I am a Bright Liner
I want to have peace of mind around food
I want to walk without pain
I want to have better bloodwork
I want to wear size 12 jeans
I want to sleep better
Reading this list of why I want to lose weight, and checking off each day that I do read it in my gratitude journal is becoming a better habit. And I find myself repeating the list at odd times after first trying to remember what they are! Wait a minute, what was the first one? Oh yea, peace of mind. Then what? Hmmm... and so on. And then repeating them in order. It's so crazy, it's as though a part of me doesn't want me to have access to this list so I actually won't remember why I want to lose weight.
Which brings me to my parts work yesterday. I fought hard to not put just one more cookie in my mouth. There it was, sitting all alone on the counter in a snack cup - which makes me feel good now that I think about it that Cal can leave a cookie uneaten! Go him! Anyway, I reached out to my tough chick and asked, is this you that wants to eat the cookie? Because I really don't want it. But she just looked over to a younger child, slowly shaking her head. "This is you?" I ask the little girl quietly, and the memory surfaced unbidden. Her memory, her sadness, her need to fill.
It's easy to see that we have different parts inside of us, being born of trauma while our personalities were developing as babes and children - throughout our whole lives really. But to realize that they have distinct and separate personalities from our 'own true selves' is a little disturbing. They can highjack my brain? My thoughts? My intentions? Yes, it turns out they can. I met this new one yesterday. She is about eleven years old, and writing 'dirty' words on the bathroom wall in lipstick. It's a vague memory, the actual deed, but what I remember most clearly is being lined up with my brother and sister and interrogated by our parents as to whom had done this thing - as if it was intended to hurt them.
I see now that I was screaming out for attention, for someone to notice that my brother was molesting me and to make it stop. Why we can't find words to just ask for help is beyond me to understand. I know as an adult that it's the most difficult thing in the world to speak truth to power to those closest to us. There must be a survival mechanism at work here that keeps the words from leaving our mouths. Don't rock the boat or you will be thrown off? I don't know why it's such a strong trait, but it has done me a great disservice both in my childhood and in my more mature years. If only we could just speak plainly and truthfully more often. but I digress.
I thought briefly about apologizing to my mother and siblings, but there has been enough grief around this topic (the molestation, not the lipstick) and I have no wish to open this wound. I think realizing why I did it and forgiving that little girl who stood with her lips sealed instead of confessing under pressure is the important part of this revelation. Because I do forgive her. She tried hard in her own way to ask for help, and I have to respect that. No longer will I feel guilt for not confessing when pressed to do so. Could it really have been such a mystery? Didn't my parents suspect? No one ever reached out to me wondering why anyone would do such a thing. No. Just the interrogation, like we had done something horrible to them. There is a relief in me, letting that go, loving that little girl and finally after a life of guilt letting her know I understand and forgive and accept what she did on our behalf. Don't get me wrong, it hasn't been a 'present' weight in my life - just a memory that would pop up from time to time that was filled with regret and extreme guilt that I wasn't able to tell the truth. Being more clear of mind and doing my parts work has let me really see the bigger picture this time the memory surfaced, that's all.
I go to this little girl, huddled on cold tile, straggly sun-kissed hair drooping around her face, and lift her chin. Wipe away her tears. Sit with her and hold her close. I let her know how brave she was, and how thankful I am she was strong enough to try to help. I let her know we are older now, and ready to leave all this behind us. We get up and take a walk outside around to the back of the house where my grandfather once had a garden. I show her the sunflowers growing tall and bright, and tell her my secret. "You can put your sorrows into the seeds of those flowers, and they will turn into little black birds and fly away. And you can stay and play in the garden whenever you want; we can be happy now." And I leave her there digging peacefully in the dirt, the sun shining on her face.
She is not the first part to release pain in that garden, and I can't help but wonder if there are more to come. And so the healing continues.
Today's food (10oz veg lunch and dinner) Yesterday was so good it's just a repeat
- b: rice, beans & cheese, oranges
- l: chopped salad, meatballs, bleu cheese dressing, pears & blueberries
- d: soyrizo, chili corn mix, cream cheese
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