Tag: recovery

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If you jump, you best jump far.

tec

It’s funny.

I just had this moment.

I finished eating. I helped L with something. Then, as I walked to the kitchen, I thought, “Well, I’ll just have, like, a bite of something else.”

No rhyme. No reason.

The thought arose. And the brain, by habit, entertained.

And then I chimed in–my voice.

Stop.

Enough.

<Cue the quiet>

~~~~~~~

It can come out of nowhere–that initial thought. It can sideswipe you or blindside you. It can be for a reason or not. It can be a great day or a terrible day or a neutral day. It can manifest from nothing or be the icing on the cake. It doesn’t discriminate.

It will come.

And whenever it does–every time it does–I have to remember my who. I have to remember my why. I have to remember my how. And if I forget, I have to get the hell back up the moment I’m reminded.

Today I didn’t forget. Today I didn’t have to be reminded. Today I knew.

That makes today an easy day.

adventures in quarantine, Uncategorized

I can live and breathe and see the sun.

tec

Alright. As my week wraps up and I review the hellish “through not around” that I waded in with my daughter this week, I want to take the opportunity to note some tangible tools I have learned.

Embrace the steps.

Step one. It’s not about me. It’s unmanageable. It’s not mine. Step two. Someone else has got this. Step three. Take a step back and let it be that someone else’s. Step six. Practice the pause.

I realize I’m skipping four and five here.  It’s not to minimize them. Those ones have deeper digging. They do not pertain quite yet within my immediate, tangible action.

Create the tiniest gap.

My goal–that I haven’t taken much time to write about–is that I want the voices in my head to quiet. That quiet is the peace I am aspiring to. That quiet is a return to my best and highest self.

When the thought loops run rampant, as they are wont to do unchecked, I spiral out. I want so much more than that for myself. I am so much more than that.

I have options. I can tell the voice to fuck off. I can turn my attention to constructive actions. I can write down the thought loops and walk away from them. I can mantra in my head “words and opportunity”. I can ask to have it taken away. I can journal longform about it. I can ask myself “Am I acting from a place of love or s place of fear?”

Whichever I choose, the act of pausing and deciding creates a gap for the universe to come in and support me.

Move.

This is just a good go to on any day. Gets me simultaneously in my head and out of my head. It grounds me to the earth and the universe. It provides the connection back to self.

Reality is kinetic.

Perspective dictates that not only can people have entirely different experiences to the same situation, but those experiences can morph and muddle with time. Reality can shift and transmogrify, and none of it is real and all of it is real. Whatever we remember and however we filter it creates a picture through our lens and it becomes our truth.

This isn’t good nor bad. It’s life. This is something I’ve always been aware of, but I had many attachment thoughts about it. It is now clear to me it is something I need to accept. I don’t have a “how” for that right yet. But all the other tangible things I’ve come to acquire this week tell me that I can ask for the how and then I can wait and it’ll be given to me when I need it.

So….I’m learning to do the work and also just stop. Both and neither. Click click and click.

~~~~~~~

I want to add. My process normally is that I write and then I share and talk about it with Chris. I’ve found in the past that when I talk it over first, I never write about it, and I don’t like losing that part.

I’ve been trying to write this particular post all week and none of it came. It was too wordy and circumvented all the tangibility.

I was finally able to, yesterday, share with Chris the events that unfolded over the week. His week began with a seizure and recovery, and mine was full of navigating Tuesday with R and the week with the boys.

After connecting with Chris last night to share the story of my week, and after he listened so attentively and responded so compassionately, it allowed this post to flow easily. We were us, with all the extra personal growth we’ve worked for. It is goodness.

adventures in quarantine, Uncategorized

All the right ways.

tec

Monday morning this thing happened.

I thought about how the previous week the scale read 150.0 pounds even. The exact number. A tenth of a pound less and I would have been able to officially ring some imaginary bell of excellence or success or I don’t even know what.

But the universe needed me to wait. And I get that. I’m down for whatever lessons I need to learn. And so I waited. No sweat.

Then Monday arrived and I limit scale curiosity to once a week because ocd. I woke up and did my regular routine of appreciating my body and feeling my skin and my ribs and my hips. I felt good in my skin. Content.

When I got on the scale, it was almost alarming.

20200622_082708

Holy numbers, Batman.

It makes me smile to think of all those years, trying so damn hard to not focus on the number, and the number never budging. Now that I’m keenly focusing on all sorts of other places–really honing in on purpose–the scale freaking jumps. The universe is fun.

