vibrant color peeking through black and gray, embodies much of what I’m about. I believe in the power of darkness to drive us to new heights of life and light. I believe that we each hold massive amounts of color and joy within us, but it must be uncovered. Life is not only growing and adding and finding new color. It is revealing the color that already exists within us, and that color is part of the darkness. Black is actually EVERY color combined. It’s not an empty thing. It holds everything. It holds all possibility.
Also, about covering up the color: Is the color worthless if no one sees it? Or does it create form and texture that the painting would lack without it? The artist wouldn’t have gotten to the final purple-black finish without all the color beforehand.
I understand Rothko’s chapel paintings a little more now. Endless color rests beneath the dark finish. And even though I’m curious and wish he’d unleashed the color to the world, at least I know that the color exists.
With Rothko, though, I wonder if he got to the point where he couldn’t see beyond the mass of color that turned to black. He couldn’t separate all the color he saw into different pieces. I wonder if, in a way, he might have been trapped inside the mix of color. He couldn’t make sense of it and so felt he had to leave us (committing suicide).
It isn’t bad to feel confused or dominated or overwhelmed by the colors and thoughts and ideas of the world and within ourselves, but it does make it more difficult to cope with life. That is the curse of the artist: a million ideas. What do we do with them? And when we do something with them, the onlookers tend to critique them to death.
What’s more, the thing we as artists create rarely if never fully expresses the idea within. Artists who can accept this and the reinterpretation of their own ideas by others thrive. Those who obsess over getting across EVERY nuance or who feel shot down when their ideas are interpreted in an unsatisfactory way have a much more difficult time.
I want to accept my thoughts and the thoughts of others. I’d like to have a conversation with uncomfortable ideas instead of immediately shoving them away. I want to recognize that everything holds color. It all shines, even the darkness.
Curiosity is key. I want to investigate what might live under the surface of things. I want to scratch away the black until I see that the black has a purpose, too.
At one point during the painting process, I covered everything in black. This was a heartbreaker at first. I’d spent so much time on the color work and decided to cover it up. It seemed so morbid and wrong.
But as I painted on the black, I recognized a persistence of color. I took my fingers and scratched at the canvas. The colors reappeared in all their vibrance, peeking through the dark overlay. It looked fantastic. I couldn’t believe it. Even the black itself wasn’t really black. It was a glossy, purpley mix of everything underneath.
That final creation—vibrant color peeking through black and gray, embodies much of what I’m about. I believe in the power of darkness to drive us to new heights of life and light. I believe that we each hold massive amounts of color and joy within us, but it must be uncovered. Life is not only growing and adding and finding new color. It is revealing the color that already exists within us, and that color is part of the darkness. Black is actually EVERY color combined. It’s not an empty thing. It holds everything. It holds all possibility.
Also, about covering up the color: Is the color worthless if no one sees it? Or does it create form and texture that the painting would lack without it? The artist wouldn’t have gotten to the final purple-black finish without all the color beforehand.
I understand Rothko’s chapel paintings a little more now. Endless color rests beneath the dark finish. And even though I’m curious and wish he’d unleashed the color to the world, at least I know that the color exists.
With Rothko, though, I wonder if he got to the point where he couldn’t see beyond the mass of color that turned to black. He couldn’t separate all the color he saw into different pieces. I wonder if, in a way, he might have been trapped inside the mix of color. He couldn’t make sense of it and so felt he had to leave us (committing suicide).
It isn’t bad to feel confused or dominated or overwhelmed by the colors and thoughts and ideas of the world and within ourselves, but it does make it more difficult to cope with life. That is the curse of the artist: a million ideas. What do we do with them? And when we do something with them, the onlookers tend to critique them to death.
What’s more, the thing we as artists create rarely if never fully expresses the idea within. Artists who can accept this and the reinterpretation of their own ideas by others thrive. Those who obsess over getting across EVERY nuance or who feel shot down when their ideas are interpreted in an unsatisfactory way have a much more difficult time.
I want to accept my thoughts and the thoughts of others. I’d like to have a conversation with uncomfortable ideas instead of immediately shoving them away. I want to recognize that everything holds color. It all shines, even the darkness.
Curiosity is key. I want to investigate what might live under the surface of things. I want to scratch away the black until I see that the black has a purpose, too.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Coloring through the Fear
I finally painted today! I attended a process painting class, used paint, explored, and didn’t have to withstand any critiques. It was all about letting my own creativity out, taking note of my resistances, and seeing what happened when I ignored the resistance and followed my heart.
I started out painting with whatever colors I felt like using. Every couple of minutes, I would see my painting and love it but also want to continue painting. I felt sure that if I kept on adding paint and color, I would ruin my creation. I noticed this resistance, and instead of moving on to a new piece of paper, I followed my intuition and put the next color exactly where I wanted to, just to see what might happen.
What was the worst that could happen? Giant fears of ruining my perfect picture arose within me. Did I really think that ruining a painting would ruin my life? My fear made no sense, and I immediately related it to how I think about decisions in my daily life. I can exhibit such catastrophic thinking. Every choice seems like life or death. My painting process reflected that.
In the studio, however, I transcended the fear and never changed my canvas. The miraculous thing was that every time I continued painting, despite worries that my work was at its most beautiful and would be marred by another brush stroke, the painting got better. Once I made another mark or muddled my “perfect” creation, a new technique or idea opened up that made something else even more shockingly beautiful. By getting to a new stage with the painting instead of repeating the start of another one, I discovered techniques I never would have considered and learned more about color combinations and paint texture. That information remained hidden and unavailable when I stayed in the safe spot and stopped before I “ruined” anything.
