Yoga

I find my body to be so sore sometimes, so stiff.  Sure, I’m about to turn 54 and I have led a mostly sedentary life, but, I think the stiffness and soreness is partially mood related, particularly my body being cranky about how lousy I treat it.

Yoga helps this for me.  It makes my muscles tingle and feel important and cared for.  It makes me feel proud of myself for doing something.   It helps me feel like “I” am residing IN my body, instead of elsewhere...like I actually feel like the thing I call “me” is located in my body.

That may seem strange to some, but, from my reading I see that it’s not uncommon among those of us with an eating disorder.  We often do not feel like we reside in our own bodies!  We are disconnected.  We have a mental image of our body that doesn’t even sync up with the reality of our body. Sometimes, we think of ourself as much closer to “normal” than we really are, that’s to say, an idealized version of what we think is socially acceptable.  Those times are what get us in trouble when we look in a mirror or see ourselves in a photo, because what we see does not match our own inner picture.  It leads to shame and binging.

Sometimes, however, the opposite is true too.  Sometimes we think we are much bigger than we really are.  The shame is raging during these times.

Basically, for me, I float between these two states of being.  Often I see another woman who is also overweight and I ask whoever I’m with if I am the same size.  I legitimately don’t know.  I am really asking because I have no idea.  Often the response is, “No way!” Because, of course, it’s “wrong” to tell a woman, especially one you care about, exactly what size she is.  I don’t know why I ask sometimes, because I don’t really ever trust the answer, but sometimes it feels good to get a compliment, even if it isn’t sincere.  I don’t ask for the compliment though, I ask out of legitimate confusion.

We all have “ problem areas.”  Things we don’t like about our appearance.  Some can be changed and others not.  One of the things I don’t like is my hanging tummy.  It causes me actual trouble and shame.  I don’t care if it’s an artifact of my pregnancy (something I am proud of having accomplished/experienced) or not.  I often fantasize about having it surgically removed.  When I am doing yoga, however, even when that bubble of shameful skin physically gets in the way of a pose, I feel compassion for my body.  For my belly.  I breathe into it.  Or, more to the point, I allow breath into it.  I allow it to exist without hatred.  It feels nice in that moment to do so.

I’d love to be able to carry that belly acceptance with me all of the time.