had a bad day again

have you ever looked at your reflection and burst into tears?

i'm working from home today: no makeup, no masks, just me in raggedy-ass clothes, in all my non-primped-out glory.  earlier i looked at candid photos of myself on Facebook; also, i went to an artist's website, a photographer that takes nude erotic bondage pictures of women where light replaces leather, chains and ropes.  (note: the only reason i went to his site was because he lives in the same art community complex as some dear friends of mine, and they've mentioned him a few times in the past two weekends. i never got around to stopping by his studio, and now i know why: my psyche was probably trying to protect me).

my point is that these factors--and maybe others that i'm not yet aware of--are what contributed to this feeling of disgust with my appearance.

when will this end?  will i always have these moments of terror and horror as i look at myself in the mirror?  will i always feel panic at how much cellulite i've gained or how much muscle definition i've lost in my abs?  why--with all the positive things people say about me and my work--do i still feel so crippled by body dissatisfaction?

to my eyes, my photos show a girl-woman with a protective layer around her, making her heavy and elephantine.  when i was younger, i always thought of my body as a skin that i wanted to shed in order to feel light and free.  when i see these touched-up photos of women who are young and smooth and blemish-free, i know that this depictions are not real, that the men who snap these shots think of women as cars or diamond rings, sparkly and sleek and polished and hinting not one bit at the soft, squishy, dimpled messiness of real human bodies.

hanging out with my friends all this weekend, women who are strong and fragile and REAL, probably lulled me into a false sense of security.  enter Monday and The World As It Is, or The World As We Have Been Taught To See It: yoga ads with pictures of hard-bodied women in pretzel poses, models who are "edgy" with short, spiky hair and black eyeliner who look all of 16 years old, white, upper-class PhDs who talk about healing but who have never been broken themselves, who have never been told, again and again, since the single-digit years, "you are not good enough," "you are ugly," "you are shameful," "you are unsightly."  i want to be back in that safe, warm, easy space where everyone is loved for being alive and being human...where strangers are welcome and friends are like family (the family that you really, really like).  if that space could expand and occupy the entire world, a giant heartspace where we could all just relax and breathe and let our talents and gifts and skills and knowledge shine out...

i suppose i must first create that space inside my own heartspace.  unfortunately, some days it feels like a Sisyphean task: like building and building and building and rebuilding a house on mountains of mud.

i have a dream

that one day, little girls will focus on playing, becoming smart and strong; that they will base their self-worth on their vitality and ability.

that one day, mothers will not be ashamed to talk to their daughters about adolescence and puberty; that they will prepare their daughters for physical transformation, creating an environment of pride, excitement and support.

that one day, mothers will focus fully on meeting the needs of their children instead of spending so much energy and money on losing pregnancy weight, erasing stretch marks, buying anti-aging cosmetics and hair dye.

that one day, secure women would pass on valuable wisdom to their children: that creativity, courage, integrity, compassion, honesty, generosity and joyfulness attracts friends and lovers, and helps create a life worth living.

that one day, women will not compete for the attentions of men; that there will be no jealousy, no comparison. 

THAT RAPE AND SEXUAL ABUSE WILL NO LONGER EXIST.

that women will no longer feel the need to take anger, frustration, exhaustion or loneliness out on their own bodies.

that one day, the cyclical nature of the universe, very present in the lives of women, will be valued more than out-and-out productivity; that phases of darkness, stillness and rest will have their place in human life.

that one day, all humans will remember that they were nourished in a woman's womb before birth, and nourished by a woman afterwards, and that we are all equal because we all came from a woman.

i am writing this in lieu of bingeing and purging

i weighed myself today for the first time in a long time.

mind you, weighing myself on a scale is a very dangerous activity.  it almost immediately triggers eating disordered thought patterns and behavior.  i was triggered way before i stepped onto that cold, digitally merciless metal square from Hell, however.

i went to Golden Gate Park to help my corporate yoga client, lucy Activewear, shoot photos for their website.  lucy makes clothing and accessories for yoga, running and cross training.  i was there as a consultant, to make sure the models were doing actual yoga poses, not just jutting their hips out and pointing long skinny limbs in all different directions.

these models weren't waifs, but only one really looked like she was athletic.  one of them actually admitted that she doesn't work out. (it was actually really entertaining watching them try to do pushups).  i'm disappointed that even activewear companies don't use "real" women to model their products.  but i didn't really expect anything different.

i don't have a classic "yoga body."  i'm not a dancer, i'm not super-lean.  even after 30 days or veganism, i still have meat on my bones.  i often feel like a yoga fraud because i'm not wiry and slender and able to bend into crazy poses.  it's tough for me to not compare myself to yoga "celebrities" and to want to have the yoga "look" that's advertised in the media.  i think classic "yoga-bodied" people do not comprise a wide percentage of the American population, but that is what is shown in magazines, on DVDs and in the movies.