It felt good to break through and do the challenging thing. And it felt odd to have been so wrong. Continuing to paint didn’t ruin anything—it opened me up to more.
And that’s what I want to do in life. I want to go beyond safety to a place where miracles and true learning occur. I want to remember that I can’t make a mistake and that resistance is worth examining.
I started out painting with whatever colors I felt like using. Every couple of minutes, I would see my painting and love it but also want to continue painting. I felt sure that if I kept on adding paint and color, I would ruin my creation. I noticed this resistance, and instead of moving on to a new piece of paper, I followed my intuition and put the next color exactly where I wanted to, just to see what might happen.
What was the worst that could happen? Giant fears of ruining my perfect picture arose within me. Did I really think that ruining a painting would ruin my life? My fear made no sense, and I immediately related it to how I think about decisions in my daily life. I can exhibit such catastrophic thinking. Every choice seems like life or death. My painting process reflected that.
In the studio, however, I transcended the fear and never changed my canvas. The miraculous thing was that every time I continued painting, despite worries that my work was at its most beautiful and would be marred by another brush stroke, the painting got better. Once I made another mark or muddled my “perfect” creation, a new technique or idea opened up that made something else even more shockingly beautiful. By getting to a new stage with the painting instead of repeating the start of another one, I discovered techniques I never would have considered and learned more about color combinations and paint texture. That information remained hidden and unavailable when I stayed in the safe spot and stopped before I “ruined” anything.
It felt good to break through and do the challenging thing. And it felt odd to have been so wrong. Continuing to paint didn’t ruin anything—it opened me up to more.
And that’s what I want to do in life. I want to go beyond safety to a place where miracles and true learning occur. I want to remember that I can’t make a mistake and that resistance is worth examining.
Confession
Okay, I confess. I have seen every season of America’s Next Top Model. I have also seen several seasons of Top Model shows from other countries. Yes, yes, it’s true. The positive body image princess secretly consumes hours of not-so-trend-bucking beauty stereotypes. I swore I would say no to this season. But boredom intervened.
I have maligned myself for this interest too long. Time to replace shame, fear, and confusion with curiosity. Curiosity always seems like a good way to go. Why am I interested in this show? Why do I watch it? After thinking about this question, I highly encourage all of you to do the same.
What do we think is beautiful, and why do we think it’s beautiful? First, let me describe a little about how I feel about the beauty of people who I meet in person, as opposed to images in the media.
When I meet women who are very thin, thinner than me, I am a little let down and a little repulsed, actually. Women whose veins stick out of their heads, with jaws as sharp as blades, bother me. A woman can be thin and still be soft; a slender softness belongs to people who are naturally slim. However, on other skinny women, I see bones clearly aching for some skin.
Now, I realize that this feeling I have is clearly judging based on appearance alone. How a person looks, whether thin or fat, is no indication of what lies within. But can I just say that SOMETIMES, sometimes a body can indicate something deeper about the owner. Honestly, I meet women who are so frenetic—they can’t sit down, they’re worried about what others think, and they take such meticulous care of their bodies—that I can practically feel their own restriction.
I know that they are holding themselves in. They are tightly controlling and managing their lives, the same way I do. Seeing someone else wearing my tendencies is difficult. I want to tell them to let loose, that the women I most respect move with a deliberation, have a spaciousness to them, and a softness. I respect the beauty of those who fully inhabit their bodies rather than simply ensuring that their bodies are physically acceptable. Women who use their bodies in a holistic way are usually more adept and feeding it properly, giving it adequate rest, while also moving it enough to keep themselves energized. I want to inhabit my body that way.
In person, I expect people to come in all sizes, and beauty truly does flow from within. People who are comfortable in their bodies, no matter how big or small, glow. Their energy isn’t focused primarily on concerns related to physical appearance, so they have more to offer the world. That is the kind of beauty I want.
Then, I turn on Top Model. The joy of judging clicks on even higher, and all my standards of beauty morph into their opposites. I forget that he jaggedness of thin models is smoothed away by airbrushing, and that models who aren’t thin enough get slimmed down. My idea of big and small completely changes, and I wonder why girls who look like me are even in the competition.
My paradoxical approach to beauty in different formats shocks me and guides me toward this investigation of why we think certain things are beautiful and in what context.
Beauty trends started decades ago in person or in media have now continued and evolved, placing us where we are: in a time when media images no longer reflect reality in the least. Even the most perfect among us aren’t perfect enough. What is ugly in person is desirable in a magazine. Women who look like my friends have no place in leading roles on the big or small screen. We will never measure up.
Despite all my feelings about bodies and beauty in person, my standards for a “model” or for what I should see in a fashion editorial are completely non-human. This is the very reason why alien-esque girls rise over and over again to the top model ranks. We have been trained to think that bodies that look completely unlike any person we’ve ever met belong in the pages of Vogue, not people who look like me or my friends.
And as long as we keep looking at those images, a piece of us will think people are supposed to look that way. We are too diverse a species for that. I want people to stop paying attention to media images (fat chance, I know!) and realize that soft can be beautiful. Not every muscle must be toned. Hair can be matted. Teeth can be less than white. Hourglass or twig are not the only shapes.
Back to my obsession with model-making shows. Why do we pick THESE girls as being beautiful? What gets them kicked off the show? What is not good enough? How is each contestant different? Why do we like different things about each? Why is one thing okay for one person and not for another? What is perfect? Why do we have these ideas? And who is feeding us these ideas? Why do we really like or dislike these shows and the characters in them?
