My recent thoughts on weight have inspired further reflection. When I consider the power that numbers have over us, it just seems insane. How many years did I step on the scale — several times a day — to monitor my weight? Those numbers on the scale determined my self-worth! I used to count calories as well. Those weird numbers determined if food was good or not, and if I was good or not. There are other numbers as well: salary, bank account, value of the house, price of the car, that apparently have something to say about our own value.
There's a great song in German which translates to: Why am I not satisfied? That’s what it’s about. We try to compensate or build up our low self-worth with symbolic numbers. And what happens is, we invest these numbers with an immense power over us, and struggle each day in the hope of achieving certain ideals. Generally, these numbers are unattainable, because as soon as we reach them, we want more (or less, depending on the situation) — to the point of becoming addicted.
Clothing sizes are also numbers. Think about it. What are they for? Their purpose is to help us find clothes that fit us, rather than having to try everything on that’s hanging on the rack. Whether I am a 7, 9, 11, 12 or 14 doesn’t matter. It does not determine my value as a human being. It simply helps me find something to wear that will fit me. During the time when I began to lose weight, I greedily eyed the “petite” sizes, hoping to eventually fit into them. Now I know better — 5′ 7″ is not petite!
When I was really skinny, I can remember not going clothes shopping. I was afraid, because I didn’t know what size I was, and I didn’t want anyone to find out. (Not that I had much spare money to spend on clothes, since most of it went towards bingeing!) Yet I am just as guilty of proudly announcing my size to a woman who was a few sizes larger. As if that made me better or something, it gave me sick satisfaction! Now I accept myself as I am, and the competitive comparison is no longer necessary. On the contrary, I enjoy the company and presence of other women, and treasure each one’s unique appearance, without value judgment.
I don’t like giving other people control over me, and the thought of numbers having control over me is even less desirable. I grew up reacting, discerning my worth through the reflection perceived in other people’s eyes. My self-esteem was a situative variable that had nothing to do with me. That was a poor existence, and no numbers either way could help it. I always assumed the worst. Yet this very desire to please made me willing to undertake immense efforts to try and change myself to fit some predetermined image, size or number which had nothing to do with me.
My tendency towards faith in conspiracy theory supports the notion that this supposed importance of numbers regarding weight and size is instilled in women to keep them under control. Can you imagine the blast of energy, creativity and power that would be unleashed if women stopped expending so much energy and time on these numbers? Wow!
There is still a lot of anger simmering inside of me. Anger at myself for buying into this crock and being so deep into self-destruction for so long, and anger at my environment for promoting these plastic, superficial values. I royally screwed up a lot of things in my life because of it. I damaged my body, I betrayed myself, I barely remember my youth and young adulthood. If I hadn’t written so much in my journal, the gaps in memory would be much worse. True, I trust in the universe, and I am doing a damn good job at making the most of what is left, but sometimes it makes me want to scream. Still, let’s not forget the big picture. Everything happens for a reason and in the end it will all make sense. Remember, this is life now and we can reclaim it and enjoy it. And I want to have some fun!
Showing posts with label weight. Show all posts
Showing posts with label weight. Show all posts
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Friday, June 20, 2008
Weight
I was just about ready to have some breakfast, but was writing to someone about weight and (I think) I’d like to share on that. The underlying problems of the bulimic/anorexic are not about weight. I remember wanting to be skinny and weightless, because that was childlike, and I missed being a child. Life seemed so much easier then — looking back, at least. And yet, weight is a major issue, besides learning to love, trust, forgive, mourn, …. and live. Feel free to insert your own issues. Those were my major ones.
I hadn’t really thought about it for a long time, but like I said, I just did. I generally avoid numbers and weights, knowing that we are all so competitive, but I will dare to give some hard numbers. Before I do that, though, I will confess that I am still slim and still concerned about my appearance. In fact, I am practically vain, and don’t think I could stand to be overweight. Recovery doesn’t mean you don’t care about your appearance. You just care differently. For me, it just means accepting my normal weight — which I didn’t get to pick as ideal. My body settled at that all by itself.
So, now to the numbers. I won’t actually give the weight, just comparisons. During my last major relapse-trying-to-recover phase, I weighed around 15 pounds more than at my worst skin-and-bones phase. At that time, I considered it to be the ideal weight, and hoped to recover and keep that weight. It wasn’t enough and I was still starving, so the inevitable binges kept happening. I also couldn’t sleep (ketosis?). Now, get a load of this, I weigh nearly 20 pounds more than that ideal weight. And I am still skinny!!! (But not in an unhealthy way.) These numbers simply knock me over!
