Tag: #diet

My Terrible Twos

chris-benson-411764Journal entry

6/4/17

   As my sister slept on a flimsy air mattress on the floor to my studio, which was probably like sleeping in a palace to her considering all of the festivals she’s been to, I walked over to my mother as she finished her morning coffee (because you know you have to wait for mothers to have their coffee before you get serious about anything) I pulled her over to my kitchen nook and asked her if she had a minute to talk. She looked confused and concerned as we sat down across from each other. I apologized to her for the years of suffering I had caused her through my addictions, foolish behavior, and disrespect in the past. Though I’ve apologized before, it was very vague, and I felt I owed her an apology that was more specific and sincere. My hopes and expectations were that she would be happy about my apology, accept it, hug it out, and move along our merry way, but it didn’t go quite like that…..

She titled her head down so her gaze peered over her glasses strait into my eyes. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m sorry that you were put in such a poor situation that you had no control over when you were a baby. I remember what you said yesterday about babies being like sponges, and it made me think about what you must have went through at that time. ” She went on to talk about how my dad went manic and was hospitalized when I was two (which I knew, but never really thought about what it must have been like for me). Things turned to shit as my mom tried to keep everything together as she panicked. My grandparents flew in from across the country freaking out, and I was there unable to understand and process why he was gone and why the energy was all over the place. Basically my sponge of a brain was soaking up madness, and confusion. My mother ended with “Things were never the same after that..”

A week later (today), as I sat on the front porch waiting for my therapist to see me, I saw her old Boston Terrier starring and me curiously through the glass door. Once again, the door opened and she stood there flawless with a smile. I sat down and immediately started to vent about my regression. Though I’m better than I was before I started all of this, my thoughts about food and my body checking have slightly increased since my last visit. I blabbed on about how I haven’t been feeling as good since my mother and sister visited a few days ago, even though I had a great time with them. One thing lead to another and I told her about my meditation this morning where I cried out of nowhere, like a soccer player who dramatically leaps and falls to the ground in agony after an opposing player brushes up against him. I Also mentioned later that I gave an apology to my mother while she was here, having no idea it could have everything to do why I’ve been feeling out of whack.

So, all of these emotions are coming up “randomly” now because I didn’t process them when I was two. The door opened when, for the first time, I entertained the thought of what life must have been like for me then. Can I just fast forward to me happy, in love, with a bangin’ body, an awesome career, and a ton of money? Is there a way to skip the whole feeling like shit part of processing old emotions?

You know that feeling when you’re playing mario kart, or some race car driving video game, and you drive off track and spend the next minute anxiously waiting, watching all of the other cars pass you by? Maybe you don’t know what I mean, but I can assure you, it isn’t a good feeling, and that’s how I’m feeling now. I definitely feel like I fell off track even though I’ve continued my meditation practice. It seems as though ever since my mother and sister visited last weekend, my “I’m transforming, life is beautiful” phase has turned into. “What the hell. Why am I not enlightened yet??” I realized it’s kind of like working out for a few weeks, and then getting pissed off that you didn’t win a body building competition.  

hOMe sweet hOMe

 Folding my 1,000th towel, like I had been in the housekeeping industry for decades, I questioned why I was staying at this job that didn’t fulfill me in the slightest. Is this out of love or fear? I asked myself as I heard the sound of men grunting and slamming weights on the ground like they had serious daddy issues. The fact that even came to mind was enough of an indication to know this was the latter. Still, my mind refused to make a decision easily.

That week, I weighed the pros and cons about as many times as I thought about food, which is to say those were basically the only things I thought about that week. Some of the cons were, I don’t like any of the things I have to do at the gym, one of the girls treats me like shit for legitimately no reason and acts like mother Teresa to everyone else, a lot of the people there I don’t feel comfortable around, when I’m not at work I think about how I don’t want to go, and when I’m there I count down the minutes until I’m out. Pros were money and free gym membership. Though I made the decision a million times harder than it needed to be, and was still nervous about money and what I would do next, I put in my two weeks notice and felt relieved to have finally done it.

I was aware of the gym’s policy that after quitting, I was not allowed back in the facility for three months, even if I wanted a membership. Totally a logical rule because my five foot nothing stature was surly intimidating, and they must have needed a break from feeling inferior I suppose. I thought I’d spend the next three months using all of the free gym trials around town because free is basically my middle name, and hope that by the time they’re all up, three months will have gone by so I can go back to my old routine of HITT classes and BodyPump. The longest trial around town was at a nearby yoga studio, so I chose to start there even though yoga for me at that time was like a soap opera. Long, boring, and overrated. I figured I had nothing to lose considering they had really nice studios and showers, and yoga sculpt, which was basically a HIIT class disguised as yoga.    

After my first class, I turned to the girl to my left who was sweating like she just took the ice bucket challenge, and said “I’ve never hated to love something so much in my life.” The rest was history. I began a work exchange program there, where I mopped up sweaty floors and yoga mats for an hour and a half a week, in exchange for a $20 a month unlimited membership. Not only did I meet Allie a few months later, but the beginning of another significant event happened then as well. 

