Some people eat to live and others live to eat. Which are you? I used to be the latter for a long long time. That is not a typo error. It really has been that long. Those of us that live to eat often have a poor relationship with food. We either eat too much, or too little, in terms of what we need to maintain optimum physiological function and well-being. We know we are doing it, and it is not what we want to do, but we just cannot seem to help ourselves. We are driven by a possessive force that is hard to extinguish. In extreme cases, we get labelled with that term Eating Disorder. We are then Anorexics, Bulimics, Compulsive Bingers or anything in between. The reality is that a lot of us do not get labelled that way at all. We do not fit the medical model of a body-image disease. In fact, we are to be found functioning very well in society, going about our business with great zest and gusto. Our size 16, 18 and 20 plus bodies stuffed into lycra to create an illusion. To prop up the lie. To abate the shame and keep our secrets intact. It does not work. We still get labelled. Just in another way. Fat. Fatso. Fatty and the like are terms that are familiar to me, and to millions of men and women out in the big wide world. We justify our pathological behaviour as ‘comfort eating’. Nobody understands us, especially those stick insects who can eat pasta for the entire population of Italy and not put on a pound. Crush.
I comfort ate for years. Suffered the humiliation of being told to lose weight otherwise nobody would marry me. Who wants to marry a fat Indian girl? The Cultural Parent would not approve. Slim is in. So, on to another programme to ditch some weight. Yet, nobody married me. The story of my life. This led me to another cycle of self-battering and various diets that promised me that stick insect look. Eating cabbages for a week, or grapefruit for a month felt promising but by day three, I would usually pack it all in because my body would be violently protesting. It had got used to the sugary stuff to fire up its engine. A vicious cycle of fat thighs, slimmer thighs, double chins and single chins, huge waists to slightly huge waist was a way of life for years to come. Somewhere on this journey from Fat to Fab, an ‘aha’ moment. Eating actually anaesthetises us. As we layer up with more and more fat, we literally distance ourselves from what really matters. Our feelings. The heart centre numbs us up so that we do not have to endure the pain and humiliation of being unacceptable to a world obsessed with perfect brains and beautiful bodies. Never mind their dull minds.
Externally, I was all smiles, hugs and kisses. Internally, a part of me had died. My emotional body deprived of fuel. How do I know this? Counselling training, personal therapy and this writing process provided a potent ‘verbal detox’. Clarity arrived. The courage to face up to my reality, rather than prop someone else’s up, had blown open the lid of deception. The TRUTH emerged. I really was unable to contact the affection that was given to me where it should matter. In the depths of my heart. I knew that many people loved me but therein lay the problem. It was knowledge. The seat of that is the mind. Not the heart. To be truly loved, you have to feel it. How can you feel if you are numb? When you are busy being a Rescuer Extraordinaire? When you do not recognize what ‘burn out’ means? When chronic fatigue immobilizes you. When you feel you are here for others, and to be there for yourself is a selfish act rather than what it is. Self-love. What is wrong in loving and nurturing the Divine pure spirit that is You?
Answers on a post card please.
The key lesson learnt is to never give up on finding the path to liberation. In the past, I would ‘eat every emotion’ and stuff it somewhere deep in my body because I just could not be bothered to deal with it. This reminds me of my mum’s ongoing Gujarati dialogue of ‘badhu gari javanu’. As in everything, including emotions, must be swallowed. This became easier than protesting. I was exhausted with the drama of the extended family and the role of Rescuer Extraordinaire. I was exhausted with my life script and working hard not to remain a spinster and conform to society. Working long hours to pay the bills was equally depleting. I simply was exhausted of everything but comfort eating. Unknowingly, whilst ‘verbal detoxing’ through talk therapy and intuitive writing, a process of ‘unfolding towards wholeness’ had begun. Suddenly, subtle ‘aha’ moments stopped me from stuffing my face and made me start paying attention to my body. When I stopped numbing it with junk food and started honouring it with soul food such as silence, meditation, prayer, contemplation, affirmations, reflection, compassion, forgiveness and kindness, something amazing transpired. My shut down heart (chakra) burst open to the healing frequencies of soul food such as creative writing, walks in nature, yoga, painting, gardening, chanting, crystal therapy, reiki and chakra clearing. I started writing in a way like never before. Verses, not of the Khalil Gibran and Rumi gold standard, but still vaguely poetic cascaded across my horizons. The whole soul food hot pot together resulted in a most profound awakening best explained in verse.
A quiet joy
Out of nowhere
Embraces my spirit
A welcome visitor
To my soul
Bruised and battered
Whilst negotiating life
A gentle reminder
That nothing lasts
Every experience and emotion
Becomes the past
A chance for a new beginning
Right here. Right now.
A quiet joy.
Again