I applaud organizations like Dove and all the many, more localized efforts to place people who look a little more human in their ads. I have nothing against models in general. But by the time pictures of them have gone through dozens of rounds of production, the model herself doesn’t even measure up to her own perfect picture. And even though I have no hatred of the actors on television, I do have a problem with the fact that body types that match only a tiny percentage of our world’s population make up the vast majority of what is projected on television. The world the media has constructed only vaguely resembles our own.
My project is to fill my mind with images of real people. This requires getting out and meeting them, of course, but my own sanity is worth the annoyances of human interaction. By noticing natural beauty more often, I can remember what is real and what I truly admire. And those traits have nothing to do with how a person looks. Perhaps by feeding myself with more and more of the real, I could even lessen my in-person skinny prejudice. The world is much less one-sided than our media depicts.
I have maligned myself for this interest too long. Time to replace shame, fear, and confusion with curiosity. Curiosity always seems like a good way to go. Why am I interested in this show? Why do I watch it? After thinking about this question, I highly encourage all of you to do the same.
What do we think is beautiful, and why do we think it’s beautiful? First, let me describe a little about how I feel about the beauty of people who I meet in person, as opposed to images in the media.
When I meet women who are very thin, thinner than me, I am a little let down and a little repulsed, actually. Women whose veins stick out of their heads, with jaws as sharp as blades, bother me. A woman can be thin and still be soft; a slender softness belongs to people who are naturally slim. However, on other skinny women, I see bones clearly aching for some skin.
Now, I realize that this feeling I have is clearly judging based on appearance alone. How a person looks, whether thin or fat, is no indication of what lies within. But can I just say that SOMETIMES, sometimes a body can indicate something deeper about the owner. Honestly, I meet women who are so frenetic—they can’t sit down, they’re worried about what others think, and they take such meticulous care of their bodies—that I can practically feel their own restriction.
I know that they are holding themselves in. They are tightly controlling and managing their lives, the same way I do. Seeing someone else wearing my tendencies is difficult. I want to tell them to let loose, that the women I most respect move with a deliberation, have a spaciousness to them, and a softness. I respect the beauty of those who fully inhabit their bodies rather than simply ensuring that their bodies are physically acceptable. Women who use their bodies in a holistic way are usually more adept and feeding it properly, giving it adequate rest, while also moving it enough to keep themselves energized. I want to inhabit my body that way.
In person, I expect people to come in all sizes, and beauty truly does flow from within. People who are comfortable in their bodies, no matter how big or small, glow. Their energy isn’t focused primarily on concerns related to physical appearance, so they have more to offer the world. That is the kind of beauty I want.
Then, I turn on Top Model. The joy of judging clicks on even higher, and all my standards of beauty morph into their opposites. I forget that he jaggedness of thin models is smoothed away by airbrushing, and that models who aren’t thin enough get slimmed down. My idea of big and small completely changes, and I wonder why girls who look like me are even in the competition.
My paradoxical approach to beauty in different formats shocks me and guides me toward this investigation of why we think certain things are beautiful and in what context.
Beauty trends started decades ago in person or in media have now continued and evolved, placing us where we are: in a time when media images no longer reflect reality in the least. Even the most perfect among us aren’t perfect enough. What is ugly in person is desirable in a magazine. Women who look like my friends have no place in leading roles on the big or small screen. We will never measure up.
Despite all my feelings about bodies and beauty in person, my standards for a “model” or for what I should see in a fashion editorial are completely non-human. This is the very reason why alien-esque girls rise over and over again to the top model ranks. We have been trained to think that bodies that look completely unlike any person we’ve ever met belong in the pages of Vogue, not people who look like me or my friends.
And as long as we keep looking at those images, a piece of us will think people are supposed to look that way. We are too diverse a species for that. I want people to stop paying attention to media images (fat chance, I know!) and realize that soft can be beautiful. Not every muscle must be toned. Hair can be matted. Teeth can be less than white. Hourglass or twig are not the only shapes.
Back to my obsession with model-making shows. Why do we pick THESE girls as being beautiful? What gets them kicked off the show? What is not good enough? How is each contestant different? Why do we like different things about each? Why is one thing okay for one person and not for another? What is perfect? Why do we have these ideas? And who is feeding us these ideas? Why do we really like or dislike these shows and the characters in them?
I applaud organizations like Dove and all the many, more localized efforts to place people who look a little more human in their ads. I have nothing against models in general. But by the time pictures of them have gone through dozens of rounds of production, the model herself doesn’t even measure up to her own perfect picture. And even though I have no hatred of the actors on television, I do have a problem with the fact that body types that match only a tiny percentage of our world’s population make up the vast majority of what is projected on television. The world the media has constructed only vaguely resembles our own.
My project is to fill my mind with images of real people. This requires getting out and meeting them, of course, but my own sanity is worth the annoyances of human interaction. By noticing natural beauty more often, I can remember what is real and what I truly admire. And those traits have nothing to do with how a person looks. Perhaps by feeding myself with more and more of the real, I could even lessen my in-person skinny prejudice. The world is much less one-sided than our media depicts.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Ophelia's Place
Ophelia’s Place in New York is my vision come to life. I dream of a safe place where people can gather to discover REAL beauty and REAL recovery. If anyone else shares this vision, please contact me. Houston is in desperate need for something like Ophelia's Place. Check out the link to see more.
