For the past week, I’ve been dealing with a semi-stressful situation that kind of knocked me off my foundation a bit and made me wonder “Oh god, am I really cut out for this whole writing/website/openly-being-who-I-am thing??”
And I didn’t write anything, because, naturally, that’s what you do when you’re gripped with an irrational fear of putting yourself out there.
Last night, I finally took some time to sort things out, do a little housekeeping, light a candle on my desk, and make the attempt to reclaim…what? I’m not sure. My space in the world? My mental happy place?
Something like that. Only pretend I used less cheesy terms than I just did, okay?
I’ve got a million things going on right now that all feel like they’re pulling me away from myself, and I’ve always resented that feeling. I’ve got a class I’m taking (disability studies FTW!), and hospital work to do, and some sort of volunteerish stuff, and maybe writing a Big, Important Paper with someone I admire.
And as much as I truly want to do all those things, and freely chose to sign up for them, when they start becoming The Enemy and I start feeling like The Captive, I know I’m in trouble.
Incidentally, this is all related to that intrinsic motivation thing I mentioned the other day. And to the whole making-friends-with-yourself thing, which is sort of the whole raison d’être of this blog.
So, I recognize that it’s time to get reacquainted with my reasons for wanting to do these things — just as it might be periodically advisable to get reacquainted with your reasons for, say, eating well, when you start to slip back into authoritarian mode and getting all “shouldy” and finger-pointy with yourself.
We all do it.
My first step in the reacquaintancing, as it were, is to remind myself: I don’t have to do this. In fact, I don’t have to do any of this. If I look at things realistically, there are very few things in this world I have to, absolutely have to, do.
One of them is breathing.
Another one might be eating and imbibing fluids — and even then, it’s just enough to get sustenance into my mouth. There are no rules about how well I have to do it. Just enough to stay alive is good enough (and you’d be surprised — I once lived through a period where I basically just ate hashbrowns, toast, and milk. And another period of frosted strawberry Poptarts. Not that I’m recommending this course of action — I’m just sayin’.)
And then there’s sleeping and going to the washroom.
Anything else? No, not really. This is the bare minimum required to sustain existence. So, what I’m saying to myself, which I find comforting at times like these, is I DON’T HAVE TO DO JACK SHIT except survive. I could dump all my “obligations” tomorrow, in the most unceremonious fashion possible, and I would still be a human being who deserved to live.
I start to feel better almost instantly.
Now, since most of us are interested in something more than rudimentary existence — if you’re not, I’ll gently suggest you may want to seek some kind of counsel. I’m a little more well-acquainted with mental illness than I’d like to be, and I can tell you that this is one of its distinctive calling cards — the second step is to take stock of what on earth you’re doing.
I mean, do you have a reason for being here?
Do you have something that makes your heart beat a little faster, just thinking about it? Are there people you love, things you want to see, art you want to create, or just little ineffable ripples you want to send out like Morse code across the big old pond of human affairs?
I do. First, I have a sort of working morality that’s developing as I blunder clumsily through my days. There are people I love, many of whom are far away in a place I’d like to get back to. There’s my husband, who is my buddy and my co-pilot and co-philosopher and co-conspirator all rolled into one. Then there’s writing, which I can’t even explain my attachment to, except to say that without it, I don’t think I’d be fully me, and I seem to crave doing it every single day.
And then there’s the fat nutritionist thing.
I’m passionate about nutrition, which is pretty weird for someone who thought seriously she’d be either a theatre major or a fiction writer someday. I’m passionate about helping people get to the happy place with food and their bodies. I’m committed to it, and it’s become incorporated, inextricably, into who I am.
These are the things that matter to me. And every one of the things I’ve decided to do with my time contributes to one of these things. In addition to being satisfying in and of themselves.
I want to do these things. They are not the enemy.
And I don’t have to do everything at once. I don’t have to write every blog post in the world at once, or have all the research for the paper done instantly, or take on every job remotely related to mine at the hospital. I don’t have to do all the readings and complete all the assignments for my course RIGHT NOW.
I just have to keep the pins in the air, like a juggler. Touch one spot, do one thing, write one thing on a list, move forward an inch. Be in the process.
Plan a good meal. Read a new recipe. Wash a dish. Get reacquainted with the good things you’ve chosen to do for yourself.
But take a breath and be there for it.
I took this picture on Sunday. I like the bee.
12 Comments
Lovely. So beautifully written :)
I’m coming back from a major depressive episode in which my comorbid anxiety disorder was finally diagnosed– which was a relief but also scary, because once you acknowledge it, you can’t pretend it’s not there anymore. This post reads like it came from inside my head, except I think I’ve lost the ability to be that eloquent. Thank you, both for letting me know that it’s not just me, and for giving me an external resource I can come back to when I’m too freaked out to find it on my own.
I find all this fascinating. I am heading towards 50 at a rate of knots, having spent 75% of my life so far on a diet of some kind. I love food – I love to cook. I had my diet ‘checked’ or whatever you like to call it by my GP. (I eat better than her). No packet meals or any other junk here, and yet – yes I am fat. Do I want to slim; you know after all this time I don’t really know! Want to get away from the good food/bad food thing too – and have recently started eating chocolate; which I had avoided all these years. Very interesting site – thank you…..Moragx
Dear Michelle,
We’ve met on Twitter, and I’ve come to here to get to know you a bit better. So glad I did.
I love this post. Love your openness, your humanity, your allowing us a peek into you just being you — no phoniness, no pedestals. And love the conclusions you come to, especially that the things we choose in our life are not the enemy, and, e can also choose how, when, and how much to do them.
Heard a phrase the other day for the “shoulding” on ourselves we all get caught in sometimes — “musterbation”. Funny, but sadly, it’s rather the opposite of the “a” form of the word — neither restorative or pleasurable. Still, I suppose, both are parts of the getting-to-know-and-love-yourself journey.
AmpleHugs & SunflowerSmiles,
-Anne
Hey Anne!
I have totally heard of “musterbation!” Apparently Albert Ellis was some kind of pun machine.
Were you/are you a member of BFB? I think I recall seeing your name there, from years back.
At any rate, thanks for coming to check out my new site, and for the kind words.
Hi Michelle, I just found your site and I love it :)
I feel the same way as you do – do I really want to be putting myself out there like this? I just started a blog about my binge eating disorder, and every day it’s a struggle to write something – because of course, everything I write is so very personal. I can always find something else to do, other than write a post.
But like you, it always comes back to the intrinsic motivation, making friends with myself, and knowing that by putting all my stuff out there, it might help someone else.
Thanks for your site. It it nice knowing there are other people out there dealing with the same daily stuff that I am.
Hey Kelly — I’m so glad you linked me to your blog. I am trying to learn more about binge eating just now, and I really appreciate people having the guts to talk about what it’s really like. I look forward to reading your stuff.
This struck a chord with me. Thank you for sharing it.
I love this post. I can appreciate the feeling of ‘dislocation’ I hear you saying.
I am still in the process of reconnecting my body to whatever it was that left (or perhaps escaped!) as I tried to keep up with ever growing masses of assignments, essays, volunteering, working etc.
That missing part has come home…I am just trying to tie the harness a little tighter this time.
Hey, I can’t view your site properly within Opera, I actually hope you look into fixing this.
Really?? Uh oh.