For far too long I have been a slave to my inner critic and its lofty expectations. It seems that no matter how many pounds I lose, what GPA I attain, how clean my room is and expensive my clothes are, and how many friends and funny stories I have, the only response I get from this voice is "more, more, more. Don't stop now, you lazy slob! You pathetic loser! This is only the beginning- this is a fluke! You have to keep striving, keep working out, keep achieving, until you've earned..."
What? The right to live? A chance to breathe? A day to relax? Never, according to my bullying mind. There is no end point. Because if I lose the weight like I'm constantly fixated upon doing, then there's the constant vigilance to maintain it, the fear of those lost pounds creeping back on. The voice becomes even more frantic. And I'll tell you something- after eight years of this cycle, I'm exhausted. I feel like a bird in a cage that keeps being told to fly harder against the bars so that it can escape. And now I'm collapsed at the bottom of the cage, bruised and battered, feathers all over the place, and I'm finally ignoring the stupid voice that's screaming at me to get back up and fly against the bars of the cage, this time with all I've got.
I can't tell you how scary it is to ignore that voice.
This past semester, I told myself, was finally "it." I joined the Wellesley crew team (albeit the novice one), and soon was in the swing of waking up in the wee hours of the morning for our morning row or workout. Then it was breakfast with the team, a day packed with classes, another workout, and early to bed. I had things to do, places to go, people to see. Before I knew it, the semester was halfway over, and I found myself not miserable and gaining weight due to lonely despair as expected, but happy, social, and losing weight to boot. I actually liked what I saw maybe 85% of times looking in the mirror, which is unprecedented.
But then November began and crew ended. My own tried and true mania crept in. "Don't screw this up...." I heard the evil little voice whispering. "Don't sabotage things like you always do. You'd better get up tomorrow at 8am to work out so that you can get your two daily workouts in. What will you do if you don't get two daily work-outs?! Then you'll start not even getting ONE daily work-out, and then the descent will begin...."
So I followed the voice dutifully, also cramming in late open-mike nights to add to the end of the semester mania. By Christmas, I was tired, frazzled, and feeling puffy and bloated even despite my best efforts at continuing to slim down. After a couple of holiday breakdowns, I chalked it up to PMS and began to hit the treadmill for multiple hours each day. Problem solved.... I thought.
Soon it was time for this January's pre-menstrual wisdom, and man- whatever lessons I didn't face last time around, there was certainly no escaping them this past week. I have always had maybe too healthy of an appetite, but suddenly "voracious" didn't even begin to describe it. I was demolishing everything in sight! This was the opposite of cravings- after round 1, round 2 of ransacking my poorly stocked cupboard, I didn't WANT to be eating anything more- ever!- but the hunger pangs just kept coming and coming. The inner critic, of course, screamed at me to get to the gym to work it all off, but the low blood sugar after exercising made things 10 times worse.
I literally have never experienced anything like it- I contemplated calling a doctor, but called my sympathetic parents instead. They, and the concerned fellow residents of my dorm, urged me to try less of the intense cardio, more of the meat and protein that I usually avoid. So I took a lovely long walk through the winter countryside, came back, and ordered a large steak and cheese sub. It was divine.... and.... I almost didn't dare believe it.... satiating! I basked in the afterglow of the meat and the great outdoors, thinking I'd found a solution.
An hour and a half later I was hungry again. I ate yogurt and granola, and cried.
After a couple more days of inner battle, and hunger, and feeling lost, lonely, confused, and desperate, I decided to give up and head for home. I left a note for my inner critic telling it "Sayanora" and that it had 48 hours to pack up and leave. My head on the drive home was a-whir with thoughts of change and renewal. But this time, they weren't going to be exterior. They were going to be interior. My new resolutions were not to spend more time at a gym- they were to spend LESS. And not to eat less meat- to eat MORE. And to consistently find new ways to nurture myself, because my body and soul were starving to a point where I had no other option but to change.
I accepted that I might look a little chunkier when my parents saw me- an idea that had always tortured me in the past- I accepted that I might just BE a little chunkier for a while. But I am putting faith in my intuition, and my spirit, and my naturally athletic and energetic nature, to lead my body where it wants to go. And I fully believe that the product of that, eventually, will be much more beautiful and easy to maintain than the product of my dictatorial ego.
So. I am happy to announce that I got my period. I have been taking lots of walks filled with cleansing conversation with my mother and father. I have been eating lots of steak. And beef. And lamb. And meatballs. And I am no longer hungry! Well, not at this precise moment, anyway. Well, now that you mention it....
But the point is that this blog will be a diary of my year of experimentation of following my intuition and heart, rather than my head. Particularly in matters of exercise and eating. I tried to write that my goal now isn't to lose weight, but couldn't do it- my goal is perpetually to lose weight, and has been ever since I hit puberty in the first place. It would be very, very nice if over the course of this year I were to legitimately be done with that goal. No- my one goal for now is to wander. To wander, at least a mile every day. And to share with you the things I see and ideas I ponder and stories I acquire through all that wandering, and hopefully a year from now the infant goddess who seems to be starving for affection and attention right now will be fed. And growing STRONG!
The journey is very exciting, and I welcome you to take it with me.
Love,
The Wanderess
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