The “NOW” Diet

Sat nam…mtherlvrs…

Why my restricted diet didn’t work:

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I grew up in a controlling home; Mum and Dad were eastern Europeans and followed the mantra of “finish what’s on your plate before you can leave the table”. Food was served to me, and I rebelled growing up by ordering chicken fingers and fries on special request at every dinner out (even when not on the menu). “Picky eater” was what I was dubbed. But in retrospect, I can see that my little self was trying to solidify herself in self-assurance and in my rebelling, I was attempting to gain control over my own life. I became so keen to rebel that it then became my identity because I was so sick and unhappy of being told what or when to eat. Essentially, my identity became “Fuck you, I’ll do the opposite of what you want me to do.” The trouble lay in my identity becoming a mask of coping through rebellion, instead of true intuitive listening to my own needs. What the hell did I like to eat?

Long ass food journey of Bulimia, Anorexia, seasoned with Anxiety and Depression. Honestly, now, as I heal, I can say that self-awareness and being present is the key to finding myself. There is no fear and no need to escape myself when I’m present. If I dissociate, numb myself, mindlessly eat shit that bloats me, if I don’t tune into my true hungers, be them mind-based or physiological or BOTH, then I lose myself. The cycle continues in this catalyzing way, the vicious turmoil of pain and more pain, craving more and more escape. More water, more salt, more foods that engage my psychological needs to FEEL (think shitloads of Tabasco, heat, FEELINGS, SENSATIONS, etcetc).

After high school and university, binge-purge escapism persisted. I was a sensationalist. I rebelled so hard and didn’t eat the “real food” served at home, buying into my now-ingrained habit of rebellion by way of non-food items (egg white fluff pancakes, fat-free coffee whitener, sugar free jam…copious amounts of splenda…) paved way to finding a healthier way in more routine, and Timothy Ferriss’s “slow-carb” diet. This was a new awakening for me. A peek at physiological nourishment. So I followed, strictly. Slowly, binges stopped. I ate on time, without hours of punitive fasting, and real food like eggs and hummus. But my deep sense of self was still not looked at. I was covering up the wound, not looking at the pain, again, escaping. I’ll bless my own soul for surviving though, because each step along this journey has molded my NOW. Thanks sexci Ferriss for the SC diet because it gave me nourishment, body nourishment and not soul, albeit, but still good food. But, HARK- (?)

This new diet, “Paleo” became what I believed to be my saviour. But then my life gradually took on an insane routine-oriented blinding, rubbish-path. Obsessed with timing of food, and so keen to listen to body hunger cues while still bloating and dishonouring my intuition, I closed off my own life.

Today, right now, I am changing. More aware of myself than ever before, I don’t want to hide from my feelings anymore. When I release this stronghold of routine, I am forced to FEEL. When I feel all of my needs, all my body’s speech, I am so goddamn grounded. Fuck, I just now had the first real food breakfast I’ve had in years, instead of my usual super-diluted protein-powdered blended “smoothie bowl” (sometimes smoothies good, sometimes chew, aye?!). What I am realizing is that the reasons my “diet” and most “diets” don’t work, is because WE are always changing. We have to constantly tune into our needs, no singular rules will work. For example, kefir, good shit, right? Honestly though, not alllll the time! Sometimes my body doesn’t want kefir, and sometimes it does. That’s WORK. That’s discomfort in awareness. Listening, because we are DYNAMIC beings, this human shit we partake in. Always changing, no constant, no definitive rules. Sometimes poo 2x a day, sometimes 4 (sorry for those less than 2….bless your souls….might I suggest flax? sometimes…).

That’s that. I’m on my way. We all are, aren’t we?

And now, some funny indian comedy: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_o_GAZMnmuM&t=70s

Have a sweet ass Monday!

Where I’m at Now

There are so many stories about post-recovery from dis-ease, and here’s one for the now of dis-ease. Being in The Storm is meritable, valid and crucial. The “in-shit”, not the “aha”that comes through healing. What about the pain in healing? I’ve struggled with eating disorders of all sorts for years. I am currently in a bout of depression, keeping afloat, finding peace within me, tempted by escapism and distraction albeit, but aided through therapy to return to the source, myself, to heal.

Lack of self-love and compassion are so harmful, especially when cultivated compoundedly, and one day, they avalanche into presence, and you don’t know how they built up because you can’t see the forest for the trees. It’s so easy to continue with routine and avoidance, but half a life is not Life, not My Life.

