I hadn’t slept so soundly since I was in Colorado. Perhaps it was the altitude. Or perhaps it was just being away and having no obligations or stresses. No pressing concerns or anxieties sneaking into my dreams causing alarm or restlessness. Three days into a writing retreat in Vermont was the first I had touched my laptop.

Going into this trip, writing was not my priority, however. Recharging was. Also, enjoying a new place. I had never been to Vermont. There was no cell service or wi-fi; we were off the grid. The day I arrived I opened a historical fiction book, The Signature of All Things by Elizabeth Gilbert. Other than breaking for meals and a 2 mile jog, I read all day. It was a splendid use of time (and p.s. the book is fantastic!). I went to bed and slept for ten hours, without even a cricket’s song to disturb me.

Remember, you can never be doing “nothing.” I did not go away to Vermont and do “nothing” just because I didn’t work nonstop on a novel or blog content. I read, I exercised, I slept, I enjoyed the company of other writers. This time was not wasted – not one second of it. I R.E.T.R.E.A.T.E.D.

I never liked my own company much. Spending time alone was an unfortunate last resort; something I did when there was absolutely no other option. Even then, I usually just slept that time away rather than hang out with myself. Furthermore, I detested being home. When I was younger I thought everyone was doing something better than me; that I was left out or lame if faced with nothing to do/nowhere to go. When I was a tween/teenager, I rode my bike around town or hung out in parks until company arrived. It got me out of the house, at least. I only felt at ease when it poured rain, when my friends had family functions, or were away. I didn’t have to worry about what they were doing, and why I wasn’t included.

Once I got my license, I drove around killing time, looking for something to do or somewhere to go, even traveling an hour to get some coffee rather than sit at home. Once I turned 21, I hung out in bars. Destroying my liver in the midst of company was certainly better than being alone on a Saturday night feeling pathetic and wrestling with my own thoughts.

Looking back on my life, I was almost always out, almost always with someone, always had a boyfriend, always going, always doing. If I didn’t know better I would say I was popular and had a blast. The truth is, I was desperate and clingy and insecure. I often found myself in trouble and had a lot of anxiety. I never said no to anything, afraid that passing up offers jeopardized future invites. I realize now what was really going on. I was afraid — afraid of abandonment and exclusion; afraid of missing out; afraid of being home where life was unpredictable and stressful; afraid of being alone with someone I didn’t like, that person being me.

I was really pretty pathetic to an embarrassing degree. I would have been much better off had I just relied on the company of my books.

With maturity I learned I wasn’t missing out on anything. When you hang out with the same people in the same places, things become fairly predictable and routine. With confidence came the ability to say no without thinking it would hurt me in some way. With self-love has come the capacity to actually enjoy my own company.

I only realized this past weekend that I am beginning to like me. I was on a date at the time.

The date started late Friday morning with a drive to my favorite beach listening to music with the windows down and sunroof open. We swam, we read, we relaxed in the sun, taking in the sounds and scents. Then I got hungry so we headed out for a late lunch. I thought something simple would suffice but then I spotted a Greek restaurant that had a lovely lunch and wine menu and outdoor seating so we didn’t feel under dressed in our beach clothes. We started with wine imported from Greece, hummus and the best pita bread I ever tasted in my life. It was warm and fragrant and tasted citrusy, yet earthy and salty. For the main course we enjoyed a feta and watermelon salad.

Once we finished eating, I sat back, sighed, and brought a smile to my lips. I was inebriated on good wine and food and a fun day in the sun. I looked out over the ocean and felt happy… content. I was having a wonderful time. I took out my book and picked up where I left off while I finished my wine. My date didn’t mind. My date was me.

After my lunch I read in the pool for hours until my husband arrived. Shortly, our good friend would arrive for the weekend, too. The guys had plans and although I love hanging out with them and was welcome, I had plans of my own to go full moon kayaking on a guided tour.

Sitting in my kayak later that night in the inky black water beneath a blanket of stars I was fully aware of how content I felt. I have been vacationing with friends every summer for many years and never have I gone off and done anything on my own. In fact, I often struggled to entertain myself waiting for them to wake up in the mornings. I confess I even stayed up past the point of exhaustion at times just so I wouldn’t miss a laugh. Here I was happily doing something I was excited about and looked forward to. Many times in my life I forfeited things I wanted to do in favor of what others wanted so I could be with the group. But finally, there were no more stories in my head. I didn’t assume the guys were having a better time without me. I didn’t think I was missing out. I definitely wasn’t. I was kayaking through unspoiled marshlands in water so smooth it reflected an unblemished moon with the only audible sound being that of the crickets. I was perfectly happy being out there alone.