No one knows how long something like this could take to create, especially since I don't know the first thing about starting a business. Nonetheless, many times, I've described to friends a place where people can come to hang out, attend support groups, do work, eat together (in a supportive environment), be creative, and host eating disorder recovery events. It would sustain itself through donations; other freelance work I do; operating as a speaking/music venue; possibly leasing out space for therapists and other healing practices; and by selling some merchandise, art, drinks, and food.
When I heard about Ophelia's Place, I couldn't believe how closely it matched the image that has long swirled around in my head. Although I would incorporate a less Christian-specific spirituality in the community, the foundations of my desire are represented in living color there. By stating this as my vision, I hope to attract the momentum, know-how, and resources required to create something similar but also completely different and perfect in its own way.
Please support Ophelia's Place and also join me in the vision for a future where human beings love their bodies and come together to heal and bring light into the world—a place of strong, joy-filled people journeying toward our best selves through creativity, introspection, and community support.
No one knows how long something like this could take to create, especially since I don't know the first thing about starting a business. Nonetheless, many times, I've described to friends a place where people can come to hang out, attend support groups, do work, eat together (in a supportive environment), be creative, and host eating disorder recovery events. It would sustain itself through donations; other freelance work I do; operating as a speaking/music venue; possibly leasing out space for therapists and other healing practices; and by selling some merchandise, art, drinks, and food.
When I heard about Ophelia's Place, I couldn't believe how closely it matched the image that has long swirled around in my head. Although I would incorporate a less Christian-specific spirituality in the community, the foundations of my desire are represented in living color there. By stating this as my vision, I hope to attract the momentum, know-how, and resources required to create something similar but also completely different and perfect in its own way.
Please support Ophelia's Place and also join me in the vision for a future where human beings love their bodies and come together to heal and bring light into the world—a place of strong, joy-filled people journeying toward our best selves through creativity, introspection, and community support.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Properly Nourished
It amazes me when, after frittering about for many hours, engaging in my interests or accomplishing necessary tasks, I sit down, become still, and feel a wave of sadness or fear. Did those feelings just appear, or was I blocking them with my activity? At that point, I begin to decipher exactly why I feel that sad or fearful.
Even more amazing is that the answer is almost always the same: I have not adequately nourished myself. Sometimes, I’m honestly hungry after performing all of those activities. A nice meal can sometimes be the cure for the blues. Most of the time, though, I’m missing a sense of security or am feeling disconnected from the world. I was so wrapped up in whatever I was doing that everything else fell by the wayside.
Sometimes, I’ll insist, “It’s not a question of nourishment. I just spent the last few hours doing things that interest me, things I like, and things I feel good about doing. Surely I can’t need more nourishment than that. I should want to go out and face the world now. I should be ready to party or help someone.” It goes on and on, and I’m missing the point.
We all need many different kinds of nourishment. Sometimes, we need to be alone to rejuvenate. Sometimes, we need a bath, a meal, a hug, a conversation, a walk, a bit of time outside, or a good night of sleep. There are many different kinds of needs.
I may enjoy writing, but spending a few hours doing it is still draining. It may seem self-indulgent to want a long, hot shower after doing something I love, but maybe I need that. Just because I nourished one part of me for a long period of time does not mean the rest of my needs have been fed. You can hold and cuddle a baby all day long, but she won’t stop crying if what she really needs is a diaper change. I have to nourish EACH part of me (and that includes getting out myself occasionally and filling my desire to be of service to others).
I can even convince myself that a phone call to a beloved friend is unwarranted after spending an hour responding to emails. While I may have filled my need for deep connectedness via letter-writing, I am missing a sense of immediate closeness. I may even need to go to a friend’s house to experience the physical presence of another person.
I can talk myself out of any kind of nourishing behavior just as easily as I can abuse another kind of behavior. I can put off simple acts of self care in the name of completing a home improvement project or preparing a gift for a friend. I can even put of certain forms of self-care in favor of other, “better” forms. For instance, I might insist that I read a spiritual or self-help book instead of a novel. Or I’ll try to make myself finish a song I’m working on when I really just need to play music without thinking.
I feel SO nourished when I simply allow myself to feel and go where I need to go. There are places I may not need to visit because they do not nourish me. There are certain friends that I only like to see after I feel completely physically and emotionally nourished because their homes are uncomfortable to be in or they do not connect with me on an emotional level. There are people I go to solely for companionship who may take more from me than they give. It doesn’t mean I like them less. It just means that our relationship works in a certain way, and I have to be aware that just because “visiting a friend” is one of my tools for feeling more grounded does not mean visiting CERTAIN friends is as beneficial as doing other things that make me feel connected.
If you’re looking for ways to feel more balanced in your life, you could try this little exercise (which I intend to do for myself). List out all the different ways that you feel nourished or loved. The list can contain things you like to do, people you enjoy being with, places you like to go, how you like your surroundings to be, types of physical touch that feel good, even work or volunteer service activities—anything that nourishes you physically, emotionally, intellectually, or spiritually.
Once you list the main things that make you feel good, think about each one and how often you use that item to feel nourished. Are there ones you use far more than others? Some you rarely use at all? Which ones do you want to incorporate more into your life?
If there are some that you use almost to the exclusion of others, you might want to consider whether you truly feel balanced. Are you nourishing your physical self when you really need to attend to your spirit? Are you nourishing your sense of connectedness with others while disregarding your intellectual needs?
