When I wake up, the first thing I do these days is snuggle with Tiger. His warm cuddly purring makes me feel much better about my life than any cold and mechanical scale number ever did.
A Visit from Old Frenemies
Yesterday, quite frankly, I was feeling discouraged. As I described during a recent episode on my podcast, I had fallen lately into the arms of my old frenemies, the Robot Aliens. For those new to this blog or who haven’t listened from the very beginning to all of the episodes of the podcast, Robot Aliens, are what I call the automatic binge behavior that takes me away from subconscious uncomfortable feelings. Robot Aliens are the distractors and protectors from conscious discomfort. I say,”Robot Aliens beamed into my body, thrust their robot arms into my sleeves and hammered those chips right down my gullet”.
This Robot Alien attack was disconcerting, because it has been literally, several months, maybe 6 or 7 months, since they have been around. Through journaling, telling “all” on my show, working in therapy and generally feeling good about my life, food has not been too much on my mind. My feelings have been apparent and present and for good, or for ill, I’ve been dealing with them.
Kicking Robot Alien Butt
One of my first instincts was to haul out the scale from the garage, step on it, notice the number and “Take my medicine”. After all, that would have been my reaction in the past. That looming and awful number would be enough to make me control those damned Robot Aliens with my awesomely powerful super-juiced-up renewed commitment to diet and exercise.
All it would take is one teensy step and I’d once again kick their Robot Alien Keisters and I’d get back into my skinny jeans and I would fit into chairs and I would feel better about myself and my life would be perfect…
I knew that was a lie. I knew I could go back on a diet/exercise plan, count carbs, calories, points, macro/micro nutrients, remove grain, remove dairy, add supplements, add super foods, join a gym, join a diet program, be a body builder, track my miles, my steps, my cadence, my pushups, my burpees, measure my strength, my distance, my shrinking girth, my growing self-worth…
I have done this all before. Over and over and over and over and over and over and over.
I have been thin. I have been a body builder. I have been on many programs for months and years. I’ve been a vegetarian, I’ve been low-carb, I’ve been a clean eater, I’ve added flax, omega 6 oil, vitamins, eaten 6 times per day, 3 times per day, had a sensible dinner, had a sensible snack, had baggies of veggies in my purse for parties, had dressing on the side, no bread, no butter, no wine, no dessert, added fruit, removed fruit, added whole grain, removed grain, ate low-fat cottage cheese, shunned brie, boiled up leeks and drank green tea.
And in the end, eventually, I still returned to being me.
Crying in the Wildnerness
Being me, used to be the worse curse in my book, for all of the wrong-headed reasons we’ve discussed many times on my show.
But now, am I REALLY so bad that I need to give up my intuitive progress?
I took myself on a hike to ponder.
I didn’t hurry up or down the mountain. I took photos and posted them to Instagram and/or Facebook when my phone would work. I listened to Alen Standish’s podcast, Progress, Not Perfection for inspiration. I listened to Episode 45 where Alen interviews Dr. Stan Beecham, a sports psychologist who has a very different take on success. It wowed me. Something that struck me was his pyramid of what we want/do/be. We begin with things. For example: I want a fit body. Then we move on to activities. I want to hike and bike. Then the highest level is how we wish to be as we experience life.
How do I wish to BE? Hmmmm…
I wish to be kind, filled with purpose, motivating, happy, authentic, fearless and content.
A diet won’t help me be those things. My chosen path of intuitive eating, telling you all my truth with courage and humility, accepting myself as I am and not waiting for a better number or size, for taking the good with the bad and processing the bumps of life with as much humor as I can… This is me. And after thinking it through, I’m very happy with that.
The scale can remain weighing cobwebs in the garage.
PS, Brave Companions, what I wrote was how I feel about my path. Your path needs to be right for you and how you feel. Please don’t think I judge you or feel you must do as I do. I love you all just as you are and respect you for choosing your own way.