lotus

"You look really skinny today," my friend noticed.
    "Ya, it's cuz I'm weaning Beckam.  It's the last 10 nursing pounds."
"Oh...the magic 10 pounds.  Aren't you so happy?"
     "No...not really," and I almost started crying.

I feel like I'm loosing substance.
My body is just mine now.
I fear my ocean's tide will pull backwards, into a life I've already known.
Now that I get to do whatever I want, will old waters rush in?
I have permission to be skinny.
Along with it comes an implicit allowance to avoid food all together.
I don't have to eat for anyone's well-being but my own.

Luckily I am nestled in the center of a hundred reasons to be alive.

In Buddhism the lotus flower is a symbol of rebirth and awakening..
The blue lotus symbolizes the spirit's victory over intelligence.
I have known many women with eating disorders.
We know more about nutrition than any other species.
I can tell you how many calories are in just about anything.
I usually know the fat, protein and carb count too.
I know which kind of exercise produces lean muscle.
No fad diet passes without showing up on my radar.
HCG, Atkins, Fat-free  Weight Watchers, Raw, Acai berries,
Intuitive Eating (which for us, isn't actually a diet at all...)



All of this knowledge served as a club with which I beat myself,
either into submission or shame.
"You may only eat eggs."
"Fat is unacceptable."
"Carbs are unnecessary.  You can and should burn only your own body fat."
"Anything not grown in the ground has too many calories, and you don't need it."
Just as I viewed myself with a magnifying glass, the diets themselves exploded into absolute mandates.
If I veered from the absolute in the slightest, I had to binge because I had already blown it.
Then a purge was necessary so I could stay alive.

In the end, my thinking brain is not so reliable as I thought.
For years I have carried a duty to it.
The bag is packed with college books and the expectations of my father.
Even as a young girl of 14 I would engage for hours with him.
My thinking brain matching his, trying to keep up and walk with his elongated strides.
In early recovery, my prayer was, please help my brain be in its proper place.
Please take my fear of not listening to it.
In the end itt is my spirit that rises to the top of the sludge just like that flower.