I have puzzled a few times over friendships that seemed nourishing but that I had no interest in. I couldn’t figure out why I wouldn’t want to spend time with such perfectly all right people. After some inspection, I discovered that some of those relationships nourished me purely by providing an outlet for my caretaking side. I was able to care for these people and do things for them, but they weren’t capable of providing me with similar care. If I give and give and don’t receive intellectual stimulation, emotional support, or even physical care from a person, of course I will stop feeling compelled to spend time with him or her.
I had to let go of my guilt and take those relationships for what they were. It’s fine for me to continue to help them and hang out with them (although some relationships like that do need to end). But I need to realize that only the caretaker in me feels nourished by those relationships, so other needs will be left unmet. I have to make sure that I feel fully nourished before spending much time with people who cannot meet my needs.
Conversely, I have wondered why I was getting nothing out of certain friendships. I wanted to be friends, and it just wasn’t working. Well, I had to realize that I could not give what they needed. I did all the things for them that I do well, trying to nourish the friendship, but things never gelled. They didn’t feel compelled to grow closer to me because I could not provide the kind of care they needed.
That can be hard to accept, but being aware of what I am giving and what others need (and vice versa) has enlightened my friendships. This does not mean that I am inadequate or that the other people in my life need to shape up. We all simply have different things to give. Relationship dynamics are built on the compatibility of the ways we each receive and give love and support.
So – for today, I am exploring all the different ways I nourish myself, seeing if I’m neglecting any areas. I’m also examining the ways I relate with and nourish others. How do I need to stretch myself, and what parts of me do I need to accept? There are certain things that I can give right now and certain things I cannot. Can I accept these things and use this knowledge to make wise choices and grow? That’s the goal.
Even more amazing is that the answer is almost always the same: I have not adequately nourished myself. Sometimes, I’m honestly hungry after performing all of those activities. A nice meal can sometimes be the cure for the blues. Most of the time, though, I’m missing a sense of security or am feeling disconnected from the world. I was so wrapped up in whatever I was doing that everything else fell by the wayside.
Sometimes, I’ll insist, “It’s not a question of nourishment. I just spent the last few hours doing things that interest me, things I like, and things I feel good about doing. Surely I can’t need more nourishment than that. I should want to go out and face the world now. I should be ready to party or help someone.” It goes on and on, and I’m missing the point.
We all need many different kinds of nourishment. Sometimes, we need to be alone to rejuvenate. Sometimes, we need a bath, a meal, a hug, a conversation, a walk, a bit of time outside, or a good night of sleep. There are many different kinds of needs.
I may enjoy writing, but spending a few hours doing it is still draining. It may seem self-indulgent to want a long, hot shower after doing something I love, but maybe I need that. Just because I nourished one part of me for a long period of time does not mean the rest of my needs have been fed. You can hold and cuddle a baby all day long, but she won’t stop crying if what she really needs is a diaper change. I have to nourish EACH part of me (and that includes getting out myself occasionally and filling my desire to be of service to others).
I can even convince myself that a phone call to a beloved friend is unwarranted after spending an hour responding to emails. While I may have filled my need for deep connectedness via letter-writing, I am missing a sense of immediate closeness. I may even need to go to a friend’s house to experience the physical presence of another person.
I can talk myself out of any kind of nourishing behavior just as easily as I can abuse another kind of behavior. I can put off simple acts of self care in the name of completing a home improvement project or preparing a gift for a friend. I can even put of certain forms of self-care in favor of other, “better” forms. For instance, I might insist that I read a spiritual or self-help book instead of a novel. Or I’ll try to make myself finish a song I’m working on when I really just need to play music without thinking.
I feel SO nourished when I simply allow myself to feel and go where I need to go. There are places I may not need to visit because they do not nourish me. There are certain friends that I only like to see after I feel completely physically and emotionally nourished because their homes are uncomfortable to be in or they do not connect with me on an emotional level. There are people I go to solely for companionship who may take more from me than they give. It doesn’t mean I like them less. It just means that our relationship works in a certain way, and I have to be aware that just because “visiting a friend” is one of my tools for feeling more grounded does not mean visiting CERTAIN friends is as beneficial as doing other things that make me feel connected.
If you’re looking for ways to feel more balanced in your life, you could try this little exercise (which I intend to do for myself). List out all the different ways that you feel nourished or loved. The list can contain things you like to do, people you enjoy being with, places you like to go, how you like your surroundings to be, types of physical touch that feel good, even work or volunteer service activities—anything that nourishes you physically, emotionally, intellectually, or spiritually.
Once you list the main things that make you feel good, think about each one and how often you use that item to feel nourished. Are there ones you use far more than others? Some you rarely use at all? Which ones do you want to incorporate more into your life?
If there are some that you use almost to the exclusion of others, you might want to consider whether you truly feel balanced. Are you nourishing your physical self when you really need to attend to your spirit? Are you nourishing your sense of connectedness with others while disregarding your intellectual needs?
I have puzzled a few times over friendships that seemed nourishing but that I had no interest in. I couldn’t figure out why I wouldn’t want to spend time with such perfectly all right people. After some inspection, I discovered that some of those relationships nourished me purely by providing an outlet for my caretaking side. I was able to care for these people and do things for them, but they weren’t capable of providing me with similar care. If I give and give and don’t receive intellectual stimulation, emotional support, or even physical care from a person, of course I will stop feeling compelled to spend time with him or her.
I had to let go of my guilt and take those relationships for what they were. It’s fine for me to continue to help them and hang out with them (although some relationships like that do need to end). But I need to realize that only the caretaker in me feels nourished by those relationships, so other needs will be left unmet. I have to make sure that I feel fully nourished before spending much time with people who cannot meet my needs.
