I'm having a weird day.
It's probably a response to many outside factors:
-Current political climate (hurray! anxiety!)
-Career worries (how the fuck does anybody reenter the work force?)
-Financial stress (single income household, anyone? Bueller?)
-Gonna be honest- general discontent/jealousy/depression (how the fuck does half the damn world afford to go on vacation right now? You know who needs a vacation? My family, my hardworking husband, ME?!)
-I finished a crazy involved, hella depressing book about the end of the world last night. It was 800 pages, and I read it in 7 days because I am a psychopath who believes if she isn't writing, she better be reading so she can better herself as a writer. Anyhoo, it made me feel very down on the future of the human race, and beyond that, anytime I finish a really big book, even if it wasn't my favorite piece of writing, I always feel a bit sad that it's over. It's like a strange misplaced nostalgia for a time that never was.
-For some reason this week, I've been not into my yoga. Right around Christmas, and all month long, I've been doing about 20 minutes of yoga every morning, with my personal favorite yoga videos by the amazing, mega babe, super witch Sadie Nardini. BUT as I've been working on listening to my body more, being intuitive with both my eating and fitness habits, every morning, when it got to my customary yoga time, I just didn't want to. So even though all the voices in my head were arguing that I should do it anyway, instead, I've taken a deep breath, had another cup of coffee/tea/water, whatever, and skipped it.
-Finally, the last reason I feel "off" is because last week I walked 40 miles with the babe. And this week, for one reason or another (too cold, too wet, too windy), I have barely walked at all. Which is great if you're trying to power through an 800 page novel, but not so great if you are severely lacking in fresh air and vitamin d.
So there, text evidence that I feel all kinds of jacked up for totally valid reasons.
Here's the shitty part,
my brain took all of that anxiety, all that stress, all those negative vibes that have built up in the last five days, and channelled them into a body hate powerhouse.
It started when I was brushing my teeth and I started worrying that they were too yellow.
I found a tooth bleaching kit (god knows how old it was), and used a pair of the films. It took ten minutes. After, I thought for sure I would feel better, but the weird part was I didn't.
From there, I went to playing with the baby. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I still felt like something about me was wrong. I drank another cup of coffee and had three of these chocolate zucchini muffins I made yesterday. I didn't do yoga. I tried to relax.
I then tried to take the baby on a walk, but it was too windy. We instead killed some time at a cafe down the street. I had a chai and tried o relax, but my plans to meet with a friend fell through, and that made me sad. I've felt very lonely this week. One of my closest friends in the world moved three hours away at the beginning of January (like this girl came to my house almost every day when the babe was first born. She's probably spent more time with me and him than my family and other friends combined). Another really close friend moved to the next town over, and she may as well have moved three hours away. My third closest friend went away for two weeks, and only returned yesterday. We were supposed to get together, but I had to cancel last minute because the baby was showing symptoms of getting sick (of course he's fine today). My sister too was supposed to come hang out one day this week, and she cancelled because she had to get ready for a crazy wonderful vacation she is taking to an island in the pacific for the next two weeks.
So I've been lonely.
There's kind of a horrible note to being cancelled on when you're a stay at home mother...like people just take it for granted that you won't have anything better to do than wait around for them and their "real" responsibilities to be free.
So after the baby had waved at everyone in the cafe six thousand times, and I had exhausted myself chasing him around, I strapped him to me hoping he's fall asleep and let me at least get a little sunshine.
I'd only gone about half a mile, when the wind began blowing ferociously, and it woke him up so he could scream and fight in the carrier as I rushed to get home.
Once home, I made a spinach and banana smoothie, with a nice big handful of peanuts mixed in for protein and texture. The baby chilled out, and we played on the floor until lunchtime.
All this lead up to a very odd moment...
After his lunch and more playing, the baby was sufficiently tired to try napping again. I'd had a phone call from one of my friends and was feeling a little less hunchback in the tower-y, and I was surfing around online, nursing the babe when an article on haircuts caught my eye.
I took my hair down and looked at myself in my phone camera. I didn't necessarily hate my hair, but it didn't resemble anything as flashy and pretty as what I'd just been looking at, and it reminded me of how I won't go to a salon and get my hair cut because it feels like an unnecessary waste of money, but I really miss feeling pretty. A familiar torrent of thoughts tumbled down my brain.
Why aren't things better/
Where did I go wrong?
What am I not doing right now that could make our lives so much better and easier that we can get haircuts and go on vacations and drink wine and eat brunch?
This thought process was followed immediately by a series of completely nonsensical desires/placations.
You should buy a box of hair dye! Yelled my brain.
Yeah! And a bottle of wine! Shouted another part.
Ooh, and while you're at it, get some chocolate! Said a third.
I sighed then and felt my heart plummeting as I answered each voice.
You can't dye your hair. You can't leave the baby to dye your hair in the bathroom for 45 minutes!
Why would you drink wine? If you're alone and you drink to cheer yourself up, then there's something wrong with you. You don't have any friends to come drink with you, so you don't have another choice. Plus, do you really think it's wise to have a glass of wine at two in the afternoon when you have a baby to look after?
What? Do you just want an excuse to stuff your face with chocolate so you can feel like an extra big failure because you only ate out of an emotional response, and didn't enjoy it at all?
So I sat and I pondered.
Then my stomach growled.
I was hungry again.
I got up, maneuvered around the kitchen in the super awesome mom way that has become second nature to me now, and I made myself a bowl of yoghurt with banana and peanut butter.
It wasn't a lot, and it wasn't unhealthy, but I ate it kind of quickly, and as soon as I finished my whole body lit up with shame.
You failure, my brain said.
It felt exactly how I used to feel after a binge.
I felt shame, powerlessness, disgust, and worst of all that sense that I was terrible at being a grown up.
If you've read this far, I commend you, because it's been a slog, but the point I am getting to is that is how insidious disordered eating and terrible body image is.
I am not a failure.
I have done nothing wrong.
I am taking care of myself, my baby, and doing my fair share of the work keeping my family running.
I am allowed to feel sad.
I am allowed to feel disappointed because I can't go on vacation. I am allowed to feel lonely because my friends are far away or busy.
I am allowed to want things and be upset that I will have to wait before I can have them
NONE OF THESE THINGS REFLECTS WHAT I LOOK LIKE OR HOW I CARE FOR MY BODY IN THE NEGATIVE!
It's insane that I have to keep reminding myself of this stuff, but the disorder is like a parasite, dug in so deep that it's hiding in places I would never have thought to look. It's okay though, because the more of it I find, the deeper I go, the more I realize how dug in it is, the more of it I dig out of me and as soon as that shit sees light, it fucking vaporizes. Like a vampire at dawn, that bloodsucking, soul destroying line of thinking is powerless against the cold light of the truth.
My body does not reflect my worth.
My body is a means to experience pleasure, and I am allowed to decide how and what kind.
Respect your mind, it will help you find and destroy the mindfuck.
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