This could have been a thing that tripped me up, as it did many times in the past. Such a “win” used to feel terrifying and I had been the girl to sabotage wins. You wanna know what I did this time? How I proceeded after stepping off the scale?

I did the same. damn. thing. I do every day. I follow routine and I stay actively engaged in my health and my family and my well being. I continued to purge my garage and build healthy relationships (Beth came over), and lead with faith and love instead of fear and doubt.

And none of it is fucking easy. It’s work. And some days it feels less work, but still it’s work. Above all else tho, it keeps me safe and happy and gives me the freedom to bring my best self to this world. And for right now, that’s the goal.

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I’m right there.

tec

I’m not really sure what’s up with me today.

It was a good day by all accounts. And yet, tonight I found myself eating. Hell, this afternoon I found myself eating. I checked in with myself. Nothing really felt off. But here I was, eating.

I snacked when I don’t normally snack. I ate more, even if not a lot, after I snacked. I noticed I was doing it and was, like, curiously detached?

I checked in with myself even!

And still, I don’t know what it was about.

If I’m being honest here, I want to say that I didn’t check in fully. But I checked in. It’s a start–in this strange land of practice.

It really wasn’t about quantity today. It was this odd, nuanced quality. I don’t know what the thing was that triggered the response, but today I just…I wanted to give in a little bit.

I wanted the comfort of the familiar.

Unfortunately, it’s a short-lived comfort and what little it worked a month ago, it works even less now.

I ate some after 7. I ate some after 8 even. I could have eaten all night. It would never have provided anything.

In hindsight that is sad, but at the time, the “sadness” or “mourning” of that loss were not feelings that registered for me. What I thought about was “what feelings triggered this?” I didn’t come up with anything. But I asked the question. Which means I’m learning. And eventually, even without an answer, I stepped away and went for a walk instead.

Then tonight I was going to go to sleep. And then I decided to pick up the kitchen a bit. And I committed to writing this post, but then I found myself getting ready to wash the dishes and I thought, “damn, girl, whatcha avoiding?”

And I don’t know. But I traded the sponge for the keyboard and showed up for myself.

I got it all down even if I still don’t really know what the “what” was.

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Can’t you see the sunshine?

tec

It’s fascinating to me what a difference time makes.

Here we are, always chugging along. Some days feel like molasses while others feel like that bowling lane oil. Yet we all just keep going.

Then sometimes, along with the going, we slowly change. We grow and evolve and become. With action, we are always becoming.

Nine years ago I was in therapy saying “I love myself, I do, but if only I was thinner, I would feel like the work I’ve been doing actually did something. I feel so fat. I just want to not be 160 pounds.”

My therapist, in all of her incredulous glory, looked at me dumbstruck and said, “You’re not fat. 160 pounds is average.”

I tried to argue that because of my lacking height, 160 pounds was much more on my body. That my body was not made to be 160 pounds. That I knew I was so much smaller than my body had currently allowed.

She wouldn’t budge.

She asked what it would mean to me if my body was just meant to be 160 pounds.

I stomped about it. Metaphorically. As I often did about things. I didn’t want my body to be meant for that.

And then life moved along.

Fast forward all those years. The last year, I have indeed come to think of my body as average. I look in the mirror and I feel neither fat nor thin. Just regular. I don’t feel my body makes me an outlier on any spectrum. I’m average. I’m comfortable.

My goals center toward health and strength. And while I still have a picture in mind of a number on a scale and having less hips in the mirror (not no hips, mind you! I love my curves), those things are fuzzy background images. The foreground picture is health and centeredness and a love of my body no matter what.

I’ve done intermittent fasting since last November. It was a boundary point as I learned to navigate food and feelings and life and safety. I remained 157 pounds no matter what I did. Sometimes it would fluctuate a pound or two, but then back up it went. In the past, I would have said I was stuck there. But I never feel stuck anymore. I’m too busy navigating more important to me things.

But my point. My point is that I’ve looked in the mirror for the last couple months and I feel good about my body. All the while staying 157 pounds. And it was okay. It didn’t trip me up.

The last couple weeks I’ve been really proud with my relationship with food. Consistency has loaned me momentum and that switch in my brain has allowed consistency to not feel so grueling.

Earlier this week I weighed myself and I am 150 pounds.

It’s not about the number. It’s about the fact that I’m paying attention to the right things this time and life followed suit. That is very cool.