I found myself with the opportunity to enjoy some solitary time the following two days. I read, I swam, I floated. I had no resentments, no insecurities, no anxieties, no fears. It was a wonderful weekend and we all had a great time doing all the things we wanted. I even took a lovely walk while waiting for the guys to wake up.

See the photo below? I always called this sandbar that appears during low tide in our favorite secret spot Lonely Island. My friend snapped this photo of me alone reading on Lonely Island.

Only I wasn’t at all lonely.

Where is your safe place? Meaning, where do you go when you’ve had enough for one day or when you’re depressed, hurt, broken-hearted, angry, or just need a break? For many people, it’s home, but where in your home? Do you have a place where you can shut out the world and be left alone?

Mine was always my bed. For as long as I can remember I have retreated to my bed to eat, hide, cry, scream into my pillow, and most of all… sleep. I can slip into bed at 6:00 pm on a terrible day and not wake up for over twelve hours. I have always been able to do this. Sleeping has been my secret weapon for hiding from people, passing the time when I was young and bored and waiting for a boy or friend to call, mending my broken heart after break-ups, or forcing my brain into an off position to stop relentless thoughts.

Despite all that rest, I have grown weary of sleeping my life away. I don’t want a place to hide, but instead a place to heal. I want a true safe place, one where I can go not to pass time or shut down, but to calm down.

For many people another comforting place, albeit very temporary, is the kitchen. That’s where the food is. Perhaps this is why A Course in Weight Loss calls for creating a safe place in Lesson 3. At times of struggle, our deepest desire isn’t really for food, “but for the experience of home,” Marianne Williamson writes. “Your deepest desire is not for food, but for love.” According to her, unconscious eating stems from a starvation of healthy self-love and the struggle to find it elsewhere.

If fear’s headquarters are our beds, kitchens, bars, etc., where are love’s headquarters?

Love’s headquarters exist at our altars, so it is important we create a place in our homes that remind us that love is the true power in our lives. This will provide us with a safe place to go when we are feeling afraid, sad, angry or ready to give up.

To create an altar in your home, consider what area of your home is best – a spare bedroom, a corner in the basement? It should be a place where you can have privacy, set up an altar, and sit comfortably. I am fortunate to have a home office, a room all my own.

Your altar should celebrate and support your willingness to love yourself and be healthy. Try not to get hung up on the word altar. By “altar” I mean only a table or flat-topped surface, such as an end table or board set on books, used as a place of focus for a ritual. And by ritual, anything goes: reflection, meditation, prayer, journal writing, reading…. any acts of love you perform for yourself. For example, my Happiness Jar sits on my altar. It is part of my ritual to write down my happiest moment from every day on a piece of paper, fold it up, and drop it into my jar.

Once you have identified a place in your home and selected your altar, place upon it beautiful and meaningful objects that remind you of the love you hope to bring to yourself and your spirit. Pictures, prayer books, statues, prayer beads, books, fresh flowers, your journal… anything that expresses your devotion to love and a more beautiful life. Nothing negative. You don’t want a picture of your ex-boyfriend here even if you still love him tremendously. This is a place for your most favorite things.

This is my altar and its contents:

My altar is an antique traveling trunk, a gift from my mother when I was a teenager. I store my sentimental items inside it. Atop the altar are scented candles: one was a gift from my brother and sister-in-law, purchased in Morocco, and it reminds me of them whom I love dearly, but also of adventure and travel; one represents love and smells of lemongrass; one is orange, representative of the sacral chakra where I carry the majority of my stress; the salt votive holder on the right is also for aiding my sacral chakra and is on (permanent?) loan from my dear friend, Kathy.

In front are two incense holders carved out of stone into elephants. The holders accommodate cones and sticks and I always burn it when I meditate/pray or spend any time before my altar. (Aromatherapy does wonderful things for the body and the scent of burning incense calms me immediately.) I adore elephants and consider them exceptional creatures. I also identify with them as my spirit animal so they are important to me. One was a gift from a dear friend whom I love very much, and the other I purchased for myself on a wonderful day, so it is associated with a lovely memory.

On the left is a water globe from my husband, which contains orange-hued trees and when you shake it, orange leaves swirl all around. I love autumn; the scents, the imagery, the weather, the foods, and this globe encapsulates all those sensations for me. It is also orange, which again is good for opening my sacral chakra.

