Out of whack in more ways than one

Friends, my summer is not going so well. To be candid, I feel like I am receiving a metaphysical ass-whooping and I have no idea why or what for. I’m just confused and flailing around, and my out-of-whack emotions are making things difficult all around (and my out-of-whack neck feels like it’s full of angry fraying cables that are about to snap).

Work has been really difficult for me lately, and this week I had a mini breakdown that resulted in suddenly telling my boss that I’ll be taking all of next week off for vacation. I kind of rushed my way through asking for it, and didn’t really give him a chance to say no, because I was a little terrified I would fly off the handle and tell him what I really think, which is that I think I would have a nervous breakdown without a little time to myself. ‘Tis better to take an impromptu vacation than to suddenly quit, and I think my colleagues would certainly agree. Or at least I hope they would think that — this week I have been in such a miserable, desperate, shitty mood that it’s been hard to keep my inner yuckness from spilling out onto everyone around me.

This recent crisis feels a little bit like what happened earlier this summer, where I hated work but realized I wasn’t even doing anything, and I hated my body and was abusing it like mad with lots of crappy food and not enough exercise. I pulled out of it, but now I am stressed for some reason (cf the metaphysical ass-whooping) or many reasons (work is misery, home is messy, outside is hot, inside is boring). When I am stressed, something’s got to go, and right now that something is not only my desire to treat my body with love, but also gone is my ability to figure out what the hell I should be doing. Should I find a new job? Rededicate myself to my current job? Quit and become a full-time gardener and general layabout?

I’m just not sure. This seems to be a theme of the past six months or so. I find myself in situations where I can’t think my way out, and there’s not even a magical yet silly solution that sounds appealing (for instance, my gardening daydream actually sounds like a lot of work and makes me want to cry and feel like a failure before I’ve even begun).

Maybe I’m not loving myself enough. Or maybe I think that’s the answer to everything. If I love myself a little bit more, or more consistently, it will be easier to take my time and eat healthy food, to go take that extra walk, to enjoy the beauty in my life and love everyone around me, right? Clearly, loving myself more can’t hurt, but I admit I feel so lost and confused right now, and a little empty inside, that it’s hard to contemplate how I will pull out of this and have a new perspective on things. Here’s hoping that a week of downtime, a therapy appointment, a long bath or two, and a chiropractic adjustment will help me out. I feel mentally and physically out of whack, and black and blue, and all I want is to feel a little more like myself. And soon.

Self-love is a maze

Hi! Bless me, blogosphere, It has been 10 days since my last post. I didn’t go anywhere! I wasn’t sick and I didn’t fall off any wagons. I did have a little crisis of conscience, though.

The same day I wrote my last post, I had a really difficult therapy session and it seemed like all my healthy ideas and goals went whooshing out the window. Since then, I’ve been thinking and thinking about it, and going in little mental circles, and then trying to write about in my paper journal, and not quite failing but not making sense of it either. I realize I was waiting for it to really resolve itself before I wrote here about it, but now it seems like one of those large mental events, like a switch going off, where I have to rebuild a sense of momentum and security, not because I lost it but because my fundamental assumptions about life have changed. (Notice how I am writing alllll about the problem but not really mentioning the problem! This, too, is part of the problem.)

I realized that I like to keep secrets from myself. That is, I like to think I can. It’s taken me a couple weeks to figure out that maybe this is a case of Fat Thinking at work. The more mundane version goes like this: if I am ashamed of my body for being fat (a self-esteem issue I haven’t quite resolved), then perhaps if I don’t shop in a fat girl store or appear to dive for the last brownie then no one will know I am fat! Ridiculous, right? If anyone cares at all, they can just look right at my body and have their own private thoughts, end of story. I can’t control how others perceive me, only how I choose to perceive my self. This is how I try to keep secrets from myself: If I’m trying to improve my self-esteem, then I shouldn’t focus on weight numbers, because it’s getting fit that really counts! Ignore the fact that I don’t feel good in my body (back pain is a good example) because admitting I want to lose weight means I’m not focusing on self-esteem. Therefore, think about Health At Every Size and self-esteem all day long, and completely ignore that voice inside that says I want to lose weight (even though, as I’ve said before, I secretly think that pursuing my Good Girl goals of fitness and good food will lead to weight loss anyway).

But! Where am I focusing my energy? Every morning I refuse to drink water until I’ve gone to the bathroom, done my 10-min morning exercises, and taken a shower, at which point I weigh myself and record my info at Physics Diet. I try to eat healthily, but I don’t plan out meals and I totally abandon healthy eating on some weekends, and then get frustrated on Monday when I’ve gained a pound or more. My therapist asked me, what will make you feel good? I didn’t hesitate to respond, “lose weight.” In essence, I’ve set myself up for failure if I have a secret goal of weight loss that directly conflicts with my other goal, which is to accept myself for who I am.

Pondering all this, a good friend prompted me to think about whether I would accept stagnation in my career because I thought I was “supposed” to like my job, when in reality it sucked and my ambitions were higher. The answer of course, is no — I would work hard to get where I wanted to be, no matter what! When it comes to my body, though, I’m stuck in this rut where pursuing my goal of self-esteem means I’m not supposed to pay attention to weight loss. Because after all, what happens if I exercise my lungs out and couldn’t lose weight? Shouldn’t I work for self-esteem now so that I reap the benefits no matter what size I am?

There’s an obvious solution to my conundrum. And that is to accept the fact that I can love myself and still want to lose weight. (And not because I’m scared of judgment, but maybe because I’m sick of back pain. Or so I can do those Yoga poses that have eluded me.) I think I’ve been wandering in this maze of confusion for a couple weeks because I just couldn’t quite accept that premise. It explains why I struggled and struggled against the idea that I could work on loving myself and also work toward weight loss — doesn’t that mean I’ve given up on my current body? Sigh. Somehow all my work on building self-esteem hasn’t sunk in, because this week, today, I’m struggling to love myself and move forward toward my goals. It’s hard to know what it looks like. Maybe I’m doing it already, I’m not sure. All I know is that suddenly the mental work of being my best self became a lot harder than it was before.

Anyway. I’m not feeling resolved about all this. But this is as far as I’ve come so far in trying to think about, around, and through this thorny issue.