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bookofmirrorsI'm cut-tagging this partially 'cause it might get long, but mostly 'cause this is a hard and scary post to write, and it gives me the illusion that people might not see it, and I'll be safe. Yeah, yeah, fucked up, I know.
Interestingly enough, the same day I originally started thinking about this, was just about the same day that
Savage_Rose and 
Journiey were posting about the same thing. It took me days to even read those entries, 'cause it was so fresh and scary in my mind. I mention that 'cause I wonder if there was something in the air. But I'm not talking about anything in their entries, 'cause this is all about me. *sticks tongue out*
Anyway.
So, I was at therapy 2 weeks ago, and the subject of my weight came up, as it sometimes does. We were talking about alternatives to fast food, ways to eat healthy with such a busy schedule, and whatnot. All doable, good ideas.
As I was leaving, though, I felt my own resistance to it. The masochistic defense structure as defined by Core in me resists any type of "help" in this area. The more someone wants me to do something, the more I'll stubbornly resist, even if it's something I want for myself. So, Pam's helpful hints came across to me as pushy, and I resisted. I've done this all my life, with regards to my weight (as well as other things). The more someone tries to help me, even when I've asked for it, the more I resist. But this was the first time I really *acknowledged* that resistance, and explored it. I didn't explore it long, though, 'cause at some point during that exploration, I had an extremely vivid vision.
It was of myself, shrinking in fear, pulling my own fat around me, like a cloak, to protect me from whatever I was afraid of.
Now, understand, I read all the same books, watch all the same TV shows, etc., that most do, regarding weight. Probably moreso. And that idea, that fat is a protection, is certainly nothing new. I mean, it's everywhere. Everyone *KNOWS* this. *I* knew it.
But I'd never felt it.
I'd never felt that terror, that desire to hide, and had such a clear sight of using the fat itself as something to hide in. After years of paying lip-service to the psychobabble, I grokked it.
So, for the two weeks after that, I kinda tried to wrap my head around that. Maybe not always in the best ways. Sometimes, I ate poorly on *purpose*, just to defy anyone who might want me to lost weight. (That would include me, really.) I listened to my body, to see how it felt. I gleefully, guiltily, thoughtfully, thoughtlessly did whatever I wanted with food, and just paid attention to how that felt. (Most of the time.)
By the time therapy rolled around today, I still wasn't exactly sure what to do about it.
I had acknowledged, to some degree, my internal "no" about losing weight, but I really hadn't come face-to-face with it. I wanted to do that. I wanted to face it, and move past it. I wanted to acknowledge, face, and move past that fear that I'd experienced.
Except I wasn't really sure how to do that. I mean, it's hard for me to go into therapy with an agenda. I kinda go, and start talking, and whatever comes out comes out, and, of course, is always just what it needed to be. Going in there with a sense of direction seemed ...well, false.
Now, keep in mind, I have what I consider to be an EXCELLENT therapist. Words can't describe how fabulous I think she is. If I had a shitload of money, I'd send all your asses to her. :) (Of course, Core isn't for everyone. I know![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
boastful is happier with Leif than he was with Pam.) Anyway, my point is, intellectually, I knew if I went in there with an agenda, she'd help me get there organically.
Which is basically what happened, although not quite the way I expected, or necessarily wanted.
When I first went in, the room felt not-right. While I was waiting for her, I basically sat there and tried to breathe and be present, but the energy in the room felt so foreign, it was hard to do that. This is EXTREMELY unusual. That room is an extremely safe and comfortable place for me. When Pam came in, she said it was possibly 'cause the curtains were closed, and that having them closed for so long made the room feel funny to her, too. So, we smudged it with sage, and she smudged me, and I felt (and the room felt) much better.
I told her my experience from the last session (as noted above, in this entry), and how I had what felt like an artificial agenda to me. After talking about it a bit, she had me picture my fat sitting, separate from me, in a chair across the room, so I could talk to it.
I'm not really sure what was said at first. I know I felt somewhat disconnected from it. Partially angry at it, partially grateful to it, but not really fully in any feelings about it. I thought I felt very in my Lower Self about it, so she had me hit with the tennis racket for a while, but I found I wasn't really as into that as I thought. I talked a bit about how I don't always FEEL fat. I mean, certainly, carrying double my ideal body weight around affects every aspect of my life, but I don't see myself as fat in my mind's eye. When I picture myself in certain positions and whatnot, the picture in my head is very pleasing, with a beautiful line, but nothing close to the reality.
(Note: This is not the time to chime in and say things like, "But you ARE beautiful!" and the like. That's not the point. I may (or may not) be beautiful as a fat person. The POINT is, in my mind's eye, I'm not even overweight.)
So, I sat in the chair where my fat was, and tried to be my fat, and talk from that place.