Most days growth is like molasses, and time is just chugging along. Other days–those rare beautiful days–the molasses thins and I can suddenly see all the progress my growth has afforded me. Today is one of those days.

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For all the roads you followed.

tec

There’s a thing I do with food. To not make things about food.

I decide.

It’s not always easy. But it’s simple.

And the more times I do it, the more often it is just easy.

In November I decided to intermittent fast and have my window be 9am til 7pm. Soon I decided to changed it to noon til 7. That felt okay until no behavior changed beyond the decision.

Enter more decisions.

The last couple weeks I’ve really driven into not only who I want to be, but who I am. Not only entertaining what my future ideal self would say, but also what I want to say right here, right now.

I don’t want it to be so grueling. I don’t want it to have to be so hard.

So I decide.

And then I execute the decision.

An eating window always benefitted me because once I had food, a switch turned on in my head and I couldn’t “off” food. I didn’t off food. But the eating window just shortens the issue. It doesn’t address it.

After weeks of thinking “what would the future, ideal Jill do?” and sometimes answering honestly, and sometimes fooling myself, I finally realized it was all just a stopgap.

It’s all important and I’ve needed it all as part of my journey. But I need something that feels more sturdy. I need something that makes all the chatter dissipate. I need the quiet.

Deciding helps bring me more quiet.

So I eat my meal and then I make the conscious decision “Don’t eat anything else for an hour.” And then I execute it.

I focus my energy and action elsewhere. I write or clean or play or move my body. I do the thing that quiets my mind.

And eventually I eat again. And then I decide. And then I execute it.

There’s no stomping or loss or grief. It feels like healing.

It’s not easy. But it’s easier than it was last week. And it’ll be easier still. I’m not ignoring myself or my feelings. I’m not distracting myself or skipping out. I’m just choosing to thrive in growth instead of drown in food.

It’s a perfectly imperfect system. I’m no robot. This is about being human here. I get tripped up and I go again. Getting back up is just as vital as decide and execute. Getting back up is decide and execute.

I know that in time, as consistency lends to routine, and routine turns to habit, it will be the foundation that changes the behavior, which is the whole point. It will be the answer to the question “what would future, ideal Jill say?” that I’ll no longer have to stop and ask myself. Because I’ll just know. Because I’ll just be.

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My own two feet.

tec

It’s been an interesting few days of viewing food and myself more objectively.

It’s been an interesting few days finding peace and delight from non food things.

No sense making the whole thing about food. It’s also about the feelings. And the safety. It’s about the sadness and grief and heartache. As well as the joy, pleasure, and contentedness.

I could psychoanalyze myself all day. And often do. But I think what I’m learning most is I want to just stop. Sometimes.

I am looking for peace.

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Step down from this.

tec

I’m stomping. Oh my lord, I’m stomping. But I’m doing the damn thing too.

Damnit.

I’ve teetered all week on what I want my last 30 day food exemption to be for the next 90 challenge.  Last month I teetered too. Eventually I just decided to continue no ice cream.  But it kinda felt like not deciding.

I know snacking has been my downfall as of late. I know my body has been feeling kinda blah as a result. I know my food consumption has increased. I know I haven’t been ready to do anything about any of that. I know I’ve been afraid to lose the crutch.

Every morning I wake up and think maybe today will be the day I commit to no snacking and/or tostitos/pretzels/cheese puffs/chips. And every day I haven’t.

Today I thought maybe. And then when it came time, I thought maybe some more. And more again. And then instead, I chose a new question, and a new answer presented itself. I made carrots sticks with peanut butter and raisins.

I broke the cycle.

I don’t feel strong enough right in this moment to speak to what I might choose next time. Maybe it doesn’t matter. I dunno.

What I do know is that that very first moment means something. I’ll remember it. It’ll reinforce the thing that needs tending to. And then perhaps it’ll provide my answer for me when the time comes.

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The resolute urgency of now.

tec

I am a woman who eats her first meal and then focuses her energy on other endeavors.

I am a woman who is fulfilled by productive action.

I am a woman who acknowledges that some moments are hard but also manageable.

I am a woman who finds the silver lining in every moment.

I am a woman who looks for joy in every second of life without exception.

I am a woman who knows that goodness comes around.

I am a woman who falls and gets back up.

I am a woman who revels in every opportunity for personal growth.

I am a woman who sometimes stomps her feet but always does the hard thing anyway.

I am a woman who shows up for herself and others.

I am a woman who calls random experiences adventures.

I am a woman who is overcome with elation that she exists.