How to: HUMAN is a free weekly newsletter. If you’d like to create reciprocity for my work, and support me in publishing my book ‘Estranged from my body’ I invite you to become a paid subscriber. This is a reader-supported offering and I’m so grateful for your presence here.
Please feel free to share parts of this newsletter that connect with you on social media or send to someone you love.
Photo by Marianna Smiley on Unsplash
For the most part, 2022 was the year I struggled with binge eating. Wow, that’s a sentence I honestly never thought I’d ever write. Allow me to take you on the journey of how I came up with the idea for "Estranged from my Body."
In 2020, I was slowly but surely heading toward an inevitable and complete burnout that I wasn’t even aware of at that time. I wasn't paying attention to the red flags that something needed to change, that something wasn't quite right. Naturally, due to a lack of resources in all areas of life, everything just backfired. However, for nearly two years, I continued pushing on auto-pilot until reality hit me with the proverbial chair in the face:
I got fired from two at-that-time-ideal jobs that I was so happy I got since I had been admiring those people for a long time already
I ruined several relationships because I couldn’t set boundaries
I lost interest in what I loved doing the most: health coaching
I lost 10-11 kg due to starvation due to depression due to ah love
I contributed to ruining my precious relationship because I couldn’t be present in it and kept projecting
So, in 2021, broke, confused, empty, exhausted, and overwhelmed, I decided it was time for a change of scenery; a year away from everything I know. Now you’d expect a happy ending, right? Like in those movies when the main character has a breakdown on the bathroom floor, quits her job, moves to India, discovers tantra, and changes her life permanently. Oh, well, not really.
On the 17th of October, I landed in Miami, excited to start my sabbatical year. Somebody, please slap me. in the face with a chair! whenever I say I need to travel to a different continent to sort my feelings and run away from what I can’t face at home. Now, in all seriousness, running away has always been my favorite coping mechanism. Whenever I felt overloaded and overwhelmed, I would just leave—all in the name of "exploring and experiencing new things." If I couldn’t run away in 3D, I would run away in other dimensions hyper-spiritualizing situations, and dissociating from certain emotions among others. Why face the music when you can just plug in your proverbial AirPods and shut the world off?
So I moved to Florida, worked my tail off in the most toxic workplace I'd ever worked in, and cried myself to sleep because I couldn't deal with the all the stress and shaming and belittling at work. I began to doubt my decision, blaming myself for ending my most favorite relationship ever, for failing to see the blessing in making my first money from coaching, and so on...
All of these, combined with my highly sensitive nature, wasn’t a match made in heaven, to be honest. Hence, the era of binge eating began. In one month, I gained 10 kg. I'd feel guilty whenever I'd eat, and then I'd eat even more. I would go one day not eating anything, only to eat uncontrollably the next. I would smoke myself to sleep because it would be the only time my head would stop creating evil thoughts about how I failed at everything. I’d have panic attacks at work, rush to the restroom and then get a warning for "disappearing too much during work time." Nothing made any sense.
It was when I started therapy again that I realized just how much I neglected and hated … my body, who I was, and who I became. It was then that I realized that all those nights when I was either too drunk, too high, or too guilty were an excessively aggressive punishment for the decision I made for the past 2 years, especially the decision to come here and give up everything I knew. One burnout led to another and another and another—a never-ending vicious circle.
Seven months later, I left Florida and moved to North Carolina. I needed nature and slow living. And after some more anxiety in the middle of nowhere with no excuse to focus on my inner battles, I finally reached a sense of much-needed peace and calm. I finally felt like I was flowing with life. I was enjoying my life there, and I could finally do what I came here for - rest. What happened next:
I stopped reading anything closely remote to self-healing and self-development.
I stopped following a lot of accounts of Instagram that would just give me more information on what I should do more.
I started reading literature again. They don’t know, but together with Haruki Murakami & Kazuo Ishiguro, I live a secretly joyful life where they just read to me, play me old vinyl jazz and impress me with various dystopian ideas they just dreamt last night while they were thinking about me.
I started writing again. I'd free-write 3 pages every single morning. Religiously. It was like my life depended on it, and in a sense, it did. It was my life jacket.