It was extremely difficult. Not because I felt anything very strongly about it, but because I got very schizoid about it. (I'd link to my version of the Core definition of that, but I ...ummm... am kinda late writing that particular paper.) I couldn't stay present, I couldn't hold a thought. My fat was ...hard to describe. Not really there. Like, every time I tried to focus on it, I got this "These aren't the 'droids you're looking for" kinda thing. It was transparent, without substance. Cloaked, like a Romulan Warbird, with only a momentary ripple in the starfield to show it was there at all. I couldn't pin it down. It was the man behind the curtain. Down, down, down, I could see the Sabatouer aspect of it, the Wicked Witch of the West, doing her classic scowling and finger-curling "I'll get you, my pretty", but it was so far below, like it wasn't even there. Even the fat itself wasn't aware of it. I could see it, because of my vantage point, but it was so faint, and felt ...like it wasn't real. Like watching it on television. This was all I could really get out of this place.
So, Pam told me to go to the place of my Higher Self, and talk to the fat from there.
It was totally not what I expected.
From my Higher Self, I loved the fat. It was sacred, beautiful. And what my Higher Self saw was the fear. A child (a little boy, actually, which I thought was strange) cowering with his face in the corner, reaching back blindly to haphazardly and ineffectually slap at the air, trying to keep himself safe. My Higher Self felt compassion for it. My Higher Self wanted to take it by the hand, take it out of the dark room, show it the bright sunshine, the world, the beauty. To tell it not to be afraid, that it was safe. I was totally crying as I was relaying all this. It was amazing to me that there was a part of me that felt this way. And it was so clear, so pure. From this place, I could see the Wicked Witch picture, as well, but I saw clearly that it was an illusion. I could see the fat as it would be if it were transformed. A suddenly, but not explosively, expanding irregular sphere, multicolored, ever-changing, rainbow light. Beautiful. Behind the ugly facade, my fat was beautiful.
Therapy ended right about there. I'm still sorta assimilating all of this. One of my classmates has therapy after I do, and I was grateful to see him, to hug him after. Pam and I had hugged, of course, but it was nice to have someone else, and I really feel comforted by male energy, so I was glad he was there, and willing to hug me (he sometimes doesn't like to be hugged).
I'm not sure how I'm going to move forward with this. Lots of things to think about. On one hand, I'm encouraged. I've always said that, when it no longer serves a purpose, I'll lose weight pretty easily. I believe that even moreso now, and less as a cop-out. It feels more true than before. On the other hand, I was kinda hoping I could get it all out of my system in one session, and go home "cured".
Ha. Why do I still think/hope that sort of thing, when I know better?
Anyway, this is the first real progress I feel like I've ever made, on an emotional level, regarding my weight. That's encouraging. At the same time, I'm sure it's just the tip of the iceberg, as far as the emotions I'll be going through in this process. And that's scary as hell.
Interestingly enough, the same day I originally started thinking about this, was just about the same day that
Savage_Rose and Journiey were posting about the same thing. It took me days to even read those entries, 'cause it was so fresh and scary in my mind. I mention that 'cause I wonder if there was something in the air. But I'm not talking about anything in their entries, 'cause this is all about me. *sticks tongue out*Anyway.
So, I was at therapy 2 weeks ago, and the subject of my weight came up, as it sometimes does. We were talking about alternatives to fast food, ways to eat healthy with such a busy schedule, and whatnot. All doable, good ideas.
As I was leaving, though, I felt my own resistance to it. The masochistic defense structure as defined by Core in me resists any type of "help" in this area. The more someone wants me to do something, the more I'll stubbornly resist, even if it's something I want for myself. So, Pam's helpful hints came across to me as pushy, and I resisted. I've done this all my life, with regards to my weight (as well as other things). The more someone tries to help me, even when I've asked for it, the more I resist. But this was the first time I really *acknowledged* that resistance, and explored it. I didn't explore it long, though, 'cause at some point during that exploration, I had an extremely vivid vision.
It was of myself, shrinking in fear, pulling my own fat around me, like a cloak, to protect me from whatever I was afraid of.
Now, understand, I read all the same books, watch all the same TV shows, etc., that most do, regarding weight. Probably moreso. And that idea, that fat is a protection, is certainly nothing new. I mean, it's everywhere. Everyone *KNOWS* this. *I* knew it.
But I'd never felt it.
I'd never felt that terror, that desire to hide, and had such a clear sight of using the fat itself as something to hide in. After years of paying lip-service to the psychobabble, I grokked it.
So, for the two weeks after that, I kinda tried to wrap my head around that. Maybe not always in the best ways. Sometimes, I ate poorly on *purpose*, just to defy anyone who might want me to lost weight. (That would include me, really.) I listened to my body, to see how it felt. I gleefully, guiltily, thoughtfully, thoughtlessly did whatever I wanted with food, and just paid attention to how that felt. (Most of the time.)
By the time therapy rolled around today, I still wasn't exactly sure what to do about it.
I had acknowledged, to some degree, my internal "no" about losing weight, but I really hadn't come face-to-face with it. I wanted to do that. I wanted to face it, and move past it. I wanted to acknowledge, face, and move past that fear that I'd experienced.
