To be Present, is not so scary

 

To be present is so not scary.

Slowly, I isolated myself from life, from fear of my bulimia and binge purge ways. Mindless. Habit and routine waked me from the hollow centre of a pit, stringently noosing my neck as I dug my nails deep in resistance. Slowly, the control of timely eating, routined meals and portions and also that of refueling without going for ages without nourishment falsely gave me a sense of control. In a way, it was a survival tactic to pull me out of Bulimia. It worked.

Now, though, I am more aware, and there is no fear of binge-purge ways. I am a Nutritionist, a coach, and a lover of helping others find self-love. But I need to live that shit first. Slowly, with presence, fucking presence, I will watch my ways and choose other ones. I will observe my body cues prior to the mind tempting me to restrict and follow the patterns that are so ingrained in me. I have innate natural intuition, as do we all, and it is always available with presence. Where do I feel the sensation in my body when I make choices? So often, I have zero awareness of the body language my muscles skin and bones are hinting at me. It is always there, again and again I slowly feel that shit. Instead of monotonizing my life, sabotaging my body and disregarding its voice, I am listening. Bloated? Needing love? What nourishment do I need?

Lately, I am finding that I need cooked foods. Rajasic state, anxiety and hyper-arousal which catapults me out of the present moment and way out of my window of tolerance are what result with vinegary salads that some part of me craves. Perhaps it’s the part of me that is desperate to FEEL. I am awakening to just how suppressed my true feelings are. I am afraid. I am afraid to trust myself. It’s been so long since I’ve honoured my true body signals and my true needs. Nourishment is holistic; it encompasses Life.

Connection, with others and the self, is a need not filled falsely or fleetingly by food. God, listening deep gives such insight onto this! Mel, my dear woman, no phone at the table! (soon this will be easier, first comes at dinner, then no longer will I even WANT the phone at the table).

Every addiction has a cause and a source. Removing the addiction does nothing unless the source is healed. So fuck, no phone at table? What does the phone at the table serve for me? I am well aware of the detriments of lack of awareness. I feel that the phone fills a void of control and lack of connection and engagement in life, so I concentrate my “high” at meals with distraction, hyper and hypo arousal via glued to instagram or reading blogs. Hmmm, as I learn what I need, I will see that I seek those meaningful connections outside of mealtimes. I feel so much better after a meal that is mindfully consumed and peacefully sated when I listen to my intuitive eating knowledge. My body responds with sound digestion, calm gut, and no need to escape myself or run away. And in this way, I heal from The Shit.

And now, begins yoga.

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.