The Softer Side

I've been listening to meditation CDs again… Therefore, my mind is full of compelling—and sometimes questionable—statements. For instance: "Soften all the places that are rigid within you."

All of them? I want to go all soft? Really? I don't know. Does that sound like balance?

That's a question for me to answer personally, over time. Honestly, I wouldn't mind being completely gentle and quiet with myself for a while. I'm tired, my colon is still sensitive from an infection six weeks ago, my ear is only now healing from its own infection (thank you swimming pool!), I decided to take up strength training again (ouchy for the muscles), and I'm going through major work/life changes. The list could go on.

I want to put myself to bed, pat my forehead, and leave my body suspended beyond space and time. When I was really sick, I started setting boundaries to accomplish just this. I set an earlier time to get ready for bed. I removed some old commitments and tasks from my plate. It seemed that illness had wrested me from the hard-driving mentality I have historically operated under.

Lately, however, I find myself veering back into old patterns, and it affects how I deal with food. When I'm tired, I want to eat more. I don't always do it, but I often find myself eating more than I sense that my body needs. If I lack comfort in any area of life, I tend to try to get it through food. And I want this pattern to stop.

Food is my simple comfort, but I know other, simple ways to comfort myself. Zoning out isn't completely negative. I can play mindless games of solitaire, read a novel, listen to a radio program. I can even meditate, call someone, take a walk, or do some chores.

However, notice one thing: I only now arrive at sleep. Sleep. Why don't I go to sleep? Why do I insist on staying up and journaling so that I can figure out why I feel so out of sorts? I already know why I feel out of sorts. I'm tired. And sleep is the only cure, yet I keep pushing it away.  At night, I fear grieving the day.  I fear leaving it and all the possibilities it contained (and that I did not attain) behind.

Sleep is gentle.

But I'm a go-getter. I'm driven. I can accomplish more than the average human. I can push myself to the limit and bounce back. I can make it. I am called to achieve greatness.

Those are lies (or at the very least, untruths) I tell myself. What good is greatness if I'm too tired to enjoy it? 

I know countless individuals who struggle with sleep, who struggle with being gentle with themselves. When it gets late, instead of simply going to bed, I spend time mentally kicking myself for not going to bed sooner. When I do that, I'm wasting time. I already know the appropriate course of action, and I can choose to replay old tapes or to act on my own wisdom.

It's time to recognize that getting enough sleep, resting, pampering myself, and allowing myself to be a less-than-productive human being is necessary. I may rail against the idea of softening all the rigid places within me, but when I do, my colon feels better, I fall to sleep easily, I feel in step with others and calm as I go through my day. When I'm gentler with myself, I'm gentler with others.

I'm still mulling over the idea of completely letting go of rigidity. A little part of me insists that there are times in life when I need to push. Sometimes, it's necessary to go beyond my feelings and intellect, or to briefly don a hard shield of protection. That's what the little voice is saying. But does that voice know the truth? Have I ever really let go of all rigidity? If I never have, how can I say that it won't work?

In any case, for me, now is all about balance. I am living in the moment and trying to incorporate a practice of gentleness in my thoughts and actions—toward myself and others. Perhaps the more softness I acquire, the more I will realize how defeating rigidity really is. 

I'm sure I'll have more insightful answers once I've gotten a solid eight hours of sleep.

Need for Speed

Since I was young, speed always attracted me more than other “risky” endeavors. I wanted to fly down the alley on my bicycle, not pop wheelies or jump ramps. Just give me the wind in my hair and the road passing too quickly under me. For some reason, riding fast makes me feel more in control than navigating tricky obstacles. I always preferred running to more overtly technical sports like basketball or soccer. Granted, my affinity for more race-like activities probably owed itself in part to a general lack of coordination (required in most team-centered athletics), but there is something more to it.

In life, I want to retain some sense of control. I will make sure that the road ahead doesn’t contain any unexpectedly large potholes. I tune up my bike. I pick roads I’ve traversed before. And then, I go fast. I speed through it with the highest efficiency, nimble but safe. Once I know where I want to go and clear an acceptable trajectory, I take off, judging success by the swiftness of the journey to my anticipated goal.

Of course, in life, the ending location never quite matches my initial picture, and I often end up having to veer off my intended route. I am resistant to diverting from my original, carefully planned course. I sometimes don’t trust life to turn out okay if I don’t map it out and rush through it, even though I have accumulated years of evidence that things do work out. It’s like I think that that way to live life is to smooth out the path I desire and then hurry down it before the storms come and erode the terrain. How’s that for leaving no room for miracles?

Speed can be great. It’s fulfilling for me to drive my car as fast as possible down roads where one would be wiser to exert extra caution. But on the other hand, I don’t want to pass by the people who need help on the side of the road or never notice the interesting sights that abound in this world of ours. But if my velocity demands my total attention, I’ll never catch the beauty in the periphery.

Instead of flying down the alley, I’d like to take the occasional, random trip down an unknown path, where I can’t pedal quickly but might meet terrain that holds infinitely more treasure than the path I leveled for myself. It’s time to let life move around me and go with the flow instead of trying to direct every move. It’s time to work a bit at navigating challenging courses instead of improving on my latest time trial. Conquering technicalities can give the same rush as blazing speeds. Let it go.

The Joy of Replacing Bingeing

May I say how good it feels simply to come home and NOT BINGE? Sometimes, I have to be reminded of this simple joy. Note that I did not say “come home, exercise, and not binge” or “come home, accomplish a dozen things, and not binge.” I forget that I can choose not to binge and then waste my time in some more (or less) creative fashion. No need to work out every second of the day or complete a single goal I’ve set. I don’t have to jump through hoops in order to ensure sane eating.

The sun is shining, and I feel good. I don’t have to exercise compulsively, I don’t have to binge, and, moreover, I don’t have to do a single thing. Of course, there are certain things it would behoove me to do, but no one will force me to pay my rent or clean my bathroom. I choose to do those things because they benefit my life. In the same way, I can choose to do nothing or even to do things that impact my life negatively. The main thing is that there are a million different ways of doing things, and most, if not all, of them are not “wrong.”

I want to try these different ways of living. I have reckoned a slower, softer side of me these past few days, reminding myself that I can take it slow and still get hungry. I can still accomplish important things, too, and stay in touch with people I love. The main thing preventing me from allowing a slower drift through life is mistrust in myself. I imagine that if I don’t do everything NOW, I may not do it all. But really, I have proven my responsibility, creativity, and capability time after time. Now is the moment to trust the universe and me.

I’ve seen remarkable things happen in the last couple of days. I have taken pleasure in the ways lives of people I know have intersected. They see miracles in their life, and it’s nice to talk about it with them. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m the only one who appreciates such little miracles. But other people do see it and love it as much as I do. And wonderfully, simply by observing or listening to the occurrences in their lives and then discussing them, I become a part of that miracle. It can extend to me, and I can connect with others, even help them.

Observation. It’s an important element of my non-binge time. I can sit and simply observe the world. That action never seems to have much worth until I look back at the convergence of all the things I’ve learned by observing alongside my association with others and things I read. Serendipity is everywhere. Every piece of living is worthwhile.

Anyhow, I mostly just wanted to share the simple joy of a gal in recovery, something I somehow stopped believing at some point during my disorder: I can eat a healthful amount (i.e., not binge and not restrict), abstain from exercise, and still get hungry later. My body really does take care of things! Added bonus: I experience more of life.

Sure, there are many things about food I want to explore and lots of ways I want to push my body in an energetic way. So many desserts, vegetables, mountains, and roads! But how much more is there if I will simply slow down…