Except I wasn't really sure how to do that. I mean, it's hard for me to go into therapy with an agenda. I kinda go, and start talking, and whatever comes out comes out, and, of course, is always just what it needed to be. Going in there with a sense of direction seemed ...well, false.
Now, keep in mind, I have what I consider to be an EXCELLENT therapist. Words can't describe how fabulous I think she is. If I had a shitload of money, I'd send all your asses to her. :) (Of course, Core isn't for everyone. I know
boastful is happier with Leif than he was with Pam.) Anyway, my point is, intellectually, I knew if I went in there with an agenda, she'd help me get there organically.Which is basically what happened, although not quite the way I expected, or necessarily wanted.
When I first went in, the room felt not-right. While I was waiting for her, I basically sat there and tried to breathe and be present, but the energy in the room felt so foreign, it was hard to do that. This is EXTREMELY unusual. That room is an extremely safe and comfortable place for me. When Pam came in, she said it was possibly 'cause the curtains were closed, and that having them closed for so long made the room feel funny to her, too. So, we smudged it with sage, and she smudged me, and I felt (and the room felt) much better.
I told her my experience from the last session (as noted above, in this entry), and how I had what felt like an artificial agenda to me. After talking about it a bit, she had me picture my fat sitting, separate from me, in a chair across the room, so I could talk to it.
I'm not really sure what was said at first. I know I felt somewhat disconnected from it. Partially angry at it, partially grateful to it, but not really fully in any feelings about it. I thought I felt very in my Lower Self about it, so she had me hit with the tennis racket for a while, but I found I wasn't really as into that as I thought. I talked a bit about how I don't always FEEL fat. I mean, certainly, carrying double my ideal body weight around affects every aspect of my life, but I don't see myself as fat in my mind's eye. When I picture myself in certain positions and whatnot, the picture in my head is very pleasing, with a beautiful line, but nothing close to the reality.
(Note: This is not the time to chime in and say things like, "But you ARE beautiful!" and the like. That's not the point. I may (or may not) be beautiful as a fat person. The POINT is, in my mind's eye, I'm not even overweight.)
So, I sat in the chair where my fat was, and tried to be my fat, and talk from that place.
It was extremely difficult. Not because I felt anything very strongly about it, but because I got very schizoid about it. (I'd link to my version of the Core definition of that, but I ...ummm... am kinda late writing that particular paper.) I couldn't stay present, I couldn't hold a thought. My fat was ...hard to describe. Not really there. Like, every time I tried to focus on it, I got this "These aren't the 'droids you're looking for" kinda thing. It was transparent, without substance. Cloaked, like a Romulan Warbird, with only a momentary ripple in the starfield to show it was there at all. I couldn't pin it down. It was the man behind the curtain. Down, down, down, I could see the Sabatouer aspect of it, the Wicked Witch of the West, doing her classic scowling and finger-curling "I'll get you, my pretty", but it was so far below, like it wasn't even there. Even the fat itself wasn't aware of it. I could see it, because of my vantage point, but it was so faint, and felt ...like it wasn't real. Like watching it on television. This was all I could really get out of this place.
So, Pam told me to go to the place of my Higher Self, and talk to the fat from there.
It was totally not what I expected.
From my Higher Self, I loved the fat. It was sacred, beautiful. And what my Higher Self saw was the fear. A child (a little boy, actually, which I thought was strange) cowering with his face in the corner, reaching back blindly to haphazardly and ineffectually slap at the air, trying to keep himself safe. My Higher Self felt compassion for it. My Higher Self wanted to take it by the hand, take it out of the dark room, show it the bright sunshine, the world, the beauty. To tell it not to be afraid, that it was safe. I was totally crying as I was relaying all this. It was amazing to me that there was a part of me that felt this way. And it was so clear, so pure. From this place, I could see the Wicked Witch picture, as well, but I saw clearly that it was an illusion. I could see the fat as it would be if it were transformed. A suddenly, but not explosively, expanding irregular sphere, multicolored, ever-changing, rainbow light. Beautiful. Behind the ugly facade, my fat was beautiful.
Therapy ended right about there. I'm still sorta assimilating all of this. One of my classmates has therapy after I do, and I was grateful to see him, to hug him after. Pam and I had hugged, of course, but it was nice to have someone else, and I really feel comforted by male energy, so I was glad he was there, and willing to hug me (he sometimes doesn't like to be hugged).
I'm not sure how I'm going to move forward with this. Lots of things to think about. On one hand, I'm encouraged. I've always said that, when it no longer serves a purpose, I'll lose weight pretty easily. I believe that even moreso now, and less as a cop-out. It feels more true than before. On the other hand, I was kinda hoping I could get it all out of my system in one session, and go home "cured".
Ha. Why do I still think/hope that sort of thing, when I know better?
Anyway, this is the first real progress I feel like I've ever made, on an emotional level, regarding my weight. That's encouraging. At the same time, I'm sure it's just the tip of the iceberg, as far as the emotions I'll be going through in this process. And that's scary as hell.