Conversely, I have wondered why I was getting nothing out of certain friendships. I wanted to be friends, and it just wasn’t working. Well, I had to realize that I could not give what they needed. I did all the things for them that I do well, trying to nourish the friendship, but things never gelled. They didn’t feel compelled to grow closer to me because I could not provide the kind of care they needed.
That can be hard to accept, but being aware of what I am giving and what others need (and vice versa) has enlightened my friendships. This does not mean that I am inadequate or that the other people in my life need to shape up. We all simply have different things to give. Relationship dynamics are built on the compatibility of the ways we each receive and give love and support.
So – for today, I am exploring all the different ways I nourish myself, seeing if I’m neglecting any areas. I’m also examining the ways I relate with and nourish others. How do I need to stretch myself, and what parts of me do I need to accept? There are certain things that I can give right now and certain things I cannot. Can I accept these things and use this knowledge to make wise choices and grow? That’s the goal.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
I Could Write about Anything
Recovery is NOW. Happiness is NOW. These are the words I’m thinking…now. I can choose to behave in a totally new way at any moment. Life is open and free. Why do I often deny it?
I feel called to live a non-traditional life. Frankly, a life that would be “traditional” in my eyes is too difficult—impossible really. Even though I do believe that anything is possible, I don’t particularly care if the traditional life is achievable. I don’t want it. In fact, it would do me good just to take the prospect off my plate.
Let’s face it, I like to stand out a bit. Why would I wear scarves of every color and necklaces bigger than my face if I didn’t want some recognition!? Something in me is screaming, “This is not how it has to be!” And it isn’t. Life can be whatever we make it.
Of course, the kind of options that reality implies are not so inviting to a decision-phobe. “You mean, I can do ANYTHING I want?” I question. “Really?”
Yes! Anything. I can believe anything I want, do anything I want, think anything I want. Sure, there may be financial or geographical limitations, but the insurmountable boundary is rare (if not nonexistent). With a little ingenuity and the universe on our side, all truly is possible.
This means that when I feel bored with my life (as I have felt lately), I can choose to do something new. I can get out of the rut. It is possible. Working so hard to maintain a “regular” job or an “acceptable” body or a “reasonable” schedule wears me out! I cannot bear the pressure of having to portray a “normal” sort of lifestyle, sexuality, spirituality, fashion sense, ethics, or ideology. Of course, the “normal” I strive after is simply a construction I’ve made to drive me and only me insane. I wouldn’t hold anyone else to these ideals, but somewhere along the way, they were planted in my psyche.
I feel comfortable that what I am doing now will result in the fulfillment of those ideals, but I don’t want those ideals anymore! However, at this point, I’ve grown so attached to my safe routines that I fear releasing them. Nonetheless, I know that getting out of these unfulfilling routines simply requires that I try a few new things and break those routines a little bit. Now, if my feelings about my boredom and the solution are so obvious, why don’t I get out of the rut?
Ah, the eternal conundrum. Even though I have a pretty fierce love/hate relationship with most of the biblical Paul's writings, he was just another human being (despite sainthood), and I completely commiserate with his line in Romans 7:15, “I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do.” Can anyone else with various addictions relate? I think some of you might, and probably practically every “normal” person out there, too.
How many times have each of us participated in behaviors that we do not want? Through therapy (or plain common sense), most of us learn that we practice those behaviors because part of us DOES want to do them. I engage in self-destructive patterns because part of me believes that they are helping me, because they enable me to somewhat express something I do not know how to express another way.
What is the key to breaking the cycle? Saying, “I’ll stop doing that”? No. What DOES work is finding something that provides what we’re looking for with less effort or hurt. The effort is in the FINDING of the thing that can replace the unsatisfactory behavior. And how do we get to the point of actively looking for the replacement? Ha! Your guess is as good as mine.
My experience has been that in order to break patterns that aren’t working for me, I have to develop new patterns that I love more than the old. In order to stop bingeing, I have to want something else far more than that immense amount of food. (It ultimately comes down to love, for love is really the greatest desire any of us can have.)
At first, there seems to be nothing I want more than that binge. What could possibly fulfill me more? Therefore, in the beginning, I have to do a little forcing of myself into new areas. I have to try different things, even if I don’t want to. I can come home and binge later, but I need to try something new first. Eventually, I might find something I truly enjoy. Then, I have to do the new thing more often and make it a pattern. The more I do the things that I love, the easier it is for my mind and body to remember how preferable those behaviors are to the binge.
It takes time and some effort. It isn’t always easy. But the solution is pretty simple, almost like a math equation. If I have more positive memories of one behavior, I’m more likely to do that than something else. I can change my “muscle memory,” in a way. Unfortunately, I repeat, it takes time and some effort.
Sometimes, I find it valuable to look into the “negative” behavior and honestly see what it is doing for me. I want to understand why I like it so much, why I am afraid to change it. I ultimately want to see what good lies within it, because nothing is all bad. (Once again, I dislike the words good and bad, but I’m using them. Damn the English language and linear thought! – although both are valuable ;) ) Sometimes, I can actually embrace a behavior I want to get rid of and see that it can work for me if taken down to its core.
Perhaps the desire to binge is really a desire for a healthy amount of food or simply a desire to feel full and taken care of. These desires can be acted on in other ways. And it’s always possible for me to eat a large meal or snack rather than zone out and enter into binge mode. I believe that it’s completely okay to indulge myself regularly. If I am truly listening to my emotional, spiritual, and physical needs, things balance out.