In the center is a seated Buddha and to the right is a crying Buddha. The seated Buddha inspires me to be calm and still and to empty my mind, and also to respect the place I have created for myself. As for the crying Buddha, there are several legends and symbols. Common symbolism is that the Buddha weeps for all humankind, suffering from all the troubles in the world so that we do not have to. For me though it is also a reminder that someone even as strong and poised as the Buddha suffers, and it is okay to feel pain and to cry for this world we live in. Life is hard. In front of the crying Buddha is a small little novelty laughing Buddha. It makes me smile. No matter how still or calm I can become, I always want to cry into my hands… but also to laugh deep inside my belly. I also have a piece of rose quartz to trace over my face in times of need. It is said to help nurture and also to inspire love in one’s self and others. At the very least, it is calming. There is also a little angel stone that reminds me of my mother.

Behind the seated Buddha is my Happiness Jar, a collaged and decoupaged pickle jar that contains my happiest moment from every day. My mala (prayer beads) rests to the right of it on a small wooden carved elephant given to me by an employee I managed over twelve years ago. I do not remember her name, but I have kept it all this time. On the far left is my Buddha Board. You write on it in water and the words evaporate so what you write literally fades away, a visual that assists in letting go.

This is what those words looked like after less than a minute:

Although this altar has existed in my home half a year now, I am not in the habit of going to it when I am upset. In fact, I have avoided it at times of distress for fear of contaminating the space I have so lovingly created for myself. I realize only now this is ridiculous. It’s like buying a fancy car and only driving it when you’re dressed up. This space is magical for me and has everything I need to calm me and reinforce love in my life. With the help of Lesson 3 I see now that this is the safe place I have been lacking despite it being right in my home.

Marianne Williamson writes:

On any given day when you feel triggered, when you are deeply drawn to the ritualistic dance of self-hatred that is overeating [or drinking, smoking, etc.], you will have more power to resist if on that day you already experienced the power of your altar.

And if you haven’t already experienced its power, then go to it and allow it to fill you with love.

Also, please consider a donation to Save the Elephants and help save these majestic creatures.

When I first started this blog and wrote of my desire to be gentle and compassionate, I only had others in mind. I wanted to be a nicer and more loving person to those around me. Nowhere in that sentiment was I expressing an interest in being kinder or compassionate with me personally. I completely overlooked myself.

It wasn’t until I was well on my journey that I realized the need for self-compassion. The old adage that we cannot love others until we first love ourselves has validity. It is this love and fulfillment within ourselves that inspires others. It is also what enlightens us to our interdependence, making us willing to share ourselves with the world. On my best day, the day after I surrendered my negative emotions in my release ritual, I radiated love and kindness and people responded to it beautifully with smiles and light of their own. It was incredible to witness. Unfortunately, I could not maintain the vibrancy inside of me and it soon faded like the energy of a stadium once the crowd is long gone.

I continue to struggle with compassion, particularly toward myself. Without compassion, we do not feel the pain of the world, so we are unwilling to help it. There are times I hurt myself emotionally, inflicting pain like a gangster threatening a a witness tied to a chair. I am unwilling to help, instead barraging myself with negativity, high expectations, and hurtful words. It doesn’t even occur to me to save or defend that whimpering version of myself, just to wield my power over it.

I am completely willing to stand up against people who hurt me, but am still unwilling to stand up to myself when I wrong me. Thankfully, compassion is a muscle that can be strengthened with practice and use. I have become more compassionate since I started on this journey. I fail at it, don’t get me wrong, and can still be insensitive and hurtful, but I have also impressed myself with my ability to be loving and kind. Now I need to start extending some of that compassion to myself.

In keeping with the theme of New Moon in Cancer, self-compassion and love, it’s a better time than ever to practice some compassion strength-building exercises. But just like when you redeem your complimentary personal training session at the gym, they first need to assess your fitness level. So click this link to test your self-compassion. Go ahead and take the test (tests are fun!), reading each statement carefully. This should only take 4-8 minutes.

How did you score? My over-all score is a 2.91 and indicates I am moderately self-compassionate. I scored highest (meaning least compassionate) when it comes to self-judgment. I am very hard on myself and do a lot of horrible name-calling. My lowest score (meaning most compassionate) is in the subcategory of isolation. When I was a teenager I thought everyone had it better than me and was having more fun than I was. I now know beyond the shadow of a doubt that is absolutely untrue and I know that every single person is battling something. I know I am not alone in my suffering. That being said, I found the test to be quite accurate.

Now that we know how strong (or weak) our self-compassion is, lets work on strengthening it. Dr. Kristin Neff, who created the assessment, lists some useful exercises and guided meditations on her website here.

I am a big fan of Exercise 1: How would you treat a friend?, but with one difference.

Imagine a child in your life: your son or daughter, niece or nephew. I am thinking of my dear friend’s ten year old daughter, whom I adore.  

