As corny as it sounds, life really is a journey. Well my life is a journey. I have allowed everyone all my life telling me or showing me what life should look like, sound like, taste like and be like – and well, I accepted everyone else’ version of life and didn’t bother finding my own.
Human beings want to help, show and guide, and being the goody-two-shoes I was, I listened well most of the time and became a pleaser – saying and doing exactly what was wanted or needed. I was obliging – all I wanted was to fit in, be accepted… loved.
I bought clothing that hid my body, ate my unhappiness and grew my body into the clothing. I took the “me” I was supposed to become and buried her beneath layers of unattractive clothing and blubber. And so “Self” diverted and I learned other things – what it means to be ashamed of my body and hide it away from everyone, how to make myself unattractive so that no one would look at me or be interested in me in anyway other than my intellect and so the list goes on.
Yes, it sounds harsh but it’s true. As a writer, it’s my job to open things up and lay my truth bare, my feelings naked, something I have avoided until now. I was hard on me and the sensitive soul, the sensitive woman in me buried herself deeper. I knew what others needed because my soul screamed out for it but I kept on pushing her head under the pillow and so all I heard were muffled screams. Some of you reading this have had my words tumble out of my mouth and into your lap, however true my ‘wisdom’ was - it was a way of diverting attention away from me. I have sidestepped the ‘naked’ facts about my truth. I have written about it, spoken about it, taught it, skirting around my feelings on it and made it generally safe.
About four months ago, as you would have read, I started a transformation. Starting at 101 kg, I have now come down to 87. My soul, today, reflects in my appearance, soft and happy. I know that its one foot in front of the other, every day.
Today, 24 November 2011, sitting in Little Lake Inn reflecting on my day, I see a photograph that was taken of me a few hours ago and I realise that my journey has come full circle. Where before I would have rather ‘died’ than appear silly, my six year old inner-child called attention to the fact that she was going to be eaten by a hippo and climbed in under the playground slide and well… you see the result yourself.
I turned six again today. I am happy. I want to do it again tomorrow.
Human beings want to help, show and guide, and being the goody-two-shoes I was, I listened well most of the time and became a pleaser – saying and doing exactly what was wanted or needed. I was obliging – all I wanted was to fit in, be accepted… loved.
I bought clothing that hid my body, ate my unhappiness and grew my body into the clothing. I took the “me” I was supposed to become and buried her beneath layers of unattractive clothing and blubber. And so “Self” diverted and I learned other things – what it means to be ashamed of my body and hide it away from everyone, how to make myself unattractive so that no one would look at me or be interested in me in anyway other than my intellect and so the list goes on.
Yes, it sounds harsh but it’s true. As a writer, it’s my job to open things up and lay my truth bare, my feelings naked, something I have avoided until now. I was hard on me and the sensitive soul, the sensitive woman in me buried herself deeper. I knew what others needed because my soul screamed out for it but I kept on pushing her head under the pillow and so all I heard were muffled screams. Some of you reading this have had my words tumble out of my mouth and into your lap, however true my ‘wisdom’ was - it was a way of diverting attention away from me. I have sidestepped the ‘naked’ facts about my truth. I have written about it, spoken about it, taught it, skirting around my feelings on it and made it generally safe.
About four months ago, as you would have read, I started a transformation. Starting at 101 kg, I have now come down to 87. My soul, today, reflects in my appearance, soft and happy. I know that its one foot in front of the other, every day.
Today, 24 November 2011, sitting in Little Lake Inn reflecting on my day, I see a photograph that was taken of me a few hours ago and I realise that my journey has come full circle. Where before I would have rather ‘died’ than appear silly, my six year old inner-child called attention to the fact that she was going to be eaten by a hippo and climbed in under the playground slide and well… you see the result yourself.
I turned six again today. I am happy. I want to do it again tomorrow.
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