I am constantly seeking balance. I crave it. I need it. That’s why I often swing from one extreme to the other—not because I am averse to balance, but because I am trying to find it. If I restrict in one area of my life, I will do something else in excess. It’s hard to see that these extremes are really ways in which I balance myself.
I can trust myself to find the balance. When I trust myself to know what’s right, I’m more likely to sit down and listen intently to my real needs and desires. I absolutely CAN trust the light within. I do want the best for myself, and with a little creativity, I can get it in ways that lead to a life greater than I could ever imagine!
I hope that you all learn to trust yourselves and will take a little time (even ten minutes) this week to sit with yourself quietly and see what comes up. Be kind enough to ask yourself what you are feeling and what is going on.
Much love ~~
P.S. For the sake of being “real,” I must confess that I am currently struggling to show my imperfections to ANYONE, even my most trusted advisors and friends. Sure, I know all of this great, affirmative stuff, but am I applying it? Not so much these days. There are many things I am scared as all-fire to let go of. However, tonight I know recovery is NOW. Happiness is NOW. I am making different choices this evening, even if only a couple. And it will lead to success. The only way to break the fear of change is to change something and see what happens… Running the gauntlet, y’all.
I feel called to live a non-traditional life. Frankly, a life that would be “traditional” in my eyes is too difficult—impossible really. Even though I do believe that anything is possible, I don’t particularly care if the traditional life is achievable. I don’t want it. In fact, it would do me good just to take the prospect off my plate.
Let’s face it, I like to stand out a bit. Why would I wear scarves of every color and necklaces bigger than my face if I didn’t want some recognition!? Something in me is screaming, “This is not how it has to be!” And it isn’t. Life can be whatever we make it.
Of course, the kind of options that reality implies are not so inviting to a decision-phobe. “You mean, I can do ANYTHING I want?” I question. “Really?”
Yes! Anything. I can believe anything I want, do anything I want, think anything I want. Sure, there may be financial or geographical limitations, but the insurmountable boundary is rare (if not nonexistent). With a little ingenuity and the universe on our side, all truly is possible.
This means that when I feel bored with my life (as I have felt lately), I can choose to do something new. I can get out of the rut. It is possible. Working so hard to maintain a “regular” job or an “acceptable” body or a “reasonable” schedule wears me out! I cannot bear the pressure of having to portray a “normal” sort of lifestyle, sexuality, spirituality, fashion sense, ethics, or ideology. Of course, the “normal” I strive after is simply a construction I’ve made to drive me and only me insane. I wouldn’t hold anyone else to these ideals, but somewhere along the way, they were planted in my psyche.
I feel comfortable that what I am doing now will result in the fulfillment of those ideals, but I don’t want those ideals anymore! However, at this point, I’ve grown so attached to my safe routines that I fear releasing them. Nonetheless, I know that getting out of these unfulfilling routines simply requires that I try a few new things and break those routines a little bit. Now, if my feelings about my boredom and the solution are so obvious, why don’t I get out of the rut?
Ah, the eternal conundrum. Even though I have a pretty fierce love/hate relationship with most of the biblical Paul's writings, he was just another human being (despite sainthood), and I completely commiserate with his line in Romans 7:15, “I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do.” Can anyone else with various addictions relate? I think some of you might, and probably practically every “normal” person out there, too.
How many times have each of us participated in behaviors that we do not want? Through therapy (or plain common sense), most of us learn that we practice those behaviors because part of us DOES want to do them. I engage in self-destructive patterns because part of me believes that they are helping me, because they enable me to somewhat express something I do not know how to express another way.
What is the key to breaking the cycle? Saying, “I’ll stop doing that”? No. What DOES work is finding something that provides what we’re looking for with less effort or hurt. The effort is in the FINDING of the thing that can replace the unsatisfactory behavior. And how do we get to the point of actively looking for the replacement? Ha! Your guess is as good as mine.
My experience has been that in order to break patterns that aren’t working for me, I have to develop new patterns that I love more than the old. In order to stop bingeing, I have to want something else far more than that immense amount of food. (It ultimately comes down to love, for love is really the greatest desire any of us can have.)
At first, there seems to be nothing I want more than that binge. What could possibly fulfill me more? Therefore, in the beginning, I have to do a little forcing of myself into new areas. I have to try different things, even if I don’t want to. I can come home and binge later, but I need to try something new first. Eventually, I might find something I truly enjoy. Then, I have to do the new thing more often and make it a pattern. The more I do the things that I love, the easier it is for my mind and body to remember how preferable those behaviors are to the binge.
It takes time and some effort. It isn’t always easy. But the solution is pretty simple, almost like a math equation. If I have more positive memories of one behavior, I’m more likely to do that than something else. I can change my “muscle memory,” in a way. Unfortunately, I repeat, it takes time and some effort.
Sometimes, I find it valuable to look into the “negative” behavior and honestly see what it is doing for me. I want to understand why I like it so much, why I am afraid to change it. I ultimately want to see what good lies within it, because nothing is all bad. (Once again, I dislike the words good and bad, but I’m using them. Damn the English language and linear thought! – although both are valuable ;) ) Sometimes, I can actually embrace a behavior I want to get rid of and see that it can work for me if taken down to its core.
Perhaps the desire to binge is really a desire for a healthy amount of food or simply a desire to feel full and taken care of. These desires can be acted on in other ways. And it’s always possible for me to eat a large meal or snack rather than zone out and enter into binge mode. I believe that it’s completely okay to indulge myself regularly. If I am truly listening to my emotional, spiritual, and physical needs, things balance out.
