I have never really cared for hot holidays. I think it is a combination of sticky, sweaty childhood memories and my insane issues with body image. I start dreading them as soon as Easter is over. Memorial Day, Fourth of July, and Labor Day all commemorate people and places well deserving of a national holiday, so I know my dislike for summer festivities and such is selfish. Nonetheless.
I am 47 years old and there are many things so much more important than the size and shape of my thighs or the all over my body jiggling feeling that seems to go on long after I have stopped moving. Those thighs work well along with the rest of my body. My children's bodies are healthy. My entire family, from my 70 something year old mom to the baby due in August is healthy and well. So why, I mean I'm hardly a hormone-driven teenager anymore, do I still freak out at the thought of wearing shorts or, O.M.G. a swimming suit. I cringe at the idea of wearing a swimming suit even in my own back yard. Some of this insanity may have something to do with the recommendation from my therapy team (Team Breath.Repeat) that I pursue treatment for disordered eating. Honestly, I do not have a memory of being carefree in or about my body, a fact that sometimes fills me with shame considering how blessed I am in so many ways. But again, it is nonetheless the truth of it all.
Amy Steinberg, the best female vocalist and lyricist world wide, in my opinion, sings Beautiful in Me which you can find here (also available on amazon and itunes). My favorite part of the song says, "I got these thighs, I got this hair. I will not even dare compare." This verse is even more appropriate if one knows that my hair is the curliest, frizziest crown of glory ever. The song contains a very affirming body image message. "Today I choose to only see the beautiful in me." She actually sang this song just for me once. I work on accepting my body a lot. I have been for a long, long time. I do not seem to be making much progress on my own. I think the team is right. I really am going to need some help with this one. And I think it is time.
Fighting addictions is often like the whack-a-mole game, that annoying game at Chuck-e-Cheese. You know the one where the player has a hammer-whacker thingy and whacks a little rodent-like head as it sticks out of a hole only to find another rodent face staring at you from another hole. It is very annoying and very much like addiction. With help, you get one under some control and another is vying for placement. And when dealing with addiction, there are no tickets to exchange for some sort of plastic loot. You just get more work. Some folks would say more opportunity for growth. I believe this to be true, but I usually feel like I have enough growth opportunities already. No need to add more, I'm saying.
I've tackled the relationship addiction. After 6 years of SLA recovery, I am still so grateful for the freedom from bondage I was in for years due to serious, sometimes deadly, problems with relationships which affected EVERY aspect of my life. I have worked doggone hard on trauma issues. The Life Healing Center in Santa Fe is the most therapeutically safe place in the world, again in my opinion. I learned so many, many things during my stay there which I still apply to my life on a daily basis in an effort to heal from the steady diet of chaos that was my childhood. The disconnection and dissociation are so much better. That constant static or fuzzy television noise in my head is more manageable. I have more nightmare free nights than before I went to LHC, and when I do find myself in a bad place, I am better equipped to handle it. What I know about my disordered eating, however, what I have always known about it, is that it is the most elusive and most difficult rodent for me to whack. There may be more than one type of bondage, but no matter the kind, bondage is miserable. I feel like Seymour from Little Shop of Horrors who cannot get away from Audrey 2, regardless of the consequences. Come to think of it, that could be a pretty thorough analogy from the beginning. How much harm can a little extra of this or that really hurt, after all? Until it does. It hurts in a way that has nothing to do with that helping (or second helping) of Moo-Licious ice cream.
Anyway, I need help. When I have asked for help before, I have gotten it. Why am I so scared of this? I mean how hard can it be, really? Why so much shame around this? I mean how much shame can be involved in getting help with disordered eating after I have been the ONLY sex and love addict in a treatment center full of alcoholics and drug addicts. I was wickedly popular. And the treatment did help. I learned that even though my behavior has consequences, I am not a bad person. I did what was suggested and it has changed and is changing my life. Why do I sense that the Higher Power who has gotten me this far is unavailable or unable to help me with this? I believe this is going to require a Leap of Faith. Just a small leap, because with faith, size really does not matter.
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