aka So you must blame your mom then, right?
No I don’t.
Your dad then?
I don’t blame anyone.
Don’t get me wrong, I look back at my past and I can easily point fingers.
If mom wasn’t so accommodating, if my dad wasn’t so budgetary. If the church taught more about love than fear, shame, and control. If that kid didn’t spit on me, or that girl didn’t call me ‘the thing’. If my coach had asked me why running was so important to me, if I hadn’t started running, if I hadn’t learned about eating disorders in my Psych class.
So many ifs, ands, or buts.
So many contributing factors that make it all so very complex, as most eating disorder definitions will attest to.
There’s many different ways the story could’ve gone. And perhaps there could’ve been a different middle, with the absence of bulimia.
But the bulimia wasn’t the end of the story. Today isn’t even the end of the story, but the bulimia has gotten me to where I am now.
I like where I am now. And so I am grateful for my experience.
Maybe I’d be here anyway, but with a different story to tell.
I often wonder how much of life we can prevent and avoid, and how much of it we have to go through as part of a necessary process to get us where we need to be. To what extent was I already scarred when I popped out as a pumpkin, calling for inevitable healing?
Sure, it was a crazy ass invitation that brought me through a fire, but on the other side I’m finding the person I was meant to be all along.
Marianne Williamson talks about Love being the only real thing. Any act or circumstance is either an expression of Love, or a call to Love.
There was not much I was doing out of Love throughout my eating disorder. But it was one hell of an invitation to find Love.
And it worked.
I often think, if I didn’t have such an extreme reaction, I could’ve easily just gone through life on a plateau, numbed out but coping. Things would’ve been ok. I would’ve had the house with the white picket fence, the 2.4 kids by now, maybe a dog.
But if I never learned how to actually Love, what’s the point? It’d be like living in a coma.
Now I am awake. I become more awake each day.
I never know what today is going to bring. Maybe it’s tears of joy after reading a note from a client who has woken up along the same journey. Maybe it’s tears of hurt and frustration after acting out from a place of fear, and having to pick up the pieces.
I have a sticky note hanging on my wall to remind me of something I said to Liberty a year ago, ‘I am willing for today to be something I can’t explain.’
I think of my life now as like a treasure hunt. What gold nugget am I going to find today? Sometimes it is sitting there bright and shiny and I can easily pick it up. Sometimes I can kind of see the shine, but it’s muted and needs some time to get dusted off. Sometimes the nugget is covered up in layers of hardened dirt that clearly needs some work to clean it off.
We often just want the shiny nuggets. Guess what though, they only start showing up when you’re willing to clean off the dirty ones as well. In my experience anyway.
One of my clients has summed it up best:
She’s been cleaning off the mud caked nuggets. And it’s been a bloody ADVENTURE!
How cool is that?
Yes it can feel hard, even impossible at times. Like banging your head against a wall; over, and over, and over.
But it opens up possibilities.
So I don’t see the point in blaming.
Sometimes I really want to; for a moment I think it will give me some sort of satisfaction if I can sit back and say, ‘see I told you so!’
But what good is that? Then that pain and hurt is winning.
I have found it helpful to talk with my parents about things that I’ve struggled with in our family dynamic. It’s been hard to start the conversation and a lot of times I put it off until another day. When we do talk about things, I walk away with more understanding. Less judgement, more love.
I doubt I’ll ever have an opportunity to talk to the kid who spat on me. That’s ok though. I’m not sure I really want to or need to.
I can still choose to forgive. From wherever I am in the world. Let go of holding on to the idea that I was wronged in that situation.
It doesn’t mean that he was right. But I can let go of being the victim.
Sometimes forgiveness is like those gold nuggets. Some are really easy, others take awhile to clean off and get to genuine forgiveness.
That’s where being willing to be willing to be willing to be willing to forgive helps 🙂
So for today, think about who or what in your life are you blaming? What if you could drop the blame and see that hurt, or that mess to clean up, as an opportunity to go on an adventure of a lifetime?
Or *should* I say ready to be ready? 🙂
Something to think about: Which is easier, blame or forgiveness? Which is better in the long run? Why is it difficult to forgive? What adventure is your life taking you on? What adventure do you want to have?
Your story matters. As part of ‘Bulimia Uncovered: 29 days to being your Quintessential Self’ we want to hear from you. How can you relate to what you’ve just read? Leave a comment below and share your related stories and pictures however you do best. If using social media use hashtag #bu29days and tag me so we can follow. We’re also inviting stories to feature on The True You Project. Email email@example.com if you’d like yours shared there.
Feb Food Fun giveaway! Want more tools to overcome judgement and shame, and be your quintessential self? Join the True You Project community and you’ll receive Your True You Journey, an 8 week self-coaching e-guide that will give you the tools to navigate through the mud and peel back the layers covering up your True You.