1. First, think about a time when this child felt really bad about him or herself or was really struggling in some way. How would you respond to that child in this situation (especially when you’re at your best)? Please write down what you typically do, what you say, and note the tone in which you typically talk to this child.    

My favorite 10-year old has an adorable little pot belly that I am certain she will grow out of (she is very active and LOVES fruit). Since my weight seems to have become an accidental theme here as of late, I will stick with this example. It is breaking my heart in the worst way that this young girl has begun to feel self-conscious about her weight. She’s too young! Although she hasn’t spoken to me about it (my friend has filled me in), this is how I would respond if she did: I would kneel down to meet her at eye-level and place my hands on her shoulders or take her hands in mind, and in a gentle, soft voice I would tell her that she is BEAUTIFUL. I would also explain to her that all that matters is that she is healthy and happy and she has power over her happiness, so if losing a few pounds would make her feel better, then she should, but that she should view it as a gift she is giving herself rather than a sacrifice she is making or a chore she is taking on. I would also remind her of all of her amazing qualities and how wonderful a person she is. 

2. Now think about times when you feel bad about yourself or are struggling. How do you typically respond to yourself in these situations? Please write down what you typically do, what you say, and note the tone in which you talk to yourself.

When I am self conscious about my weight I am heartless. My tone inside my head is stern and condescending. I call myself names like “fat fuck” and when something doesn’t fit and I am frustrated I say things like: “you’re so gross you shouldn’t even be allowed out of the house.”

3. Did you notice a difference? If so, ask yourself why. What factors or fears come into play that lead you to treat yourself and others so differently?

Yes, there is a difference. My 10-year old friend is innocent and is too damn young to have these insecurities. I really do believe she is beautiful and amazing. I do not believe that about myself. I don’t believe I shouldn’t be allowed out of the house, either, but I take my frustration out on myself. I want to hurt me because I am the source of my frustration. Also, I now know that I was treating Thin-me and Not-thin-me as two different people. I know now that I need to integrate them.

4. Please write down how you think things might change if you responded to yourself in the same way you typically respond to a close friend when you’re suffering.

I think love, gentleness and compassion would go a long way. Adding pain to an already painful situation is madness! It achieves nothing! I think I could feel safe if I could respond to myself the way I would to my young friend. If I felt safe, I wouldn’t walk around afraid, which piles on to my problem of seeking comfort and safety. It is cyclical.

Now it’s your turn. Take some time to reflect on these questions. Break out a journal and get to work.

Self-Compassion Break

Now, put your hands over your heart, feel the warmth of your hands and the gentle touch of your hands on your chest. Say to yourself: May I be kind to myself.
You can also ask yourself: What do I need to hear right now to express kindness to myself? Is there a phrase that speaks to you in
your particular situation, such as:

• May I give myself the compassion that I need
• My I learn to accept myself as I am
• May I forgive myself
• May I be strong.
• May I be patient

This practice can be used any time of day or night, and will help you remember to evoke the three aspects of self-compassion when you need it most (via Dr. Kristin Neff).

I continue to be amazed by the timing and synchronicity of things. I can’t help but view these events as some sort of cosmic reassurance that I’m on the right track creating my own rituals, setting new moon intentions and working my way through A Course in Weight Loss to help overcome my emotional over-eating.

Thursday, the 16th was a new moon so I finalized my intentions for the new cycle the night before. Writing down my short term goals last moon cycle motivated me more than any trick or tool had before.  Maybe it was the physical act of writing them down and seeing them in black and white, or maybe it was the energy of the moon or the “officialness” of the ritual – making my intentions known and believing I could achieve them, rather than just half-assing them off to the void. I believe it was all three. Anyway, it was a productive and successful cycle. I did tough things, including a few exercises I had been putting off. I found that I wanted to get the hardest things done first, and I did.

My new motto has become “eat the frog first.” My lovely sister-in-law shared the motivational expression with me, one she had learned in business school, and it stuck. The idea is to just get it over with and do the hardest thing first. Everything seems easier after that – you don’t have to think about that task anymore. It’s like working out first thing in the morning. For the rest of the day, you’re off the hook.

I’ve actually been practicing this method for quite some time. Now I have a fun expression for it. I have a good friend who absolutely hates when I say this (and I do say it often). It’s funny to me, though considering he eats his food precisely in the order of what he likes least first, literally saving the best for last. I also rather finish my meal with the lingering taste of french fries in my mouth than frog guts. But I digress.

So I ate the frog first last moon cycle and included a hard thing for this moon cycle because I believe that if it doesn’t challenge you, it doesn’t change you, and if it doesn’t change you, you’re not making progress.

