20 lbs in a week just ain't right

i just found out that my guy and i are headed back to our home town at the end of april for a grand celebration. my guy has numerous tracks included his buddy's indie movie. when we went to the premier out here in l.a., we were overcome with excitement. we watched the final edit in a real movie theater with 250 of the producer's friends and colleagues. we delighted with recognition every time one of my guy's songs faded in. we squirmed with glee when we watched the credits roll and my guy's name scrolled across the big screen. it was a surreal experience. it was a wonderful event. i was so proud and honored to be sitting next to this creative genius who received verbal accolades from the producer in front of the 248 strangers in the theater with us.

so after my guy told me the good news and we decided to go back home for the event, it started. this happens to me every.single.time i am confronted with an impending date of reuniting with old friends, going on a trip, any momentous occasion that will require me to be presentable. 'it' is the soundtrack from my youth, the voice that repeats over and over and over, the sickness that asks "how much weight can i lose before this event? if i starve and exercise every day could i lose 20 lbs in a week?" this tape used to drown out all rational thought - it was the soundtrack that beat with my pulse, that consumed my thoughts... this is the same voice that nearly caused me to miss the memorable experience of attending the premier of my guy's movie.

it was a wonderful woman, full of wisdom-by-the-hour, who helped me see how damaging and distorted this idea really was. the shrink is gone. the voice is back. granted, it's not as ridiculous and demanding as it once was. no, i am now able to understand just how fucked that way of thinking is. but the voice is back... only... different. as soon as i heard about a second movie screening in our home town, somewhere deep inside of me i sensed an old, familiar part press 'play'... this time, though, the voice is disguised as a seemingly rational thought:

"belly, you have two and a half months until the event. wouldn't it be wonderful to look great for it? two and a half months - if you really got with the program, you could lose at least 15 lbs in that time."

blech. when i logged my weight yesterday on the weight watchers site, i noticed that it has taken me two and a half months to lose 5.5 lbs. why do i think - wait - why would i want to sabotage myself by trying to adopt anything faster than my current pace? and FOR SOMEONE ELSE?? what about me? how did i happen to lose myself inside of a sentence??

what about me?

here i am. here i am reclaiming my new found relationship with my body. here i am denouncing the idea that i want to lose weight for anyone but myself. here i am picking myself back up off the chuckwagon from the past weekend, dusting off my knees and the cheez-it crumbs, and getting back on the path. here i am reminding myself that my body is sacred and beautiful exactly the way it is RIGHT NOW.

it's times like these, when i can hear the old, sick tapes playing, that i have to give pause to my life and reclaim it. i have to restate my purpose here. i need to remind myself that those old voices don't guide me. i will make peace with them. i forget to look for the beauty in these falling down places... for it is in these moments of weakness where my truth lies. it is in these moments of weakness that i am truly aware of my strength. i don't wallow in my broken places because i am strong enough to pull out. pull up. get back to center.

so here i am. here i am struggling to be tender with the old voices. struggling to let them know that it's ok now. i've got this one. i'll take it from here and i'm strong enough to do it. in the past two and a half months that i have been with weight watchers, i have been more successful in getting to know my body and adopting healthy habits for weight loss than ever before in my life. i like this pace i'm keeping. i like discovering my self. i am falling in love with my body.

in the coming months i will build success for myself through weekly goals. i will continue to post with regular frequency. i will be aware of my body and my food decisions. i will go back to my home town in a couple of months and i will revel in the celebration of my guy's creativity. i will cherish the time laughing and talking with friends and family. i will meet new people with open arms and a warm heart. and it won't matter a lick what i weigh.

kickin' ass and taking inventory

great week. successful week. but before i get into the thick of it, a quick goal recap:

week 1 goal: document all of my food intake. goal met.

week 2 goal: stay within my weight watchers point range for the week

yikes! did i really just give myself that much hangin' rope for week 2's goal? i have to admit that as a weight watchers online subscriber for two and a half months, i have not had one week where i've come in under my weekly points. until now, i have lived in terror of this goal. mostly because a very large part of me isn't sure that i can do it, but there is also an equally fearful part that i will do it. for days i mulled over a good second week goal for myself - it has to be something tangible, within my grasp, but not too scary and hard that i'll land face first into a giant vat of chocolate chip cookie dough. staying within my point range seems like a natural progression from accurately journaling my food intake - but still, this idea strikes a really fearful chord in me.

in the past, i could sense the fear creeping in, gnawing at the periphery of my consciousness until i was so consumed with holding it at bay, whatever it really is, that i would lose control of my true voice... seemed like no one was running the show because my true self was lost in a cacophony of confusion and denial. i don't want to head in to my next goal with this much fearful chatter whispering in my ear.

