Editor's note: Posts on this blog will often be light, interesting and positive. The posts titled "The weight of recovery" are of a different type. They are still interesting, but as the title suggests, they are weighty not light. That being said, if you chose to read them, there is a pretty good chance it will be worth it. :)
Like most women, I struggle with weight. There was a time I sought help for it. I saw a counselor and used weight watchers. Emotions and chaos came up. I mined the field of buried ugly and came out cleaner. I thought I was done. Turns out, I was wrong.
Recently, I find myself falling. Falling into numbing patterns. I got mindless and rote. Then came this weekend's visit with the folks. I watched the pounding of food, the mindless consumption. My familiar and familial anger grew. I just wanted to throw up.
There is a proverb that says, "What you hate about others, is what you hate about yourself." My anger towards the shoveling of food into my folks’ mouths is real anger towards me. This is not healthy. I open these feelings in front of Mr. Hall. He held me and did what he does best, be my husband. I love him so much.
Recently, I find myself falling. Falling into numbing patterns. I got mindless and rote. Then came this weekend's visit with the folks. I watched the pounding of food, the mindless consumption. My familiar and familial anger grew. I just wanted to throw up.
There is a proverb that says, "What you hate about others, is what you hate about yourself." My anger towards the shoveling of food into my folks’ mouths is real anger towards me. This is not healthy. I open these feelings in front of Mr. Hall. He held me and did what he does best, be my husband. I love him so much.
Next, I widen things out. I remember what I learned as I lost the weight. The sensation of a Volkswagen beign lifted from my shoulders. I know how to be healthy now. It is awesome and mighty.
The challenge begins as I make healthy a constant. It is challenged by these visits to my parent's house. They trigger unknown crypts of ugliness to open. I can’t relax there, I can’t feel safe. Except when I am away from their house. Away from him. My holler monkey Dad.
It all sounds so dangerous and sad. My overriding concern are my small people. I watch my kids like a hawk during these visits. There is no distress for them. They are happy. They sleep sound. They are safe. They are thriving. So leaving is not an option.
In my other life, I am a healer. Often I walk through the psychic destruction with my patients. This does not make me sad or angry. It does not shake or disturb me. I am their safe place, I am thier OK. I am their leader through it. But if they do not want to be lead, I sit with their pain. If they do not want company, I kindly say goodbye and leave the door open. But leaving is not an option with my folks. Neither is helping them heal.
It is too bad they don’t see this pain their daughter is in. It is too bad they can’t adjust themselves to make these visits go easier. This is the reality in front of me. Yet we have these tiny people whom we both love more than life. So we cohabitate to ensure this love gets felt.
It all sounds so dangerous and sad. My overriding concern are my small people. I watch my kids like a hawk during these visits. There is no distress for them. They are happy. They sleep sound. They are safe. They are thriving. So leaving is not an option.
In my other life, I am a healer. Often I walk through the psychic destruction with my patients. This does not make me sad or angry. It does not shake or disturb me. I am their safe place, I am thier OK. I am their leader through it. But if they do not want to be lead, I sit with their pain. If they do not want company, I kindly say goodbye and leave the door open. But leaving is not an option with my folks. Neither is helping them heal.
It is too bad they don’t see this pain their daughter is in. It is too bad they can’t adjust themselves to make these visits go easier. This is the reality in front of me. Yet we have these tiny people whom we both love more than life. So we cohabitate to ensure this love gets felt.
My task now is to work on being still. Being whole. Being my own center in the milieu of relentless overeating. I will be my own leader, my own healer.
As such, my task is get to yoga and help things heal and grow.
That's it for now.
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1 Left a message at the beep:
I understand this post. I have an eating disorder and it has plagued me all my life. Mine is with anorexia--right now, I am okay, but it tends to get triggered in the fall or winter--for some reason I eat fine in the summer when everyone is on a diet. All my sisters had eating disorders, one still does, I believe--I think my brother shows symptoms of one and one of my nieces has it. For my siblings, it is about the control of weight--thinness, but really more about control. It's so hard to explain. I know it stems from how we were raised, but it really hurt when my niece got it, and I am careful with my son. He is aware of my problem and will openly say in front of others: Mama, please eat or Mama, it's good to see you eat. But it is never that easy.
Let's help each other go to yoga, okay. I have decided to do it exclusively for stress reasons instead of pilates, which also is great, but lacks the spiritual element.
I am glad your husband is kind.
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