The “theme” of the last moon cycle was creativity, mindfulness and action. I felt that energy, creating my own rituals and taking action. I completed Lesson #1 in A Course in Weight Loss and moved on to the next, titled “Thin You, Meet Not-Thin You.” This lesson involves getting to know and love the part of you that overeats. I smiled when I read up on the “theme” of this new moon in Cancer: self-love and compassion.

Synchronicity, guys.

For Lesson #2, Marianne Williamson writes that Not-Thin You “is not your enemy; she is an unintegrated part of yourself. She is an aspect of you that is demanding to be seen and heard.” The point is to give her the love and attention she needs and deserves. “It does feel odd that we should honor a part of ourselves that we do not want, but Not-Thin You will not go away until she is listened to.”

Ever since the stress in my life reached all time highs and I put on 30 pounds of extra weight, I have sternly exclaimed that THIS (motioning to my body) is NOT me! “I feel like I am walking around in a fat suit!” I have been so conflicted feeling one way and looking another, going around defending myself. Then I realized through reading this book that I have been denying an entire dimension of myself and no wonder I was feeling so conflicted. “…and in a dysfunctional effort to numb the pain of the conflict, you’ve only created more of it.”

Bingo.

Since we can’t just love on command or turn off our anger, communication is necessary. So Lesson #2 calls for initiating an honest and transparent dialogue between Thin You and Not-Thin You.

So Thin Me wrote to Not-Thin Me and I laid it out on the table. To summarize, I took responsibility for all I had put us through, but expressed my disappointment in her inability to bounce back now that life isn’t as stressful. I told her she embarrasses me and holds me back, but also thanked her for getting up that mountain in Colorado with my brother that gained 1,400 feet of elevation in only 1.6 miles. I asked her what the fuck her problem is and pointed out all the things I have done to help her. I insisted she tells me what she needs. I told her I can’t move on with my life until she gets her shit together.

Then Not-Thin Me responded. She thanked me for all that I’m doing for her, especially getting our heart rate up more and working my way through this book. “I am stronger than I look,” she wrote. She pointed out that it’s not all her fault and cited specific examples where I’ve screwed up, “so stop blaming me for everything!” As for what she needs: attention. Patience, love, kindness, compassion. “Stop ignoring me and saying you’re not me because I hate to tell you this, but YOU are ME,” she wrote.

We are much closer to reconciliation. I realize now how wrong it was for me to deny her existence. Hopefully as she begins to feel safe, she will relax, and we can work together.

Again, I share these lessons not only for emotional eaters. This exercise translates to Happy You and Not-Happy You, Sober You and Drunk You, Adult You and Little-Kid You. Is there a dimension of yourself that you’re denying? Perhaps someone fighting for your attention? Open up the lines of communication, lay your side out there and see what they have to say. You may be surprised…

The exercises in this book and losing weight aren’t the only things I’m working on. Two days in to this moon cycle I ate my frog and the rest of my intentions seem like a cake walk (I’ll substitute some fruit for the cake). I am also happy to report that I will be submitting an essay for professional publication. (Wish me luck!)

What are your intentions for this moon cycle, this month, this week, or even just tomorrow? Eat your frog. It may suck at the moment, but think of how good you’ll feel afterward.

Friday night I performed the release ritual I referenced in the post Brick by Brick: Tearing Down Your Emotional Wall, and it was incredible. I had a genuine spiritual experience and I feel… different. I feel lighter, happier, and most of all (and hardest to describe) I feel love, like I received a shot of warmth straight to my heart. Now I fully understand the importance of creating our own rituals to heal ourselves.

As a reminder, I have been working my way through lesson #1 in Marianne Williamson’s A Course in Weight Loss: 21 Spiritual Lessons for Surrendering Your Weight Forever. I wrote in a notebook all the things that I feel resentful, guilty, ashamed and angry about; my fears and burdens, reasons I feel inferior; 18 emotions in all in an effort to rid myself of excess emotional waste. Once everything was written down, the book provides a prayer and visualization to surrender it to God (or a higher being). The release ritual was all my idea. I wanted something more involved, something a little more noteworthy and deserving of so much emotional shit. I wanted it to be an event. I’m a planner and I like things to be elaborate.

What is a ritual?

My husband teased me, referring to my ritual as voodoo and offered to bring me home some chicken bones. There’s something about the word “ritual” that makes people think of sacrificial offerings or dancing naked around a fire. Although rituals are often rooted in religion, they are solemn ceremonies or behaviors consisting of a series of actions performed according to a prescribed order. Rituals maintain tradition and offer closure; their formality is comforting. Sunday Mass and funerals are well-known rituals. To some degree so is surrounding someone with a cake in front of them and singing Happy Birthday.