I am constantly seeking balance. I crave it. I need it. That’s why I often swing from one extreme to the other—not because I am averse to balance, but because I am trying to find it. If I restrict in one area of my life, I will do something else in excess. It’s hard to see that these extremes are really ways in which I balance myself.
I can trust myself to find the balance. When I trust myself to know what’s right, I’m more likely to sit down and listen intently to my real needs and desires. I absolutely CAN trust the light within. I do want the best for myself, and with a little creativity, I can get it in ways that lead to a life greater than I could ever imagine!
I hope that you all learn to trust yourselves and will take a little time (even ten minutes) this week to sit with yourself quietly and see what comes up. Be kind enough to ask yourself what you are feeling and what is going on.
Much love ~~
P.S. For the sake of being “real,” I must confess that I am currently struggling to show my imperfections to ANYONE, even my most trusted advisors and friends. Sure, I know all of this great, affirmative stuff, but am I applying it? Not so much these days. There are many things I am scared as all-fire to let go of. However, tonight I know recovery is NOW. Happiness is NOW. I am making different choices this evening, even if only a couple. And it will lead to success. The only way to break the fear of change is to change something and see what happens… Running the gauntlet, y’all.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Transplantation
We bid a fond farewell today to our dear friend the narcissus plant. It taught me many valuable lessons, but as its little red pot proved insufficient for long-term growth, its flowers faded. I considered finding a place to transplant it outside but could never locate a prime spot. Plus, I’m not a big fan of dirt in general. Mud in between my toes—yes. Dirt in the typical gardening sense—no.
Part of the joy was seeing it every day, thriving in my apartment, in its bed of rocks. Therefore, I am now considering creating a larger rock garden. If I can avoid the nuisance of soil, I can do it. But we shall see.
The narcissus plant simply got too big for its container. It was time to move on, and that’s exactly the way I feel personally. There are patterns of behavior I’ve been involved with for a while that I no longer find attractive. I’m ready to let go and allow myself to experience fullness and rest while also going out a little more than I have been. I’m moving on. I don’t have to force it. It’s just time, and I will do the little things I can to live differently each day. Time for me to find a bigger container for all the lessons I’ve been learning.
The big life. It’s what I’ve wanted for a long time. Every time I think I’ve reached it, I discover that I can go somewhere even more expansive.
Right now, though, I will confess some anxiety over my financial situation and my physical situation. It’s time to get enough food and rest but also make sure ends meet. I’m handing this over to a higher power for now, trusting that everything is okay right now, I’m doing the best I can to ensure relative stability, and the future will be okay, too.
I know that many of you are also feeling the crunch of tough economic times, and I want you to know that I’m with you. Others are in the midst of eating disorders and addictions with no out in sight. Believe me, I have come face-to-face with the reality of how much I still struggle with food, exercise, and body size. These things need to be dealt with, no matter how strongly I feel I should have said goodbye to them long ago.
Don’t let pride stop you from asking for help in areas where you may need it. Areas I like to think I can totally control are the most difficult to expose. I hope that if I need assistance, I will be able to admit it. For me, just writing that I have fears in the financial and eating disorder areas counts as a major step.
Like I said, I’m moving on to a bigger container, one that can hold my anxiety, my basic eating disorder-related fears, all that I am learning, and all the new experiences and relationships that lie ahead. I may be frightened now, but part of me is also courageous and ready for anything. Life has always worked out in the past, and it will work out now—better than I could dream. That’s true for you, too!
Part of the joy was seeing it every day, thriving in my apartment, in its bed of rocks. Therefore, I am now considering creating a larger rock garden. If I can avoid the nuisance of soil, I can do it. But we shall see.
The narcissus plant simply got too big for its container. It was time to move on, and that’s exactly the way I feel personally. There are patterns of behavior I’ve been involved with for a while that I no longer find attractive. I’m ready to let go and allow myself to experience fullness and rest while also going out a little more than I have been. I’m moving on. I don’t have to force it. It’s just time, and I will do the little things I can to live differently each day. Time for me to find a bigger container for all the lessons I’ve been learning.
The big life. It’s what I’ve wanted for a long time. Every time I think I’ve reached it, I discover that I can go somewhere even more expansive.
Right now, though, I will confess some anxiety over my financial situation and my physical situation. It’s time to get enough food and rest but also make sure ends meet. I’m handing this over to a higher power for now, trusting that everything is okay right now, I’m doing the best I can to ensure relative stability, and the future will be okay, too.
I know that many of you are also feeling the crunch of tough economic times, and I want you to know that I’m with you. Others are in the midst of eating disorders and addictions with no out in sight. Believe me, I have come face-to-face with the reality of how much I still struggle with food, exercise, and body size. These things need to be dealt with, no matter how strongly I feel I should have said goodbye to them long ago.
Don’t let pride stop you from asking for help in areas where you may need it. Areas I like to think I can totally control are the most difficult to expose. I hope that if I need assistance, I will be able to admit it. For me, just writing that I have fears in the financial and eating disorder areas counts as a major step.
Like I said, I’m moving on to a bigger container, one that can hold my anxiety, my basic eating disorder-related fears, all that I am learning, and all the new experiences and relationships that lie ahead. I may be frightened now, but part of me is also courageous and ready for anything. Life has always worked out in the past, and it will work out now—better than I could dream. That’s true for you, too!
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