Holy hell it’s back. It crept back into my life like a poisonous spider plotting and spinning its web of lies and trapping me just when I thought I had flown away. This fear…the fear that keeps me here. This fear of being hungry, of being alone and unloved. It came back. And it makes me so tired to think about that…
Of course it may be more accurate to say it never left…it just got lighter, lost some of its weight. It’s probably true that I swept it under a rug of wiser eating and good intentions. Trying to fix the reflection, I neglected the voice within. Not always but at times I definitely did. I’m trying to do both: heal the body and heal the mind. Perhaps it’s time to choose…allow one to follow the other.
I want to get better, I do. But there’s a comfort to this pain. There’s a familiarity with the fat.
Did I just say the F word?
I did. Because the truth is I’ve spent so much of my life thinking it, it’s no wonder that it appeared. Whether I am fat or not is immaterial if I believe that I am. And let’s admit it, fat is really just another word for unworthy. I could say lazy, poor, selfish, shallow, annoying….they all mean the same thing: unworthy of love.
This is what I am called to heal. Rising above the the scale, the lattes and the rushed workouts, I float with my divine guide and watch the insanity with love. I see it all through compassionate eyes and surrender it again. This is a journey. A journey requires commitment. I will not quit because I’ve gained 10lbs. I surge on because I know I have shed 10 lbs. of guilt.
And that’s what really matters. Who I am weighs nothing. Who I am wants for nothing. I am safe. I rest in God. Everything else is a lesson in getting back home.
Can I get a hell yeah?!