Elizabeth Gilbert wrote in Eat, Pray, Love that we do spiritual ceremonies “in order to create a safe resting place for our most complicated feelings of joy or trauma, so that we don’t have to haul those feelings around with us forever, weighing us down.” That was precisely my plan with this release ritual. This is why people lovingly design intricate scrapbooks to contain their precious memories, or burn photos in an effort to move on after heartbreak.

My release ritual

The morning of the ritual I thought I would awaken excited, but I felt agitated all day, apprehensive, not unlike a child who has done something wrong
and is equal parts defensive, ashamed, and afraid of punishment. I had been hiding from God for a while and I was nervous to speak to Him.

Later that night I sent my husband out so I could have total privacy. I lit candles and incense on my altar and settled in with my notebook seated on my zabuton and zafu (Japanese cushions used in meditation). I turned off the lights.

After a nervous and awkward start, I was soon spilling open aloud to God, sharing every negative action, thought, and memory. I sobbed and excused myself to blow my nose as if seated across from Him in a therapy session. Things began to make sense in a way they hadn’t when I wrote them down. After every emotion I felt a calm. Before turning the page, I would say: “Dear God, I surrender my (insert emotion here) to you. Please take it from me. Amen.”

When I was finished with all 18 emotions the book says to visualize a brick wall comprised of all the suffering and pain I had been carrying around, then ask God to help me break it down, brick by brick. I settled in to a calm meditation. It took some time to form a mental image of the Big Man, but when I did, He resembled a mix of Albus Dumbledore, Father Time, and Jesus Christ.

I won’t share all the details, but let me just say we had fun breaking down that wall together, karate chop noises and all. Afterward, we stood over the ashes of the obliterated brick and talked. It was the easiest conversation I ever had. Afterward, I recited a prayer from the book.

Next in my ritual I had planned to write each of the 18 emotions on my Buddha Board as one last visualization of watching them fade away (you write in water and as it evaporates, the words literally disappear), but I suppose God had other plans for me. I wrote something else, which I think I’d like to keep to myself (sorry!). I’m not sure if the words were His to me, mine to Him or mine to myself… I think perhaps all three. But they were the most perfect words.

Lastly in my ritual I ripped out the 18 pages from my notebook and headed outside with some lavender and a box of matches. I set the pages onto the fire pit, and sprinkled lavender on top. I thought those words would burn quickly, but I was wrong. The emotions, pain and suffering did not surrender easily. Rather each page seared and burned slowly from the corner back, one at a time as I repeated: “Dear God, I surrender these emotions to you. Please take them from me. Amen.”

I looked up, and was surprised by the number of stars burning over me. I did not head back inside until every ember burned out below me, concluding the ritual.

Marianne Williamson writes that “to spiritually surrender something is to surrender our thoughts about it. What we put on the altar is then altered.”

I literally placed my pain and suffering on the altar. I am now altered thanks to feeling empowered to create my own ritual.

 

Save

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Sitting playfully in six inches of saltwater, a beer in one hand and a book in the other, I turned my face up to the sun, smiled and thought to myself, life is good. It was an incredible day and I was at peace.

Taking a little break from paddleboarding, not a care in the world.

That was Friday.

But Saturday found me not once, but twice, sitting in my parked car in locations nearly 70 miles apart, sobbing. There was no peace.

How quickly things change.

A year ago I’d most likely have claimed the upsetting events of Saturday ruined my entire weekend, discrediting the joy and peace of Friday and casting a shadow over Sunday. But now I know better. Nothing can touch my Friday; it can never be altered. My days have explicit boundaries now.

As for Saturday, it was all my fault. I’m not going to go into what happened here. There were so many contributing factors, but in the end, the bottom line is that I did not mentally prepare and I went into the day with expectations. I was not compassionate, or forgiving, or patient, or the person I want to be. No matter what happened, I had the power to not let it affect me so greatly, regardless of how much I was weakened by other external circumstances. That is where I failed. The person I am trying to be/want to be and the person I was/am collided in a battle royale as my thoughts duked it out. My more practiced, more powerful, defensive angry self ate my weaker, gentler self for breakfast. Part of the later upset stemmed from fear. I hadn’t felt this angry and hopeless in a long time – the darkness inside me was menacing. As my thoughts darkened, my emotions strengthened, racking my body with turbulence.