There is so much wonderful information about the recovery process and causes of eating disorders. My roots lie in lack of self-love, lack of meaningful self-attachment, lack of self-purpose and pain avoidance as a form of survival. Ultimately, I’m “holding on”, attempting at an obtuse way to control where I feel I am out of control in other aspects of life. I’ve read Pema Chodron’s book “When things fall apart” recently, and her theme is that of groundlessness. This is the essence of life, not grasping on to solidity, not striving for consistency or any form of permanence. To breathe though all the shit and be. I have to believe that I am worth nurturing, worth thriving, worth a whole life.

Eating disorders, after all, are never about the food. With the visible symptoms of weight and food, it’s so easy to falsely blame source, but symptoms aren’t cause. Like Eastern medicine; Ayurveda and Traditional Chinese Medicine both reach for the sources of illness, which lie deep within. Oh fuck, that’s The Work. In the Now. Right now, I had a controlled morning, a controlled breakfast, a controlled schedule. I have been doing 60 min spins on my indoor trainer since returning from my Vipassana 10-day silent meditation course (of which I stayed 3 days because #O#%*@&#$!!!!). I was doing little runs, like I had done in New Zealand, but my body wasn’t accustomed to the pavement and Brimley hill, and spoke in form of a calf strain. Body isn’t recovering well because I stand in the way via not loving myself enough to properly treat my whole self. And so, I spin first thing in the morning. I woke up hungry, and rode through it after taking a Ginseng shot from Xiaolan, a Chinese Medicine goddess in Toronto (an inspirational woman to my being, to the Healer I will become as I heal myself). Breakfast was a “smoothie bowl” with Vega pro and peanut butter, but so diluted because man, ultimately, a damn protein powder smoothie bowl isn’t real food to my body. Real food is how I will intuit my needs and properly fuel, instead of monotonously following routined habit because it is “safe”. This is fear based, because I am afraid of leaving the safe level of comfort with myself that I’ve chosen. The “safe” liking of myself that dictates the set point at which I choose to live my life and treat myself day in- to day end. Wow, fuck eh. That’s it. The thermostat switch needs to change right thur.

I am slowly doing little acts of self-care, and believing that I deserve it. Fuck all this hippie spiritual non-consumerism sometimes because I really feel good in my new silk dress (although as I love myself more, my ass will look more apple-bummed and nicely “jolly” in it). I give myself the space to be human in this lifetime, in this consumerist age. It doesn’t mean that I am less spiritually grounded or rubbish like that. Although I’ve taken a break from social media; Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, all of which I had abused and was blinded into thinking that those relationships were real, when really they were void-filling. I see that these resources can be tools, just as Mind is a tool. My left hand pines for the phone to scroll on insta while eating, but I am reminding myself constantly to “use my mind” instead. Mindfully respect myself and food while I eat. I see how I treat food as a void filling my attachment needs (to self, to others, to purpose), and it is so easy to fall into habit of self-blinding when it hurts the most to accept where I am at, right NOW. Fuck, right now I have a bit of indigestion, and want to expend my being into something, to FEEL, and so I write. I am a little bloated after breakfast, because I know my set-point of Self-love has been hyper-vigilantly controlled after my morning spin – it’s like I am now able to maintain that “threshold pace” for the day after starting on that note. I am close to changing, to choosing Yoga in the morning instead of spinning. My legs are so tired from spinning and I don’t enjoy it. I love running, and want to heal so that I can run and do it out of enjoyment rather than compulsivity. To settle in the groundlessness of not knowing how the world will be tomorrow, maybe I run, maybe I don’t.   To love myself enough to trust in the adaptation process. To have my drives stem from a place of utterly compassionate self-love and a deep desire for self-care. That’s why I didn’t aimlessly walk around today, aimlessly trek downtown, aimlessly take my laptop to the plaza’s lib or employment services centre to punch out this post or to distractedly read or scroll though twitter feed. To side-tab endlessly at Craigslist job postings that I deep down know aren’t pursposed for me right now, healing is priority. I am so keen to help others and be of service, but see this at the time as a way to distract myself from healing Me. As I heal, I will be able to help so much, to give, to work, to be around others at this vibrational level in a balance of giving, receiving, wholesomely. It’s 10:17am, and in my head I know I’m counting down the time until lunch, kind of. I see how I fill my time with emptying and filling, as a means to play out a supposed life in the set-point I am at. I wish to raise my self-love set-point. I am starting with breath and awareness.

No phone at the table.

Compassionate shoulder-melting

Finding my “still-pointed awareness” prior to meals

Connecting, meaningfully to others that uplift me

Seeking inspiration from other Wild Women

Slowly letting go; cultivating curiosity with letting go of my “anchors” that aren’t serving me

Using muscle testing when I am uncertain of my path

Trusting that the universe has my back

Petting Cleocatra

Dear little Melanie,

I love you,

I’m sorry,

Please forgive me,

Thank you.