Overcoming overindulgence

When Facebook descended upon the world, and everybody’s high school friends started stalking each other online… my former classmates were QUITE surprised to find that I was… fit. If there had been a category of “Least Likely To Exercise’, that would be me. I weighed about twice of what I do now – pudgy face, huge pear shape, and was so disconnected from my body that… I had no idea I was fat, and didn’t care.

I failed P.E.

My eyesight wasn’t great, so my lack of depth perception made me wary of any team sports involving a ball. I was always picked last when deciding teams. We’d play land hockey, and being picked last I’d end up the goalie – where the boys would gleefully aim for my legs, instead of trying to score. I simply quit going to P.E., rather than suffer the humiliation and internal seething anger. A couple of my more compassionate classmates tried to have an intervention with me, and pleaded for me to come to class and not fail – but I was resolute in my ‘no.’. I had all A’s and B’s in my academic subjects, a resounding F in physical education… and no regrets.

I ate sweets as to console myself. I was an unhappy kid, for pretty legitimate reasons; but didn’t have the coping skills to process things or anyone to guide me through. So, I did what felt natural – I stuffed those difficult emotions down, along with countless ice cream sundaes, chocolate bars, and sugar-laden cappuccinos. It made me feel decadent, and deserving. (though only for about an hour or so.) Later, I was still left with the anxieties and fears, and the cycle of comfort eating became ingrained all through my tender teenage years. I ate processed foods, to quell unprocessed emotions.

Once, my aunt tried to have the conversation with me that I should consider trying to lose weight – and I was absolutely shocked. ‘Who, ME?’ I indignantly thought. ‘NO way! I’m not overweight! I’m just FINE! How dare anyone tell me I needed to lose weight?’ The denial, and the dysmorphia were so deeply set, that I had no idea. I was disconnected from my emotions, disconnected from my body, rejecting anything that made me ‘feel’. I buried myself in books, in schoolwork, in art, in music; and thought that was enough… but it was all time spent being outwardly focused. Being inwardly focused, scared me too much to even contemplate.

Then at 17, I left home to begin my own life in a bigger city. I was able to make my own choices for once, and not feel nitpicked or chastised by family, or schoolmates. I could start fresh; nobody knew me or had preconceived notions of who I was before… so I felt that I could recreate myself on my own terms like the phoenix from the ashes. I became vegetarian, and joined a jazzercise class. (oh yes, late 80’s early 90’s!) Within months, I lost all the weight without even consciously trying to – I think the weight dropped ‘me’, lol. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it was pretty obvious I didn’t have a ‘weight’ problem – I had emotional problems, that started to resolve when I got out of the house and took charge of my life. It happened slowly, but surely. Spending time in my physical body working out, doing something challenging and feeling a strength I’d never tapped into before, getting out of breath and NOTICING my breathing – all these kinesthetic sensations were like a language I didn’t realize I had the freedom to speak. It was a new world, and again… I didn’t realize it at the time, but the physical relief I got from working out, started to translate into emotional relief by trusting myself to face challenges, rather than run from them.

I remember the first time I saw a shoulder muscle in the mirror. It was a watershed moment – I was absolutely taken off guard. Me? A deltoid muscle? I suddenly felt like I had joined the ranks of Madonna, or Linda Hamilton in Terminator 2. I had a MUSCLE, and vowed in that moment Never. To. Lose. It.

Working out became part of who I was, a way I could prove to myself that I was worthy. that I was tougher than the kids that bullied me at school. My body certainly got healthier, but my mind was still pretty trapped in a vindictive circle of egotistical self-gratification. I went too far in the other direction of where I started, and over-identified with my body rather than finding a happy medium; at the gym sometimes twice a day, because… I had nowhere else to go. I still didn’t know how to have friends, to relate in any meaningful way. I had swapped my addiction for sweets, to an addiction for exercise-induced endorphins. I had trouble sleeping. I didn’t menstruate. The only way I could relax at all, was to exercise so hard that I’d drop from exhaustion – so, I did a lot of that. When I still couldn’t sleep I finally surrendered to getting professional help… in the shape of hypnotherapy, traditional therapy, and… yoga.

I had done a LOT of traditional therapy in my life, since childhood. While it was comforting in the moment to share things that you just couldn’t confide in other people with, to tell your stories without shame or fear of judgement – it didn’t last. As soon as I’d walk out of the door, my fears, my alienation, my walls were waiting for me right outside. But yoga brought something different; I couldn’t put a finger on it, but I’d feel relaxed, more recovered, like things were ‘kind of’ okay. Just a little bit. But yoga created enough of a chink in my armor, that I wondered what it might be like to feel… more. It was perplexing. So, I kept showing up, uncoordinated, scared I wouldn’t fit in with all of the cool friendly people, still feeling the grief of always being picked last in high school. Often, I’d sit in the parking lot of the yoga studio overtaken by self-doubt, wondering if I actually had the wherewithal to walk in and be… part of something. Sometimes the self-doubt would win – and I’d drive away. But more often, I started to stay, to feel like I had a right to exist, that I could belong and not be the complete odd ball out that I was used to being.

Once, before the class started – the teacher, Grace, asked me to help light some tea candles in the front of the room as she was cramped for time. I was so taken aback – the TEACHER, noticed me? And furthermore, trusted me to help her with something? For me, that was like arriving at a place I never thought I’d be; recognized, trusted, and useful. You’d think I had been asked to light candles at the Vatican, I was so honored and taken aback (which is also a testament to how lonely and alienated, I had formerly felt.) This was in 2001, but the emotion is still as vivid for me today. Grace changed my life in that moment in a way she probably didn’t realize at the time, and maybe will never know. I wish I had told her – while writing this, I know that today, I will.

I wonder how many more of us have created these watershed moments for one another, completely unknowingly? We say things, offer kindnesses or just small talk, and it can mean worlds to people in ways we might never know. The little things we do may seem insignificant – but it’s very important that we do them. The connections, recognition, and trust we instill in each other moment by moment – weave the tapestry, of humankind.