“Your emotions are the slaves to your thoughts, and you are the slave to your emotions.” -Elizabeth Gilbert

Finally, the exhaustion of my eyelids from a day’s worth of squeezing tears down my cheeks got the best of me and I fell asleep, putting the day forever behind me. But not before I apologized.

Sunday the battle between old and new, negative and positive waged on with early points going to Gentle Jessica for rising early and sitting in her favorite chair with a book, and even making a healthy breakfast. Dejected Jessica made frequent appearances on the couch, mindlessly channel surfing, daydreaming of potato chips, and shedding the occasional tear.

I’d force myself up, accomplish a relatively small task, and find myself back on the couch. I used my judgement and had a guilt-free, albeit large lunch. Back to the couch. I forced myself to pull some weeds, clean out my car. Couch.

Finally, mid-afternoon in a herculean showing, I decided a hard workout at the gym was exactly what I needed. Furthermore, it would force me to shower. And if I was showered, why not go to weekly meditation group? If I was driving past Whole Foods on the way home, why not stop for some fresh produce to ensure a healthy start to the week? There was no reason why not, so I did all those things, proving to myself that I can move on; I CAN do what’s best for me.

Saturday may have gone to Dejected Jessica, but I took home the win on Sunday. Friday’s showing of bravery and athletic ability in the water, friendship, relaxation, laughter, and peace received a million points, breaking the tie.

Not every day will be good. What matters is that we value the good days and hold them in our hearts, and bounce back from the bad ones having learned a new lesson (or several). As for me, I learned that I can accept full responsibility for my actions and stop blaming others. Also, that I have the power to break the destructive cycle of giving in to misery and take steps to do what is best for me. I wouldn’t know these two things right now if I wasn’t given the opportunity to discover them.

Last week I confessed I am an emotional over-eater. The support and understanding I received after that post was inspiring and heartwarming, and I thank you all. Some of you shared your struggles with me privately and although it saddens me to know so many of us are suffering, I also find it encouraging: we know we’re not alone and we’re talking about it.

Admitting you’re powerless over a problem is the first step in commonly known 12-step programs. For many people, food is just as addictive as alcohol or narcotics. You may not understand this or believe this could be possible, but it’s true. That’s why programs like Over-eaters Anonymous (O.A.) exist. And remember, we all need food to survive. An alcoholic can stop drinking. A drug addict can stop taking drugs and detox. A food addict cannot stop eating. They must learn to manage and live with their addiction.

I am not taking a 12-step approach to my emotional over-eating. As I mentioned earlier, I am working through the exercises in A Course in Weight Loss: 21 Spiritual Lessons for Surrendering Your Weight Forever by Marianne Williamson. I just think there is an opportunity to practice compassion and to reserve judgement toward overweight people. An overweight person at an ice cream parlor is not that different than an alcoholic sitting at a bar. Some empathy could go a long way.

Admitting to myself I have this problem, and then admitting it publicly here, has made a tremendous difference. Two weeks ago I went for blood work to have my thyroid checked – that was the extent to which I denied my overeating. My thyroid is just fine. There was no denying it anymore. Yes, I was active. Yes, I ate right the majority of the time. But yes, when I messed up, I messed up big, and that was why I couldn’t lose weight.

So now that I finally know this, and you know this, I can get to work on fixing it! I am finding that most often any lesson in anything can be applied to various areas of life so please, don’t stop reading just because you may not be an emotional eater. Surely, the following exercise can benefit all.

“The weight on your mind, and thus on your body, is the weight of your own emotional shadows that have not yet had a light shone on them. They might be unprocessed feelings, negative thoughts, or fear-based attitudes and personality traits.”

Our systems are built to process waste; that includes emotionally and mentally. But when we hang on to excess emotional baggage, we do not allow it to dissolve. We all have unprocessed emotions, but we all express it in different ways: over-eating, drinking, violent outbursts… “The form of dysfunction is not particularly relevant; what matters is that we address the unprocessed suffering behind it.” 

That involves a willingness to be real and honest with yourself about emotional issues, and then a willingness to release them.

On a journal, I wrote various emotions in thick marker on the top of each page: GUILT; ABANDONMENT; FEAR; JUDGEMENT; BURDEN; 18 words in all.

I got to work writing down my experiences that are true for me, those that have resulted in these negative emotions.

Don’t go unconscious! With each paroxysm of shame, my instinct was to try to shake the memories from my mind, those that make me wish I could go back in time and not do whatever shameful or embarrassing thing that I did at age 10, 15, 20, 25, etc. Those things that still have the power to make me cringe and seek cover under a blanket.

