Before leaving the house this morning I dabbed on a small bit of Love oil that I bought from Charleen. My plan for the oil was to make bath oils, but it smells nice as a perfume. Little did I know what sort of affect it would have on me today. My side intention might have been to encourage the guys at work to be nicer to me and be a little compassionate, or perhaps to somehow cosmically attract the man of my dreams in some strange twist of fate. What I didn't expect is that it would encourage me to feel more love and compassion for myself. A Witch of so many years, and still I fail to see.
Sometimes it gets tough, sharing my weight loss story. There are so many implied expectations, sometimes from others, but mostly from myself. Expectations that I should be this super-fit Primal superhero. Wonder Cavewoman.
Why of course I eat only wild animals and vegetables I forage myself. Oh yeah, pull ups, push ups and squatting twice my body weight are a piece of cake. I do that every day, and I can sprint like a cheetah and catch rabbits with my bare hands.
Ok, maybe that's a bit overboard, but you get my jist.
I've been Primal for almost 3 years now. In that time I've lost 50 pounds (past the conventional 75) and regained about 35. Some of it might be muscle, but clearly not enough. I see photos of myself at my whispy 125 pounds and lament that I'm not there now. I wonder if it's worth running 7 miles a day and meticulously counting calories to get back there. Sometimes the answer is yes. Sometimes, no... not really.
I am not a Superhero.
I can't run far or fast.
I can't do a pullup.
I'm not a size 6, or even a size 8 anymore.
I sometimes binge.
I'll never wear a bikini.
I will never have my bellybutton pierced.
I don't look good naked.
I am not a Superhero.
Today I had compassion for myself, for not being able to hold up to my own expectations. I don't want to be obsessive about what I eat, or how much I exercise. I just wish it would come as naturally to me as it seems to for so many others. And then again... maybe it doesn't for them either. While there's a side of me that's ashamed that I sort of dropped the ball, there's another part of me that just wants to love and appreciate my body for what it is.
In the grand scheme of things it won't really matter how much I weigh, or what my jeans size is. It won't make anyone love me more or less, and if it does, screw 'em. Right? But what if I'm the one who won't love me?
This is the tug-o-war I live with, a love/hate relationship with myself that I may never understand. Logic says that if I just accept myself everything else will just fall into place. Can it really be that easy? And if so, why is it so damn hard to do!?
It's a struggle to not over-think everything. How much to exercise, to eat, to fast... what to eat and when. Constantly calculating, processing... obsessing about not obsessing. Eat enough feed my body, but not too much or I'll get fat. Gah! It's insanity.
I swear former fat people's brains are broken. At least mine is.
So what to do about it?
Break the cycle.
This is a spiritual struggle as much as any physical & emotional struggle. I need Artemis' strength to be a warrior, and I need Hathor's compassion to Be Ok.