“I feel glutinous,” I said to Jon across the dinner table. “I want to drink wine and eat meat and chocolate.” Not to fill an emptiness inside of me, but more like the feeling I had when I got divorced.
As often happens, I lost a lot of weight when I got divorced. But after getting together with Jon I was hungry all the time. I worried that I was eating too much, but a friend told me it was ok. I’d be fat and happy, she said.
That sounded so much better to me than being sad and skinny.
It’s like I was realizing that I didn’t have to deprive myself anymore. That how much I ate didn’t make me a better or worse person. That I could have a glass of wine at night without feeling guilty about it. That it was my decision to make.
It’s not just about food. Being back in therapy has opened me up to seeing clearly in a way I only nodded at before. It feels like I’m literally changing my past by changing the way I think about it.
I can see that I was raised to think as an abused person does. Taking the blame for things that weren’t my fault, feeling sorry for the abusers, wanting to be “nice” and not cause any trouble above all else.
Certainly above my own well-being.
It’s what I was taught, it is the culture of the family I was born into.
It is taking me my whole life to understand. Seeking help from all kinds of healers and therapists, reading books on psychology and trauma, finding people who I feel safe with and understand me. And a lot of repetition. Never a straight line, but always moving forward.
There has been no single “Ah-Ha” moment. Each revelation leads to another. Some are too big to embody quickly, they take relearning. Others are slow and small, inching along with the patience of a turtle.
Solutions are often difficult and scary, but better than going back to the way things were.
“You need time to absorb all that is happening,” Jon says to me, “This is too important to brush off.” He suggests I take a day off to let it settle.
I know he’s right. I can lose this new feeling in a heartbeat. Have to find it all over again.
I start to cry, the feeling of my own body and my own mind belonging to me, is overwhelming. It’s exciting and beautiful too. I feel heavy in the bottom of my belly like I’m grounded in a way I’ve never been before.
I want to hold onto this.
I thought about it all night and took Jon’s advice. This morning Fate and I went for a long walk in the woods. We walked on paths we’d never been on before. When we got to the end, we turned around and came home.
It’s telling that the change I’m experiencing now is showing up around food. That I’m reminded of my divorce. Because in a way I’m dealing with another kind of divorce, taking another step in separating from my birth family.
But it’s not just the physical separation. It’s the emotional and mental separation that is just as important.
The thing is, I’m already where I want to be. I’m already living the life I want to live, and happy in it.
Now I just have to catch up with myself.
Your sharing once again stirred emotion and tears in me. Definitely things I’ve felt too and you stated it all so eloquently. Always know you don’t walk alone and kindred spirits are with you.
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Maria — these mushroom pictures are wonderful. Hope you do something more with them.
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It’s good that you are finding your way out of all the old patterns. I am 75 . One day in June 2018 it was as if I was struck by lightning. “I’m going back to New York!” The problems this involved were staggering, but it was going to happen because I knew it was what I had to do. Since the day I left Seattle everything has become so clear. I keep remembering how all sorts of things used to bother me or make me feel bad and now it is all so obvious to me why. It is very freeing. It is in a large part because all the players in my story are long gone. I’ve had a chance to communicate with my brother and we have compared notes, filling in some blanks. There are still triggers but I recognise them now. I have actually been writing about it, calling it “Behind the triggers.” I don’t know that anyone will be interested but the writing in itself is useful. I am so glad you have found happiness, Maria. It is so elusive. You know, when Jon wrote about you, when you first met I thought you were meant for each other. Fate (not your dog!) brings people together at her own time.
Is it on your blog Carolyn? I didn’t see it, I will email you about it. I’m interested in reading it.