i have to constantly remind myself why i practice and teach yoga.  the students i teach are not super-lean super athletes either.  they are stressed, overweight, underweight, injured, weak in places, stiff in others.  they are seeking a better quality of life.  they want to remove suffering and the only way to do that it to practice non attachment and compassion.  if a tight yoga butt is one of the byproducts of such a practice, great.  but for that to be the goal is not definitive of the heart of yoga.

i'm 5'7" and i weigh 160 pounds.  160!  i can't believe it.  it seems like a grotesque number.  it is the amount i weighed my senior year of high school, the year i fell into a deep depression and began my almost-lethal dance with my eating disorder.  is this full circle?  is the universe testing me?  will i choose the same path i did 12 years ago, or will I use what i've learned to break through self-destructive patterns and free myself from 12 more years of suffering?

i suppose only time will tell.

day 3 of Spring Cleanse 2011

this is the third year that i've done a spring cleanse.  there's a lot of controversy surrounding detox "diets," especially with my history of eating disorders.  you can shake your heads and judge all you want, because i'm going to do it anyway.

the deal is: for 30 days, i will avoid all dairy products, meat, eggs, sugar and gluten.  i will not drink alcohol, coffee or black tea.  i will increase my consumption of water and herbal teas, drinking lemon/ginger tea (made with the real deal) and a bit of maple syrup (no high fructose here) first thing in the mornings and throughout the day, and ending with psyllium husks and senna tea (think natural, slow-acting ex-lax) in the evenings.  i will decrease my salt consumption (this is the toughest one!) to avoid water retention.

after about 2 weeks, i'll enter into the juice fast phase: all fruit and veggie juices with no protein.  this will last 3 days and is mainly just to flush the kidneys and give my system a break.

really, this isn't much different from my normal diet.  you all probably know how i love wine, so that might be tough.  i don't drink milk or eat yogurt (don't worry, i take calcium supplements and drink fortified almond milk), and i eat eggs and fish minimally.  i already drink tea like a mofo, though i'll miss my chai (i can still steep the spices with my almond milk and add a little maple syrup, especially when i'm craving chocolate at night).  yes, i love my goat cheese and occasional brie, so giving up cheese for 30 days might turn me into a cranky bitch, at least for the first 2 weeks...

there's still a ton of things i can eat.  kale, chard, spinach, broccoli, peppers, carrots, onion, garlic, squash, mushrooms and celery, to name a few.  all the herbs. (well, not ALL of them...)  avocados, berries, melons, citrus, coconut...raisins and dried fruit like cranberries and cherries (though they have added sugar, so used sparingly) do well to satisfy my sweet tooth.  quinoa, rice, barley, bulghur, buckwheat and millet for grains.  nuts and seeds.  and trust me, i've been eating lots of all of these.

the concept behind the dietary changes is that gluten, sugar and dairy products are symbolic of other things.  why do you think macaroni and cheese is considered a comfort food?  for 10 years, i've tried to numb out by consuming sugary, rich and bready foods, hoping that eating enough of them would soothe my broken heart, repair my low-self-esteem, give comfort to my sadness and quell my rages.  i became addicted to them as one becomes addicted to alcohol, using them to try and produce certain emotions while avoiding the uncomfortable ones.  so, for a short time every year, when the seasons change, i strip myself bare of these crutches to find out what comes out in me.

the diet helps make my body light and healthy so i can be ready to purge all the intangible crap.  this morning, before i even got out of bed, i identified some negative thoughts, mostly dealing with my insecurities in relationships, and wrote a letter to the person with whom i have the relationship.  signed it, dated it...and took it into the kitchen sink to light that sucker on fire.  taking a few deep breaths (careful not to inhale the fumes of burning paper and ink), i let those insecurities go up in flames and drift out the open kitchen window.  it didn't get rid of all the insecurity, but i feel better then i did.

i'll be trying to meditate for 15-20 minutes once or twice a day.  yesterday i took the dog out to the lake and let him run around like a crazy man.  it was strange to walk slowly, as i'm so used to jogging the trail, but i noticed a lot more of my surroundings.  i sat on the bank and watched the sun go down.

today i haven't felt as dizzy or weak, and no headache.  took some vitamin D at noon and had a good lunch before jumping on the computer to figure out some new yoga classes for the summer.

it's disturbing at first to let life slow down and unfold, to watch hunger creeping up on me and notice how i begin to crave certain tastes and textures at night even though i'm far from hungry.  very strange in this society to take time to watch the breath and feel sun and wind, to shiver because i'm cold and have that be okay.

think i'll end the day with a walk and yoga...not the burning kind, the kind that lets me go where i'll go.

a muck amok

i read an article today about an article about an 11-year-old girl in Texas being gang-raped by between 18 and 28 men.  (if you can call them men.  they sound more like animals to me.)

last night, i told my story to a group of loving, supportive women.  i talked about being kept separate from my Puerto Rican heritage for most of my life, and have been lit afire with the new task of uncovering my ancestry.

my best friend is working on her graduate research project, and asked me to fill out a questionnaire about many aspects of my transition from high school to college.  more than once i teared up, thinking about the horrible things i've experienced.