Step by step, I created more and more space. I began working out and would work out for 40 minutes to an hour every day. Do you want to know the best part about it? I’d work out because it would make me feel good, not because I had to punish my body for the way it looked. Until that time, I never even realized how much space anxiety and guilt occupied. Don't get me wrong: they continue to exist and will continue to exist within me. There are still days when I can hardly find any more space left, because, you see, it’s a job you have to perform every day, full-time. However, what changed now is that I understood that I could acquire more anytime I wanted so that I could invite more creativity, more fun, and more ease.
And in that space, in that expansion, I became aware of a once-familiar voice. At first, I couldn't decipher the words she would whisper. But the more space I created, the more she echoed. Until one day, when it came to me — it was the sweet voice of my inner child. Oh, how I've forgotten about her, avoided her, and mistreated her. I decided to rekindle the relationship.
— "Hello, there, sweet child." I say.
Nothing. She continues to play alone in the sand as if nothing has happened.
— "Hello, what are you playing? Can I join?"
She stops, raises her head, looks me dead in the eyes, and utters a strong and articulate "Leave me alone!”
Shocked at first, I realized what I'd done. I became estranged from my inner child. Sighs and tears streamed down my cheeks.
I had to do something to get back to her. I’ve been so caught up in all my relationships that I forgot to nurture the most important one. How can I talk about authenticity, presence, courage, and compassion when I refuse to give HER any of them? I had to mend this rupture.
— "Hey, kiddo, look, I made a huge mistake. I’m sorry for becoming estranged for so long. I’m sorry for taking you for granted all this time. You kept coming to me, but I never had the availability to be there with you. Is there any way we can mend this relationship?"
— "Yes. But I won’t tell you. You have to figure it out yourself. and carries on sand-castling."
I was angry at first. But then I discovered beneath that anger, rivers of sadness. The old guilt resurfaced. Was the so-called peace I created just a facade? Was anything I thought I acquired true? How could I not see what was happening inside all this time? There was no turning back. I had to find a way to get back to myself, to my inner child, to my body. Morning pages would flow every day until one day when it just came to me like divine guidance, or maybe She decided I needed some assistance because we, adults, tend to over-complicate matters of the soul.
"Allow yourself to be imperfect. Allow yourself to get out there in your rawness. It’s safe for you to do this. No matter what happens, you have what it takes to find solutions for everything you need. You’ve always wanted to write a book but never did because you never thought you had anything worth sharing. Ah, the fear of platitudes, of repetition, of meaningless words. How about you collect all your poetry and publish it? Yes, maybe nobody will read it. Do it anyway. Yes, maybe nobody will buy it. Do it anyway. Yes, maybe people will criticize it harshly, and you’ll start questioning your worth again. Do it anyway. Maybe people will call it a shitbag and point fingers at you. Do it anyway. Maybe they will laugh at you for your grammar mistakes. Do it anyway. Do it for your mental health and spiritual well-being."
With enthusiasm, I told Her my resolution. She seemed pleased. Now, we’re friends again. And, gosh, you have no idea how happy that makes me feel.
And this brings us to today—palms are sweaty, legs are spaghetti, but I'm doing it anyway. In the end, leaving was indeed the best thing for me. I needed to go through this process. I needed to leave my chrysalis and fly. I lived so many new feelings, experiences, first-timers. To say I regret it would be a blasphemy to all the sacred experiences I was blessed enough to live.
They say we fear the criticism of those we want to be approved by. Also, we allow in our lives the success and worth with which we are comfortable. I don’t expect what I write to change any lives, even though I wouldn’t mind if it did. I would lie to say otherwise. However, making a habit out of breaking free from the chains of perfectionism feels more rewarding than anything else.
I proved myself that I could do it, and I did it. And I'll keep writing and publishing even if it's dirt or a platitude because I promised my inner child that I'd let her be imperfect. I will allow her to express herself authentically and freely, with no hidden agenda.
The discomfort of self-promotion doesn’t mean my work sucks, my gifts aren’t real, or my offerings aren’t valuable. It means I have remembering to do. - Lisa Olivera
And yes, the adult mind will always search for a return on investment and will cease any action that does not bring profit. But a child’s mind will only seek to do what brings joy, ease, and a little bit of magic. Meet me where magic meets belief, creativity meets action, and joy meets every day.
I leave you with these journaling prompts:
When did I become so serious?
When was the last time I did something just because I felt like it?
When did I exchange the joy of giving for the certainty of transactionality?