I don’t want to brag about weighing so much more than I once did, but I want to state it as a fact of necessity. How many times I actually wished I could magically weigh this much again, because I just couldn’t bear the reality of having to gain the weight back. It was awful. Gaining weight is about giving up control, and I needed to have things under control. Yet, back then when I looked in the mirror, I would gain ten pounds just by looking. At first glance, I would think, “Oh, I’m slim.” Then I’d look closer, and “realize” that I was horribly fat. I never left out an opportunity to look in a mirror, or at my reflection in a store window. I kept hoping to see how I “really” looked, but I wasn’t able to find myself. Not until I looked within and let myself come out.
I think I’d been concerned about looking good, because I felt that what was inside of me was so ugly and deformed, that no one could possibly stand it. So I tried to make up for it by being thin. I know, that’s a strange logic, but it’s how I thought.
It wasn’t until I absolutely surrendered and decided to eat, to do what it takes, and to give up control, that I was able to gain the weight back. Whatever my body settled on, I would accept. I guess the switch was that I really wanted to live, so my body became the vehicle to enable that rather than being my definition. I like my body now. I look in the mirror and I like what I see. I like how I feel, too. It’s all part of me, and feels just right. And now I am finally going to go have my breakfast!
Oh, one more thing. This past summer I had the feeling of going back 30 years and picking up where I left off in my emotional development. (Yes, there are still some issues to be dealt with!) I felt a strong urge to buy the two Supertramp CDs that I had listened to as records back then (Even in the Quietest Moments and Crime of the Century). Many songs I still know by heart. They got me through some of my darkest hours. You might want to check them out.
I hadn’t really thought about it for a long time, but like I said, I just did. I generally avoid numbers and weights, knowing that we are all so competitive, but I will dare to give some hard numbers. Before I do that, though, I will confess that I am still slim and still concerned about my appearance. In fact, I am practically vain, and don’t think I could stand to be overweight. Recovery doesn’t mean you don’t care about your appearance. You just care differently. For me, it just means accepting my normal weight — which I didn’t get to pick as ideal. My body settled at that all by itself.
So, now to the numbers. I won’t actually give the weight, just comparisons. During my last major relapse-trying-to-recover phase, I weighed around 15 pounds more than at my worst skin-and-bones phase. At that time, I considered it to be the ideal weight, and hoped to recover and keep that weight. It wasn’t enough and I was still starving, so the inevitable binges kept happening. I also couldn’t sleep (ketosis?). Now, get a load of this, I weigh nearly 20 pounds more than that ideal weight. And I am still skinny!!! (But not in an unhealthy way.) These numbers simply knock me over!
I don’t want to brag about weighing so much more than I once did, but I want to state it as a fact of necessity. How many times I actually wished I could magically weigh this much again, because I just couldn’t bear the reality of having to gain the weight back. It was awful. Gaining weight is about giving up control, and I needed to have things under control. Yet, back then when I looked in the mirror, I would gain ten pounds just by looking. At first glance, I would think, “Oh, I’m slim.” Then I’d look closer, and “realize” that I was horribly fat. I never left out an opportunity to look in a mirror, or at my reflection in a store window. I kept hoping to see how I “really” looked, but I wasn’t able to find myself. Not until I looked within and let myself come out.
I think I’d been concerned about looking good, because I felt that what was inside of me was so ugly and deformed, that no one could possibly stand it. So I tried to make up for it by being thin. I know, that’s a strange logic, but it’s how I thought.
It wasn’t until I absolutely surrendered and decided to eat, to do what it takes, and to give up control, that I was able to gain the weight back. Whatever my body settled on, I would accept. I guess the switch was that I really wanted to live, so my body became the vehicle to enable that rather than being my definition. I like my body now. I look in the mirror and I like what I see. I like how I feel, too. It’s all part of me, and feels just right. And now I am finally going to go have my breakfast!
Oh, one more thing. This past summer I had the feeling of going back 30 years and picking up where I left off in my emotional development. (Yes, there are still some issues to be dealt with!) I felt a strong urge to buy the two Supertramp CDs that I had listened to as records back then (Even in the Quietest Moments and Crime of the Century). Many songs I still know by heart. They got me through some of my darkest hours. You might want to check them out.
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