in short, the past is being dredged, and the muck is rising.  it's good.  i need this to happen...in our society, it it preferred that we function and live in the future as opposed to honoring our past and feeling our present.  all of those horrible things are a gift that i must unwrap.  now that i am medically and more emotionally stable (knock on wood!), it is time to go deep. i'm terrified, and exhilarated.  excuse me while i fight the urge to vomit, take swigs of rum right out of the bottle, or go on a 4-mile run with a hamstring injury.

numb is such a pleasant place to take a vacation...and then, when i get back, the muck i left behind has risen from elbow level to eyeball level.

so, here i go.  i know MY story.  every time i tell it, it gets a little clearer.  little details surface, things i had forgotten because my brain was so fuzzy from low glucose levels.  and they matter.  the images i can recall from when i was 6--my mother getting angry at me for asking what her tampons were used for--they matter.  why did i reject one of my first Christmas gifts--a baby doll?  why did i express a desire to have been born a boy in elementary school?  they're pieces from my puzzle...and not just my puzzle, but the puzzle with pieces belonging to my mother, my father, their parents and their parents' parents.

maybe if everyone went back as far, striving for a stark naked understanding, we, as a human family, might find it less desirable to rob, rape and kill each other.

my dad's brother is diagnosed schizophrenic.  in the throes of mania once, he threatened my grandmother--his mom--with a gun, saying he was going to kill her.  why?  where did those delusions come from, and how did the energy from that incident reverberate through the Tormos clan, influencing my dad and his sister, his other brother, their children?  why did i date--and later file a restraining order--against a schizophrenic/manic depressive named Scott Jaffe?

my mom has (had?) a cousin who never was institutionalized (to my knowledge), but never ventured out of the house after having some kind of "nervous breakdown."  what caused this?  how did her family--my relatives--react?  how did this influence my mother's reaction to my somber, quietness as a young girl...and later my depression, my suicide attempts, my institutionalization...which influenced my recovery...which influences how I perceive my own worth?

i think these next two year are going to unearth some terrible and wonderful things.  i'm ready to understand--truly--where i came from, who i am, and where i'm going.

still at war

i wonder if i will ever be able to feel like i deserve to eat.  every bite of food i take is judged, as if it was a reflection of my own personal code of ethics:  is this yogic enough? am i eating it because i enjoy it, or am i eating it to give a big "fuck you" to my inner critic?  is that the best reason to eat something?  will i feel guilty about it in a few hours?  is this going to add to the fleshy curves of my body that i already have mixed feelings about?  is this food rich enough that i'll have to go hiking for 2 hours even though my hamstring is injured and i need rest?

occasionally i still purge.  i can't believe that i used to throw up anywhere up to 6 times every day, sometimes in rapid fire succession.  it amazes me that i never had a heart attack.  i still probably won't know the actual damage i've done to my organs for another two decades.  the pain i sometimes feel to the right of my navel makes me nervous.  then there are, of course, my teeth, which will never be the same...

these days i can sense the point between eating and bingeing, and the point at which i decide i'm going to purge--like running my fingers down the smooth surface of driftwood and finding a nearly imperceptible notch.  at that notch i make my decision.  i usually choose to be gentle with myself and sit with the guilt and anxiety.  every now and then, i'll run straight to the toilet.

the after effects of a purge are similar to the feeling of being drunk or stoned.  an adrenaline rush at the time of vomiting gives way to a numbed out, cotton-wrapped feeling.  my thoughts slow down, my movements slow down.  i get thirsty and dizzy.  it's not a pleasant feeling for me anymore, but i suppose my mind still finds it preferable to the sting of sorrow or rage or loneliness, emotions that felt as though they would kill me when i was younger and--hard to believe--even more sensitive.

then i am pulled way down into a black pit, and the emptiness filling it is called Shame.  no matter how much i try and talk to myself, soothe myself, tell myself i will not beat myself up about my behavior, there is always shame.  the amount of time that it lasts is variable, but it follows close like sound from a jet.

i am in recovery, but not recovered.  i would like to say i am recovered some day.  i know i'll be close when i can stop purging, then stop bingeing/restricting.  in reality, those three behaviors are so closely tied that it's hard to say which i'll be able to stop first.  ideally, they'll all have to go.  the funny thing is that everything is an addiction.  i'm essentially trading one for another, an unhealthy one for a healthy one.  non-attachment is the goal, but that might not happen in this lifetime.  that's why i am so drawn to yoga: yoga teaches me to be separate from the storm though i am in the thick of it.  i am still so reactive: it doesn't help that i am super sensitive and over-analytical.

i told a friend the other day that i believed i wasn't going to be one of the ones that die from their eating disorder.  i do believe this...or do i just want to believe it?  i am strong, but not invincible.  we, as a country, forget about the wars we cannot see, but the battles rage on with our acknowledgement or without it.  in the same way i need to be reminded that i am much more functional than i was when i was 5 years ago, but the scales can be tipped at any time...