Trust

Another yoga-mat word. Goddamn it.

Trust:

  • that everything will work out with my daughter’s change of school.
  • that [_] more pounds on my frame is okay. Good, even.
  • that this too shall pass and all shall be well all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well, to quote Julian of Norwich, who might have been a little crazy (and I can say that because I, too, am a little crazy).
  • my body and my intuition.

I had it backwards for so long. I kept thinking, I can’t trust my body/intuition. I have to “portion-control” forever.

But if I’m honest about the situation, my body/intuition hasn’t been able to trust ME. I was hurting it. For decades. OF COURSE it couldn’t trust me!

I’m fatter than I’ve been in several years. “Fatter” as in “I have more body fat than I used to,” not as a value judgement. You know what got me here? Always trying to be thinner.

One more time: I got fatter by trying to be thinner.

Even when I purported to be working on “wellness,” in the back of my mind, it was always there: Maybe this will help me lose weight.

I slide into the headspace of wanting to be thinner so easily—because it’s the primary thing I was taught to want for my body. As much as I truly love what my body is capable of, I catch myself mourning the perceived “loss” of my “old body.” That sense of loss is a red flag.

Written on that flag: “I’m still in it.”

I’m still weighing and measuring and tracking. I’m still worrying over clothing size and body shape. Not every minute, not every day. But I am still in it. I wanted to trust my body, but I don’t like the truth it’s telling me.

My body, to me: “I don’t want you to hurt me. Please don’t hurt me anymore.”
Trust:

  • that my body is telling me the truth.

My paid membership with the app that’s measuring my “okay-ness” via food data (behind the lie-to-myself—”just information”) expires on March 4th. That seems a little heavy-handed on the wordplay—”march forth”—but I’m going with it. I’ll spend the time between now and then slowly, gently stepping away from last of my “diet-y” behaviors, starting with acknowledging that they represent a colossal lack of self-trust and body-love. They’re not “wellness,” or “healthy living”: they’re dieting:

  • weighing and measuring all food
  • worrying about “portion control”
  • having food “rules”
  • (still, on occasion) thinking in terms of “good” and “bad” foods

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I’m almost 35 years old. I’ve been holding this part of myself hostage for way too long.

I’ll never “just not think about” food and my body, because, well, there’s food to be eaten and I have a body—and I wouldn’t want to “just not think about” those things! Food and my body are realities, to be enjoyed.

I also can’t go back in time and unfuck my relationship with food. I will always be a person who has binged, and purged, and starved, and dieted, and punished—in the past. But I can give myself a present (pun so intended) where I have more ease with food and my body, where I don’t worry so fucking much all the time! A present where I have the headspace to think about things other than what I’m eating, or how I could (should) be thinner or “leaner” or whatever than I naturally am. Things like:

  • writing
  • podcasting
  • supporting Ivy with her emotional-intelligence-building skills
  • supporting Westley with game- and story-building skills
  • music
  • figuring out what the hell I want to be when I grow up
  • yoga
  • weightlifting
  • pole-dancing
  • doula-ing
  • loving and supporting my friends
  • hiking
  • taking road trips
  • rock-climbing
  • knitting
  • photography

…and so on and so on and so on and all manner of thing shall be well.

So.
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Trust.

Firm, kind, gentle, no-nonsense, loving, bullshit-free trust.

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