Friday, August 11, 2006

Lithe Season: The Beginning

I wanted to begin beautifully.

I awaken in the morning. Do some cleansing ritual. Emerge from hydrotherapy room (that's my bathroom) looking amazing in hot yoga outfit. All day lipstick on already. Mascara. Hair just right.

I go into my bedroom and begin with a prayer. Stretch. Salutation to the Son. Deep breathing. Mindfulness. More prayer. In fact, my body movements become a prayer. It's is everything being lithe is. Flexible, adaptable, hearing God's spirit, letting Him embody me. It is living incarnationally.

Beautiful dream.

Instead, I go to bed in the morning. I sleep too late. Too tired for cleansing rituals in the bathroom that stinks and still needs to be painted. Emerge from the bathroom with stale breath and unbrushed teeth in hot yoga outfit that makes me feel ridiculous because of how the fat rolls protrude unpleasantly. I didn't look like this in my imagination. No lipstick. No mascara. Hair a hot mess.

I go into my bedroom and feel guilty that I didn't start the yoga dvd. Contract. Avoid the Son at all cost except to think how sorry I am that I'm such a mess. Shallow breathing as if I'm always trying to catch up with myself, and I am. Fearing my heart is growing hard, God's spirit just a tiny voice drowned out by the endless monkey chatter in my brain. Live incarnationally? I don't think so. Praying once again, Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

Painful reality.

So, I don't begin beautifully. I begin with a bad day. A day where I over-ate and over-medicated on purpose, blunting out some long forgotten pain that I can no longer name, but feels so very familiar.

I don't think I've lived in my body for a long time. The evidence of that is visible. Fat rolls, cottage cheese thighs, a face I hardly recognize. Big hulking body that feels too big to be the world. I feel too much. Feel like I am too much. All this I see as evidence, pointing to all the food I've stuffed myself with over these years. My sin visible as a scarlet letter. I don't eat consciously. I eat too fast, as if eating is a chore that interrupts my thought life. I live most comfortably in my head. Or I eat to drug myself. I eat until I don't feel bad things anymore. And sometimes, I eat for reasons that completely bewilder me.

* * *
I like to dance, but I don't do it. I think a long time ago I told myself that I looked silly dancing, and I stopped. But I want to dance. There is a part of me, standing in the window, looking at the world, seeing color, and beauty, and dancing, and wanting to join in, but I just stand there, thinking of how great it must be.

* * *

Once I was a bulimic, weighing less than 90 lbs. I wasn't always that way, but he made me stand on the scale every day and he weighed me. He always knew when I ate something I shouldn't have. He would bombard me with questions. He like that I looked like a prepubescent little girl. I should have known how sick he was even then.

* * *

I only feel fully embodied when I make love. Unfortunately, you can't make love all the time.

* * *

I went to the Christy awards and saw my friend Donna. She said, "You look beautiful." I wanted to look beautiful. I wanted to feel beautiful, but I kept seeing so many tiny people. I felt like a whale. A whale in a black evening dress. I hated that I felt that way.

Later, Donna introduced me, and she talked about how we go out and just enjoy one another. When she said, "And when we are done, there's no more chocolate." I knew what she meant. She meant that we broke bread (or brownies) and gave of one another until too much time has passed and there are no more crumbs left because we savor our time, but there was a part of me that wonder if the people who heard would think it was because I ate all the chocolate. It appalled me that the thought of that crossed my mind.

I can't stand to look at the pictures of myself from Denver.

* * *

My highest weight ever: 185 lbs three months ago Lowest weight in years: 141 lbs in September of 2004. I lost weight because I knew I'd see him.

* * *

My first. Like magic, like a strange dream, there he was again, in my life. Oh my. He was better than he was back then. A man now. All man. Beautiful. Funny. Naughty. That first night we shared hours of sexy talk and I didn't feel like an overweight, middle-aged woman. I was seventeen again, only better. Smarter, funnier, sexier. I had learned a few things in the years stretched out between us. I could devastate him now, with my womanliness. Or so it seemed. We plotted to see each other, and all the sexy talk in the world wouldn't change the fact that I wasn't seventeen anymore. I needed him to remember who I use to be, only a better version. I needed to lose weight, fast, and beloved, I did it. I weighed 145 lbs when he saw me months later. I did the best I could. Yeah. We all say that, don't we? And we rarely do. This time I did. I ran, and my body burned with desire for him. I power walked, went to bed hungry, and refused to let him see me that way. I saw him in the summer. By the following spring I'd gained 10 lbs. Then another five. Then a new medication and thirty-five more. I couldn't believe how miserably I'd failed.

* * *

This is how I begin. Little bits of this and that. Telling the truth no matter how painful. Isn't that what this is about? Losing weight? All kinds of weight. I have no idea how to lose weight, but I suspect that one begins with talking about these things to the very One who created our bodies. I don't even know what to pray. I only know, it's just me and God. A fine man (who is NOT my husband) is not involved. I don't have a real agenda, except that I want to hear God. I want to live incarnationally, knowing the Holy Spirit lives in this house that is so easy for me to disrespect and disregard. I know it is time to move out of my head and engage my life. It is time to learn what Jesus meant when He said we shall have life, and that abundantly.

Maybe I'll fail.

Maybe I'll suceed.

I don't know. I only know that my heart is prostrate, and I am saying, "I am yours. Save me."

Lithe season has begun.

Please note that Lithe Season has it's own blog. All subsequent post will be there. You can also find the Lithe Season blog simply by going to my profile, which lists all my blogs. Thanks.


bobbie said...

again you call me out! your raw truth and transparency slay me mair.

i recognize my own triggers in your words and i am breathless at how skilled you are - your words like a scalpel cutting me to the bone.

i will be praying for you today as i face my own food and obsessions. thank you.

Kristine said...

You are amazing and raw and real and such a woman! I love you more than words can express. You are this person whom I have yet the pleasure of meeting face to face and yet you have made such a difference in my life. Thank you Mair.

CHickey said...

Your post wrenched my heart. I feel I know you and want to give you a hug. Thank you for being so real.

Romani said...

Thanks for your wonderful post- food is a medication for me as well, and also difficult for me to speak of. Thanks for your true, beautiful words.

God Bless!