I was expecting my weight to have gone up this week, because my eating has been erratic since my particularly emotional therapy session on Monday. I know I was feeling a lot of sadness and I remember addressing a lot of anger that I haven't yet processed, mostly because anger scares me, for a number of reasons. I grew up in a society and family, in which women were not allowed to show anger. They for sure got angry, because there was just so much to be pissed about, but the message that showing anger as a woman was not ladylike or it made you unpleasant or, perish the thought, a bitch, was subtly and overtly present, almost like an unwritten commandment. Living in Germany - a place where effective communication is more important than being tactful - for someone as sensitive as I am has proven sometimes difficult and very painful, but it has also taught me some very important lessons about communication, honesty, and taking care of yourself. I learned that, just like you can take holding your tongue to the extreme, so as to remain quiet even in situations that make you uncomfortable, you can take being honest to the extreme and use it as a sanctimonious shield that protects you from responsibility when your words are unfair and cutting. That being said, I do firmly believe that there are aspects of both that can be conjoined to form a happy medium: practising tact, having a good sense of time (when do I remain silent vs. when do I get loud), while still being an honest person. It's a delicate balance, but it seems like a noble thing to pursue. That being said, I would still take dodging arrows of aggressive "truth" over maneuvering loaded, tense silences barbed with passive-aggression any day. At least with the archer, I know where I stand. More than that, I've grown to resent this aspect of my upbringing - the one that created so deep within me the instinct to remain silent even when my insides are screaming for me to pipe up. This has been a struggle and I imagine it will continue to be, but I suppose life doesn't have to be about toiling under the weight of struggle, but living up to embracing it and becoming stronger for it.
It also came up in my session that, as a child, I lived in a constant state of waiting for the next fucked up thing to happen: waiting to be made fun of and rejected by other kids at school, waiting to hear my Dad's truck pull into the drive in the evening, waiting for something to trip his hair trigger temper (not surprisingly, it was perfectly acceptable for men to show anger), waiting to be in an uncomfortable situation that I felt powerless to protect myself against. And, conversely, waiting for the moments of reprieve I had to take when I could get them, waiting someone to swoop in and take me to a place where I could feel safe and comfortable, waiting for validation that, no you're not crazy, something is rotten in the state of Denmark. I realized that this set a precedent in my mind and body and, jesus, THIS is where that scared, nervous energy comes from. This morning I realized that this is probably also where my tendency to wait for happiness comes from. I cannot say for how long - most likely for as long as I can remember - I've been waiting for that big break in my career, waiting to lose weight (and waiting until then to accept and love myself), waiting for that moment for everything to falls into (and stay) in place. Intellectually, I knew that those moments are choices I can make now or they don't exist, but this sense of waiting on my heels - ears pricked and nose to the wind, ready to run at the first signs of danger - has never gone away. I've been physically putting down roots for years but, in my mind, I've been ready to flee. I've worked jobs, so, so many fucking jobs, and thought, ok, I am here for now, but this isn't it. This can't be it, but... WHAT IS IT? Only to be followed by, what the fuck is wrong with me? I think I assumed that this unrelenting sense of dis-ease was me expecting too much and not being grateful enough for what I do have. This could be part of it, but I think it goes deeper than that. Maybe, I have to first take root in myself before I can lay down roots in my life. Maybe I have to inhabit my body, wholeheartedly, before I can inhabit the world I've created for myself. This definitely feels true, but I know I have to untangle some vines, pull up weeds, and let in some light before I can expect my inner world to be fertile.
Wisdom and more wisdom. Yer on fire!
ReplyDelete