I’ve always learned the most about the stuff I’m made out of during the worst times, there really is something about this idea of “brokenness” that warrants all the attention it gets in some circles (like the youth evangelical spaces I’ve been in at times in the past). It’s when nothing seems to be going right, when I feel the weakest, that I tend to do the most personal building work. It’s frustrating, but it’s good. And that’s life, right there.
I’ve developed a tremendous fear of loss over the course of my life. I’d love to hoard all the things that matter to me: from people to things to ideas. If I could lock all of this up, put it in a safe, and hover over it, wouldn’t life be so much better? We know that’s just not how it is. And I probably wouldn’t change it if I could. I–we–just have to be comfortable with vulnerability. And oh, do I feel vulnerable these days. Rough like sandpaper and porous like cheesecloth. More on this later.
After months of struggling–and losing–battles against tiny viral organisms that have kept me in bed a dozen times throughout the winter and spring, I’ve really had to start thinking more about what it means to care for a body. As temporal as it seems at times, mine is certainly screaming at me for attention. I begin another attempt to quit smoking. I hate talking about it, as I’ve failed each of my quits over the last two years, but it must be talked about. Changing addictive behavior that has woven into every facet of my life is more difficult than I ever imagined. I’ve got 6 days now, and I feel better already, but I know that it’s going to be an increasingly irritating struggle daily for weeks and weeks. It’s a weird space to want to do something intellectually but to have to battle other parts of the mind so constantly. Ideas for keeping this battle fresh everyday more than welcome.
This is it - I want to be well. I want to know what that feels like. Emotionally. Spiritually. Physically. And I’ve got some serious work to do. I have to remind myself constantly that I am a project worth embarking on.
I’m trying to figure out how to add exercise to my life. Such a tricky world to navigate as a fatty! All my pals bike but I still just become overcome with long entrenched fears of biking while fat every time I think about heading down to the community space to get me one. I don’t want to ask to go with others when they exercise, either, knowing I simply can’t keep up and have different needs. I also want to, as much as is possible, be in spaces where I can work out and not have the assumption be that I hate my body and want to lose a ton of weight and cry big tears of joy when I’m a size 10 like everyone on the Biggest Loser. I just don’t want this. I want a body that moves with more ease and energy, not a particular dress size. This makes so much sense to me, I’m not sure why it doesn’t resonate with many more. And as feels pretty universal among the fatties I know, I actually fear more activity resulting in too much weight loss as the resultant “you look great!” is very grating, and I know this is just not easy to talk to people about (who wants to turn down a compliment from a well-meaning acquaintance?). Though, I have apparently lost SIXTEEN pounds during the last 5 days of this last infection. That warrants a “you know you’re fat when…” joke if nothing else.
In terms of the “porousness” I feel, I really wonder where people get their strength from. What keeps everyone going? Especially in our movements when any given day there’s a million reasons to be outraged, a dozen conversations that can and do go poorly, handfuls of triggers all about. I’ve always taken to the Biblical “vessel” imagery. I am filled with energy and inspiration often when I do social justice work. I can give and give and work hard–all as long as the cup keeps getting re-filled. Lately, the refilling has stopped and it has felt like I’m getting too close to scrapping the bottom of my meager resources. Today was a good day, it felt like I got some trickles back in to sustain me. But tomorrow? If feels a bit too much like a daily struggle, and I know that this is not how I’m supposed to be, how any of us are supposed to be. I think I need to isolate what has stopped the refilling from happening, and I have some ideas. Interpersonal struggles, personal inadequacies, and the real anti-enabler–anger. I’ve become angry at a situation and it’s slowing down all the processes by which I get my strength–just like that.
But to focus on what’s important: “today was a good day!” It ended with a great little strike support meeting, and that’s the kicker - we just all do so much better when we’re in it together.
RIP ECK, and RIP debilitating anger, fear, and depression.
Let’s do some shit this summer.