I’ve been dreaming about this post for a month.
I’ve been wondering exactly how to describe this feeling of loss that I have.
Loss that I can’t quite put my finger on.
Without consuming ____ to glue together all of my jagged edges, I feel a little like a bag of mirror shards, clanging around and reflecting one another’s sharpness.
Food used to tie it all together for me – family, romance, awkward social situations, fear, loneliness, anxiety. Nothing a bowl of mashed potatoes couldn’t fix.
The feeling that I have now is a little bit sad. I feel a little let down. The grandeur of going out and eating a fancy meal is a little less sparkly. The gnocchi has kind of lost it’s mystery.
I have never been so sick of eating vegetables in my life.
I miss the quick-fix, the bowl of beans and rice, the easy remedy that I could provide myself with the contents of my cupboards. Yes, I always knew this fix was fickle and short-lived, but in that moment, cheese solved most problems.
Without the food, the feelings are there, inmates clanging against their shackles and bars and demanding that I pay attention to them. They want me to know that while I was oh so busy trying to shut them up they were bored out of their minds with all of the television that I was watching and heartbroken that I never gave them a chance to be who they always wanted to by and WHY didn’t I let them go out and have fun once and a while and and and…
They wanted to know why I no longer got on stage with my hula hoop and performed on top of a speaker.
They wanted to know what I was planning on doing about how resentful I felt towards myself for making myself believe I had to take care of every single thing for every single person that I know for the last twenty years.
They want me to have this tattooed on my wrist, so I’ll never forget it:
Just because you can, doesn’t mean that you should.
So, friends, here’s the deal: I’m ready to let a couple of those feelings out of their cages and see what happens. Yes, there have been temper tantrums. Yes, I have cried – yelled – demanded – begged – pleaded to distract me from how I feel inside.
Without food to stuff it all down – I need to be very, very kind to myself – because without food my coping mechanisms are stiff and stunted. They are difficult to access in a moment of crisis.
Without food, I get it wrong, a lot.
I apologize, a lot, for my brattiness, but I don’t feel sorry for living authentically.
The bar has been raised, and I am oh so grateful.