But I didn’t shake them off. I forced myself to remember and then found words to convey the harsh realities, articulating that which was never said out loud, let alone written on paper. Flipping from page to page, emotion to emotion, forwards and backwards as thoughts occurred to me, the most unexpected thing was that it became easier as more truths poured from my hand.

I felt lighter.

Now that I have this notebook full of my deepest, darkest emotions, fears, judgements and most shameful and embarrassing moments (I hid this thing like it was MY JOB), it is time to release it all. I am going to offer it up and away, ask for all these emotions to be taken from me, ask for forgiveness, and do some forgiving myself.

I am going to sit with my notebook a few more days, making sure I’ve captured everything as I also finalize plans for my release ritual. I feel that this act is worthy of a special ceremony. Everything that has happened to me has shaped me. I want to properly acknowledge all of it, properly express gratitude where appropriate, and properly say goodbye… to the shame, to the people who hurt me, to my guilt over things long gone, to my thoughts that I am inferior, to my judgements, to all the stories in my head associated with those 18 words.

These sorts of release rituals are not unheard of. Writing on balloons and releasing them in celebratory fashion is a common one. Shredding the pages of my notebook will not be enough. This is an exercise in letting go. I want something final. I only want to do this once. I want something worthy of my lifetime so far.

I am excited. I am ready.

If emotions are weighing you down: guilt, burden, unforgiveness of someone who hurt you, then do this exercise with me. What do the bricks around you say? Write it down. Get it of your head and out of your heart.

And then let it go. Let’s all our souls become lighter, together.

This image has been taped to the wall above my desk for over a year. These words have brought me comfort; easing me away from anxiety. I have kept faith in the belief that things happen when they are meant to, even when I was feeling stuck, and afraid of what becoming unstuck would mean. Sometimes that belief was desperate – I needed it to be true; needed to believe the Universe would intervene – even though I simultaneously feared how it would happen.

I believe those words more now than ever. The Universe has been working its magic in my life, speaking louder and louder until finally something that needed to happen, happened, and I knew in my heart it was the right time and the right way.

This personal thing that happened came yesterday, on the eve of the new moon, which some believe is a magical time of beginnings. The time felt right to practice new moon intention setting, something I first learned about practicing yoga. In some ways this is no different than choosing to make a change on the first of the month – it is a logical and deliberate place to begin. But by setting intentions and conducting some sort of ritual, be it simple or complex, with the start of the new moon, you can add a little bit of magic to the experience. Hopefully, you will see your intentions come to life and take shape in sync with the moon, culminating with its fullness when you can assess your intentions.

Last night I wrote down my intentions for this new moon, my moon, since I am a Gemini. I have these to focus on and devote my energy to during this moon cycle. Although this may sound new-age or a little too “mystic” for your taste, this is a next step for me on my journey, something I am willing to try to keep me focused. Marianne Williamson explains it best in A Course in Weight Loss: 21 Spiritual Lessons for Surrendering Your Weight Forever when she says:

“Spiritual growth is a fascinating process when you allow it to be. It is an inner journey from one insight to another, in which helpful realizations fall into place as you are ready to receive them.”

The timing feels right to set these intentions and face things I have been afraid to face, in an effort to release myself from them, and move forward.

If you are feeling stuck, I ask that you put faith in time or at least believe that what needs to happen will eventually happen. It may be cliche, but sayings only become cliche because they are said so often, meaning many people believe in the words:

Everything happens for a reason.

I do not claim to know the reasons. But I do trust the process… and the timing.

Below is one of my favorite videos. I watched it for the first of many times last year and I always seem to come back to it. Have a watch – I’ll wait. (It’s under 3 minutes, which translates to .002% of 1 jellybean – well worth it, in my opinion).

I have been thinking a bit about time since my last post about using the KonMari method to discard possessions that do not bring me joy as laid out in The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up. Since that post, I have tackled my closets and completed the process of going through every article of clothing I own, a task incredibly worth what probably totaled one jellybean, but saved me dozens of jellybeans in time worth stressing over clothing and struggling to get dressed.

I have wasted lots of jellybeans. Fighting, yelling, crying, stressing… doing lots of things that do not bring me joy. The message of the book doesn’t only apply to possessions, but to life. It begs the question: if it doesn’t bring you joy, then why do it? We only have so many jellybeans… shouldn’t each one contain joy?

Like the video says, we spend on average 3,202 jellybeans working and 1,099 jellybeans commuting. My dear friend, Kathy who introduced me to this wonderful book, probably spends even more jellybeans commuting since she lives in Delaware and works in Philadelphia. For all those jellybeans, shouldn’t the job bring her joy?

Being that she is such a source of inspiration to me, I invited Kathy to share her thoughts on the subject: