I really did not this stupid, naval-gazing mini-obsession I’ve been having with my body coming. Truly.
“I am thinking about this entirely too much” I scold myself.
“What’s too much? Your ass is growing rounder and your belly is pudging over the top of your jeans!” the voice says. This voice has a name and a face, a familiar childhood memory, and one that ordinarily sits bound and gagged in the back of my mind. I’ve been unable to silence her forever and lately, she has been storming up to center stage, like a pinched and wrinkled angry little Kanye.
Yet, here I am. For whatever reason, I’m gonna wrestle this one down. Apparently this is the appointed time. I teeter-totter between mega-exercise and none. In the middle of it all is the gym 2-3 days a week and the daily yoga practice with 21.5.800.
It makes me squirm. I can’t blame hyper-exercise or my ribs showing on stress: life isn’t that stressful anymore. And I can’t blame the growing curves on love or babies or celebratory carbs, no matter how much fun that is to write. I know how to control myself and I’m frequently choosing not to. It’s not an issue of numbers (no scales in almost 20 years) or clothes (they still fasten, but won’t in a week or two if I don’t do something).
It’s about making consistently inauthentic choices that don’t jive with who I am. It’s about eating my feelings or denying them but never embracing them.
I’ve been pulling out of an emotional hole for a couple of years now. Life after leaving a psychopathic, violent, abusive, husband will do that…there are layers after layers to unpack of places in the heart, soul, and mind that need challenge, repair, comfort, instruction. There is no “done” with a process like that and I’m tired.
I know that’s the core of it. I want to be done and I never will be. Or at least, not for a very, very long time. I had babies with that man. I had a childhood that led to the choosing of that man. I am flawed and messed up myself. It’s like endless unpacking after the vacation from hell. I swear every time I think I’ve gotten somewhere with it I find another suitcase full of mildewed old clothes. It’s all very exhausting.
So it’s funny to me that the very first post Bindu put up for 21.5.800 is on the Savasana pose. Corpse post? Rest? Seriously God? Timing is amazing. Okay, so I’ll go with it. My gut is saying,
“See? You’re going to get exactly what you need.” and,
“Let the rest of the crap go. It will take care of itself. Just let the process do it’s Work.”
It’s in keeping with the other themes of my recent days. Show up. Do Your Work. Trust. My favorite verse, “Be still and know that I am God.”
Next week I’ll have my gym membership. Tomorrow I’ll start laying on the floor like a dead person for at least 15 minutes. I’ll ease up on the carbs because really, that’s not hard and these are Good Problems To Have.
My secret hope is to find a can of Raid for the nasty little Kanye.