why so hard~ Recovery and other hard shit through a spiritual lens

We come into this world shining perfect beams of light.  We smile when we are happy, we sleep when we are tired.  We cry when we are confused or lost or feeling are something we’ve never felt before.  We get angry when we feel anger.  We EAT when we are HUNGRY. And we stop when we are full.  We just do this all so automatically.  Its brilliant, really.  We don’t even have to put in extra effort to get rid of all the excess left over stuff.  We just poop it out! And if we can’t poop.  We cry.  We get belly rubs.  Then we poop.  WE KNOW WHAT TO DO.

So why do we start to interfere?  We go on crazy diets, we use laxatives, enemas and diuretics.  We restrict foods and make weird rules around foods and we create these weird routines with food.  We vomit, we overexercise, we skip meals, insisting we had “a large lunch.”  We count every calorie, including that pack of gum you ate in a day because it has fewer calories that cereal.  We begin to tell our bodies that what it is naturally doing is wrong and we start to play God.   We take sleeping pills to sleep.  We drink to feel good.  We toke to chill.  We fuck to feel pretty.  We drink coffee to “wake up”…but didn’t you just do that an hr ago?  Like, in real life?  We assimilate to societal structures so we do not get left behind.  It makes sense.  Plus, the world begins to get a lot rougher and faster as the years progress.  It’s all innocent enough.  We just don’t want to get left behind.  And this must be the right thing if everyone else is doing it.

In a world where you must fit in but also stand out.  No wonder we begin to ignore the silent, patient wisdom of our bodies.  We get so pulled out of ourselves by stimulation, expectation, and the general unconsciousness of our planet. We begin to, energetically, learn how hurt our people and our planet is, by becoming the same.  Our patriarchy molds us energetically. We really don’t have a choice.  Even the strong or the gifted have something they’ve picked up from life that they struggle to deal with.  While were young, anyways.

And then we grow and we hurt and we somehow cope.  But then we get stuck and we begin to question.  Is this really it?  Why are things the way they are?  Do I have any choice?  Why do I feel these things?  Am I just completely defective/ crazy/ stupid.  It’s especially the extra sensitive beings that feel this extra and often have more intense healing crisis’ than others.

We all inherent a chunk of the unconscious to energetically inherit and live out.  What I mean by this is that not so beautiful gift we are given through our family, our genetics, our lineage, our upbringing, our environment, that makes us feel cursed and defective and tortured.  I inherited eating disorders.  I was gifted it energetically, genetically, socially, and so on.  Others get addiction or codependency or insert any health issue.  We all deal with something.  And often times it takes us to hell.  Our own ~personalized~ hell.  But no one gets out of this.  We all have something.  It’s so easy to forget this, especially if our lives are particularly isolated for the moment.  But know this, you are not alone.  You are going through everything for a reason.  You are learning how to first be there for yourself through your own hell so you can liberate first yourself and then help others to liberate themselves! Such a cool thing!  We are not disempowered.  We are always learning.  We are always choosing.

You can do this! You can beat whatever it is!  By loving whatever it is!  journal, talk to a friend, have a bath, breeeath.  Sooth yourself and be there for yourself.  Create healthy boundaries and do what makes your heart feel sweet.  We suffer in life, sure.  But it is not our destiny.  Our destiny is to be the ones to pull ourselves out of the suffering.  You are strong enough.  You are beautiful enough.  You are smart enough.  You. Are. Enough.

I love u.  Please, love u.

xoxoWillow

 

I AM BLESSED with bulimia

I was 10 the first time my mother showed me, in the mirror, the requirement for beauty being in the gap between my thighs.  Around the same time I began getting bullied in school. I was 11 years old when I was only allowed to eat salads and expected to exercise any extra time I got.  I was 12 when I began to eat in secret from cupboards when my mother had her back turned.  I was 13 I first purged.  And I was 14 when I first took my first sip of booze.  Scary shit?

Oh Im not special in this.  I am the majority of girls(and growing amounts of boys) who deal with an eating disorder of some kind.  Nevertheless the other things we dabble in to cope with mental illness and just straight up shitty human pains.  I was just blessed to be one that has a particularly severe case.

Bulimia has take up way more space than I would like to admit.  Way. Too. Much.  Always thinking I was trying to heal but I was just allowing the eating disorder voice to take me over and tell me what to do and where to go and never to speak.  Because of this I have gone to a pretty weird place.  Where my creativity, my relationships, my dreams, my mind and body and sweet heart have gone severely neglected.

Mental illnesses are rampant in our society.  And they feed off of isolation, insecurity, abuse and silence.  Along with bulimia for me came anxiety and depression.  For many years I have been in denial and thought I had things under control.  And that is the scariest part.  Because looking back those times were when I was most sick.  I hid away in self improvement practices until I deemed myself “ready” to live my dreams…or just live. I hid in spiritual modalities and veganism and yoga to become that person who could be loved.  So fucked up.  But so real.

These days it feels like Im waking out of a terrible dream.  Where I look behind me and ask how bulimia has managed to steal 10+ years of my life.  And been so darn sneaky about it!  I am in these days, opening my eyes more and more and getting the help I need to be my own best damn friend and lover and supporter and nurturer.  And man, recovery is hard.  Its uncomfortable  and icky and hard and …embarrassing.  Oh the embarrassment.  “Sorry I stopped talking to you…I just uh, only had time to focus on how I looked.” But you know what?  It recovery is liberating and full of peace and love and an opening heart.  Learning that I am worthy of nourishment.  I am worthy of spaciousness.  I am worthy of peace.  I am worthy of recognizing my own beauty.  I am worthy of my creativity.

I am blessed with a teacher.  Called bulimia.  She taught me all the ways I don’t deserve to be treated.  All the ways I never wish any human to live.  It has taught me what I want to embody, and shine and speak and be for the world to heal more deeply than ever before.

Thank you bulimia. Thank you for treating me like shit.  Thank you for taking my life away from me, so I could realize what life means to me.  Thank you or taking away my voice, to teach me the words I wish to reclaim as mine.  Thank you for your shaming and discouragement, teaching me how to uplift and cradle my sad parts.  May all be loved within and throughout ourselves.  May we reclaim our power, follow our passions and express our joy.  Regardless of our size, background, gender, race, or age.  I believe we got through shit to pull ourselves out of it so we can know how to help others pull themselves out of it.  Silver lining and shit.

Bless all that is dark in your life, thank it, and watch your relationship with it transform.

You are beautiful.  You are worthy of your shine, reclaim it baby.

xo