Yesterday You Tube took me down a fasting rabbit hole, maybe sensing my interest and loading ted talks about healing, and mental clarity. The TrueNorth Health Center is only an hour and a half from here, and if we weren't so tight on personnel at work I think I would just go and do a week's water fast. Hopefully I'll be able to do this come Summer, and will just have to tuck this plan away for now. In the meantime I'm going to add an hour to my fasting window so that I'm at 8 and 16, eating only between 8am and 4pm. Maybe if I am focusing on healing instead of bright lines in the middle of the night it will help bring perspective and motivation to my 2am eating syndrome.
Speaking of which, I did some visualization exercises yesterday. Initially I was seeing my tough chick shattered, like she was made of glass and I was breaking her apart in frustration and anger. As soon as I saw that I immediately put her back together and invited her to sit with me and chat; I've got to let these negative emotions go if I am going to have any chance of growth from meeting her. Deep Breath, then back to slow and calm breathing through the nose.
I have met three protectors now. The 'librarian' who sits with her glasses and long grey hair piled up in a bun on her head; she takes care of me because I haven't. The 'little girl' who was betrayed, and sticks up for me because I didn't. And now this 'tough chick', who feeds me because I starved her. I know these all come from traumatic events in my life, and that they are coping mechanisms that served a very real and significant purpose. And getting to know them, and integrate with them, is vital to my well being. But those were times I was unaware that I was fighting for my life, and it makes me afraid to face the time when I felt myself break, and knew a profound grief that almost destroyed me. And more damn tears threaten to break free, but it's Sunday morning, and this is not the face I want to present to my family. So I suck it up.
Maybe I should close the door and weep, but there is a fear that if I start I won't stop for a long time. My throat burns with the need of it, and still I resist. The idea forms to just start the work, and visualize the woman I was when my son died. So I will. I'll listen to myself and work on building that character, that part of me, so we can start doing the work. And with that thought the tears finally come, and I need to go lock my door.
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