My priority is getting healthy. I've said this for the past six years. That's a good goal to have, however, if you continue to fall off of the proverbial wagon, or in my case the food truck, over and over and again, maybe its time to find out what exactly is holding you back.
My many attempts have included, Weight Watchers, intermittent fasting, calorie counting, my own version of Keto, walking, gym memberships, yoga, spin, meditation; the list goes on. I've not stuck with anything for long enough to see real change. As I sat in a workshop for EFT (Emotional Freeing Technique, also known as tapping) last night, it occurred to me, that this too could just be another way to ward off the real issues that have kept me stuck in a cycle of avoidance. Eating the wrong foods and not moving enough isn't the real issue. Oh, sure that will pile on the pounds, eventually, but it's what's eating my soul that is the bigger issue. It's tough to admit that I use the F word (fat) to keep me safe. Fat is the barricade between me and heartbreak, rejection, and abandonment. In my mind, nobody is going to get close to the little chubby chick, and it's easy to discount her as not qualified, or having qualities like wisdom, talent, or desirability. It's a vicious cycle- eat to silence the less-than voices, feel less lonely, or stop the anger from coming out of my mouth by stuffing it full of cheese and crackers.
Swallowing feelings, eating anger, snacking away loneliness, and dining on people pleasing are all methods of coping I now recognize have kept me stuck. I'll be damned if this behavior hasn't followed me into my Golden Years. You can gauge my comfort in the world by the size of my jeans.
I haven't always been fat. In fact, my step-mom reminded me at my granddaughter's graduation this weekend, there was a time I used to be "too skinny". This was after I referred to myself as Po, the red Telly Tubby whose belly sticks out when she stands. I've discovered humor is a pretty great diversion to move on from things I don't want to think about, and if I joke about me first, it takes the sting out of the possibility you might. I thought about what she said when I got home later. Could a person be "too skinny"? Of course. Back in the skinny day, I wasn't any healthier than I am now 70-80 pounds heavier (yes, I WAS that skinny). The difference was back then I drank my feelings instead of eating them.
So, what did I do when I was at a healthy, vibrant weight? I lived a healthy vibrant lifestyle. A support group, therapy, tools and techniques, expressing my feelings, and being honest were the framework for loving and taking care of myself. Nurturing me without worrying about anyone's judgment. Everything else fell into place; exercise, good sleep, choosing food that made my body feel good. I wasn't concerned about eating my feelings because I knew I was entitled to express them. I knew my justified anger would not chase those who truly loved me away. I didn't feel I had to do things in order to be accepted and liked, recognizing if I wasn't, those weren't my people.
If those tools worked then, why not now? I do believe honesty is the only way through it. Time for some reconstruction. Time to ditch the steroids in the inhaler. Time to move more in enjoyable ways - walks in the gardens, hikes with friends, patio yoga. Time for the years-old trauma to be healed and rather than focus on the calories, determine what the food is trying to fix. That's a start at least. In hindsight layers of fluffy fat might not be the best way to keep my feelings protected, anger at bay, or my heart safe. Using my mouth as a megaphone rather than a garbage disposal even sounds healthier.
One day at a time, priority number one is to be as loving and kind to me as I am to my four girls, give myself permission to be human, and let the chips (no pun intended) fall where they may. I have a voice and I have a choice. It isn't about my consumption as much as it's about what I am really eating. And eating. And eating.
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