  Fast forward a few months later, and my eyes widened like a Californian yogi just discovered they ate something with gluten in it. $2,500 was the number staring back at me. Immediately my decision to get my yoga teaching certification began to waver. I noticed in that moment that my excuses that were firing out about money and time were all fear based, and this all happened too serendipitously for me not to see what would happen if I followed through. As I handed over my credit card, I gritted my teeth like I was watching one of those videos that show up on my Facebook newsfeed of people making poor choices, and I know they’re about to hurt themselves. Once the transaction was made, I felt a sense of relief that I had made the decision. The relief made me know by making this choice, I was following my heart and not my head.

It made me aware that most of my anxiety comes from not making a decision, and once I actually do, I feel a million times better. It’s like when I went on a bungee swing in New Zealand. Suspended hundreds of feet in the air, dangling like a piece of bait, I looked down full of fear, nerves, and excitement. Once I made the choice to pull the cord and drop, only the excitement remained, which turned to pure joy as I swung and stared at the magnificent cliffs, luscious green trees, and lake that surrounded me. It’s the prolonging of making a choice that so often causes the anxiety and confusion. When I follow my heart and stay in my truth, pure joy is inevitable.

Though I had no idea what to expect, and didn’t even intend on becoming a teacher, I knew only good could come of it. If anything, I thought it would give me something to write about, and that it did and so much more. Slowly I began to notice people perceiving me as the type of person who would go out to eat with a rolled up yoga mat, wanting to order a BLT with gluten free bread, and no meat. To be fair, that’s not too far fetched.

 

 

 

A Food Junkies Journey

IMG_2428 (1)Life from my perspective was a complete tragedy. The only things keeping me from taking my own life at that time, was that it would cause my family so much pain, and this deep sense of knowing that I was going to somehow get out of this shit hole, and create an amazing life for myself.

I was lying on the floor in someone else’s house, crying as though I was a child who had just discovered Santa wasn’t real. Lost, lonely, relapsed, stranded, broken, broke, and confused, were just a few words to describe my state of being at that time. All I could wonder was why I chose to move to California because at that point it felt like the world was trying to tell me my time was up.

At that time, I had just crashed my car, and my plan to travel up north and find a place to live in the Bay area abruptly came to a halt. My destructive thoughts were running rampant, like someone trying to find their phone when they know their crush is waiting for a response. It was hard for me to do anything but pity myself and my circumstances, but I knew I had to keep going. Not in a persevering or heroic way, but because I literally needed to find another place to sleep.

After a copious amount of confusion and angst, I booked my stay at a retreat. Esalen is a retreat on the cliff of Big Sur, with hot springs full of naked people, food for days, and workshops mostly consisting of people who you would picture walking around barefoot with flower crowns, putting sage all over everything, and practicing kundalini yoga before sunrise. I went for a writers workshop in hopes to get out of the writers block I was in. With my insecurities bigger than my belly after a binge, I figured I’d keep my clothes on in the hot springs, get as much out of the food buffet as humanly possible, get out of my writers block, and have a place to sleep for a few more nights as well.

Next thing I know, I’m sitting there on a bench overlooking the ocean, but unable to appreciate its beauty. The sky was as blue as the cloth I would imagine a stork carrying to deliver a baby boy. The water washing up on the rocky shore below me, was crystal clear, like the tears that were rolling down my cheeks. With no home, no car, and resurfaced addictive thoughts and behaviors, I questioned what I had gotten myself into, and how much longer I had left to live if I kept this up. This leap of faith seemed to be turning into a leap of failure.

I felt a pain in my chest so deep and full of sorrow that it couldn’t be ignored. Sitting on the bench, I lifted my gaze and starred out at the magnificent cliffs of Big Sur, and the glistening water of the pacific ocean. With an aching heart, I thought to myself “My heart needs this.” I brought my awareness to the pain and acknowledged its presents without judgement. “Hello pain.” I thought to myself “I need to feel this contrast and pain to evolve and move forward, but I’ve felt you long enough, and you can go.”
The pain instantly vanished. I had caught my brain feeding me these lies that life was awful. It was as if my awareness made my ego flee in disappointment and embarrassment of it’s discovery.

Profound insights and circumstances were taking place, and it was only just the beginning. That night I took out my notepad and wrote “HELP” in bold letters, and closed my eyes as I prayed to the air and fell into slumber. Not soon after opening my eyes the next morning, help is what I got, but not in a way I was expecting.

Shortly after my fourth round of breakfast the next morning, I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to survive another episode. I was legitimately scared for my life, and was under the impression that I would surly be rushed to the ER if I tried again. I was hoping that when I asked for help, a mentor would have miraculously come into my life, or I would have mustered the courage and strength to stop because I had enough. I asked for help, and that is what I received in the form of scaring the living daylights out of me, and causing my body to start falling apart.

After that, I stopped my addictive behaviors with my newfound determination. I’m sure the fact that I thought I would be dead soon otherwise contributed to the change as well. Wasn’t really the way I wanted to go out. I knew I came out to California to find more of what my heart needs to evolve and become a better version of myself, not to have my heart stop entirely. That being said, the destructive thoughts and behaviors didn’t end there. This was only the beginning of a very long journey of recovery.

Stay tuned for more and like and follow my blog posts if you enjoyed! ❤