Vulnerability

What do you think of when you ponder vulnerability? It always made me feel squeamish, antsy. . . ready to turn on my heels. I am a child of a feminist, strong and mighty; I am an only, out on my own and blazing trails for future generations. Hear me roar.

There's not a lot of room to be vulnerable when your sole purpose is to hide weakness. If you haven't noticed, I'm working on that. It's why I share. . . so maybe you will too.

I had a powerful experience at school this week. New semester and, thankfully, new faces (with such a small cohort it's nice to meet a fresh perspective). I'm enrolled in a Group Counseling course and thanks to the workings of a genius professor, it began with an opportunity to share prefaced with the idea that, in any group environment, there are sweet and bitter things about the setting. Sometimes it's having a loudmouth next to you, hoarding the time allotted; working with others who are closed off causing you to lose interest that the experience can be healing. It's complicated, but it can be oh-so-good depending on your willingness to relent.

And that's just it. The first go 'round of introductions had most folks using caution when addressing what made THEM bitter and sweet. Christ, who wouldn't have hesitation?! Being authentic in such a setting is so hard, after all "What will people think of me?" or "Am I worthy of being listened to?" I've been working on my own authenticity for months, maybe even a year, thanks to a wonderful therapist who has had me, in the words of the great Brene Brown, "lean into the discomfort." For so long, I've been afraid that if I am anything but agreeable, amiable, friendly and inclusive, people will leave me.

It's true. Do you struggle too?

And so, when it was my turn, I threw myself into the discomfort (which isn't so hard anymore). I told this group of folks whom I know only from a safe classroom/textbook environment, that I binge, I'm hard on myself (and therefore hard on others, mostly internally), and I'm taking medication to help me cope with depression. Oh, and I feel great about it. Really great. What's sweet about me is that I am growing into my courage. Again, quoting Brown, I am increasingly able to "tell the story of who [I am} with my own heart."

What's bitter? Please, I still have high expectations. But as I go easier on myself, it expands into allowing me to have really close relationships that make me really happy. And good grief, this is a process. I don't know if I'll ever be fully evolved, but I know the relief that is sharing, like getting used to the cold water you've just jumped into, gets better over time. Especially if the pool is already peppered with folks doing the same.

The Journey

I've got an addiction that I wear, in the open, for all to see. Funny thing is, rare is the person who whispers or yells to me that I need help. Interventions only take place when needles and highballs are involved, it would seem. But, from my vantage point, being fat is a cry for help too. It's just so damn sensitive to talk about. Even now, my fingers aren't moving as fast down the home row.

Many of us have just made resolutions; there are a dearth of fat shows on TV now, not the least of which is MTV's "I Used To Be Fat" which has coincidentally come on twice at the gym while I'm pounding away on the elliptical; and worst of all every woman I know and love seems to feel ashamed or guilty in some regard when looking in the mirror or staring down at the scale.

I'm sick of feeling that way myself.

Marc asked me awhile ago, "Why do you binge?" (As much as I fooled myself thinking it a secret, there's really only one way to get fat.) (Sidenote: I am totally ok with the word fat; I can also use obese if you prefer. . . either way, I own it just fine.)

The answer to that question is a canvas painted exclusively with shame, and remarkably simple. I grew up with food as comfort; food as a way I bonded with my dad, as a treat or a rush and, now that I'm more conscious, as a salve. A salve really for any emotion: stress, boredom, loneliness, happiness, sadness. Sitting in emotions, after all, can seem interminable.

I've lost weight before, though not for the best reasons: boyfriend break-up, death, identity crisis. So it's like a whole new skill to do it now, when I'm happy and focused. Foreign territory and harder to do because you love yourself and know you'll be a better counselor if you're healthy; you'll have the courage to ski if you're healthy.

It's an education, pursuing it because you want to. . . not to lose weight. After all, my ideal body is Queen Latifah. Beautiful Queen Latifah. Meaning tall (though that's everpresent) and strong. Capable.

And wearing J. Crew would be nice too.

I've lost 10 pounds in the past month with that ever-so-simple formula: eat less, move more. It's not simple at all. Each day is speckled with fighting urges, and changing habits. On the block where I work, there is a Starbucks, Dunkin Donuts, Chipotle, Jimmy Johns and Garrett Popcorn. Some days, just walking by those doors is the ultimate feat. Most days.

And on those days I resist because I love myself, I get a step closer to making the journey one propelled by my own motivation and not the need to please. The self-respect I mentioned in a previous post. Some days I'm hiking sand dunes in the Middle East, and others I'm gliding around on a lazy river, able to close my eyes and savor the warmth and health.

It's hard to write about, hard to talk about, but every journey is better when shared.

Embrace the Want

Although I'm not about to commit to writing posts that conform to one topic, my slogan of 2010 (thanks to group therapy at the Awakening Center) is "less should, more want." Before break, we discussed the confines, parameters and implications of the following words:

should
want
need
deserve

Should was a cinder block. Cumbersome. Want felt completely foreign, shameful. A wistful vapor. Need, on the other hand, is completely entitled. Needs are scarce and therefore to be heard when voiced. And deserve? Well, I think I have deserve all wrong. In my head it goes, "After a hard day, I deserve to eat a pizza." That's right, a whole pizza. Not just a slice. I don't "deserve" this; not in the slightest.

And so yes, we should have gone to Kalamazoo for Christmas. I should have gone to Costco on Saturday. I should read more novels and call more friends.

But I'm finding that, if I clear out the shoulds, the "forbidden" wants bubble to the surface. And the wants is what makes me joyful and inspired. I'm encouraged that my New Year is not kicked off my resolutions, though I think most of us have grown out of that ideal. Rather a philosophy. I think of it as a mental check to make throughout the day. I had to go to work today, non-negotiable, but what do I want to do now?

Well, I want to write more. Writing keeps me alive and engaged. Connected to the want. And so it goes. . .

Embrace the want.