"that's too hard. you'll never be able to stick with that plan."
"this plan doesn't afford you enough food or wine."
"you haven't managed this accomplishment in two and a half months, what makes you think you can do it now?"
"what if you get hungry? you can't tolerate hunger."

but my fear is sneaky - it's done a good job of creating chaos and confusion, all of which exists to mask a deeper knowing: i am not loveable and i don't deserve success.

every time i eat something that doesn't directly provide nourishment, every time i drink one more glass of wine, every time i decide to watch some stupid reality show in favor of going for a walk, every time i make a conscious decision to deny myself those things that are good for me, i prove that deep, pained part of myself right: i don't deserve success. i don't deserve a healthy body. i don't deserve to love myself.

recently, i've written a lot about accepting the small frustrations and discouragements of the day into my life. i've talked about making room for them, letting them have space, be heard. i've made room in my heart and acknowledged these daily worries and in doing so, i have given them the freedom to dissipate. "your job is done now, little worry, thanks for bringing it to my attention but i've got it covered - run along." this new revelation, though - this is a biggun'. and yet, as i write about this big, hairy, ugly underlying fear, i can feel it losing power, withdrawing, releasing it's grip on me. i am well enough to face it head on. i am strong enough to look it in the eyes and know it. if i can accept this part of me, this dark, painful part, then i can accept all of myself. i'm willing to do that. i want to be successful. i want to know the triumph that comes with hard work and dedication. if success feels anything at all like the relief and release that i'm tasting now in finding self acceptance, then i want more of it - a lot more of it!

slow and steady changes habits. i have to remember my intention for starting off with slow and easy goals: too much too soon is a known recipe for failure. but this new goal doesn't seem all that bad. when i stop and let the fear in, when i let it have a voice and acknowledge it, i realize that it is not the voice of my true self. the fearful voice is not the truest voice. it doesn't control me. i actually feel whole letting that fearful part up to the surface. i feel like i'm not denying, avoiding or ignoring me. i feel like i'm taking inventory of my inner workings and am getting to know exactly what's going on inside me. this is different. this feels like healing. this also feels a little like... success.

waiting for the dust to settle

just wanted to give myself props for having a totally full and productive sunday:

• got up at a decent hour
• made a gourmet breakfast
• did 6 or 7 loads of laundry
• deep cleaned the kitties' area
• re-arranged the living room furniture
• cleaned the bedroom
• scoured the kitchen
• re-arranged and hung new photos
• dusted
• went for a family walk w/ my guy and the doggie
• prepared an amazing dinner

and now that i sit and reflect, treating myself to an exquisitely made vodka tonic and finally kicking back, i can't help but think that something else besides sheer burst of energy drove my frenzied cleaning and re-arranging today. as i read over my list of accomplishments, the first word that comes to mind is MANIC. upon further reflection, i attribute this mania to three things:

1. full moon
2. pms-crazies
3. i have been running from something all day

i have long been witness to my own physical and mental changes when the moon is full. i am a believer that the full moon affects me. so, weirdness abound is to be expected. i also usually have some sort of pms insanity going on when the moon is full - this just compounds the complexity of any deep emotions that might come up right now. finally, shortly after i woke this morning, i decided that today i wanted to hang some new photos... none of the rest of the stuff on my day's list of accomplishments existed at this point. first thing i did was to thumb through some old photo albums. this is when the levee broke...

i happened upon a photo album from 7 or 8 years ago. the photos were from a time in my young adulthood where i was floundering, trying to figure out who i was and who/what/where i wanted to be/do/go. during that time, i found myself delving into a very very dark place, a place where i hid for a couple of years. it was a place of deep shame, hiding from true friends and family, a place of denial, lies. my life today resembles nothing of those dark years - nowadays, i aspire to exist as a being of light. i threw myself into years of therapy trying to 'figure it all out'. i grew up. made peace. moved on... or so i thought.

today i came across a photo album containing images from that troubled era of my past. the photographs stopped me cold in my tracks. i was looking at pictures of a girl i barely knew. and yet i was also looking into eyes that were deeply familiar. my stomach flipped as my eyes recognized a part of me from so long ago. i turned a page in the album. a hot burn rose to my cheeks as i remembered those days. i turned another page. faster and faster, i flipped through the pages of that album. i needed to flip past those photos faster, so they were no longer visible, so they were eclipsed by the exposure of the next page, and safely hidden. i feared that if i stayed too long examining any of those pictures, the girl from so long ago would creep back in, take over, send me into the flames of shame and darkness of those days. i got scared. i panicked. and yet, i could.not.put.the.album.down. i struggled to remember strange, pallid faces, club backdrops, half-lidded eyes and sleepy grins of people i used to hang out with. i could now barely remember those lost souls, none of whom i kept in contact with, all of whom are completely irrelevant to current me.

i've been running from those photos all day. i've been running from the memory of that girl all day. i've been cleaning and scouring my house ALL DAY because all i really wanted to do was clean and scour the me in those photos. the me in those photos was lost. i was broken. i was exploring the darkness because i didn't think i was worthy of the light. it was as if the act of cleaning of my home could cleanse not only my soul but also memories of the darkness i crept into during my early adulthood.

i think that rehashing the memory of the girl in those pictures, coupled with the fucked up friday night i had in the presence of another very dark being have led me to this place of feeling unsettled. i feel like some emotional dust was stirred up when i looked in that photo album - like the girl in those pictures never found true peace. throughout all those years of therapy, my work revolved around my formative years, the hurt and wounds of a child. my therapist and i NEVER TALKED about the fucked up shit that went down during my dark years.

i so desperately want resolution for that girl. i want peace for that girl. i want peace for me. but for right now, all i can do is be cognoscente of the deep feelings that came up for me today. soon i will be able to go back to that photo album and sit with each image, let each photo into the light, let it be exposed long enough for me to take in every detail. but for right now, all i can give is recognition.

i know you exist within me, dark girl. i know you haven't yet found peace. here is my promise to you: i will remember you. i will honor you. i will make room for you in my heart and in my memory. you are part of me. and together, we are whole.