At the Bottom of the Binge: an Inquiry
I wonder, what is at the bottom of my binge?
Not on Cheat Day or Birthday or Holiday but the day-to-day desire to eat whatever I want, whenever I want it.
What would happen if the binge was my regular way of eating?
Would my body ever say, no thanks, I’m good?
Would my body ever say, ‘Hey, could we go out for a walk now?’
Would my body ever crave a salad over a cookie? A green juice over roasted potatoes?
Would I walk past the chips in the pantry?
Can I have just one?
Can I look like this for the rest of my life? Can I love myself regardless of how I look?
Can I gain twenty pounds and still love the way I look? Can I gain forty pounds and still love the way I look? What about sixty? What is my number?
How much leeway does my body have to expand?
How much room do I have for my body? For my imperfections? For life's surprises? For all I can't control?
Is there anyone else I am trying to control because I think they cannot control themselves?
Am I willing to give up on my health for my sanity? Is it possible that giving up on the insanity will bring me more health?
Can I stop judging my body? Can I stop comparing myself to how I used to look? Can I buy myself jeans that fit comfortably today (and bra and bathing suit and anything else my body needs to look and feel good in this moment)?
Can I take the skinny picture off my fridge and the skinny jeans out of my closet and the skinny future me out of my mind?
Can I stop speaking about how I was and how I will be, all the while dismissing who I am right now?
Can I stop speaking about myself as if I am broken or malfunctioning?
Can I get my nose out of my kids' plates and trust them to eat what’s right for them? For what they need, for what they are figuring out, for what their bodies are craving?
Can I trust my own body’s cravings?
Can I trust that there is an end to my body’s cravings? A bottom to that binge? Can I trust myself to get to that bottom? And if not, can I trust myself to feel what happens when I consider going there?
Can I trust that those feelings are harsh and old and mean and possibly (probably) someone else’s and not my own? And possibly (probably) inaccurate?
Can I trust my nature? My wisdom, my brilliance, my intuition? Can I let go and see what happens?
Can I do it for a week, a month, a year? How long can I give myself in this inquiry?
How long do I have to unravel the mystery of what lies at the bottom of my binge?